Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Fevers, Coughs, Fever/Coughs and Cough/Fevers

Christmas has come and gone. And with those lovely Christmas gatherings comes the sharing of hugs, kisses, food, touching things, exchanging germs, coughing on people, sneezing..... Ah the joys of the holiday season. And with those exchanges comes the trips to the ER. People coming in with their fevers, coughs, fever/coughs and cough/fevers. And so people go to the ER with their fevers, cough, fever/coughs and cough/fevers where they sit in jammed packed ER waiting rooms and graciously spread their germs. The best? The lady who got a prescription 8 hours earlier at the walk in clinic and called an ambulance because she wasn't feeling better. She had a fever/cough. Apparently 8 hours wasn't enough for her Zithromax to cure her.

Monday, December 13, 2010


I love gunshot patients. Their behaviour is the most predictable of any patient who shows up in the ER. For starters they NEVER know who their assailant is. And they NEVER know WHY they were shot. Everyone who hangs around behind clubs and in dark parking lots at 4 am must be reading the Bible or something. These patients come in usually pretty scared. They are sure they are going to die. The nurses are their angels...their new best friends. Everything is "yes ma'am" and "thank-you ma'am". It almost makes you believe that you have a real life Bible thumper in front of you. But once you give them the good news...that their assailant needs to do some serious target practice as they were only hit in the lower leg and that they in fact are going to be just fine...then the true character comes out. Usually a true a-hole. The talk of retaliation, the loud profanities, the unco-operative behaviour, the "man" who gets shot has a complete cow when you try to take a piece of tape off his arm. Is it wrong that I think our city needs to find our own modern Australia to send all these idiots off to so that they can live in their own gun slinging chaos? At least I wouldn't have to deal with them!

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Green Means Go

I have a tendency to be loud at work - especially when dealing with people in the waiting room. It can be very loud. People moaning, yelling, children crying, people talking... I like to make sure I'm heard. I don't have the patience or time to be calling people three or four times. Recently the powers that be installed a big traffic light outside of the triage office. A big red light and a big green light. Inside there is a switch. Flick it up to red to stop the traffic and green to welcome in all the sick people. I like to think that I'm the reason they installed this. Apparently I was quite noisy when calling out "NEXT".

One would think that such a system would also be helpful in directing the waiting room traffic in and out of triage. Red means "oh wait...she's busy. She can't help me right now. I should just wait patiently outside for my turn". Green mean "now I can go in to be triaged...or to ask where the cafeteria/fracture clinic/parking machine/delivery rooms/lab, etc. is". But unfortunately that is not the case. Tonight I was in my triage office entering some orders on the computer. My light was flashing green. A mom came in with her two little girls and sat in the "waiting to be traiged" chairs. And there she sat. And green my light flashed. After 3 or 4 minutes the four year old said "mommy, the light is green - we can go". And yet it took the mom another 2 or 3 minutes to be convinced that yes it was ok for her to go. Green means go! Gotta love it when your four year old is smarter than you are!

Wednesday, December 8, 2010


It's my birthday on Saturday (that's three days from now for those who are calendar challenged). I'll be 32. The big 3-2. I remember when I turned 30 I was completely freaked out. I was out of my twenties. I was leaving my youth behind and venturing into real adulthood. Turns out that I haven't been so excited about having a birthday in YEARS!!! I'm so looking forward to the future and the unexpected surprises it holds. I'm at such a fabulous place in my life. I'm a mom to the most adorable and precocious twin 2 1/2 year old boys, have friends and family that are too numerous to count but also love me overwhelmingly and unconditionally, have a job that fulfills me, a new found confidence in who I am as a woman and am experiencing happiness in my personal life that has truly caught me off guard...and I'm not completely unfortunate looking! The past couple of years have been a bit rough and although I know the road will never been completely smooth (that would just be too boring!) I know that 32 is going to bring lots of smiles and laughter! BRING IT ON BABY!!!!

