Shift-saver shows

Nights on the South Side, you either laugh or you start crying in triage. These are the series I throw on when I drag home smelling like chlorhexidine and cafeteria coffee, pop open a questionable Malbec, and try to remember I’m a human being, not just a pair of gloved hands. Some of these get the med details hilariously wrong, some hit too close to code-blue territory, but they all keep me company while the sirens fade out and the Pink Line hums past Pilsen’s murals.