Having had lots of time to overanalyze the inner workings of this hospital for the wee ones, I have determined it is run mostly by covens , herds, and cowboys. Think Charmed meets Bonanza.
The real work is done by the covens. The covens are made up of nurses, care partners, etc…etc… and they handle all things rubber meeting road. I call them covens because they are primarily female, work all the magic, and when they have a rare moment to stop they laugh in unison like a coven of cackling witches. I have been woken from several naps by the uproar of coven laughter wondering if my head was about to be shrunk or if my husband was being turned into a toad.
The herds are of course the doctors, residents, and nurse practitioners that travel around the corral of hallways in groups of no less than 5 with rolling carts and computers on a journey called rounds. They recite pages of your child’s stats to each other, chew them like cud and nod knowingly. They attentively consume reports from the coven member on deck and the parents. They then amble off to the next room having done very little that could be considered productive. I guess there is safety in numbers. I can only liken it to the way teenage girls go to the bathroom…they all have to go together.
Then there are the cowboys. These are the doctors that don’t travel in herds. They are the ones whose word is spoken as revered gospel by the herd during patient stat recitation. They travel alone steering the herd with their orders and guiding the patients to wellness in a rock star like fashion . They have style. They have flair. They arrive fashionably late. They are weathered. They wear denim, leopard print shoes, spiked hair, manly ear rings, and sometimes official looking white coats. The herd quakes. The coven tolerates.
So there you have it. It all comes down to cows, covens, and cowboys. Together they can fix what ails your kids.