September 14th, 2004

White Coat

Three o'clock, and all's well...

There is a lull in the Emergency Room, O Best Beloved, after the bars close at two and the drunks are safely ensconced in their resting places for the night. From three to five it is quiet, generally, almost peaceful. Now it is hard to stay awake.

My patients are tucked in, in X-Ray, awaiting transfer. I have brought with me a cloud of not-what-you-thought, tonight, and it has been a cloud that took my patients out of my hands in many cases. My staff is a pleasant man, with a baby face and softly greyed hair, bald on top, small and soft-voiced and smiling. The evening's staff, who went home at two but did not leave until three, was hard to read for his eternal neutrality; this night staff is hard because of his eternal pleasantness. I am not complaining. I think I am doing well; my stapling job has been complimented.

Collapse )

Sickle cell crisis and out of Vicodin. Atypical chest pain. "Can you do me a favour" tonight means "can you do a rectal exam?" I am ashamed to say that I did one of my rectals dry, being unable to find any lubricating jelly. I did, however, remember to do the prostate as well when I did my male rectal exam. And did he ever scream. Such a loud man. And a heme-positive stool, to boot. No wonder his hemoglobin is low.

It is nearly five, now, and the low silence is most likely nearing an end. Two hours more and I can go home and sleep. And then, again, tomorrow.
  • Current Mood
    sleepy sleepy