Downpours & Dragons

Thursday night was the first Sounders game of the new season (the first MLS game of the new season, too), against the brand-new Philadelphia Union. I rather miraculously got to leave work early, and headed down to the field. While the weather has been pretty nice lately, on thursday it rained all day. And it continued to rain for the entire game.

It was still fun, though. I couldn't help but smile as I walked toward the field with thousands of other fans in the pouring rain. The energy was infectious. Jon, Kara, and I expanded our season ticket holder block to 8 (now including: Heather, Nelson, Brian, and Brian's 2 roommates whose names I can't remember), and our seats are many rows closer than last year.

The Sounders won 2-0, and I have now officially seen my team score a goal on their home pitch (which I never got to see last season in regulation play). Hooray! I am really looking forward to all the games to come...

So speaking of that night, I was standing in line to pay a machine in a parking lot downtown, and the girl in front of me said she had swiped her card and it had been 'processing' forever. She gave up and left. I stood around and waited some more, and eventually a ticket came out. I grabbed it and looked to see if the girl was still in the lot. She wasn't. Although logic told me I should save myself $20 and use the ticket, some crazy justice-obsessed person inside me felt like it would be wrong. So I stood there holding her ticket while I swiped my own card, and waited an eternity for my ticket to print. I explained what happened to the woman who came and got in line behind me, and offered her the ticket. Since she hadn't actually met the girl, it seemed less wrong for her to use it. And it's not like ripping it up would have done any good; the girl's card was charged. The woman behind me hesitated for a second then said, "let's split it," handed me $10, and took the ticket. I felt bad for the chick who's out $20, but really there wasn't much I could do. Am I crazy for feeling guilty/swiping my card? What would you have done?

Okay, so I know at least one of my family members disagrees, but I am 100% supportive of the 3-D movie phenomenon. Last night I saw How to Train Your Dragon with a friend from work and her friend, and it was awesome. While I don't want all movies in the future to be 3-D (what would happen to the poor monocular people among us?), the ones I've seen so far (Up, Avatar, Dragon) have been impressive, heightened moviegoing experiences. I am soooo excited for Clash of the Titans to come out next month. Who wants to fly out to Seattle and come see it with me?

Night Shift

This week I was scheduled to work nights. As I am very much a morning person, I was not excited about this. On nights the OR is staffed to run 3 rooms with one person to give breaks (on any given weekday we are staffed to run 23 rooms including people to do breaks). So, you pretty much have to be ready for anything, and do whatever comes down. I am still pretty new, and there are lots of cases I have never scrubbed before.

Monday night was fine...I finished a spine case that was still going when I arrived. Then I set up 5 rooms for the next day. Then I got to do a quick case (debridement of a stage 4 pressure ulcer...if you're brave you can google that for images). That was our only case the whole night, and it was over by midnight. Easy enough.

Friday night I was nervous. 'Crashes' (emergent cases that come down to the OR on very short notice) are much more probable on weekend nights, for obvious reasons (i.e. alcohol). However, it was a surprisingly quiet shift. Around 4 a.m. we finally got a case. No big deal...patient got stabbed in the abdomen, was stable, they just wanted to make sure there wasn't any internal damage. I did get to go up to the emergency department for the first time ever to do my pre op patient interview, and was amazed at the size of it. I mean, I know we're a level 1 trauma center, but had no idea the E.R. was so big (or would be so bustling at 4 a.m. on a saturday).

By Saturday night I was just so relieved to be at the end of my work week that I wasn't too worried about what the shift would be like. I am used to going to bed by 10 at the latest, and getting up pretty early even on my days off. But staying awake all night monday really messed up my schedule, and I couldn't fall asleep before 3 a.m. on my days off. Then I would sleep half the day away, and start the cycle again. I didn't really get to hang out with people very much. It was really disruptive to my body and mind; I felt nauseated a lot (eating less = silver lining!), and found myself crying for no discernible reason about once a day (depression = not good). All that to say, I was ready to get back to my normally scheduled life please. Also, I have to give props to all parents who haven't deposited their babies on a doorstep somewhere...I imagine that the sleep deprivation of new parenthood is similarly disruptive, and lasts much longer than a week.

