Feast
Lucky me, who specifically requested to have no call the second half of the year, knowing that I'd be knocked up and relatively miserable, gets to pick up F2's first 2 calls which she'll be unable to do on account of the firing.
Ironically, SOMEbody forgot to put the operators in the know, so I was fooled into optimism Friday night, as no one called me for hours on hours. But around 9pm, the operators got wise to the fact that they had the wrong person listed on call. So, Saturday, I got a series of pages asking me if I was Dr F2, and when told that no, I wasn't, but yes, I was on call, the callers were incredulous, and that prolonged the conversation by at least 15%.
Saturday night, all traces of optimism were wiped by the continuous torture of innocuous and ocuous phone calls.
Now, I'm here, underslept and overconsulted, and so goddamn nauseous! I thought we were done with the nausea, but I guess not?
I'm just writing this to document that I am eating a regular feast of hospital food for lunch: doughy white Bimbo bread, margarine stolen from a food tray in the hall, two bottles of water from the 7ICU kitchen, and absolutely horrendous tasting chicken broth from a drawer - I don't know how patients eat this, honestly, it smells like socks and seagull guano - and for dessert, apple jelly, also from a drawer. For my main course, I have tortilla from home. But I think, that's pretty impressive outward bound thinking on my part, in terms of scavenging for food?
Next on my list, is stealing scratchy ass toilet paper, and Tucks medicated pads from. Us pregnant women get hemorrhoids, you know. My nesting instincts are kicking in?
Ironically, SOMEbody forgot to put the operators in the know, so I was fooled into optimism Friday night, as no one called me for hours on hours. But around 9pm, the operators got wise to the fact that they had the wrong person listed on call. So, Saturday, I got a series of pages asking me if I was Dr F2, and when told that no, I wasn't, but yes, I was on call, the callers were incredulous, and that prolonged the conversation by at least 15%.
Saturday night, all traces of optimism were wiped by the continuous torture of innocuous and ocuous phone calls.
Now, I'm here, underslept and overconsulted, and so goddamn nauseous! I thought we were done with the nausea, but I guess not?
I'm just writing this to document that I am eating a regular feast of hospital food for lunch: doughy white Bimbo bread, margarine stolen from a food tray in the hall, two bottles of water from the 7ICU kitchen, and absolutely horrendous tasting chicken broth from a drawer - I don't know how patients eat this, honestly, it smells like socks and seagull guano - and for dessert, apple jelly, also from a drawer. For my main course, I have tortilla from home. But I think, that's pretty impressive outward bound thinking on my part, in terms of scavenging for food?
Next on my list, is stealing scratchy ass toilet paper, and Tucks medicated pads from. Us pregnant women get hemorrhoids, you know. My nesting instincts are kicking in?
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