In the cafeteria today, an administrator I work with got in line behind me. We exchanged pleasantries and confirmed that we were both, indeed, doing “great”, and then this happened:
Administrator: Got any fun plans for the 4th of July?
Me: Actually, I’m on ED call that night.
Administrator: Oh, no! Well, hopefully you don’t see any fireworks gone wrong.
Me: Nah, it’ll be a good chance to get some suturing in.
I don’t get it. Why does he think we take ED call?
It’s not like I said “I hope I see a code blue.” We’re talking about a holiday where people get as drunk as humanly possible and then try to light explosive materials on fire. I think it’s safe to assume there will be minor injuries to suture. (And – bonus! They’ll be stone-cold drunk and much less likely to mind that I’m just a student.)
ALTERNATIVE POSSIBILITY: He was correct to be horrified by my lassaiz-faire attitude.
But if that’s true, I give up. I’m too far gone. There’s no way I can go back to thinking that “suturing” is a frightening or uncomfortable word that in any way portends imminent death. I must’ve lost all sense of social norms.
Goodbye, world of non-medical people! GO ON WITHOUT ME.