“Fifth floor, ladies lingerie,” said a fat man in a gurney as I walked into the elevator. The pale transport person humored him quietly.

I pressed “10″ and smiled politely while looking at my patient list. The nurse had urgently paged me to see a patient for shortness of breath.

“What’s up doc?” he said.

“Hey, hi,” I acknowledged forcing a smile.

On the next floor a young female doctor entered whom I didn’t recognize. I have a good idea who all the attendings are and I’ve seen all the medicine residents by this time of year. Her stethoscope was in her coat pocket, near her hands. Most medicine docs wear them across our necks, near our heads. She must have been a surgery resident.

She pressed the “10″ button. Twice.

“Hey, party of four, who made reservations?” the fat man quipped again. The transporter behind him just closed his eyes this time.

As the floors dinged by, I leaned against the elevator wall with my eyes closed as if meditating, rotating them inward in that way you can only do with your lids shut. Exhaling deeply as gravity shifted. Zoning all else out. Forming a mental list of the possibilities of the patient I was heading up to see, likelies and unlikelies, hoping one of them answers the quintessential medical question – what is going on here?

Meanwhile, the surgical resident was tapping her foot and rocking on her heels. Impatient like an animal waiting to be loosed from its cage. She was obviously in a hurry to see a patient of her own. Eager to do something. Save someone. To determine if cutting someone open would be healthier than not. To cut or not to cut, that is always the surgeon’s question.

The elevator reminded me of that scene in The Phantom Menace, when Qui-gon (Liam Neeson) and Darth Maul have to temporarily stop their lazystick (a.k.a. lightsaber) duel in the forcefield corridor.  All that animosity between the Jedi and the Sith while they’re basically using the same Force, just with different beliefs and methods.  All that fighting when you can kill people just by doing nothing sometimes.

“How’s the weather out th– ?” the fat man asked.

“Haven’t been out,” the anxious surgery resident cut him off.

The elevator doors opened on our mutual floor. The surgical resident rushed out one way. I made a beeline in another direction. Different patients. Different questions. Same goal.

“Not very social….” I heard the fat man refer to us as the elevator doors shut.

……………………………………..

DARTH SUN SU

Sun Su loves the Star Wars movies, especially the clone troopers, Jango Fett (because he has two pistols), and “Generous” Grievous (as he calls him) because he has four lightsabers. Oddly, I’ve become more of a Star Wars fan now than when they first came out in the theaters. Anyways, when those red forcefields turned on in that duel scene above, Sun Su made an interesting observation.

SUN SU: Why are they stopping?

ME: Lightsabers can’t break those forcefields, I guess.

SUN SU: But they can cut metal.

ME: Yeah, but the forcefields aren’t metal.

SUN SU: Why don’t they cut the things on the walls that make the forcefields.

ME: Oh. Yeah. I guess Jedis aren’t that smart.

Sun Su prefers the dark side because they get to stay up later.