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Beam Me Up Scotty

When our new ER opened a year ago they decided to install a fancy new tube system for delivering blood and other lab specimens. Ok - so to many other health care workers reading this it may not seem like such a big deal but in my little neck of the woods it's pretty advanced. I love it! You tuck your little specimen inside of a red bag, stick it in the big plastic tube, push a few buttons (usually curse a couple of times because it takes so long) and woosh! it goes to the lab. It's sort of like the system from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that sucks up the glutinous Augustus Gloop and turns him into an eight foot tall basketball phenom. As much as I enjoy the tube system (and to be honest I still get a little bit excited when I get to use it!), I think that we could use it for much more exciting things. For example, Tim Hortons. We could send our orders up to Tim Hortons and have them "tube down" our coffee (in specially made containers of course). Or how about enlarge the tubes and use them for patient transfers? Forget about waiting for porters and elevators. Just pack up your patient, enter the room number and PRESTO! So many possibilities...

Monday, November 29, 2010

Latrine Duty

I don't know how often I say it, but being a nurse is so much like being a mom. You change bums, dress wounds, hold hands during times of pain, deal with whiny people...although I do refuse to "kiss it better" when it comes to my patients. The most recent comparison? Emptying potty buckets. I am in full potty training mode. Potty training twins - they should make this part of the routine while torturing POWs. I have to say that they boys are doing phenomenally well. We're on day three and we've only had one accident today. Not too shabby for not even being 2 1/2 yet. But every time I empty out the little potty bucket and flush the toilet I suddenly find myself wondering why I'm not in scrubs listening to the incessant beeping of telemetry monitors.

Monday, November 22, 2010

In Plain English...

My children have discovered the orifices known as their nares and begun inserting foreign bodies, specifically their phalanges, into them.

In other words my kids are now picking their noses.


Sunday, November 21, 2010

Christmas Wish List: iPod, Video Game And A Puffer

The Christmas season is upon us. My last two Christmas' haven't been the greatest but this year is going to be amazing. I love Christmas. So to have the opportunity to celebrate it the way that I like and that it should be is so exciting to me. I plan on throwing my boys into the Christmas filled world that will engulf our society for the next six weeks. It started this weekend with putting up our Christmas decorations, tree and heading out for a local Christmas parade.

Now your local parade is usually pretty hokey. Lots of pick up trucks pulling trailers that are covered in ribbons and fake snow. People in their leftover Halloween costumes with Santa hats. Suddenly The 101 Dalmatians is festive. I went with a friend and her little one and we sat patiently watching the bands, floats and other interesting characters march by. There are always people walking around giving out free candy canes. My friend was hard core set on making sure that the "kids" got free candy canes...her son is 6 months old. One man finally headed our way. Hanging out of his mouth was a cigarette with about 1/4 of it smoked through. The ash was hanging precariously from the end as he walked around handing out his candy. Apparently this year Santa was handing out candy and emphysema. Don't forget to add Ventolin to your wish list kids!

Sunday, November 14, 2010

One Patient, Three Lessons Learned

So a Dude comes in. He's got a 2 cm puncture would just below his clavicle (collarbone). Happened an hour ago. Newbie triage nurse puts him in the Acute bed. O2 is fine, respirations are fine. Dude looks like he needs sutures. Newbie triage nurse gets jested for her choice of spots for Dude. The story comes out as ER doc happens to walk by and chats with Dude as me and partner start doing our vitals and full assessment. Turns out his girlfriend stabbed him with a pretty long knife. Suddenly...and I mean suddenly...Dude gets quiet. A quick blood pressure shows his pressure is 50...i.e. deadly - very very very bad (he just happened to have the cuff on and it went off). We lie down Dude and the left side of his chest is about double the size of his right. This also occurred very very suddenly. A Code Blue is called. Within minutes Dude has a chest tube that drains a bunch of blood - he had a tension hemothorax. The knife nicked a vessel and his lung causing it to collapse. The accumulation of blood pushed the lung over until it was compressing the heart. If he had shown up 5 minutes later he would have been dead.

