Possible

Two full days scrubbing, and my eyes just aren't happy about that. Between my own diminishing vision and the amazingly bright LED surgical lights, I just can't scrub, in my glasses, that much without painful blur. Spent my day off digging, which is good for soul and mood, but hard on the old body. Especially followed by a 22 case day being the runner - I give breaks and lunches and open and fetch and clean, from 7-6. Thankfully, we had enough hands on deck, even so, a long, runny day.

Friday I was in a room, with sufficient help and time to turn over, but with three complex, what I call 'possible, possible, possible' cases, still running about madly. Surgeon does not know what he can do, and won't until he gets into the joint. Scrub and I keep anything chargeable on stand-by, and try not to open too many sets that we might need on the next case. Still have to take some sets to sterile processing to clean and re-sterilize for the next, as soon as we are sure they are done with needing them on the previous. Funny, interesting, sweet patients, make this all the easier and harder together. I always want to do my best for patients, but sometimes I want to do even more.

It's a delicate balancing act, requiring attention and intention. Scheduled to 1730, it's also a matter of not wanting to be too late going home. We wound up doing pretty much the same for the last two knees, repairing one meniscus, and using donor bone* on both. Interesting, but at the end of a week with the time change, everyone visibly fatigued and brain numbed.

Everyone tired, everyone at the ends of respective ropes. Got in 22 hours in two days. Not as much as some folks on Tuesday, who were there until nearly 8pm. We don't have an afternoon shift, which works most days. When it doesn't, we take the brunt.

This morning, I was awake at 0400, from bad, work, dreams. Couldn't get back down, which usually I can. My ability to cope down to fumes, and D is dealing with a minor, but painful, injury. Trying to help, but missing all my muddled clues, suggests several times that he can go pick up the lamp. A 'job' involving picking up a pretty in a shop with beautiful everywhere - not a chore at all, but a balm to my soul. I snarl and feel disregarded and hurt. Poor guy.

Eventually, we muddle through, and the lamp is home, ready to be installed. Tomorrow. Earliest. Must be done right, after all. It's beautiful, it fits. It has little jacks-like wing nuts! Can't wait to see the light from that lens lighting up the table. Which is the whole point. A lamp that is all about lighting up a space, while modestly looking quietly lovely.





I drag poor guy to the liquor store, and get saki and ale. I need to reset. Gently but persistently. Send him off to a musical gear swap meet. I'm just not up to driving it, especially since I'd be at a musical gear swap meet at the end. I gladly wander guitar stores with him, patiently finding a drum stool and day dreaming while he drools on guitars. But this is more than I can do today. We both need restoration. Finding our equilibrium, after being ruffled badly.


*We give the patients a card, so they can send a note to the family of the donor a thank-you. Lots of tissue, bone and tendon in our case, especially to young, otherwise healthy patients, making their lives and mobility so much better.