There’s this season after we’ve gorged on Thanksgiving, the tree is down, and we’ve debated whether we’re going to make New Year’s resolutions, it’s called “Empty Stretcher Season.”
No one voluntarily wants to have surgery. That includes those with gallbladders that surely flared up eight hours after Thanksgiving dinner, the dads with tendon tearing pain in their shoulders after taking down the Christmas tree, or yours and my tipsy friend who fell while “celebrating” on New Year’s and argued that they were fine — the swelling in their knee would be gone tomorrow.
In surgery centers all around, management adjusts for the low census days. People leave early. Some stay home (with no complaint). Those working catch up on mandatory education between cases, find nooks needing dusting, restock bays, and bond. Yes, that’s what I wrote, we bond, or I should say, I bond. In order to be objective, I should speak only for myself.
Things slow down enough that I get to have a tidbit of social interaction outside the twenty to thirty minute lunch that falls anywhere from 11:00 to 12:45.
“How are your kids?”
“Are you going to fly up this summer to see family?”
“Did you catch that movie?”
When worn out joints result in a tidal wave of late in the year arthroplasties and long days, it’s a sweet reward.
I saw tomorrow’s surgery schedule around 10:00 am and …
Empty Stretcher Season is over.
Don't Curse the Nurse! 
Loved it!
That reminds me. I need to cut my Christmas tree in half so I can throw it away! I appreciate the reminder lol. 😉