Once he's stable, his heart is beating properly and lung is reinflating thanks to the chest tube Dude is sent over to CT to see what other weird and wonderful injuries might have occurred. There is myself, another nurse, two porters and the CT tech. I start thinking to myself and share my thoughts with the group. Why would a girlfriend stab her boyfriend? Not that I am condoning it of course, but what is the ONE reason you can think of? Sure enough when the police are talking to Dude the full story comes out and my suspicions are confirmed. Dude had a Dudette on the side. Tsk Tsk Tsk.

So people in Bloggerland...what does this little story teach us?
1. Never underestimate newbie triage nurse. She may look like she's 12 but she actually knows what she's doing.
2. Never forget how dangerous those penetrating wounds can be...what sort of damage they can cause even an hour later
3. Get rid of Dudette number one before you hook up with Dudette number two. If you don't, life may become a bit more complicated.

Thursday, November 4, 2010


I hate political correctness, especially when it comes to describing someone's skin colour. Why must we say African Canadian/American? What if they're from Jamaica? Or what if they're Norwegian with dark skin? I have no problem describing my co-workers as "black" or "white". They know what colour they are! There are many people with similar names and to talk about one in particular, if I have to describe them by their skin colour then I will! It's not being offensive - it's stating a fact. Luckily my co-workers all have sensible attitudes about this.

I had a patient once who was waiting for an xray after having his dislocated shoulder put back in place. I couldn't figure out which doctor had seen him. Thinking about the two doctors that were on, I asked him "was the doctor that saw you white or oriental?" The non-oriental patient became quite offended by this. His response was a huffy "it's ASIAN, not oriental". Conveniently enough the ASIAN doctor walked by. I said "hey Dr. K, you don't mind if I describe you as oriental do you?" The doctor shrugged his shoulders, said "meh" and walked away. He obviously didn't care. And I smiled smugly at my patient and sent him and his annoying political correctness off to xray.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Self Scheduling Rules

There are certain rules that you learn to follow when you have self scheduling and work in an ER. Never work night the weekend of "fall back" - you end up working 13 hours. Never work days the weekend of "spring forward" - you only get 11 hours off instead of 12. Work the Labour Day weekend as one of your summer weekends - it's usually dead because everyone is away for the last hurrah of the summer. Never work the weekend closest to St. Patrick's day - you'll end up dealing with drunks and their green puke. And finally, never ever work Halloween...especially if it's on a weekend. These rules are not set in stone of course. They are just the common sense rules that any sane nurse follows when signing up for the schedule. Apparently I had a momentary lapse in my sanity when signing up for the Halloween schedule this year. Yes dear readers...yours truly worked nights all Halloween weekend.

I have to admit that we were all very surprised at the lack of drunk and violent idiots. There was an injured cat and a drunk bumblebee but other than that the normal Halloween hoopla was very subdued this year. That still did not prevent the evil spirits from making our lives hell. The acuity of patients was out of this world and it seemed that the spirits overtook the bodies of those patients making them confused and restless. On more than one occasion this weekend there were no more ventilators left in the entire hospital - they were all in use. I'm pretty sure that we also used up most of our stock of Haldol and restraints too. So despite the lack of stupidity showing up on our doorstep, the weekend was still hell. But I have nobody to blame but myself. NEVER WORK HALLOWEEN!!!!

Friday, October 15, 2010


My children like to chatter...a lot. I have come to learn that they are verbally advanced for their 2 years, but I assume it's because they are twins and constantly have someone else to talk with. And because they are so ridiculously adorable they always attract attention when we are out and about. Being the flirts that they are they respond to this attention by saying "hi" and "bye" to everyone. But since they don't know everyone's name, the general public will hear "hi man" or "hi lady" as we pass by. This becomes a bit awkward when you see individuals whose appearances don't fit into the typical gender classifications. For example, a person with long hair will sometimes have a penis making them a man. A two-year old doesn't always get this concept.

We were at the grocery store the other day and heading through the checkout. I should have looked a the cashier first because I could sense a very awkward situation approaching. The person was very slight with long hair and feminine feature...and a large adams apple. Yep. A dude. A girly looking one, but a dude nonetheless. And being the friendly person he is, my one son smiled, waved and called out "hi lady!". Great. I leaned over to him and quietly whispered "that's a man honey. He sort of looks like a lady but he's a man". My son thought for a moment, smiled again, waved and then called out "hi ladyman". Wow. Awkward!

