Weak

There are very few things that make me weak to the knees, even fewer people. My kids, my Dad and the other I'll try not to name today. But last night I was sitting in the office when I suddenly hear small high pitched cries in the corner. It was an itty bitty mouse stuck to a glue trap.

I absolutely hate to see suffering, whether it be a drunk who deserved the pain for making a bad choice or a child who cant tell you why he hurts. A piece of me goes out to every patient, every friend and yes even that mouse that kept me up all night.

Now you'd think the guys at work would be tough and come to my rescue when I cried? Instead they scurried away at the site of a live mouse fighting to break free. We scoop brain matter off the streets, put our gloved fingers on an arterial bleed, place an amputated limb on ice and deliver babies that leave us out of service for hours for decon. Yet an entire garage full of super hero's couldn't stand to remove a trap with an itty bitty mouse for me. Go figure...