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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Lisa and I were watching one of our favorite series last night, a Japanese manga called “The Way of the Househusband” and I could barely keep my eyes open. I went to bed at a decent hour (11:30) but when I got in bed, I couldn’t sleep, I just laid there. It was rude and caused me to oversleep. I don’t mean to brag, but I can go from oversleeping, to bushed and showered in less than 15 minutes, I’m really a marvel of efficiency (with still wet hair), especially since we wear scrubs. I grabbed my iPad, stuffed it in my rucksack, and hey, I was ready to go. In the living room, it took me a moment to situate myself - it was a very noisy and disorienting environment - what with Lisa yelling at me for running late, but soon we were off. Just a girl, her lemon ginger Kombucha, and her angry roommate, ready to face the world. We stepped out into the morning and.. Ughh! I’d forgotten my AirPods. I double checked, not there. Lisa gives me a threatening look. “PLEASE,” I begged, desperately, “MY AIRPODS!” “OH, my GOD!” Lisa said, glancing, irritatedly at the Apple Watch I gave her for her birthday. I ran up the stairs and was back in NO time, really, really ready to go. Just a girl, her Kombucha, AirPods and angrier roommate, ready to face the world. My sister’s apartment is about 7 walking minutes from the hospital. As we were walking, I had my AirPods in and was rolling with Kanye. I in NO way endorse his CrAzY. But If I start the day out, with “Through the Wire” and “Jesus walks,” I’m tweaked for whatever gamut Rebecca (my surgeon) has in store for me. I paused the slaps, momentarily, as we passed a herd of boys, but I was bouncing again in a blink. Lisa and I are in the second week of our two-month, summer fellowships - shadowing surgeons (different surgeons) for “clinical experience.” The first thing I do every workday morning is bring Rebecca a large coffee (from the cafeteria). She comes in at 5:30am every morning of the week and leaves God-knows-when - certainly, well after we do at 4:30pm. She spends the three hours before I come in, reviewing patient notes and surgical plans. I gently rapped on her open door. She doesn’t look up, but she knows it’s me. “Good morning,” I whisper, Rebecca’s seated at her desk, working on her laptop. I set the coffee on her right side and after I remove the pre-existing empty cups, I hesitate. “What’s up,” she says, leaning into her screen to check something as she keys to enlarge it. “I have a small question,” I say, “Are we supposed to be filling out timecards?” She doesn’t say anything, continuing to examine the - whatever. After a few seconds, I added: “Quinn said we have to fill out timecards.” “Did he?” Rebacca asked, rhetorically, after a bit. She’d stopped studying the screen and gotten a faraway look. Then, after another moment, she said, “Well, bless his heart,” which made me chuckle, because we’re both southern girls and that’s shorthand for “f**k him.” “Thank you.” she says (for the coffee). I’d been dismissed. We have rounds in twenty minutes.
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