The Real Baby

As much as I still love being in the OR (seriously, there is nothing more awesome in the world than watching someone cut a belly, cut through some more tissue (uch, please don't ask me to name all the layers because I can't), and suddenly there's a (very large) gush of disgusting fluid and then THEY PULL A BABY OUT OF YOU), I realize these surgery-esque rotations make me revert to an infant whenever I'm not in the hospital.  [note to self, that sentence was wayyyyyy too long for anyone to follow]. 


I blame it on the hours that just mess up my internal clock so badly that I never know when I'm supposed to be awake or asleep or eating breakfast or dinner or studying or what.  But whatever it is, I can only fake being awake and adult and not-grumpy for so many hours.  As soon as I get home and the scrubs come off, my id immediately takes over:

The only things I truly care about once I'm home are sleeping, eating, and pooping.  Sometimes I cry for no reason at all.  I'm mean to my mom no matter how nice she's being to me ("what are you having for dinner tonight?" "WHY WOULD YOU EVEN ASK ME THAT STUPID QUESTION?").  I don't talk to anyone, I don't call my friends back (babies can't use phones!), I can't pay attention to a TV show for more than 5 minutes, I take everything personally, and I expect everyone to cater to my every need (most don't, except for the good people at seamless.com).

"Hi, I'm student-doctor Elena. Is it ok if I watch that baby come out of your vagina later?"

The good news is that I'm done with night float (where your hours are 7pm to 7am), and no other rotation from now on has any full overnight calls!!  Soooo... yay!