So, Saturday night...15 minutes before the start of my shift, 2 pediatric patients were crashed down. I was going into a case that was already in progress, so I helped set up 2 new crash rooms (as soon as one gets used, another one gets set up as quickly as possible). My case finished after an hour, then I helped set up for a potluck for a nurse who's retiring, and then I gave a break. After enjoying some tasty potluck goodness, I got assigned to scrub an organ retrieval (just want to clarify that this was not one of patients who crashed down earlier). I've never done one before, and they are sort of weird cases because the surgeons that do them come over from a different hospital (or several different hospitals), and then there's a team of 'organ people' (as I think of them) who bring all the supplies for preparing/packaging the organs once they are removed. One of the organ team people told me that the case was likely to get a little crazy as there would be four teams of surgeons working at the same time. Okaaaay.

Stop reading if you get squeamish. So there was a scrub person with the organ team who helped me set up, and who was super helpful during the first part of the case in passing instruments to the four people at once who were asking for them. In one sense, this was a fascinating case to scrub. Normally in surgery, the incision made is as small as possible; for less tissue trauma/better healing outcomes, etc. In an organ retrieval, everything is exposed. It was incredible to see the heart beating (we don't do many cardiac cases, and I've only scrubbed 1 thoracic case ever), and watch the lungs expand, and see the peristaltic waves of the intestines. There's a process of exposing the organs they're planning to take and making sure they are viable, then dissecting away as much tissue as they can, and tying off nonessential vessels. All the lead-up to the moment when they cross clamp the aorta, and then the organ team has all kinds of fluids that they flush with, and lots of ice gets packed in around the organs, and then they start taking things out. And I think that's when it stopped being clinically interesting to me. Because looking into the empty body cavity, I was struck with the wrongness of a life ending. Even though five other people around the country had the most hopeful day of their lives, this life was over. Once the heart had stopped beating, it all suddenly seemed so gruesome.

I still firmly advocate organ donation...I just don't look forward to being part of the process. I also have a better understanding of why many families refuse it as an option for their loved ones. It used to make me angry that anyone would refuse organ donation. Don't they understand the need out there? Don't they understand how many very desperate people there are waiting for a chance? Can't they see what a waste it is to let healthy organs die when they could do so much good? But I have a little more empathy now.

So that this isn't the most depressing post I've ever written, this is today's verse on www.verseoftheday.com:

"Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." Psalm 73:25-26

Keystone 2010

Last week, I took the long-awaited trip to Keystone, Colorado with Jeff & Amie, and their friends Jimmy and Jen. My flight arrived first in Denver, so I greeted everybody else at the gate when their plane finally arrived, late (after chilling on the runway in STL for an hour to be de-iced). Then we waited an hour for their bags to get to baggage claim, as 1st a truckful of bags was somehow forgotten at the the gate and 2nd there was a bag-jam on the conveyor belt. It sort of felt like a National Lampoon's vacation at that point.

We finally got our rental Suburban, and hit the road (after stopping to get our lift tickets and some dinner). Everyone was tired and loopy when we finally got to our condo an hour and half later. My first lesson about altitude occurred as I struggled to carry 80-lbs of baggage and groceries up the stairs to our 2nd-story condo. I am positive that there was not enough oxygen reaching my brain.

Since lift tickets cost $93 a day, and I'm what they call a 'novice' skier, I decided that I was only going to get passes for two days. So on Saturday, Amie, Jen, and I decided to do some old-fashioned girl bonding :) and went shopping at a nearby outlet mall. This crazy outlet mall was divided into 'villages' and involved walking alongside a river to get from village to village. And it was snowing. But we had fun.

On Sunday morning, the girls went to the rental place to get our equipment. In spite of my best operating room nurse horror stories, only Jeff and I opted to rent helmets. I made all non-helmet wearing members of our party verbally agree to organ donation in the event of a traumatic brain injury resulting in brain death. Yes, it is morbid, but I think this is something people need to consider and talk about with their loved ones. Also, I am not above fear mongering when it comes to people that I care about. Consequently, Jeff had a very hard fall that day, and perhaps his helmet prevented a concussion (or worse). Vindication.

