After ten hours on your feet all you want to do is get off of said feet.
All I was thinking about was getting into my bed and curling up with some carbs and turning on some senseless TV.
Then just as I was ripping off the bloody surgical gown.
The OR phone rings.
(And to the surgical gowns, they actually aren't blood proof. Taking it off and seeing stains on my arms was a new surprise.)
Another broken femur.
What is an extra few hours?
At least I don't have to go to the gym today.
The perks of having patients with BMI's above 40.
Some good heavy lifting for me.
Now my everything hurts.
Even after days like that, the possibility of being a surgeon still gets me excited.
Maybe I will, maybe I won't.
