Tuesday, October 12, 2004

parental guidance

After a couple of back-to-back months in the ER, NICU and PICU, I think that there should be a level of processing in the core lab above what is currently accepted as "stat." Because to be frank, "stat" is not really "stat." Call it "pseudo-stat." You send your labs to the stat lab from the ICU, and two hours later, maybe, you get the results back. What kind of stat is that? The problem is that if you don't send your labs "stat," they take even longer, up to 6 hours to come back. So then everyone abuses the stat system, sending labs stat that don't need to be stat, and then the stat lab gets all backed up, and all the real stat bloods get lost in the mix. So we need a priority system above stat. Call it "super stat" or "mega stat" or (more accurately) "real stat." Then maybe I can finally get the coags and CBC back on my patient whose ENTIRE MATTRESS IS SOAKED IN BLOOD.

I was on call last night.

But anyway...

We had a good time when Joe's parents were in town, and were surprisingly not really all that worn out at the end of the weekend as we feared we'd be. It was one of those low-key tourist weekends. Except I ate so much that I think the staples from my gastric bypass surgery are ripping out.

I think that Joe's parents were very good sports about going out for Dim Sum, though they are occasionally wary about new foods. I even think they kind of liked it in the end, though you can't tell from Joe's dad's face as he eyes this bowl of steaming tripe and turnips.

Afterwards, we set off down to Little Italy to get some sausage for dinner. Everyone said the butcher shop smelled good, but I was kind of skeeved by the cured meats and cheese hanging from the ceiling. But who am I to talk? I ate the dim sum tripe.

Joe's dad collects baseball hats. Here he is minimizing his chance of getting beat up at the border of two neighborhoods, wearing one hat from the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory and one hat that says "Little Italy NYC." Or maybe that's maximizing his chance of getting beat up.

Here are the two families enjoying a big Italian dinner courtesy of Joe's parents. My dad was helping out Joe's dad in the kitchen. People say I look like my dad. If by "look like" you mean "am a total clone of".

The next morning at brunch. We went to a nice restaurant in Greenwich village managed by a neighbor from down the block. He was actually working that day, and the ultimate in New York hospitality, giving us special attention and free desserts. I was really hot sitting in that patch of sun but didn't want to take off my sweater, because underneath I was wearing this T-shirt that I got in Japan that I highly suspect has some obscene writing on it. Suspect, but cannot confirm, because I can't read Japanese. So I sweated it out.

Three more days in the PICU, and one more call. It's been a good time, but I think I'm ready for my month of elective and vacation. I want to take a little break from the hospital to live my life. I want to work on my comics, organize the house, maybe pick up photography again, even though I'm not quite sure it's a hobby that I can afford. Of course, getting a digital SLR means saving on film costs, but oh, the startup costs are high. And do I really want to be another faux-artsy girl, wandering the streets with my camera and taking "profound" pictures of trash in the gutter or pretty pretty flowers?

Currently reading: "The Fortress of Solitude." I'm having kind of a hard time getting into this book.

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