Last night was fun, for many, many colorful values of "fun." One of my patients got his transplant in the afternoon, and I told him "Happy Birthday" and he got a little teary-eyed, tough little Scots-Irish construction worker dude that he is, and we talked over how some cancers are really chronic diseases like diabetes anymore, and while there may be no cure for his particular brand of blood neoplasm, he might be fine with it for years. Albeit possibly for some colorful values of "fine." And then another patient came back from like a billion procedures in a row, and I saw her for the first time on my shift at after 5 pm, and she was lethargic and mumbling out of her head and had a temp of 104 and the day nurse said "Oh yes! She's febrile, spiked at 6 this morning, didn't I tell you? Antibiotics, uh... oops." So there was that drama and then the day nurse lost the chemo orders for a while but refound them and then the pharmacy guy handed me a bag of what is essentially the strongest kind of poison ever NOT EVEN IN A PROTECTIVE BAG (usually we gown up and double-glove and put on a face shield before we even open the bag) and said, "This expires in 23 hrs! Bye" and zoomed away, my chemo that is supposed to hang for *24* hrs, and nausea and weeping and drama, but that was just me. The patient actually did okay after some vancomycin and a fluid bolus, woke up and started giving me hell, as is her wont. (This is a woman who introduced her grown children to me as "Snooger-booger" and "Big Head," although I can't quite bring myself to call them that.) So, crisis averted, all in a day's work, AKASDLKAJ, and I really did miss this stuff when I was off making lists of which nurses had their CPR cards, snore, I did. Although it is stressful. Maybe this time I can remember that and do something about it before it makes me crazeee.
So, thinking some more about the Bandom thing, for many values of "thinking," and I suppose I must give the various musics a better try, because I believe I'm guilty of listening to, like, two songs by I don't even know who and dismissing them as Good Charlotte knock-offs, which is a double hit for me, snerk. So I will do that. withdiamonds and I have been having a good conversation about how we feel about all that mess, because our friendship is based on an enduring dynamic of MY THOUGHTS, LET ME SHOW YOU THEM and COOL! RANT ON CRAZY PERSON, I AM RIGHT THERE. For me, speaking out of utter ignorance, a difference between the Nsync pop thing and bandom as a borg unit (that's okay, right? ahahaa shush) is that I enjoy the subtlety of wondering Are they? Could they be? Did Lance ever really gaze adoringly at JC? Like, adoringly? And did it mean anything, anything at all when Justin had his thumb on JC's neck in the photo shoots? It's the not-knowing that actually formed the basis of my enjoyment, and having it all right out there, even as acting, kind of takes the fun out of it for me. Did he really tongue kiss that other guy on stage?? Why yes; yes, he did. Although I suppose you could wonder to yourself, and what does that all meeeeean. Like, what does playing at it and playing with it look like, uh... on the bus? Yes. When it's not an act. That level of comfort with each other, how does it, uh... mumble. Thinky. Yeah.
Yeah, so nothing new, nothing that hasn't been said before, but whatever, I love RPS. You know? Love it.