Page 76 of Hold the Pickle
Catzilla lies against Nadia’s leg. Mama Cat curls next to her. They are all properly aside, not completely invading our space.
The kittens, however, have no such social graces. They crawl over Nadia’s thighs, falling into the space between us. A tiny claw pierces my belly.
“Hey!” I say, lifting the offender, Ferris Mewler, as usual. I bring his white face to mine. “Have a little delicacy!”
Nadia laughs hard enough that she pushes me right out of her. And that’s it. Clean up must happen or we’ll be washing cats.
She picks up the kittens and sets them aside. “Make your escape.”
I do, heading for the bathroom. “Of course you can shower with me. The cats won’t follow us there, water and all.”
She considers it. “Okay. You’ve convinced me.”
I hold out my hand and she takes it, and our life together continues its glorious rise and fall beneath the warm spray.
I’ve never known a time like this.
The intern games are the next day. In them, teams from surgery, maternity, oncology, and emergency compete in various hospital-themed challenges.
Maybe I got less sleep than I should have, up with Nadia half the night, but I feel invincible, like I am drunk on happiness and sleep is optional.
Harrington, Fitz, and I team up. We all convene in the last curtain row of the ER, the one least used, particularly on a weekday morning.
The nurses have moved the row aside to give us extra space.
The first challenge is the PPE race, where we have to locate and put on a mask, hairnet, gown, gloves, goggles, and shoe covering.
We need two members.
“I’m a total klutz,” Harrington says. “Dalton, you and Fitz go.”
“I concur,” Fitz says. “Harrington would trip on a spider.”
Oncology chooses two interns. I eyeball the PPE strewn about. Gloves should go last, since they will slow me down. Shoecovers next to last, as they can be slippery. Goggles also late, since it’s harder to see. But masks make it harder to breathe.
Then it’s too late to strategize. Booker lifts her arm and shouts, “Go!”
“We should collect first,” Fitz hisses as we dive beneath a gurney to grab goggles.
Right. Collect and then put it on.
The other team hasn’t thought of this, pausing to shove caps on their heads. They realize their mistake when one of them ducks beneath the gurney to get goggles and the hat gets caught on a knob. They lose precious time pulling it off.
Not all the items are grouped. There’s only one gown in the stack, so I leave it to Fitz and search out the other items. I feel light, springing over a stool to snatch up a pair of shoe covers and leaping high into the air to snag a mask, which are dangling from where they are tucked into the noise dampening ceiling tiles.
Fitz is height challenged, so I leap a second time for hers and toss it her way. “Thanks!” she says.
Neither member of oncology can jump that high, so they are forced to drag a stool over.
My heart is pumping as I slide beneath a sink to snag a partially hidden gown. This challenge is an obstacle course, scavenger hunt, and dressing challenge all in one.
The caps are on the counter but where are the gloves? I open cabinets, finally finding a pair in a drawer. Almost there. I drop it all on an empty bed to start dressing.
Gown. Shoe covers. Mask. Cap. Goggles. The gloves are hard on my sweaty palms.
Fitz is still trying to find gloves. “Murphy!” she calls.
Right. I leave my goggles on my head and start searching.
