…you know your way around.
…you have a regular sandwich order in the “Bistro.”
…you’ve had the same nurse more than once.
…your United Nations of Nurses represents most equatorial countries from the Western and Eastern hemispheres, and you develop a nuanced understanding of the strong British colonial influence on women’s names (Jocelyn…from Thailand, Maureen…from Cameroon).
…you’ve spanned the full spectrum of feelings from deep gratitude (“I love this place, they saved Dad’s life!”) to appreciation (“We should bake them cookies.”) to wearied relief (“Well, they are keeping him pretty healthy.”) to anger (“What are you people doing? Why do I know more than you?”).
…you understand that the system works to benefit all the participants — the patients, the nurses, the docs, the techs — but the interests of the group fight the interests of the individual.
…you hate your surgeon and love your internist.

Dad went home yesterday, and he seems to be headed in the right direction. Which, I hope, is the opposite direction of North Austin Freaking Medical Center.

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