I spent a large portion of Wednesday night praying for the sweet release of death. It was 35 degrees in my bedroom and the fan only served to push waves of hot air over my dry, swollen skin. I knew I had to sleep, knew I couldn't and kept having flashbacks about the gory scenes from True Blood. Death seemed like a merciful option.
Of course, today I am glad that Jebus doesn't hear my prayers.
An epic day. ALS training (Vincent the mannequin vs Sam the mannequin-killer) followed by a long shift in the ED. I was supposed to leave at 11pm. I got home at 1:00. It was totally worth it; I got to learn lumbar punctures with K, the blue-eyed Irish resident. If it weren't for the trembling, terrified patient, it would have been just like a Harlequin.
His hands shook slightly as he guided my fingers to the spinous processes. With a thrilling combination of strength and tenderness, he found the intervertebral space and reached for the chlorhexidine swab.
"Sam..." he breathed. "Can you pass me the local?"
As I handed him the needle, primed with anaesthetic, our eyes met. His blue gaze seared into mine and I felt my heart flutter. I knew I would never jam a needle into someone's spine again without trembling.
....sigh...
A girl can dream. On to nights! Expect loopiness!
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