Check out rural nurse Margaret W. Durham.
They don’t make ’em like that anymore.
If this nurse said to take your Castor Oil, you took your Castor Oil and you LIKED IT!
I’m concerned that she praised three Plymouths, though. Seems like she got a new one every 166,000 miles.
I wonder if her company paid for them.
Heck, I don’t consider my car broken in until it reaches 166,000 miles!
And I keep it nice and messy so no one even thinks about stealing from it!
I am proud to report that I have resisted the pull of “American Idol” and that my two-year addiction to Simon Cowell and the top singer du jour has been broken.
I have not watched a single episode this season.
Ah, but an addiction-prone personality abhors a vacuum.
It appears I have caught the NASCAR virus.
I even bought a TrackPass.
I’ve got it bad.
In many ways it is similar to Notre Dame football:
- It makes me yell and pound my fists on the coffee table.
- My neighbors know when there has been a crash/touchdown because the scream from my family room emanates throughout the block.
- It’s like I’ve been shot through with adrenaline for three hours.
And I’d like to thank my official NASCAR co-dependents for this particular addition:
- My bestest-friend-ever-since-the-age-of-fourteen-when-our-addiction-was-the Osmond-Brothers: Ms. Kim (who got to run around a track with Dale Jarrett last year) and
- My colleague-who-is-a-PhD-candidate who refuses to look at any newspapers delivered to the ER lest there be any info on the race she has TiVo’d at home.
The car pictured is that of Kasey Kahne. Hunk. Need I say more?
NASCAR is very much like a shift in the Emergency Department.
Allow me to explain.
The nurses and doctors and techs are the pit crews.
The patients are the racers.
The person who starts out in the pole position (your first patient of the shift) won’t necessarily be there at the finish line. Unless of course their particular “finish line” happens to be on your shift.
If you get my drift.
While NASCAR drivers only go to the pits when absolutely necessary, patients will come into the pits/ER at any time for any reason at all.
- They have a flat tire (broken bone).
- The car has an illegal additive (alcohol/drug intoxication)
- The engine is making funny noises (wheezing)
- The engine is overheating (fever)
- They are out of oil (need a medication refill)
- They have a leak (laceration, vomiting, diarrhea)
- The engine has frozen (stroke/cerebral bleed)
- They have hit the wall (MVA)
- The spark plugs are mis-firing (fatigue, weakness)
- They have run out of fuel (hemorrhage)
- They have too much gas (abdominal pain)
- They need a non-functioning part removed (gall bladder/appendix)
- They need a new part put in (stent, hip replacement – see flat tire)
- They don’t like the way the car is handling but they just can’t put their finger on it (chest pressure/heart attack)
And, just like in NASCAR, some racers will head out back onto the “track” of their lives and others will have to go straight to the “garage” to be admitted for repairs.
If life is a race, the Emergency Department is Pit Row.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Start Your Engines!