Seven and a half hours in the operating room without lunch or a pee-break does not a happy Arlen make! My feet and back are killing me, my head feels empty and slow and all I want to do is sleep – well that and get at massage, but that’s a bit more tricky to get at hold of right now. I’m not a surgeon and I don’t want to be (as I’ve told every person who has asked, and some who haven’t), this day and a couple of the ones I had last week, prove why. It’s tiresome, it’s monotonous and I’m not very good at it. Every time one of the surgeons tell me I’m doing something good I practically roll my eyes thinking “what a load of bull”, I’m not killing the patient and I’m happy about that, but it’s hardly good, maybe, sometimes, on a good day it’s decent work, but most times it’s just barely acceptable.
So why do I care? I’m not going to use those skills ever again in my life. I’ve always said I’m not a competitive person, and I can still argue that fact – but I don’t like to loose and I don’t like to be bad at something, actually that’s kind of an understatement – I hate being bad at something! So after standing a whole day, smiling in spite of being stressed and reprimanded by the nurses, and trying my best not to be the stupid, un-surgical person that I am – I think I now deserve a glass of champagne, a foot rub and some gourmet sushi.
But as we all know that ain’t gonna happen, so I guess a hot bath, nuked pasta leftovers and a good book in bed is going to have to do. That is if I don’t fall asleep on the couch in the next couple of minutes…
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