Having learned a valuable lesson during my Steven's Pass skiing adventure, I told Amie and Jen that I wanted to spend some quality time on the bunny slope before I attempted going down a real run. This was a very good idea. At the top of the gentlest, baby slope that Keystone had to offer, I froze, paralyzed in fear, for a good ten minutes. The conversation in my head was interesting (from a psychological perspective) and slightly insane...and involved a lot of repeating "Fear is the mind-killer," which apparently is a quote from Dune (although I couldn't remember where it came from at the time. Here is the full quote: "I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."). Eventually I decided that falling down was the worst thing that could happen, and that would be better than staying perched at the top of the bunny slope for all eternity. And I made it down. And then I went down about seven more times, as I got my 'ski legs' back and remembered how to turn and stop, and swerve to avoid skiers who were even less experienced than me.

After a couple of runs, Amie and Jen left to go meet the guys up at the lodge. I kept practicing until I felt like the bunny slope had nothing left to offer me. Then I made my way up the mountain to the Schoolmarm. A green circle slope, definitely, but with two challenging steep/icy areas, and seemingly 45 miles long. I made it down in one piece, only falling over once, but by the bottom my legs barely worked anymore. My quads felt like chunks of lead, and I'm convinced if I hadn't been doing squats/taking the stairs everyday/running again for the past several months I probably wouldn't have been able to make it down at all. I felt totally euphoric when I reached the bottom. I thanked God that I didn't break my femur (or anything else), and looked around for a friendly stranger to high five. Sadly, I didn't find one. So I headed back to our condo to rehydrate and refuel.

Medical side note: Apparently at higher altitudes, part of the reason you dehydrate so quickly is that you must breathe faster to get the same amount of oxygen. I definitely noticed being thirsty, and also got a daily headache.

I had every intention of giving the Schoolmarm a second shot that afternoon, but after enjoying a soak in the hot tub, I couldn't bring myself to put the ski boots back on. Instead I relaxed until our tubing reservation. Tubing was awesome. Especially when Jeff, Amie, and I joined together as the Triad of Awesome and hurtled down the slope in a spinning formation of fun (see below).

Monday was a beautiful sunny day in the Rocky mountains. I went back to the Schoolmarm... and triumphantly made it to the bottom again. My muscles were NOT happy with me. So I decided to join Amie and Jen for the rest of the day. First we wandered around Riverrun Village (the shops at our resort). Some of them were typical t-shirt shops. Then there was a boutique where we saw a $798 sweater, and some glitter-splattered Roberto Cavalli jeans. Seriously? Who would buy a sweater worth more than a month's rent?

Here I am with a bison.

Here's Amie, who hadn't yet realized that a lens popped out of her sunglasses. She couldn't figure out why I was laughing at her and wanted to take a picture.

After exhausting the five shops at Riverrun, we decided to drive through the mountains to Breckenridge, what we had heard described as "the Disneyworld" of ski resorts." It kind of was, but the drive there was gorgeous.

We celebrated our last night of vacation at the Dillon Dam Brewery, which was delicious. And we all said 'Dam' a lot while ordering from the Dam menu and giggling :)

Tuesday we had to check out of our condo by 10, but didn't have to be at the airport till 12:30, so we drove 30 miles to Vail. Wow, some seriously huge houses and upscale hotels there. I'm pretty sure I can add that to the list of places I'll never be able to afford vacationing in.

We spent our last hour together in the airport playing Banana-grams in a food court while other travelers looked on enviously. It was a fun trip, and I wouldn't mind making it an annual February tradition.

January = dreary and boring

Okay, confession time. I have stopped riding the bus. That's not a euphemism for quitting my job :) I have just been driving to work since Christmas Eve. I can park for free on the street about 7 blocks from the hospital.

Pros:

- I drive to work in comfort and solitude.

- I have to climb a hill steep enough to get my heart rate up, but not so steep that I sweat through my deodorant first thing in the morning.

- My commute home at the end of the day is 20 minutes instead 40.

- I can stop and run errands on the way home from work, thus increasing my productivity.

Cons:

- My road rage has gotten worse since I'm driving pretty much everyday.

- My carbon footprint is bigger, and that makes the Earth sad :(

- I park in a not-so-safe area, and clutch my pepper spray the entire time. I think through attack scenarios in my head and how I would counter them, as I walk past "the snatchin' hole" (a human-sized hole in a giant hedge surrounding a large creepy house).

But fear not, dear readers, I haven't given up my bus pass, and will actually be taking it to work this week as my hours are weird and I would have to park miles away if I drove. I'm sure my encounters with strangeness will continue. Just last week, I passed a black man dressed as the Statue of Liberty. I'm pretty sure he was advertising something, but I never did figure out what it was.

