While we're on this happy topic, please, ladies and gentlemen, ask your doctor about advance directives, and then talk to your closest family member slash health care proxy about your advance directive. Do not attempt to do this with zero guidance. The terms are nitpicky. The laws vary by state. Bad things happen (often with a dramatic dénouement in e.g. a large urban ER where medical students are watching through wide, scrub-blue eyes*), so please do this little thing to help out those who care about you.
On an actually happy note, I went to see a patient from a couple nights ago who we ended up sending upstairs. He's doing great. They repeated a minor procedure that we'd first done in the ER with a little something for the pain... except he didn't get anything for the pain the second time around. In his words, "I like you guys better." Seriously, though, I love it when they get better. Getting a patient discharged from Bellevue over the weekend is like herding cats with ADHD and jetpacks on, so I imagine he'll be home on Monday!
Andy looked over at me plaintively last night and said he craved licorice. I dragged my eyes away from the computer** long enough to suggest a trip to Rite-Aid*** for an impromptu licorice purchase. Princess Andy rejected this proposition: "But... I want your licorice!" I don't habitually keep condensed milk around, though, so I had to make him caraway, anise, and raisin buttermilk soda bread (based on this recipe) to satisfy his craving. I've ruined him.
|Credit to the parenting site Babble for this photo. Mine looked|
a lot like this, actually, except they got eaten too quickly to be
immortalized on "film."
*Ouch. Next up, rhabdo urine as the wine-dark sea.
**Not working, oh no. I have caught a severe case of unproductivitis and hope to be cured soon and plugging away at my article and a presentation for next week.
***Have I written about this Rite-Aid before?