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ATLANTA, GA – Trauma surgeon Maya Sonenstein has seen it all in her young career.  “I’ve seen all kinds of trauma.  My phone is an archive of human flesh and broken bones,” she said in a one-on-one interview with GomerBlog.  “It’s been tough, but I’ve fixed and repaired most of them.”  But there’s one thing she can’t seem to fix: a hole in the front pocket of her favorite pair of dress pants.

pants
“Shoot, it’s cotton!  F**king Fabric of Our Lives!!”

“F**king needle!” screamed Sonenstein, fully scrubbed into OR 6 of Georgia Medical Center, baffled by her inability to thread string into the eye of her straight needle.  “I can’t thread this needle!  Who has time for this?  ARGGHHH!!! What do you need to be, a freaking magician?”

After 30 minutes of persistence, she passed the string through the eye and knotted the tail end.  “Okay, let’s do this!”  Anesthesiology was ready and waiting; their drape was up and secured, in the event of any unforeseen bloodshed.

Sonenstein put her dress pants in reverse Trendelenburg.  A sweat formed on her brow.  She was used to human anatomy, not that of designer pants.  “I’m lost!  I need landmarks, damn it!  Where are my landmarks?”  Using her years of surgical experience, she quickly identified the pants label and reoriented herself.  Once she was oriented, she queued her medical students to keep her pants “in this exact position” for the next several hours.

She threw in the first stitch, but it didn’t take.

“F**king cotton!” she said in unrestraint frustration.  A few more four-letter words followed.  “Human flesh is so durable, so easy to stitch, even fascia.  But look at this 100% cotton?  I’m a just a surgeon, not a seamstress!”

In dire need of help, Sonenstein called in backup in the form Terry Johnson, a plastic surgeon.  It didn’t take Johnson long to make his assessment.  “No clue,” he shrugged his shoulders.  “I can’t seem to get the edges to appose.  I can work with polyester, but this… this… Gosh, it’s hot in here!”  Fear came across his eyes as he looked at Sonenstein while grabbing a small foreign object: a thimble.  “And what the hell am I supposed to do with this awful thing?!”

“Maybe we need endoscopic visualization from GI or Pulmonary?” asked Johnson.  “It’s either that, amputation, or Palliative Care.”

“Damn it to hell if I’m giving up on these damn pair of pants, Johnson!” screamed Sonenstein.  “Do you how hard it is to find pants in this size, style, and color?!  Plus I got them on sale.  Let’s man up and get the job done!”

Sonenstein and Johnson are awaiting callback from the seamstress on call.  The scrub tech is not looking forward to the button count at the end of the case.

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Dr. 99
First there was Dr. 01, the first robot physician, created to withstand toxic levels of burnout in an increasingly mechanistic and impossibly demanding healthcare field. Dr. 99 builds upon the advances of its ninety-eight predecessors by phasing out all human emotion, innovation, and creativity completely, and focusing solely on pre-programmed protocols and volume-based productivity. In its spare time, Dr. 99 enjoys writing for Gomerblog and listening to Taylor Swift.
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