Highlight from long-call night on Trauma:

We got a page about a 17-year-old kid coming in with a gun shot wound. It said traumatic arrest, and Michelle told me to get ready for an ED thoracotomy.

"How do I do that?"

She made a slicing motion from the sternum to the side. Piece of cake.

So I opened up his chest in the Emergency Room as controlled chaos swirled around me - IV lines being placed, monitors being set up, noise and motion. I pumped his heart with my hands, as what little blood he still had leaked out around my fingers.

It was a long night. Two deaths, zero sleep, a few very sick people. Before I started the rotation, people told me that Trauma is fun, but tiring. I guess they left out the "sometimes" and the "very."

Trauma is traumatic. Or at least it was for the first few days. It's settling down a bit, but, like I warned everyone beforehand, I'll be even less available than usual for the next six weeks.

But life goes on. During my Transplant rotation, my sister told me that she was now wearing a new piece of jewelry, and that I should try to keep my schedule open for early next summer. My parents are understandably ecstatic.

You know what makes me happy these days? I put in a full tank of gas in my car this morning, and that made me happy. I finally found a pair of clogs I can wear around the hospital that fit my feet, and that made me happy. I tell you, it really doesn't take much.

I hope you're all well. Let me know if you have good news to share. I used to say that happiness is like peeing your pants (everyone can see it, but only you can feel it). Well, I'd like to join you in feeling the warmth.

Wherever I can get it, my friends.