My ridiculous, sleepless NYE

Let me start by saying that this NYE was much better than last year's (it's hard to beat being in a bad mood, skipping out on three parties and staying at home).

Anyway, the evening started out pretty well. Catan and Chinese food are nothing to sneeze at. We had a game, and Superman won, which hasn't happened in a long time. I might have been a little miffed that he won on interim just as I was going to get the cloth metropolis, but we won't delve into that.

We then headed over to Kerri's place, where Lovely Lady and DW were hosting a NYE party. None of us were particularly in the mood for a large party, but when your friends perform the kindness of throwing a party, you do what you can to support them. It was actually fun. Fantastic food, raffle prizes, fun people, and even a chocolate fondue fountain. Ran into some old friends, acquaintances, and people who claimed to know me. I spent most of the time chatting, stirring my banged-in-the-cardoor birdfinger in a cup of ice, and resolving to stay away from strange trunk latches in 2006.

We left around 2300. I felt like I was entitled ... afterall, I had to be at work at 0700 this morning. Finger still hurt enormously, but I took some advil, bound it up, placed a cold pack on it, called Suzie with small-patient request, and was asleep well before midnight.

My incalculably rude finger woke me at 0230: throbbing, painful, erythematous and hot. And then I started to get worried. The last time something like this happened, I shrugged it off for the weekend until BackrubS told me to get to a doctor, who told me that I had a hairline fracture in my leg. I spent the next six weeks with my leg straight up a wall, watching dvd's upside down, and dreaming about swingdancing. Anyway, with visions of being mocked by cute ER doctors, I hied me off to the UCLA Emergency Department for a little piece of mind.

The ED was great. I was in and out in one hour and 45 minutes. I think that must be a record. Of course, they may have just wanted to clear out the space I took up on the waiting room, but I like to think that they understood that a nurse with an injured hand is a nurse doing paperwork. Whisked through triage, was examined by a handsome doctor, took a couple of films (surprisingly, I had to request a lead apron from the XR tech!), and I was on my way. Dr. SB is probably still laughing off his head at this silly PICU RN, but I had all the peace of mind I needed to suck it in and come to work on the first day of 2006 ... on only four and a half hours (3 + 1.5) of sleep.