The bad news is I had such a craptacularly (as Bart Simpson would say) awful night I’m nearly incoherent.  One of the many, many highlights was having the wife (or symbolic, Oedipal mother, so enabling was her behaviour) scream for a warm blanket for her “cold” and “shivering”, drunken husband while I was trying to give IV diltiazem to an atrial fibber with a heart rate of 175, more or less.

I actually weighed this in mind, amazingly enough —

warm blanket?


warm blanket?


warm blanket?


— for about 1/100, 000 of a second before turning my back and drawing up the diltiazem.

The good news for you, dear reader, is that I have material for several posts.

But first for me, a Gravol and two Tylenol 3, and bed.


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  1. #1 by JennJilks on Sunday 23 May 2010 - 1559

    OMG, another…you have a way with the witty.
    Maybe you could have told her you were all out and could she amble off to the 24-hour drug store to find one? You were too busy doing your job.

    I remember sitting with hubby in emerg. when something went wrong. I froze. I knew and trusted that the good nurses were in charge and I’d best stay put and shut up.

    I look forward to more.. I can hear firecrackers going off in cottage country, it is the late afternoon. There ought to be a test for qualifying to be a parent.

    And meantime, I sing to you,
    ♫♪ Great is your reward in heaven!

    • #2 by torontoemerg on Sunday 23 May 2010 - 1919

      Oh right… Victoria Day… am off tonight, so there will be no fireworks injuries for me!

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