Gibberish is Genius

I just love that comfortable level of drunk, where the buzz is warm and friendly and everything you have to say is insightful and oh so profound. Soft backlighting envelops the world and new acquaintances are old buddies.

Today?

Its sober enantiomer. It was the effed up kind of day where you run around in well intentioned circles accomplishing nothing more than miscommunication and escalating crankiness for all involved. And no booze was involved, just for any legal types who didnt appreciate the inept analogy. Like I said, it has been that kind of day.

There were red flags from the beginning.

At midnight came the SOS text message from a friend stuck on a date that had devolved from repeated references to his genitalia to an indepth discussion of his pornography collection and deep affection for Debbie Gibson. Oh, I'm sorry, Deborah. Did you know she's Deborah now? She's past the prime of her Electric Youth pop star days but apparently still within her Playboy window. He had it downloaded on his Iphone and was nose to screen.

I'm no Miss Manners, but I think at that point in time it's ok to just call a cab and leave without an explanation. Or fake appendicitis. Whatever. I mean life is short, and there may be a Law and Order marathon on at home.

So I packed an extra energy drink and set off for clinic. As I headed in through the waiting room, I heard one baby daddy angrily berating his pregnant gf. "Girl, you so fat your legs be lookin like two seals fightin each other!"

His imitation of a barking seal was pretty goddamned funny, I'm not gonna lie, but really? She countered with threatening to not go through with the abortion they were scheduled to have that morning and "stickin his skinny ass with child support."
Love is a many splendored thing.

Crankiness is highly contagious. Pagers screaming, IV pumps beeping, anesthesia delaying, patients hollering, med students slacking combine to make the perfect shite storm. The most irritating part of all if it, is that none of it is that really big of a deal. I mean, no one's dying. It's just a bunch of small bs that keeps eroding morale and sucking you in to a cycle of inefficiency that is just going to make it that much longer till you get the hell out of the hospital.

As summer circles the drain, the whole hospital seems seeped in nostalgic disgruntlement. Too few of the grand plans for summer have materialized and too many calls from the ER have. The senior residents are ready to be done. The novelty for the interns has worn off but the frustrations are just beginning. Even the hum of the florescent lights sounds discontented. It’s been far too long since the last vacation, and winter is just around the corner.

It’s easy to get peevish and snatchy. I am definitely not immune. Exasperation courses unchecked, and the simple act of a pager going off can cause an explosion of expletives. It’s always somebody that wants something from you or of you, and it is difficult to explain how draining it is to have that be the basis for all of your interactions with others.

I always try to regain perspective as I dial the number back and return the page. I know I signed up for this and it is a privilege to be here. But it is still really fucking annoying to be interrupted when half of the pages seem to be wrong numbers from nurses who aren’t all that sure why they called you in the first place but expect you to solve their woes. Complaining is an art form honed to perfection by residents.

This particular page was a quick slap in the face of reality. Peds residents are always so damn nice that they automatically make me feel guilty about not being a better person. Half the time I'm not entirely sure what they're saying. It's true that obgyns have their own language of acronyms and random Spanglish, but so do the pediatricians. Peds pidgin is full of words like "kiddo" and "punky."

They had just admitted a fourteen year old girl who was undergoing treatment for cancer. The cancer was in her blood, which means she was weak from not having enough oxygen circulating to tissues and that her blood wasnt clotting properly. This is why I was called- she was having her period, but way heavier than normal and they wanted help slowing it down.

I always feel out of place in the Children's Hospital, but I went to talk to her and see what I could do. This kid was pretty amazing. Despite the fact that she had cancer and was admitted to the hospital instead of out enjoying summer break, she was articulate and polite. She was also continuing to train with her cross country team throughout her chemo.

She was really hoping to get out of the hospital for a run that weekend. I couldnt believe she was still running with blood counts that low, and asked her how she did it. She gave me the look a typical teenager does when you ask something so stupidly obvious that it seems like, hella retarded to even answer.

She did though. She matter of factly replied, "Um, you just keep going. The first mile is always the hardest."

It's true. The first mile is always the worst. Just keep going.