Fortunately, I only have one more shift left, and the nice thing about working in the ED is that it’s shift work. That makes up for the 10 bajillion other issues that make it difficult. The weirdest thing about seeing patients in the ED is that you’re only seeing a tiny sliver of the patient and family dynamic, usually at their worst moment. Because, you know, they’re in the ED, and you only go to the ED (supposedly) when you’ve got an emergency. And how many people do you know who are at their calmest, most communicative, friendliest, smartest selves when they’re in the middle of an emergency, or occasionally, an “emergency”?

Also making it hard to work is my ever enlarging girth in the setting of physically demanding spaces, which the ED is all about - it’s an ergonomic challenge, to say the least. Doing lumbar punctures and IV’s and catheterized urine samples kind of sucks if you’re not comfortable.  The other day, I started a cath urine on a (very strong, extremely wiggly) kid and started having a contraction right in the middle of it. Fun! Also, if I don’t drink at least 3 liters of water a day, I start having contractions, and (a) it’s hard to drink 3L of water in the ED, and (b) it’s hard to pee that much when you’re in the ED. I’m tempted to just roll around with my own IV bag and IV pole, although again, how am I going to do lumbar punctures or suture a laceration with an IV in my own arm?

Oh, and I forgot to mention, I’ve “graduated” from residency. We had a graduation ceremony and an end-of-year party to close out the year, and I was tempted to get all nostalgic about my last three years or at the very least, excited about moving on, but really, I’m just too tired to care. Honestly, what would make life easier these days:

[1] normal sized ankles that are not made of memory foam.
[2] someone to make me a real solid dinner every day, instead of stealing ginger ale and crackers in the ED and eating pre-packaged pineapple chunks and chugging milk from the container when I get home.
[3] a real pineapple-fruity alcohol based drink instead of pineapple chunks.

I might have even put on that wish list that I just want this pregnancy to be done and over with, but that’s not true. Gully needs to stew for a little longer because I have to get through new-fellow orientation and some clinic time in July which I have a feeling I’ll enjoy, but honestly, if she wants to be a late pretermer, I don’t mind one bit - their outcomes are apparently ok, despite all the recent hub-bub about neurodevelopmental outcomes in late pretermers.  The nerd-bomber in me has already lovingly cleared a space in my file cabinet for my NICU fellowship and labeled a new file folder “late preterm - dev outcomes,” and I’ve packed a few articles into it; not that I’ve actually read the articles. Does this count as “nesting”?

As for the actual physical nest, I think it’s almost done, mostly thanks to Joe, who assembled the crib, purchased a twin bed (for nights when cluster feeding shouldn’t prevent the other parent from getting a solid 4-6 hours of sleep or when my mom or dad will be “taking call” with Gully when I’m on call at the hospital and Joe’s in California), hauled furniture around, hung curtains and pictures, washed all of the clothes we’ve amassed, and tucked little diaper inserts into her tiny little Gdiapers. He even bought diaper wipes and butt cream. I think he’s more ready than I am - as evidenced by the fact that he will bend down and tell my girth, “hurry up, I want to meet you!”