Oh, we're going to play THAT game again, are we?

Matthew and I play a little game with the laundry that I like to call "What did I hide in the pocket of my scrubs?" I don't know if Matthew realizes he is playing this game, but I'd like him to know that he is winning.

This is how the game is played: Matthew wears scrubs to work each day and fills his pockets, intentionally and unintentionally (I'll explain that later), with little "treasures," shall we say. The tricky part about scrubs is that they are reversible, meaning you can wear them inside-out so they have pockets in both the outside AND the inside of the pants and shirt. This means he has four pockets to hide goodies in that I have to find BEFORE they go into the wash.

Every morning the breast pocket gets filled with a list of the patients on his service, a pen, sometimes a little quick-reference book about fractures, and other odds and ends. The butt-pocket on the pants might get more lists, but it always gets a couple of tissues.

Kleenex is the enemy of laundry.

I think Kleenex actually procreates while in his pocket, because, as the day wears on, a tissue can be found in the breast pocket and the INTERIOR pants pocket (how does he do that?...more importantly, why? Then you have to sit on your snot). Later some coins might be added and other various workday flotsam and jetsam...but always the tissues.

My job is to play hide-and-seek with all these tidbits and remove them before they enter the washing machine because, once they're in, the damage is done. So I rummage around and find all these things and sometimes the unintentional gift of blood and human tissue.

Usually this is dried up by the time I get to it, but the real point is that I am a) touching the innards of another human being, which is not something I endeavor to do, on purpose, ever and b) how in the HELL does that get into a pocket? When I ask how this could possibly happen I get upsetting answers such as:

"Sometimes it squirts" (usually accompanied by a hand motion insinuating that a femur is actually a geyser)

or

"Things are flying around in there" (meaning when you're working away on someone's bone the chips get to roaming).

or, my favorite,

"If that's the worst that gets on me in a day, that's a good day" (well that is PLENTY of bio-hazardous material for me, thank you very much, and I'll leave out the story of when Jodi, another orthopaedic surgeon, found maggots on a patient).

But, really, how does this happen? He is wearing his scrubs in the OR, yes, but on top of the scrubs he wears Lead. Lead is a canvas apron encasing a lead plate, like a really long bulletproof vest (except that I don't think the bone chunks are moving at that velocity) that is both heavy and very hot to wear (which is why they keep the OR really, really cold...like my basement in Harrisburg). On top of the Lead is another smock, plus two pairs of gloves (I think, surgeons reading this, correct me if I'm wrong), booties for the feet, a cap and mask. Now he's also wearing a helmet, yes a helmet, that holds a big plastic face-shield (and I'm not kidding you, that helmet is hilarious...it is huge and it has a FAN in it - again, because it's so hot under all that- but seriously, it looks like a big ole' bike helmet with a bunch of plastic straps). The whole get-up is like riot gear for the operating room. So you tell me, how does blood get through all that and into a pocket?

Well, the bio-hazards have made me a little gun-shy when it comes to cleaning out pockets, but that's not really the issue here.

The issue is the tissue.

Somehow there is ALWAYS a tissue that makes its way into the wash and then I'm screwed. I open up that lid and all the wet laundry is covered in wet tissue shreds. Grrrr. Which means once it's dry, the laundry is covered in dry tissue snow that gets all over the house. Which means I could vacuum the entire house every time I do a load of laundry.

Thus, I think Kleenex is actually a hermaphroditic alien species taking over the world one load of laundry at a time.

The end.