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Is This An Emergency?

I love how people view the emergency services in our health care system.

If your doctor calls ahead - then it must be an emergency. Wrong! It just means that your family doctor is too lazy to treat you properly or is sick and tired of you whining about your problem and is dumping you off on us. Your belly pain for 3 months is still not an emergency even if you doctor has sent you in with a note or called ahead. The same principle applies to TeleHealth. Believe it or not, having a headache does not mean you have an intercranial hemorrhage and having a cough does not mean you are on the verge of respiratory distress. And I don't care if the TeleHealth nurse said they were going to fax something to me. I still need to triage you, assess you and 99.9% of the time you will have to wait just like everyone else.

If you arrive by ambulance - then it must be an emergency. Wrong! It just means that you are hoping that you will be seen by a doctor sooner. And can you please explain to me why your five other family members who followed you in with their cars were unable to bring you and your sore leg (that you incidentally took Advil for after the ambulance arrived) were unable to bring you? Sorry, but you will now spend the next several hours being babysat by paramedics who could be out dealing with individuals having chest pain or getting into serious accidents which your entourage waits for you in the waiting room because the doctor is too busy dealing with real emergencies like children who can't breathe and...wait...what's that? Your leg feels better? As in "the Advil I took after the ambulance arrived is working" feels better? Well there's a shocker!

If you come in with a problem that has been bothering you for two years and you had some time to kill this evening - then it must be an emergency. Wrong! This is something that your family doctor should be dealing with. This is obviously not a life threatening problem if it has been going on for two years...and tonight you are here because it just won't go away. So please stop asking me how long the wait is (you are obviously very patient if you have waited two years to have it investigated), don't assume that we are going to do MRIs, CTs, ultrasounds, etc. in the next two hours and diagnose you because those tests are reserved for patients with true emergent problems and when the doctor orders you a needle full of something to temporarily help your problem, don't freak out on me and tell me how much you hate needles. You should have thought of that over the last two years when you had the opportunity to take the white pills known as Tylenol sitting in your cupboard at home.

There. Rant done.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Practical Joke Fail

I have a friend at work who is sort of like a little sister. We get each other's sense of humour and she's a bit of an old soul as I can be once in a while. However our inner adolescents like to come out once in a while. A couple of months back we were having a quiet shift and I started teasing her via texting (this was pre AssPhones...see previous post for further info). She then attempted to make a homemade water gun out of a glove. That attempt failed terribly and left my lower back (and other body parts) soaking wet. Being the big sister I decided to take it upon myself to educate my friend on how to do a practical joke. So on her break another colleague and I wrapped up her car in toilet paper and paper towel. It was by far one of the best car toilet paper jobs ever. I was quite proud of my self until I got a call 45 minutes before shift change. Apparently we had toilet papered...the WRONG CAR! Yikes!

Practical joke fail!

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Tampon Man

And the award for the most innovative patient goes to (insert drumroll here):

The man who showed up with a bad nosebleed and a tampon in each nostril. They're super absorbent and expand to fit all your natural curves!

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Vibrate Mode

Yikes! I sort of fell off the grid there for a while! You know how life throws those crazy curveballs at you though. Running out of milk, doing laundry, taking the kiddies swimming, feeding the dog..and before you know it it's been two months since a blog entry has been logged.

Life in the ER continues on as normal. We just moved into a new department a year ago. Everything is shiny and new...well, WAS shiny and new. New monitors, new portable ultrasound machine, new stretchers, new toilet paper holders that allow your 15 second pee break to become a 5 minute one as you desperately try to rip off enough paper from the roll, new tracking system...the list goes on. Our newest addition? Small portable phones that allow you to call the separate departments, charge nurse and docs. I assumed that our tracking system was what was supposed to help us figure out where people are, but whatever. It even allows us to text. This lovely feature is used quite a bit I discovered when going through the phone history one night. It included medically relevant texts such as "hey blue zone nurse you look hot in your orange shirt" and "i want to kill dr (insert name)". On the front of these phones is the brand nam AsCom. We have appropriately renamed these the AssPhones. Anyone fortunate enough to carry these around will put them in their back pocket..and turn it on vibrate. I have yet to have to carry one of these around, however I think I now know why the charge nurses look so much happier these days!

