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When
I was about 7, my dad was in his residency in Oregon. Granted, he was in Dermatology and so the
demands for after hours and on call wasn’t even close to some of the either
specialties. (Dermatological skin emergencies, as you can imagine, are just not
very common and if someone does come in with acute dermis issues, it’s the
plastic surgeon that gets the call.)
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However, he still
worked plenty of weekends. On some Sundays, the hospital would let the staff bring
their families to eat at the cafeteria for lunch. Those Sundays were fantastic
because they meant extra time with dad while simultaneously giving the church a
little poke in the eye. (Generally
speaking, Sunday meant the longest possible church service known to man coupled
with inactivity in the house.)
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So those Sundays
were all of that and a bag of chips. The hospital cafeteria was a Cornucopia of
treats. They had chips in single serving
size bags, ice cream in the little plastic cups with a waxed paper lid and a
wooden “spoon” attached to the top, and they had a soda machine!! It was the trifecta of extravagances that
rarely made their way into our kitchen at home.
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