No Restraint. Defined.
I am in training at a specific government-run hospital in Chicago. I am training to be in the mental health profession. (I'm being somewhat ambiguous for the same reasons that I call myself Teodoro on this blog.)
I said some of this on my previous blog, but we have some new readers here so I'll share it again: I love love love this new placement. It's an amazing site with incredible supervisors. I learn vast amounts every day, and it's a casual, mature, important place for me to be. It's damn near perfect. The right neighborhood, the right people, and the right vibe. I can see myself settling in here for a good long while if they'll have me (though I have about 3 years of training left...but that's a different topic).
There is one thing, however, that seems to be a constant presence at this site. Something happens just about every day. Something that I've dealt with before, but never at this level. Something of which I am no longer surprised. Something I actually now expect. Something. That. Just. Is.
It is the single most flatulent hospital in the universe. All shapes, sizes, and varieties. All locations. All hours. Open doors, closed doors, hallways, elevators...you name it. Wind 'em up and let 'em rip. No restraint.
They didn't list that in the benefits package.
Doesn't quite fit on my C.V.
I haven't had that class.
Not easy to model alternative behavior. Can you demonstrate NOT doing that? What would I do, just STAND there? (See? Watch. Keep watching. Nothing. See?)
This post'll teach the other two Hombres to go a day without contributing. See what you made me do?
posted by Teodoro Callate @ 10:39 PM
8 comments
8 Comments:
Maybe it's all those Brats and chicago dawgs they wolf down? you ought to carry a small can of air freshener everywhere with you and fight back! Nice narrative though, I haven't been so amused since Spring Break and the great wet boxer contest!
All,
I've been fighting "the bear" recently, as they say. So I haven't had time to contribue my usual frequency of comments. It's kind of weird - I miss you guys. I am thinking about a scene towards the end of The Breakfast Club with Anthony Michael Hall - "I consider you guys my friends". Is this true - or am I addicted to blogging? Both?
It's 3__am and I'm awake again. I'm not farting so I'm helping in that way at least. Does that count?
Oh, Ted, I'm so sorry to hear that - because it sounds really fulfilling and fantastic otherwise and I would seriously so want you for my therapist in some universe where it wouldn't be hugely inappropriate. Maybe you should buy a costco sized bottle of beano and go down to the kitchen and start dropping it in. Hospitals, no way around it, do not smell good under any circumstances. A weird, depressing mix of bodily fluids and waste and gasses and chemicals and drugs and antiseptics and bad food and floor cleaner. No good. Can you tell I've done my hospital time? In a non-professional capacity?
When my father was in the hospital several years ago, he had to share a room with a large man who had some SEVERE gastro-intestinal problems, who was unable to leave his bed for um, anything. This may have been the one time in my dad's life when his lack of a sense of smell was a blessing. The rest of us however, retain this sense, and I for one, had moments when I absolutely could not take it. My stepmother, bless her heart, slept in the room with my dad for a week. I'll never know how she did it. I suppose I'd do it for Ben, but that definitely falls under the wedding vow of "worse."
I love how "anonymous" "agrees" with my post. These bots are cracking me up. Not sure whether or not michele is a bot or not. Maybe a droid.
Vin, dude, go to sleep! The place ain't the same with out you, so get better soon. Whatever the bear is, I hope get over it.
Betsy, you're a sweetheart. Your suggestion about the Beano is a good one, but it would take such an unbelievable amount of Beano its frightening. And it's not so much the atmosphere that's the problem because clearly I'll just have to deal with that. (Close quarters in therapy can be..ah..interesting.) But I think maybe I should bring earplugs to work.
God, why am I talking about this? Because it's funny. Really, that's it. I'll just be standing there, and all of a sudden, I'll raise an eyebrow. And then I'll keep stadning there, bemused.
welcome to life with my dad.
We've recently been talking at work about this topic. Someone read somewhere (and that's always a dangerous way to start any discussion, mind you) that the human body needs to expel flatulence 14 times a day. Naturally, we've begun walking into each other's offices and letting one rip, smiling, and saying something like "12 more before midnight!" and walking out.
Believe it or not, I am not still in junior high school, and yet I continue to behave as if I am.
Unrelated: I'm so glad that anonymous agrees with your post about farting. You don't want to feel alone out there, with no one agreeing with you on such an important topic.
12 more before midnight – wow.
I suspect that there are other human equivalents to this concept. Ie. Psychological: 12 reflections during the day about what you may be experiencing. Relational: 12 thoughts about your spouse. Sexual: 12 orgasms or fantasies. Beer: 12 imports 12 domestic. Etc.
My Dad always said – “Son, there’s a study out there to support anything you’d like to believe”.
I'll go with the 12 flatulent rule as a good measure.
Yet another intelligent design flaw which can be cleverly obscured via concertina!
Felicity is given to blasting the public with an unexpected "Salior's Reel" and declaring, "You can expect 12 more of those bad boys by midnite".
This is a strategy that abandons concern for decorum or oder. When Felicity departs, one's sense of smell is lost in a baffling array of duct tape, chicken legs, and best intentions.
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