First I discovered that my patient cut the tubing of his Foley-catheter through and the balloon was still inside.
Then, when I was leisurely changing a decubitus dressing just 30 minutes before the end of my shift, my boss asked me to fill out a preoperative questionnaire for another patient. This simple act required an hour of hysterical flipping-through about 200 pages of documentation searching for hidden information like cerebral episodes that happened 32 years ago and old laboratory values nobody will ever need because they do a new test anyway.
On my way home I met an excited group of people running up and down the corridors, searching for signs of how God literally heals people in the 21st Century.
Except of these special moments, the day was quite peaceful, with the usual blood sugar crises, blood pressure crises, violent combats between distinguished old ladies and the continually presence of various sorts of body fluids in overflowing quantity, literally everywhere.
I managed to take the usual dinner photo before passing out.