YOU GUYS. I did a hilariously bad thing and got away with it. Just before getting into the elevator to take a patient and family upstairs, I farted. It was unavoidable; I had to let it out. Honestly I thought it was going to be a little poof of air and nothing more, because that's what my toots had been all day. Naturally, I was spectacularly wrong.
Don't you judge me. I know you've all had those same farts, the ones where you let out a little squeaker and somehow the stench of death and shame follows you across the house. A constant reminder of the evil you've loosed upon the world. Don't even play like you're better than that.
Anyway, I let it out while we were walking down the hallway towards the elevator. I thought the speed of my transport pace and the fact the family was up just ahead of the stretcher would save me. The doors opened and we all got in. As soon as the door closed, I realized that the aforementioned stench of shame and death was somehow clinging to my scrubs and slowly filling the elevator. Of course we were headed to the 7th floor, so it was going to be a bit before anyone could escape.
And then...miracle of miracles! THE PATIENT APOLOGIZED! For a fart that wasn't his! It was a true case of you smelt it you dealt it, because he sure did go "oh man sorry guys, I guess I let one go when I shouldn't have!" I was saved by his admission, and can only wonder if he genuinely thought he ripped one or if he knew it was me and was covering.
I'll be eternally grateful, and my shame and I will survive another day.