This Week in Triage

 

Triage [tree-ahzh] the principle or practice of sorting emergency patients and/or casualties in battle or disaster into categories of priority for treatment*

I drive (or perhaps… drove) a 2002 Cavalier. I say he is lovingly monikered Ernie because of my desire not to ascribe to gendered naming conventions, but really it’s because his first license plate was ERN.

On Monday, I was on my way home from work, driving down the highway, bopping my head along to “White Riot,” when all the lights came on and the engine died.

On the highway.

It’s almost as if Ernie said “F**k The Clash!” and rebelled by promptly shutting off.

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Why my Foot is Covered in Duct Tape

As a child, I seriously believed that it was a time-honoured tradition, like Christmas or Leap Year or Daylight Savings, that one had an annual illness.

I was a sick kid. One year it was asthma attacks, then it was pneumonia, then it was chicken pox, then strep throat, and so on. Something different every year. My old medical charts read like the back of a baseball card.

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