Our weather has been warm and wet. It actually got up into the 60s a few times last week, and I got to enjoy some sunshine time on my roof deck. Lots of birds outside think it's spring, and sing songs in the morning. I think it's funny what sort of things you appreciate as you age. I don't ever remember hearing a bird chirp/sing and thinking "wow, that's really lovely," to the point where I wanted to stand still and just listen. But now I do. Or maybe it's the city living that has me appreciating the nature-y things when I encounter them.

On a completely different note, I'd like to know if anyone remembers the post I wrote not long after moving here that involved a picture of what I removed from my bathroom sink drain? I had used tweezers to pull out a chunk of hair/crud. Well, the sink drained okay after that, but for many, many months has been draining more and more slowly. I tried pouring boiling water down it once a month, but it never really got better. The other day at the gym I saw an infomercial for this drain de-clogger thing that sort of looked like a mascara brush attached to a pipe cleaner, and it motivated me to try and be more creative in my de-clogging efforts. So this time, I figured out how to get the drain stopper thingy out, and I used a toothbrush...and let's just say what I pulled out was too horrifying for pictures. I was tempted to check for bones because it very much resembled some sort of decaying small mammal. But, the sink now drains faster than it ever has before, and I'm confident that I got all of the clog this time. And I've learned a valuable lesson about doing a job thoroughly the first time. And it was immensely satisfying to pull that wad of crud out, and I feel quite proud and accomplished every time I use the sink. Fun with problem solving.

Surprises and Bellyflops

So, a few weeks ago a friend from work called and invited me to go night skiing with her and her husband (Brooke & Jesse). I initially declined due to my lack of ski pants, but was talked into changing my mind by a brother filled with jealousy at my relative location to mountains and the opportunity to go skiing at any time. I ran out and found a $25 pair of ski pants at Fred Meyer, and went to join my friends in the mountains.The adventure began when the two-lane mountain highway we were driving on (which is one of the most beautiful stretches of road I've ever driven on) suddenly came to a standstill. Cars driving by in the opposite direction began holding up three fingers as they passed. We were confused; did it mean 3 miles? a 3-car accident? Eventually an ambulance drove by, announcing from it's loudspeakers "the road will be closed for 3 hours." At this point, I felt a little bit of relief, as it had been over a decade since I'd been on skis, and was worried that I was going to break my femur. But Jesse had other ideas.

He had apparently spent the majority of his teenage years going skiing at this particular pass, and knew a 'back way' to get there. This route involved a tiny, winding road through the forested hills. We were in a big truck that sort of felt like a tank and I had resigned myself to my fate, so it was kind of fun. But my mom would have needed a Valium (or three) to get through that ride :)

We finally got there (http://www.stevenspass.com/), and I began the awkward process of gathering the necessary accoutrements and figuring out how to put them on/use them. I made it to the lifts without falling down, and successfully got off the lift at the top of the Daisy run (the bunny slope). Woohoo...the 1st run was fun and exhilarating as my 'ski legs' came back to me. I practiced my snow plow, figured out how to turn, and managed not to hurt myself, in spite of some icy patches. The second run was even better, I was really cruising and thinking "wow, this is fun...and not as hard as I thought it would be!" Brooke and Jesse were impressed and full of praises. They convinced me that I was ready for the Skyline run. "It's pretty much just like Daisy, only longer," they said.

They were lying. Skyline was much steeper (although it didn't appear so from the ride up), much icier, and about a million miles long. After successfully making it to the bottom of the 1st steep icy death hill, I somehow got stuck in the downward facing dog position with my skis crossed over one another behind me. I was laughing too hard to get out of it, and Brooke and Jesse were laughing too hard to help me...and that was the moment when I let go of pride completely.

I fell pretty hard on the ice at least three times on my left elbow during the next steep icy death stretch, but felt like I was sort of improving at turns. The ice made it really difficult to have any sort of control. And then, I went over this rounded patch and fell hard, basically bellyflopping on the ice with my arms in the superman position. My left shoulder 'popped' when I hit, and as I slid forward I said a Very Bad Word and was pretty certain I had broken something. One of my skis had come off, and the wind was knocked out of me, and all I could do for several minutes was flip myself over and lay on the ice crying. As I became able to assess the damage, I realized my left shoulder and right wrist were in a lot of pain.

