We on this side of the desk have to have a little black humor to tide us over. I was just mentioning last night that I'm already done with rectal temperatures, and everyone was slain with laughter. Why? Because it's the season where we seem to spend our nights with a red-tipped thermometer and lube and have scrub tops liberally spattered with orange and pink syrup. (Even fairly young infants quickly perfect the technique of chipmunking Tylenol and Motrin and happily blowing it back at you with surprising force.) I have also noted an increasing incidence of scrubs that smell like cat pee because I'm preparing so many Rocephin shots, and when I reconstitute it a little always seems to blow back out of the bottle. Ah yes. Tis the season.
(And, parents, NO, we do not make fun of sick babies. There's no faster way to galvanize an ER staff than to bring us a sick kid!)