antidote

Apparently, the antidote to being an adult caught in a merciless world of hell is to spend some quality time with seven-year-olds, who think "noise is great!" and enjoy soundly thrasing your ass at solitaire.

After my Shift From Hell #456 and about 5 hours of sleep, I went over to my undergrad French professor's house, Jocelyn's and shared Christmas dinner with her seven-year-old daughter, Mileva, her grandmother and a friend of Jocelyn's.

Initially reserved, Mileva warmed up right away once I took interest in her pin-ball machine (with dinosaurs and space ships, and noises that don't indicate cardiac arrest) and half a dozen games of solitaire, which Mileva's grandmother helped me play, because apparently I'm slower than I thought when it comes to card games played against smart seven-year-olds.

I see why people have kids, because of the joy they bring into our crappy, hateful world of adulthood, and how they remind us, in a good way, of that there are still some things in this world untouched by that crappy hatefulness.

Nurses need a lot of reminding. I need a lot of reminding. Maybe we all do.

In conclusion, that's why there should be a lot more seven-year-olds in my life, and less flakey attendings.