Nurse! Scalpel!

So i almost performed surgery today. All I needed was a blue gown, some cool gloves, a nifty hat, and ... well ... I suppose a PhD from a prestigious medical school.

The day began with a flurry of hospital calls. In both cases wonderful little ladies had been sent for medical care for various reasons. It was my job to check on them, not to fix 'em.

After the first visit I hopped in Emma the Mustang and tooled on over to the next hospital, St. Elizabeth's. I had never been there before. I didn't have a lousy little quarter for the parking meters so I had to park in the high rise parking garage. I found myself entering the building onto the second floor. A quick check with the nice people at the information desk revealed that my victim ... er ... parishioner ... was on the third floor. Hey, I can do the math. One floor up. No problem. Except that after I punched the button on the elevator nothing happened. NOTHING. An orderly passed by and I asked if there were any stairs nearby. She pointed down the hall toward a glowing "EXIT" sign. I made my way over, went through the door, and ascended up the staircase.

That's where things went wrong. REALLY wrong.

I opened the door to the third floor and walked directly into a group of masked men scrubbing for surgery. They appeared very serious about their mission, what with all of the foaming and rubbing and the orange-ish glow on their hands and arms. And their I stood, under their gaze. My little "CLERGY" badge pinned neatly to my chest. Feeling very, very tiny.

I don't think they were impressed. I know I wasn't. I quietly ... slowly ... excused myself and stepped back into the stairway.

Ahhhhh ... I love the smell of chlorhexidine in the morning...