the underwear drawer

i have years like a marathon has miles

Last night at around 7pm, I got paged by my senior resident, Kevin. He wanted to run the list with me, and told me to meet him on the conference room on the 6th floor. I hurriedly finished up what I was doing, grabbed my patients' signout sheets, and ran up there. I should have known.

The on-call team surprised me with a cake! Even though I knew it was my birthday and figured that we'd do something fun, I was really legitmately surprised that they had actually run out of the hospital and ordered me a birthday cake, with real frosting flowers and my name written in icing. I thought we'd be constructing a ghetto cake out of Lorna Doones and apple sauce off patient trays. We had no forks or plates (though frighteningly, there was a fairly large knife just sitting on the table in the nurses lounge), so we hacked off big slabs of cake, put them in emesis basins, and ate them with tongue depressors. It still tasted good. Then we sat around, talked about people at work, and flipped through an old issue of "Us Weekly" puzzling over the mystery of why Lindsey Lohan is famous, until one by one, all of us got paged to return to our patients. It was a fun party. I love my co-residents.

Currently reading: "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter". This book is kind of depressing.

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