Heck of a weekend

So I didn't get to N'awlins.

Circumstances beyond my control, but let's not talk about that. Let's talk about how Chipotle is trying to kill me.

This is an old story, but it is just too damn good not to write about. One day I go to work in the large children's hospital ER. I plan to work my 12 hours and then get the hell out and go home. That day I was assigned to the 'Mega-Bay', which is not a 20 story android costal inlet but the area in the ER where patients who are sick and hurt, but not really that sick or hurt, go to be seen and treated. (Note: if the child is really sick, hurt or actively trying to die s/he goes to a different Bay where things move much more quickly. But ya gotta really be trying to die.) About halfway through, my stomach demands attention and sustenance, so I obligingly take myself over to Chipotle and get a barbacoa burrito. Back in the ER, I'm done with lunch and sitting in 'Mega-Bay' doing the ever-present and freaking endless paperwork. Suddenly, I feel flushed, light headed and sweaty. More scarily, my collar feels tight and I can't quite breathe right.

Ack! So my fellow resident takes me up to that other Bay I was talking about (you know, the one with the really sick kids?) and suddenly I'm a patient. I got an IV. I got Epi (epinephrine) three times. I got steroids. I got 2 liters of IV fluids. I had an anaphylactic reaction to freaking Chipotle. I also got better... eventually.

The incident has made me famous in the ER. Which is both good and bad. Now I get more teasing, smiles and winks, but the staff knows me. So when I want something, it happens a little faster than before.

And heck, even just a little fame is fun. I can say, "Oh yeah, I'm the anaphylactic resident," and people immediately know who I am, how far along in my training I've gotten and what NOT to feed me.

It's good to be the King.