poker face

I found a whole family of quail living in my bushes out front. I got really excited, and much to the momma quail's chagrine, I picked up one of the babies and just about ate it, it was so cute. I thought about keeping it, but I felt bad. I knew it would miss it's family, so I let it go and walked away.

My heart started beating really hard again. I thought that it had mostly stopped in November, but I lie in bed some nights and feel it pounding against my skin. My heart is a bass drum. How fitting.

Today I took a man with one leg out to smoke. Sometimes I get really ticked off at patients who have to smoke. I grind my teeth as we're waltzing down the hall and think that, if these people are going to be in the hospital, it's a good time to quit smoking. (tangent number nine: it's also a good idea to stop being picky about water. If you can't be happy with tap water, Dasani can be good enough. My lord, you can't be picky about what type of bottled water you're drinking when you are in the hospital with appendicitus).
But usually by the time I get to the elevator I've mellowed out a little bit, and I realize that when you're going through something that is bad enough to put you in the hospital, maybe you deserve to get out and have a smoke now and then. Even though it's hugely out of the way for us.
So I took this one-legged man out for a smoke. He smoked two different kind of cigarettes, and we talked about different states, and where we'd traveled. I told him I was born in Iowa.
"I would like to go to Iowa," he said, narrowing his eyes and staring off into the distance. I almost burst into laughter. Good. Good for you, Mister.
A whitebread couple and their whiny son walked past us. They wouldn't look us in the eyes. And for a minute I got all defensive of my one legged patient who smelled like a firepit. "Just because he's smoking, and he's dirty, and he's wearing a combat jacket doesn't mean you shouldn't say hi!" I thought. And then I realized I was a complete hypocrite.
Like usual.