Dr. Curry and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day

in the style of the children's story Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I left the trauma room with blood on my stethoscope and now there's blood in my hair and when I got out of my gown this afternoon I tripped on the chest tube water seal and by mistake I dropped my pen in the patient's bedpan and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

At dinner Dr. Izenson got his General Tso's Chicken delivered and Dr. Routsong got his Jimmy Johns Sandwich delivered but all I got delivered was some soy sauce and napkins.

I think I'll move to Vanderbilt.

In the ambulance the medic told the nurse to sit in the left seat. He told the patient's husband to take the right seat. I said I was being scrunched. I said I was being smushed. I said if I don't get a place on the outside I am going to have a seizure. No one even checked my vitals.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

At the grand rounds Dr. Mulvey liked Dr. Izenson's diagnosis of Sjogren Syndrome better than my diagnosis of Stevens Johnson Syndrome. At presentation time he said I presented too quietly. After I was done giving my differential diagnosis, he said I left out Erythroderma ichthyosiform congenita . Who needs Erythroderma ichthyosiform congenita? I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

I could tell because Jeff said I wasn't his favorite doctor anymore. He said that Dr. Grant was his favorite doctor and Dr. Brandenburg was his next favorite doctor and that I was only his third favorite doctor.

I hope you get a psychotic drunk patient, I said to Jeff. I hope next time you have to restrain a patient your head part falls off your neck part and lands in Vanderbilt.

There were two cookies when Dr. Izenson went to the Doctors' Lounge and there was chocolate milk when Dr. Routsong went to the Doctors' Lounge and Dr. Brandenburg got a box of doughnuts from Medevac. Guess who didn't find anything except cottage cheese in the Doctors' Lounge?

It was a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

That's what it was, because after work I got an e-mail from the secretary and she found some undone dictation just in my file. Come back next week and we'll review it, said the secretary.

Next week, I said, I'm going to Vanderbilt.

On the way through the ER the X-ray machine ran over my toes and while we were waiting for a CAT Scan report on an abdominal pain, the patient threw up on my scrubs and when I started to swear because of the vomit Dr. Izenson said I was a resident and while I was beating Dr. Izenson for saying resident the nurses came back with the report and laughed at me for being pukey and fighting.

I am having a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day, I told everybody. No one even said awwww.

So then we went to the tracking board to pick some patients. Dr. Routsong chose a overdose with a decreased gag reflex, Dr. Izenson chose a dyspneic patient with a decreased level of consciousness. I wanted a traumatic arrest, but we couldn't find one. There were none in the ER. They made me take a plain old pelvic pain at 8 weeks gestation , but they can't make me give her an ultrasound.

When we picked up a Hospitalist at his desk he said I couldn't play with his PDA, but I forgot. He said to watch out for the charts on his desk, but I was careful as could be except for my coffee. He also said don't fool around with his e-mail, but I think I sent spam to Vanderbilt. The Hospitalist said please don't pick him up anymore.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

There was Mad Mushroom for dinner and I hate Mad Mushroom.

There was sputum on the floor and I hate sputum.

My coffee was too cold, I got charcoal in my eyes, my stethoscope fell in the suction canister, and I had to wear my green scrubs. I hate my green scrubs.

When I went to the ER Dr. Izenson took back the pen he said I could keep and the gestation wheel snapped apart and I stubbed my toe.

The stripper wants to sleep with Dr. Routsong, not with me.

It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

The Hospitalist says some days are like that.

Even in Vanderbilt.

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