Three hours of sleep and blogging don't mix.

I thought I should begin sharing some of my ER stories (within the confines of HIPPA, of course) with you all. This seemed like a grand idea yesterday after 5 hours of sleep, and even better today after 3 and a half. We'll see how I feel about it after Tuesday night...
Someone asked me the other day what kinds of injuries or problems we see at my ER, and after some thought (three days later) the answer is: all kinds. We do some CPR (not as much as a trauma center, but I'm not complaining). Beyond that it's really hard to sum up what we see. It's not like all broken bones or heart attacks or pneumonia. It's just whatever walks in (or is pushed through) the door. It's old people, it's kids- it's your Aunt Suzy at 3 am who is throwing up with a stomach virus. The ER is the great equalizer and that's one thing I really like about it.
Anywho- I referenced this in one of my previous posts... you may remember certain finger amputee. Said patient chopped off the nubbin (a special word I will use here to represent everything from the 1st knuckle up) of said finger with a router saw. The person had multiple other lacerations, but that finger got the worst of it. The reason I tell this story at all is just to convey to you the guttural awkwardness of handling another human's serrated phalanx. In order to reattatch the end of the finger- I had to wrap the fingertip in wet guaze and place it over ice. It reminded me of my first OR rotation where the surgeon handed me,the nursing student, the removed ovary to place in a biohazard bag. I remember thinking how pink and shiny the ovary was- like an oversized pink pearl. The finger was somewhat the same- pink, not dead looking yet- but just wrong somehow. I go through phases. I have a love/ hate relationship with my job. Then there are times, like this particular instance, where that feeling is simultaneous.