It's not always about the money.....

Yesterday at the scrub sink I am scrubbing with one of the trauma surgeons who also uses me for scheduled general cases. We are getting ready to do a mastectomy. I mention that this is a slow week. I only have this one case today , one on Wednesday, and one on Thursday. He tells me he has a case tomorrow but I'm not on it. I ask him what it is. It's a trauma patient from last year who had been shot from posterior to anterior and the bullet transected the vena cava, took out the hilum of the right kidney, (may have nicked the liver, I stopped listening when I heard transected the vena cava) went through the duodenum and out through the abdomen. He now presents with various fistulas, yada, yada, yada.....I quit listening again as I daydream about what a rush it would have been to be there for the original surgery.
"Do you have help?" I ask.
"No, (my partner) was going to help me, but he decided to take some time off this week."
"I don't have anything scheduled, I'll help you!"
"You don't want to scrub it." He says. " This is a Medicaid patient."
"I don't care, I always want to operate." I assure him.
"You don't get paid by Medicaid. Besides, it may keep you from something that would pay you."
"Well, if something paying comes up then we'll have a change of plans. Otherwise, plan on me being there."
What is he, nuts? Did he really think I would want to miss this case?
He knows I'm a junkie. Just last weekend he acknowledged that I was a trauma slut. Of course I immediately corrected him and told him I am a trauma whore. In retrospect I think teasing me with this case was a test to see just how far I am willing to go for free. Hey, wait a minute, I guess that does make me a slut.