So it turns out I actually *do* have access to the internet in the hospital. I could have been blogging all this time! Drat!
I've moved into an on call room at the hospital. The room has a bed, a table, a TV, a sink, and a toilet. I get all of my meals for free, and I shower at the gym that is attached to the hospital. The gym has free towels, shampoo, and body wash. I only wear scrubs so I don't have to pack clothes. I go three-day periods without stepping one foot outside. I'm like Tom Hanks in The Terminal.
This weekend Ten and I went to the Harvest Festival at her workplace. I discovered my new love: roasted corn. I ate three ears and spent the rest of the weekend with intestinal unrest.
A few days ago I got my surgery evaluation, and I swear to golly that the phrase "socially awkward" was used in my "Room for Improvement" section. Being called socially awkward by a bunch of workaholic surgeons is, well... Of course, these evaluators never interacted with me in a social setting, only in a professional one. And being called "professionally awkward" would, I guess, be worse. (Although I kind of like it.)