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

For All The Young And The Restless Fans

Nurse Colleague: Do you know your name?

Confused Old Lady: Mrs. Smith

Nurse Colleague: And can you tell me where you are?

Confused Old Lady: Katherine Chancellor's house

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

High Demand

So I've mentioned that I have two kids. They're both boys. Both two...tomorrow. For all those geniuses out there, yes, I have twins. And like all moms I think that my kids are just the cutest ever. But in this case - they are. Seriously. Picture bleach blonde hair, big blue eyes, chubby cheeks and smiles that light up a room. Those are my boys. I'm not the only ones who think they are the cutest. I have already had one proposal of marriage from their 5-year-old friend (who didn't understand why he couldn't marry both of them). I also had a rather sweet offer the other day. Another 5-year-old friend asked if I had a big brother for my boys. I smiled and said no. He then informed me that he was offering to be their big brother. Ok - so maybe that kid is the cutest ever!

Friday, July 9, 2010

Cleveland or Miami?

I think that ER nurses do some pretty amazing things. Some of them require years of studying, such as understanding pretty much every drug under the sun and how it works within the body. Some of them come with experience, such as starting IVs on patients who have had chemo pumped through their bodies leaving them with no veins to be seen or putting a foley catherter into the bladder of a 400 lb. obese woman who had 12 children fourty years ago. Other amazing things can't be taught. We're the ones who are there when a patient learns that the cancer they have been fighting has spread or to hold the hand of a mother who has just lost her child. Pretty awesome stuff.

But apparently not awesome enough. Apparently they need to include a day in nursing school about how to throw a round orange ball into a hoop. Then we'll be considered awesome.


Saturday, July 3, 2010

Code Pink

Every job has it's own "you just don't get it" aspects to it. The parts of your job where no matter how well you explain it to anyone, unless you are truly involved and a part of it, the common person just doesn't get it - they can't possibly understand. You can watch every episode of ER, Grey's Anatomy, Nurse Jackie, etc. and not really have any concept at all of what being in and working in an ER is all about. You can even be married to someone who works in an ER and not get it. I'm so fortunate to work in a department where we are a second dysfunctional as it may be. So when you have those difficult moments, you know that you are not only working with others who "get it", but that they actually care how you are feeling after those moments.

Tonight we had the worst possible scenario that anyone working in the ER can face - a code pink. (A code blue for kids). Just hearing it makes your stomach churn, makes your heart race, makes you get yourself into the highest gear possible to save this life. I wish with all my heart that I could say it turned out ok, but I'm not sitting here getting teary because the smell of c-diff is wafting down the hall. It's the first code pink I've been in since becoming a mom. To hear the anguished cry of a mother is more than anyone can bear. To look into the beautiful face of an angel as you desperately push up and down on their chest, just willing to make their heart start beating again is unimaginable. To put an oxygen mask over their face, forcing their anoxic lungs to accept the life saving air and see it failing is overwhelming. And then when it's all over, to look into the faces of those who are your second family and feel comfortable to share your feelings, a couple of tears and words of "good job" and other encouragements is so satisfying. Those are the people who "get it".

