Drunken Cinderellas and the Ups and Downs of School, Work, and Life

When I appeared at the hospital before 11:00 as directed to do so by the 4th-year medical student who is in theory my job superior, the intern in charge of my block wanted to know why I was at the hospital. I told her I was ordered to be there by the fourth-year student who is technically my superior. She was not happy. She sent me home. She told me to contact my supervisory attending physician to determine whether he would prefer that I work the night shift tomorrow or to work the day shift in the office the following day, but that I would not be doing both. I didn't text the attending yet because I don't know what his phone settings are. Perhaps he keeps his notifications audible at night and counts on us not to text him during night hours unless something is a true emergency, which this is not. I'll text in the morning.

I won't say a great deal about the specifics just to avoid making anyone unhappy who happens to be my job superior if such a person has found my blog, but my preceptor was unhappy with technicalities related to my evaluation. She says it will be redone. I was almost OK with taking the maximum scores on the scorable items minus the comments, and , when all is said and done, I may regret having it redone, but the total absence of comments was scary to me, and furthermore, it is now out of my hands. In terms of the test I had to literally run at full speed to take, she offered me the opportunity to retake it. i appreciated the offer, but I'm not concerned about my score.

I'll hopefully find out tomorrow whether I work the night shift tomorrow night or the day shift Monday. I'd prefer to know now, but I do not, and those are the breaks.

I had another xray. The kidney stone is still lodged firmly in the kidney-ureter junction. It is allowing some fluid to pass, so my kidney will not rupture in the immediate future. As long as I'm supplied with the drugs I need in order to be functional, I can work without excessive complaining. 

I dragged myself to the bank and came up with money to feed the missionaries, but sent voice messages and texts to the bishop and to the person in charge of the schedule for arranging meals for the missionaries that on rare occasions I'm willing to help with meals, but I need to be asked in advance, and that any change in the schedule that I have agreed upon must be requested a minimum of 24 hours in advance. (It's a bit funny: the bishop's wife has a kidney stone, so the ward is taking meals to the family; I have a kidney stone, and I'm expected to come up with a meal for the missionaries. It's all about rank in the LDS church.) The coordinator of meals tried to say that she had called, emailed, and texted me, but she has my numbers, but there is no indication that any of the previous ever took place. In today's world with caller iD and all, you can't just say that you called a person when you didn't and expect to be taken seriously. The same goes with texting unless you can prove that you sent it to a wrong number. I didn't come right out and say that she was lying; I merely presented the facts as I observed them to be and allowed her to reach her own conclusion about how I see her actions. If the glass slipper fits, she is most likely Cinderella.

P.S. My DNA kit arrived. I shall try on Monday before work to muster enough saliva to fill the vial, which will not be easy in my current state of constantly fighting dehydration. Since my parents have both had their DNA done, I will learn once and for all whether or not there is a strong possibility that the Maytag repairman had anything to do with my conception. We know it's not an issue of the wrong baby being sent home from the hospital, as there's no way anyone but the actual mother would have taken home a baby as ugly as I was.

This really has little to nothing to do with the price of tea in China. It's a video I googled from a movie based loosely on the story of Cinderella. I obviously don't own it. And I DON'T sing unless the voice of a mediocre-yet-on-key ten-year-old is in demand but the mediocre-yet-on-key ten-year-old is nowhere to be found.