Fool

I'm glad yesterday wasn't today, because if yesterday was today, I would suspect it for an April Fool.

I thought I had the day off, having misread the counterintuitive codes for an odd shift as a day off. (H should mean Holiday, not 1100-2100.) I slept in, wrote quite a lot, ate cereal, drank tea, ruffled Moby, planned a dither downtown, all the usual day off stuff. At noon, I got a call. (Yeah, they didn't notice I wasn't there for an HOUR.)

"You are scheduled to work today."

Oh. Oh crap. On my way. Gathered, ran.

But it had been slow all day, and there was plenty of staff, so I did not so much as cover a lunch, everyone got a good laugh, much of it derisive of the charge for not just letting me have the day, or just coming in at shift change. Aside from needing to take my own lunch, not having eaten, I didn't really mind just hanging out, being generally helpful. Even at 3, K wanted the room I'd been assigned to, and I, feeling contrite, agreed, and was left momentarily free, again.

I was a second set of hands for a large trauma, industrial accident. Then helped with an injured child, or rather her parents who had been very brave for their child, but fell apart once she was under and they left the room.

"I feel so foolish!" Cried mom, as she wept, outside.

Two of us assuring her this was normal, she was fine, of course she's crying, she did wonderfully, the kind pedi surgeon stopped on his way in to rest a hand on her shoulder and promise his best, that the child will be fine in no time. Of course, including dad who was staying stiffly brave as well. Let her get it out, and offering comfort and distraction, as the nurse for the child was doing her work inside the room. Yes, that little one will be fine, in good hands, will heal.

I finish up two other rooms, clean up, necessary busyness.

Then I check at the desk, and there is another trauma, that will turn out not to be the simple washout promised. I call the wife, out of town, to ease the worried patient. We talk for a long while, (as anesthesia does their prep work.) I try not to scare her, let her take in just that he's injured badly enough to need immediate surgery. I was on that side with D, when he smashed his elbow, I know. The surgeon will call later, give her a full, accurate, informed account. I order her to eat a nourishing meal, distract herself and their child, play a game, watch a movie. Try to anyway.

In the cab (I couldn't deal with the T last evening) I realized that the last big trauma I did before leaving SLC involved two men crushed by a Jeep, lower leg injuries. Last night, I was involved in a trauma where two men were crushed by a cab, both with lower leg injuries. (Both made the news, or I wouldn't mention.) We will leave Boston three years to the day that we came.


Today, I shall meditate on the number 23, and the writer Robert Anton Wilson. I will read the whole of the wikipedia article on Aquatic Ape Theory, and the May issue of the Fortean Times. I will get on the T, and let my feet wander, open my eyes to other wonders.

While wary of rogue cabs and jeeps.