I'll take Memorial Day for 100, Alex

I woke up Thursday night to my text message alert. Who on earth is texting me? Oh, if only it were a wrong-number-drunk-dialer.
Our back-up call system is called "Jeopardy." As in, your plans are in jeopardy. And for a span of 7 days, I am in jeopardy. That late-night page meant that instead of frolicking through heme clinic like I've been doing for the last week, I would spend Friday admitting patients. To cardiology. Boo. Luckily the intern and med student are rock stars, so I did very little in the way of supervision, unless frequent snacking counts for more than I think it does.
I traded my Saturday jeopardy, so I spent the day shopping.
I held my breath all day Sunday but made it through unscathed.
Monday, Memorial Day, has not been so kind. I sit, even now, in VA triage. I guess Vanderbilt thought marrying a veteran wasn't enough; I need to show my appreciation for military service by working the ER here at the Va Spa today. The count so far is two rashes and a "my brother poked me in the eye." I kid not. I never kid about neither rashes nor eye pokings.
I wonder what joys Tuesday will hold. Maybe a daily double is waiting in the wings.
But seriously, thank you to all the vets for your service. And seriously, tell your brothers not to poke you in the eye.