Tuesday, June 29, 2010


Our society places a lot of emphasis on the importance of reading. It's one of the first fundamental things that you learn in school. Why do we feel reading is so important? Well it's one of the ways we routinely communicate on a daily basis. We read emails from family about a loved one's health updates. We read Facebook status' to see what the girl who sat beside you in grade ten biology...oh wait, doing this weekend. We read signs while driving (if driving in Toronto the mass majority say CONSTRUCTION). The method of communication known as READING seems to work in all aspects of our society...except in the Emergency Department. People tend to regress to their pre-kindergarten days when they enter the ER. There are signs everywhere in the ER. Signs that indicate where to sit to be triaged, signs that indicate to remove your coat while you wait for triage, signs that state only one visitor at a time, signs that say STAFF ONLY and signs that tell those waiting that nobody can tell them how long that their wait will be, as the ER is an unpredictable place. Now when I see these signs, I see them in English. Apparently the rest of the world sees them in hieroglyphics or maybe even ancient Gaelic. There is nothing more annoying than spending half your day directing people to follow the signs or answering questions that could very easily have been addressed had the individual just read the sign!!! OK, venting done. I have to go now. There's someone staring at me through the window with their papers for an outpatient cardiac clinic. I guess they didn't read the signs...

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Psst...You Gotta Match?

The G8 and G20 Summits are underway. The leaders of the top superpower countries are meeting to discuss whatever they discuss. How to gang up on North Korea should the Koreans decide to unleash their nukes, how to prevent the hole in the ozone from growing any larger, how to stop economic crashes like those that occurred in Iceland and Greece. Who knows? Maybe they're all just sitting around telling dirty jokes and betting on the World Cup while tossing back a few Alexander Keith's. I admit that my knowledge of politics is not up to par. My ignorance is a bit embarrassing. I suppose I just go with the flow so much because I know how fortunate I am to live in the greatest country in the world. I know that had I been born a woman in one of a plethora of other countries, my life would have turned out so much worse. I've been to half a dozen countries around the world (certainly not a lot), but enough to see what "could have been".

Having said that, I appreciate the passion behind the people who are protesting in Toronto as we speak. I appreciate them standing up for those who don't have a voice...for those who don't even know their voices exist! It ISN'T fair that children die from easily curable diseases around the world. It ISN'T fair that mothers trudge miles for clean water. It ISN'T fair that a father tries to support his family on pennies a day. It ISN'T fair that these problems are the NORM for most people around the globe. Yes - protest these unfair divides. Yes - let the world leaders see that those with plenty need to do more to help those with nothing. Yes - stand together as one voice. But for pete's sake...don't set fires to cars, don't wreck fences, don't induce violence! There are thousands and thousands of people who just want to do the right thing, and their voices of peace and unity are drowned out by the actions of a few idiotic asses.

Do these people SERIOUSLY think that overturning a Chevy Malibu and setting it on fire is going to make Barack Obama and his cronies say "well now...maybe we should consider giving more money to the food programs in Africa. We don't want any more Malibus destroyed!". Of course not! Let's look at the people who have induced that greatest changes in the recent past. Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Nelson Mandela. None of them burned cars. None of them hurled broken glass at police. It was their words and their peaceful actions that lead to change. If I was one of the peaceful protesters at this shin-dig I'd be pretty pissed off. I couldn't even tell you what issues are being raised because their stupid cronies are directing all attention away. Anyways, happy protesting!

Monday, June 21, 2010

Bra Tops And Bedazzled Shorts

The other night a bunch of us from work went out for dinner and then to a pub afterwards. We were fortunate enough to get there early enough to snag a table for all 15 of us. Our table was up against a wall in the middle of the pub, just a few feet away from the main bar. You could see most of the action as well as all the foot traffic as it passed by. It's always interesting to see what people wear out to a bar, especially women. Apparently one girl thought her tighty-whitey bedazzled shorts were hot. Another one looked like bridezilla...literally. I came to a rather poignant conclusion that night. If you ever are feeling down about yourself, specifically about how you look, just go to a bar! You realize "hey - I'm doing pretty well here". I'm assuming that the company that made those sparkly booty shorts made more than one size...and they are all coming to a bar near you!

