Humbug.

Once again, my profession is stepping up to try and ruin Christmas. Manitoba Christmas, to be more precise.

I'm sitting in a toasty living room while snow falls softly outside. My hot chocolate is Irish, my niece & nephew are napping and I don't have to shovel the walk again for at least 6 hours. Bliss, yes?

Weeeeell...

This morning we went to the Polar Bear zoo. As we walked around the "Churchill South" enclosure I was reminded of a story my boss told me.

A family med resident had gone up north with her new husband to celebrate their graduation from medicine. They canoed for 4 days, then were attacked by a bear. The girl was mauled until her husband fought the bear off with a pen-knife. He then carried his wife back through the wilderness for 3 days, trying to get help. She died on the way.

I told my in-laws this tale as we watched Hudson the Bear tearing apart a tire.

When I watch Mr G play with the kids, my first thought is, "That's how you break an arm", "That's how head injuries happen", "That kid is gonna aspirate that pen-cap"... He's big, they're small, he doesn't know the meaning of the word "aspirate".

I was hoping to let go and not think of work while we were in Manitoba, but it is not to be. Instead, I'm leaning in; when the kids nap, I'll read about mechanical ventilation. While my in-laws curl, I'll look up head-injury guidelines. As my father-in-law pounds litres of coke, I'll think about managing SVT in older adults.

Not very festive, but very G.