I've been pulling shifts in critical care the past couple of weeks, because the patients we've gotten have been critical enough to need easy access to things like Femostops and ventilators. I had forgotten how nutso these girls could be.
I say "girls" because we're all female and I'm usually the granny of the bunch, except for Kemal, who's Muslim, so we're trying to go easy on him this month. He gets a little punchy anyhow at the end of the day after not eating or drinking anything, and it's harder to resist the temptation to be highly inappropriate when you're hungry or thirsty. When Kemal's there, we're kind and gentle helpmeets and angels. When he's not, things like this happen:
Cap'n Obvious, the critical-care med fellow, had asked why, after being raised by fine upstanding churchgoers and having gone to a religious college, I no longer went to church.
I said, "Well, the last time I went, the whole place spontaneously combusted the minute I walked through the door. The pastor got a little annoyed."
The look on the devoutly-Catholic unit secretary's face was enough to make Cap'n O. burst into laughter. He kept laughing until his attending showed up, at which point he turned a delicate shade of purple in an attempt to keep from busting a gut.
Or the conversation between The Bomber, Kitty-Kat, Cap'n Obvious, and me on the subject of what one does in an ocean-view cabin in Oregon for a vacation. Cap'n Obvious, true to his internal med roots, prefers doing active things on vacation, like climbing mountains. Or ziplining. Or, and I wish I were kidding, swimming with whales.
"So what do you do?" Cap'n Obvious asked.
"Drink." said The Bomber.
"Have sex?" suggested Kitty-Kat.
"Go out for a hike and take a picnic lunch," I said, thus proving how old I really am.
"And then come back and drink." The Bomber said.
"And have more sex. Kinky sex" added K-K.
"Yeah, like when I imagine I'm Ben Bernanke and the guy is a Keynesian economist." That was me.
And again, Cap'n Obvious turned a little red and a little purple and bent over and puffed out his cheeks. The neurosurgery team was rounding at that point, and it wasn't quite appropriate for a fellow to be seen peeing his shorts.
Then we did a little forks-in-a-blender, and Manhandler made fart noises with her armpit, and then we all went home.