I Have a New Boyfriend
Yup. It’s true, everyone. This is my big announcement.
We’re always together. He gives me tons of attention– he calls and texts me all the time. Sometimes too often, in fact… he’s a little bit needy. But that’s okay. I never leave home without him. We’re pretty serious. In fact, he’s already met Caroline.
That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Allow me to introduce you to the on-call beeper.
Isn’t he just adorable? I was super excited to get him because he makes me feel so important, but I suspect that his behavior is going to get old rather quickly.
(I considered going at this post from a different angle– “I Have a New Baby”– because he also wakes me up during the night, gets me up early, and lets out a high-pitched scream every time he wants my attention. But I wasn’t sure how believable that would be without the nine-month buildup.)
Seriously, though. When I’m on call, I’m a slave to the beeper. In our program, we get a beeper to use with our own patients, and then there’s the emergency beeper which gets passed around to whoever is on call. I was all excited to get it, at first, because I felt like a real live important doctor. I got it from my coresident my first night on call, read all the instructions, and asked one of my friends to send me a test page.
She texted me a few minutes later. ”It didn’t work! Some chick picked up and she was not happy.” I texted back, “Did you use this number? ###-####” Her: “I dunno.” Me: “Have you been drinking?” Her: “Yup.”
I sighed and texted a different friend to page me. My beeper went off. I picked it up and looked at the screen. ”531-8008″, it said. I texted her again. ”Is that you? What does that mean?” She texted back. ”Turn it upside down! It looks like it says ‘boobies’!!”
And that’s the story of why none of my friends are allowed to page me, ever again.
The novelty of the beeper has worn off alarmingly quickly, though. It reminds me of the flour babies we had to carry for “Family Living” class in eighth grade. (This is a lot of metaphors for one post, but just go with it.) They were just sacks of flour that we had to wrap in a blanket and carry everywhere like it was a real baby– it was supposed to keep us all from going off and getting pregnant, I guess. We were so excited to get them that we gave them names and drew faces on them and carried them all over the place, but by the end of the week, we all got tired of them and shoved them in our lockers and went home for the weekend.
That’s what this beeper is… in the end, it’s just a big old heavy sack of flour. That beeps. A LOT. But unfortunately, I don’t think I can shove this one in my locker for the weekend.