"Oh hey! I didn't recognize you in civies!" exclaims Sue.
Civies? What the hell are those? It's got to be a noun: a place, a program, a ... what? Sue explains and I look down. Oh, I get it: civilian clothes - I was wearing a dress shirt, skirt, and my trendy-grandma shoes, as opposed to my "jade" (yes, it actually says that) colored standard-issue scrubs and sneakers.
Armed with my stethoscope and protected by my white coat, I was on a mission. Like a true soldier, I was prepared: my stethoscope had just received its daily alcohol-pad polishing and my coat proudly sported its lapel pins. Only 20 minutes until 13:00 hours. Will I make it?
Ok, so before you all think that I've completely lost it since I've gone MIA for the past three weeks, let me reassure you that I haven't. I just feel like I've been duped into some sort of medical military that is OB/GYN clerkship 1. And seeing how it's now 21:31 and I need to be AAO (alert, awake, and oriented for all you lovely normal people) at 04:45, I'll leave with three little thoughts: 1) Thank your mother for birthing you, no matter how %&#$ing annoying she has been/is/will always be. 2) If you want to decrease teen pregnancy rates, show 6th grade girls an uncensored video of labor and delivery. 3) Coffee is king.
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