The call gods have not been kind to me lately. Between the incredibly stupid other doctors that I have had the displeasure of dealing with (their lack of responsibility and PATIENT CARE!!!!), the stupidity of patients (if you are 29 weeks pregnant and think you have been contracting for 36 hours, why the FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO GO TO LABOR AND DELIVERY AT 4 AM?!?!?!?!?!?), and the just plain bad luck (spontaneous pneumothorax in the middle of my tubal ligation), I have about had it. For the last one, I had one of my General Surgeons buddies come in to place the chest tube; he was laughing at me as I was muttering "And this is going to go in my case file for boards." I was not amused.
I knew that I was leaving a mess for my relief (but at least they were all delivered). I offered to pray to the call gods for my partner when she relieved me. Her reply: "Please don't. You have obviously pissed them off."
My nickname in residency was "Shit Magnet." I wish that I could lose it, since now the nurses on L&D have taken to referring to me by it. Sadly, it seems to be accurate.
I can't even say "At least no one's died" since I had a term still-birth recently.