Yesterday was one of those days.  Work started out okay, but as the day went on it just plain sucked.  I was scheduled to work in the clinic and supposed to be done at 2.  I had a call the night before asking if there was any I could fill in at labor and delivery from 3-7 as they were “really desperate”.  How could I say no? I had Syd and her friend at the hospital with me, because they were volunteering from 9-3.  We had planned to go to the haymarket together afterwards…and you know how I love that haymarket…but “desperate”.    Okay.  And they were desperate.  The girls went to the haymarket without me and I stayed.  Everyone was stressed, I tried to help and probably only made things worse half the time.  Then, when someone needed a C section (like “now”) I offered to be the scrub nurse, which at least got me out of the frenzy of the nurses station.  The shift changed at 7.  They were increasing by one nurse, so they should be in better shape than the day shift.  Still, by 7:30pm no one came in to check on us.  We finished the case and wheeled the patient into a room to recover around 7:40pm.  The charge nurse asked if I would be willing to stay until 11pm.  After thinking about it for a second, I realized that those young girls had been in the waiting room for over 2 hours already.  How could I do that?  So I said no, that I couldn’t do it tonight.  I then heard someone who had been a friend say “Well that’s too bad.  She has to stay.  She doesn’t get to choose.  Just tell her that she can’t leave”.  I took a deep breath, and asked if she was referring to me.  She was.  And, she didn’t hesitate to tell me so.  Also threatened that she would complain, I could lose my license, etc.  Now technically, if there were fewer nurses coming than leaving, she might have a point.  We aren’t allowed to abandon patients if there aren’t “enough” to manage.  They had one more nurse than we’d managed with for the last 4 hours, and she was serious.  After pointing out that I had no such obligation to stay, I told her that as she was about to see my shapely ass walking out the door she might just want to pucker up and kiss it.

On the way home I was still feeling somewhat unappreciated.  I had a flashback to a scene in a movie.  It’s what I do…fair warning to those who drive in Boston, but when I’m upset I drive around daydreaming.

Growing up, I loved the film “A Little Princess” with Shirley Temple.  It was a very old movie but I loved it.  When my girls were growing up they were more enamored of the 1995 version of the film.  I’m going to admit here, that for once the remake was better than the original.

This is the story of Sara Crewe.  After living in exotic India with her doting father, Sara was sent to a strict boarding school in New York while he went to war.  Her father was believed to have died in the war, and their fortune confiscated.  She was then kept on by the abusive, stern headmistress as a maid.  Sara infuriated the woman with her ability to cope, and even thrive no matter what hardships the woman through her way. Sara was living in an unheated attic at the school, with only rags to wear, when a man next door and his servant intervened with a bit of magic.  This is what Sara and her friend woke to in the attic one morning (all cleverly arranged by those magical fellows).

A favorite scene was one in which the headmistress confronts Sara with the reality of her life. “Don’t tell me you still fancy yourself a princess! Good God child, look around you…look in the mirror!”   Sara replies with these words:  ” I am a princess…All girls are…even if they live in a tiny old attic…even if they dress in rags…even if they aren’t pretty or smart or young…They are still princesses, all of us”.

 I am a princess…all girls are!

This movie was one of many that we watched again and again.  My kids were just that way, when they liked a movie they just wore it out.

The memory that really cheered me up, though only partly involved the movie.  Did you ever take your kids to Disneyworld?   We really couldn’t afford it, but I’m so very glad we did.  The best of times.  We were staying at The Beachclub.  The whole trip was magical.  Matt and his friend were old enough for us to give them some freedom.  They still wound up chasing our tails the whole trip, but having a choice made them happy.  We scheduled a couple of those character meals.  One of them was a breakfast in  Akershus Royal Banquet Hall (aka Norway) at Epcot.  Epcot is filled with vibrant young people who are lured over here from their own countries with dreams of working at Disneyworld.  I’m not sure what they are really dreaming of, but slinging breakfast to whiny kids and demanding parents was certainly not part of  those dreams.  There were some “characters” in princess costumes, walking around signing autographs and posing for pictures.  The chaos they created was amazing.  Our waitress was a very sweet, lovely young girl who was working her butt off, running in circles and all in a long, hot costume.  When she finally had a moment to stop at our table, smile and ask if there was anything else she could get for us, my girls saw their chance.  They whipped out their autograph books and asked “could we please have your autograph?”.  The waitress was flustered.  She apologized, said “I’m sorry, but I’m not anyone important.  I’m not a princess or anything”.   Sydney indignantly told her “Of course you are! All girls are princesses!”   Our waitress stood tall for a moment, then bent forward to sign their autographs.  She hugged them, smiled and told me that she really needed to hear that.

That memory is what cheered me up.  Maybe it’s remembering the movie, too.  I just know that I’m feeling a little bit better, when I remember that I, too, am a princess.  And that biatch… well she can still just pucker up and kiss my royal ass.