Around this point, a really helpful stranger skied up, observed me sprawled across the ground with one ski five feet away, and said "you know, this isn't a good place to stop." Never in my life have I wanted to hit someone so much. Brooke told him, politely and not in so many words, "duh," but he persisted in standing there offering helpful advice such as "if someone falls and needs some time to get up, you should put your ski poles into the ground in a cross position so other people don't run into you." He stayed and watched as I struggled to get up and put my ski back on. I was shooting death thoughts at him in my mind, and was quite thankful when he decided he'd helped enough and skied away.

My goggles were all fogged up from crying, and all my courage was knocked out of me when I fell. I had no reserves left with which to continue down the slope, which was still incredibly steep and icy. Brooke and I cut through a gully/trees to the next slope over; part of a much shorter, but still pretty steep run. There was just one loooong steep slope between me and the warmth and safety of the lodge. I tried unsuccessfully to side-step down on skis, then just boots. Finally, I took off my skies, handed my poles to Brooke, and slid down on my butt. I went very fast, snow got all up everywhere, and I was sure that as soon as I reached the bottom I would be kicked off the mountain for sledding down a ski slope. But I wasn't. And I wouldn't have cared if I was.

We had curly fries and spiked cocoa in the lodge, and then Brooke and Jesse took a couple more runs down the mountain. I did have fun (and terror), and I'm glad I got a refresher before my trip to Keystone next month. Thankfully, I didn't break my femur (or anything else), but I'm pretty sure my shoulder popped out of the socket then right back in when I fell. It is still kind of sore when I move it a certain way.

On New Year's Eve, I took a red-eye flight to St. Louis to surprise Jeff, Amie, and Xavi for Xavi's 1st birthday party. I won't write too much about it, since I anticipate that xavilution.blogspot.com will eventually cover it. But it was a great 2 1/2 days of family, food, and my exceptionally cute baby nephew.

Xavi, thinking "I'm not totally sure who you are, and I just woke up." We were all waiting for them to arrive at the hotel, and things were loud and rowdy like usual. Jeff was getting ready to head to Diddy's black & white ball later that day.

Amie and Thea having a photo shoot in the hallway.

Xavi and his new toy truck. I love his expression in this picture. "I LOVE MY NEW TRUCK!"

My friend Krista stopped by! She brought a Pink Floyd t-shirt for Xavi. He's well on his way to becoming 'the cool kid.'

Ray the dog and I had some special bonding time. He was sad that the party was over, and all the food was off the table and out of reach :)

Merry Christmas to all

Merry Christmas! I hope that everyone had as lovely and relaxing a holiday as I did.

My little tree had more ornaments this year!

On Christmas Eve, I was supposed to work a 12 hour shift, but hoped I might draw a good number in our Home Early Lottery. I didn't draw a good number, and pretty much gave up hope. To make the day even better, I had to circulate a Neuro case in which the critical piece of equipment (which had been requested a month ago) was 'not ready yet.' There was understandably a LOT of anger from the surgeon (not directed at any of us, the responsible party of course had the day off)...which resulted in everyone walking on eggshells for the ensuing 4 hours. Anyway, everyone survived the case, nobody cried, and I ended up being sent home at 4 pm :)

I met up with Jon and Kara, Heather, and Nelson (Amy's new fella) for dinner at a Thai restaurant...then we all drove together to the candlelight service at Nelson's church. It was nice, lots of carols and such by candlelight. At the end of the service, a lovely British woman came up and read The Crippled Lamb by Max Lucado to all the kiddos. Not sure if you're familiar with the story, but there is one line that says, "She was an old cow." And when I heard that line read by a British woman, I could not help but interpret it in a way that Max Lucado surely didn't intend. And the absurdity of it made me giggle. Then I felt that hysterical kind of laughter that bubbles up from my gut in inappropriate situations (weddings, serious lectures, etc.), and I had to stare at the wall and take deep breaths and try and think of sad things (or dead puppies, which only makes me laugh harder now). It was an hour past my bedtime at this point and I was feeling punchy, but I managed to not burst out laughing.

On Christmas morning, I woke up while it was still dark out, and couldn't go back to sleep. When the sun finally did come up, it revealed a clear blue sky.

