The Very Bad, the Somewhat Redeeming, and the Margaritas

Today at work, I'm all gelling in the ENT room, taking tonsils out. Well, I'M not taking them out. That would be ridiculous. That job belongs to a doctor. I'm just the one sliding a metal blade down the kid's throat and putting a plastic tube between his vocal cords so that he can breath while the doctor works. Laura, plus 2.

But our tranquil morning of tonsillectomies was not to be. Around 9:30, we got a call that a trauma was coming in, with a gun shot wound to the face. Let's just set the record straight that whatever you picture when you hear "gun shot wound to the face" is a sure sight less gruesome than the reality. When they got the half dozen rolls of gauze unwrapped from his head, it looked like one of those sick halloween rubber masks had melted in an oven. His nose was buried in the shattered hollow of his face, he'd completely lost one eye, and his chin looked like it had gone through a meat grinder. It's hard to imagine what this guy was thinking when he irreversibly shattered his life like this, but it almost certainly was nothing compared to what he's going to be thinking when he wakes up. I felt guilty that the whole time we were working on him, all I could really think about was whether it was worth it. This guy was requiring a heck of a lot of man-hours, equipment, blood products, etc trying to fix a self-inflicted disaster that he likely didn't want to survive in the first place. The whole thing made me sick because it's so hard to see the dignity in the situation, to imagine who this man was before he landed at Denver Health, and to look for something to hope in for his future.

I don't think I'm calloused that I can brush it off and walk out of the ICU afterwards without looking back. I think it's necessary. I think it is. Trauma has to be like that. You don't have time to invest in a relationship when you have a life on the line. Which, it then stands to reason, is one good reason why I don't want to do trauma.

At any rate, God must have known I needed a break, because I got done early yet again and was blessed with the most beautiful mountain view with all the changing leaves in their full glory lining both sides of the road as I drove home.

And now I have a free Friday night with margaritas and Sandra Bullock awaiting me.