Saturday, September 11, 2004

Trauma: Week Four

Quite a number of people have begun to ask when I will be leaving the trauma service at Charity. This can mean one of two things, either people can't wait for me to go, of they don't want me to go. This past week has been peppered with an unusually high number of gunshot wounds. Perhaps the recent passage of the Southern Decadence Festival could be a culprit. Other noteworthy musings:

+ After drinking perhaps the thirtieth Diet Coke 20 oz, I finally won a liter of Coke from their stupid bottle cap game. They claim the odds were 1 in 12.

+ Placing chest tubes still remains my all time favorite bedside procedure. Nothing beats the feeling of stabbing a 2 cm diameter tube into a person's chest, evacuating either air or blood, restoring lung function, and saving their lives. All within a mere 2 minutes.

+ However, getting blood on my pants sucks. Nevermind the fear of hepatitis or AIDS, the unwelcomed feeling of wet gooey and warm on the pants is no fun. Especially when getting a new pair of scrubs at Charity takes an act of congress.

+ I still am not recognized by the Charity computer system, despite the fact that I've spent the past 4 weeks of my life there.