Monday, June 14, 2010

Clown Vs. Clown

Saturday morning was the first year anniversary of my bank being open (HOLLA!!). Ok, whatever right? Normally I wouldn't care either except that they had a little celebration in their parking lot with an inflatable pirate ship, free food and drinks, clowns, music, etc. A free party for the kids? I'm so there. It was drizzling a little bit on the way but I assured myself that the three of us could suck it up. The drizzle slowly turned into a slow steady rain. Hmmm... By the time we arrived the outdoor pirate ship was like it's own water park. As kids jumped around the spray of water flew around like the spit that might emanate from Daffy Duck as he speaks. So the pirate ship was out. Balloon animals. Safe and fairly dry since the clown was standing under a small tent. That was until God decided to open the heavens and blow the rain directly INTO the tent. After waiting about 15 minutes the parent next to me pointed out that the smart people were going to see the clown INSIDE to get balloon animals made. By the time we made it to the front of the line the clown was grumbling about how he was supposed to be make the balloons - not stilts clown inside.

After getting our balloon dog I had a decision to make. Run to the car or go inside for free cake. Who am I kidding - there was no decision to make. Let's try this again. After getting our balloon dog we went inside for cake. Stilts clown was working away at his balloon creatures when one of the boys realized that we only had ONE balloon animal. Now for those of you who aren't parents, one of ANYTHING is not enough when you have two children. So we lined up...again. While waiting for balloon dog #2 stilts clown then began "commenting" on how he wasn't supposed to be making balloon animals, how it was outside clown's job. The whole time he grumbled, he kept a happy face on for the kiddies. But I'm smarter than that. I know sarcasm like a second language. In fact there are some days where I think I might have even invented it. With a second balloon animal in our hands and bellies full of cake and juice, we headed on our way. And if you need to know, stilts clown made a much better balloon dog.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Happy "You're Legal Now" Birthday

One 26 oz. bottle of Smirnoff Vodka - $22.95

One case of 24 bottles of Corona - $32.50

Package of 4 premade shots of mudslides - $8.00

A new outfit from West 49 - $76.99

Ending up in the ER on your 19th birthday because you've yaked all over your new birthday outfit and your buddies can't wake you up and ending up in a diaper with a tube up your penis - PRICELESS!!!

Thursday, June 10, 2010

I Support Pirates, Racists and Mounties

You would have to be living in a hole in the ground not to know that the World Cup is starting. I love how people proudly display the country they support with the little flags they stick on their car. I do have an issue though with people who have more than one country flying. I passed some guy today with the flags of Germany, Brazil and England all flapping in the wind. That's sort of cheating in my mind. He conveniently can remove each flag as the teams are eliminated and still look like he's supporting a winning team. Cheater.

What I find most amusing is the people who are on the street corners and parking lots selling these flags. They aren't only selling the small flags to stick on your car, but large ones to hang from your house, to wave out the window of your car as you drive down the street honking after your team wins a game or simply to use as a toga just in case you run out of laundry. What confuses me are the flags that these people are selling. Sure you can get a flag for South Korea, Albania (aren't you impressed that I even knew what the Albanian flag looks like?...the sad part is that it's from watching a very old Simpsons episode where Bart is part of a student exchange program), Holland or Argentina. But did you know that you can also get a flag with a skull and crossbones? Or a good ole' Confederate flag? They are even selling Canadian flags with a Mountie superimposed over the maple leaf. What I want to know is WHY? I don't think that you will find Captain Jack Sparrow, Hitler or Dudley Do-Right on the roster for any world cup teams.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Origins Of The Word F*ck

So it's been a while but I'm back in the blogging game. Things are a bit different now and I'll get around to all of that at some point. But for now I'm just working away in the ER and living life with my two awesome boys. So shall we start out with something light? Something fun and entertaining?

Picture it: an elderly 88-year-old man has tripped and fallen...and he can't get up. Why? Not because his medic alert necklace button wasn't working, but because he has fractured his ankle. Fractured it BADLY. Dislocated and the bone almost protruding through the skin. Bad enough that I have to cover it with a sheet because it gives me the willies. He's getting set up on our heart monitor as we prepare to sedate him with some Micheal Jackson juice, i.e. Propofol when he proceeds to tell my colleauge as she explains to him why we must put him to sleep (it's to straighten out his ankle) that "I really f*cked it up!". Our response? Loud hystrionic laughter followed by me trying not to pee my pants as he then begins to share the origins of the word f*ck. Apparently it came from England in the 16th century. So there you go.