You’re standing there, staring at the monitor. Your name’s Raymond, right? Raymond K. Hessel. I’ve seen your initials on the reports, the timestamps, the endless queue of scans stacking up like a deck of cards dealt by a cruel hand. You’re 28, maybe 29, drowning in the glow of PACS screens, and tonight—tonight, you hit zero. The Cardiovascular Radiology worklist. Cleared. No more backlog. Cardiac CTs, Cardiac MRIs, Vascular CTs, MRIs, Doppler US cases—all gone. Done. You didn’t think this day would come, did you, Ray? You thought it’d be eternal—slice after slice, vessel after vessel, a tidal wave of contrast and calcium scores crashing over you. But here we are. You burned through it. The slate’s clean. How’s it feel? That last case signed off, that empty queue staring back at you like a miracle? What’s next, huh? You gonna sit there, refresh the system, wait for the next flood of stat orders to roll in? Or are you gonna feel this? You’re alive right now, Ray. The weight’s off. No more 3 a.m. calls about TAVR measurements, no more juggling five modalities at once. You beat the backlog. You stared into the heart of the beast—literally—and you won. What do you want to do with that? Tomorrow, when the new cases drop—and they will, Ray, they always do—what’s gonna keep you going? You’ve seen the end of the line. You’ve tasted the air on the other side. Don’t forget it. Don’t let the grind bury you again. Take this victory. Run with it. Make it mean something—a coffee break that’s actually a break, a breath that’s not interrupted by a page. Now go. Get out of here. The Cardiovascular Imaging worklist is yours to reclaim. You’ve got a clean slate. Don’t waste it.