View from my balcony. You can see the mountains just over the tops of the buildings to the west.

I prepared and ate a delicious breakfast of cheesy eggs and pancakes, then skyped with the fam (my parents, Jeff and Amie and Xavi) and opened presents with them. It's kind of crazy that we live in a time where you can live thousands of miles away from the people you love but still share special moments with them quite easily. Not that it's the same, but still better than nothing. After that, I got to skype with Jeremy, Shannon, and Irene for a bit. Then I went and took a walk on the beach, and I must say that my Ugg boots are by far my favorite footware for walking on sand. Perhaps I will take them with me to Hawaii next year.

I spent the rest of the day lounging around my apartment watching movies, beginning with Elf, which is my favorite Christmas movie and makes me cry every single time I watch it.

Yesterday, Heather and I went downtown to REI to return some ski pants that were too big. It was my first time visiting the flagship store, and I was pretty impressed. I think all shoe-selling establishments should have an all-terrain test course for customers. It would probably save me from buying many unnecessary pairs of shoes.

It was a really beautiful day (53 degrees and sunny), and we were already downtown, so we decided to have lunch at the Space Needle. I had a walnut-crusted chicken sandwich that was quite tasty. And the tiramisu was absolutely fabulous. I am drooling just thinking about it.

View from our table when we sat down.

I would like to eat lunch at the Space Needle on every lovely day.

I never get tired of sunlight sparkling on the water...it is beautiful and always makes me think of Reepicheep sailing off to Aslan's country in his little coracle (and wish that I could go, too).

Fun day!

The Pacing Asian

It's the last weekend before Christmas, and I really don't want to leave my apartment...at all. There are just too many people around. I think it's worse since I live right next to a post office (with limited parking) which equals the streets clogging up with people who don't understand the concept of walking a block or two from an available parking spot. Or perhaps they just can't spare the extra 3 minutes of time that would take. It's easy to understand why so many people hate the holidays... everything about the 'holiday season' is frustrating. Except the pretty lights :)

Work has been a little trying lately. One of the nurses I work with recently moved (to Missouri, go figure) and upset the balance of things in the O.R. The nurse who makes assignments

told me, "since S--- left, I need someone else who can do Neuro," (dundunDUN...musical notes of doom). Now, the neurosurgeons that I work with do some pretty incredible things. If I or someone I loved needed a brain tumor removed or an aneurysm clipped, I would definitely recommend them. And during casual encounters they are totally nice people. But when a patient rolls into the room, it's like a switch is flipped and the surgeon is suddenly convinced he is God, and whatever he needs should have been ready five minutes before he asked for it. And they ask for a LOT of crazy equipment, which frequently requires the nurse to be crawling under things attaching cords and foot pedals...and it's not fun. To be fair, they are working on a human brain, and I get that things should happen in an as quick and efficient manner as possible. But it would be nice if they would realize that the fact that they don't know what my name is indicates that I have not worked with them very much (if at all) and therefore am not very familiar with he 13 different machines in the room which can all malfunction in different ways. I bet your stress levels climbed a little just reading that.

The people at my bus stop are sort of driving me crazy. There are three of us out there every morning; me, the pacing asian, and the eastern european shuffler. So, the pacing asian is in his mid to late 30's and mildly attractive. He's always there at least 10 minutes before the bus comes. He paces around, seemingly unable to stand still, then refuses to get on the bus first when it pulls up, even though he's been standing there the longest. The eastern european shuffler is a woman probably in her mid to late 50's who actually lives in my building. She is usually the last one to arrive at the bus stop, but always greets me with a heavily accented "good morning" as she shuffles her way to the front, and always gets on the bus first. It's like a choreographed routine that we have, and is often accompanied by crazed angry ranting inside my head. It sounds something like this: "Stop pacing! Oh my gosh, how hard is it to just stand still? It's too early in the morning and I HATE IT WHEN YOU PACE!...oh great, here she is. Here it comes..." "Good morning" "Go ahead, just shuffle your way to the front, pretending to be friendly. It's not a good morning. It's still dark out, and it's raining, and I'm here at the bus stop with you two, AGAIN!" I'm totally cranky until I get to work, but once I get past the hobos who linger around the emergency department and into the coded-entry safety of the operating room, I become my normal chipper self. Maybe a parking spot would be worth the exorbitant monthly fee...