Today was DAY ONE of Fourth year. Can you feel the excitement in the air? Can you taste it? (forgive the mixed metaphors) It tastes like... chocolate. With cinnamon. And peanut butter... Mmm...doesn't a chocolate-peanut butter and cinnamon sandwich sound good?
My First Rotation as a Fourth Year is Emergency Medicine. I chose to do this rotation first because 1)It is the only rotation that has a test at the end, thus making it more appealing to get it out of the way early and 2)It is a rotation that you only do during fourth year, thus ensuring that I actually feel like a fourth year (instead of a confused third year, which is essentially what I really am)
Part of the ED rotation is the EMS Ride Along. Which I did today!! When I got there, I tried to remember what I'd heard other people in our class say about the EMS-RA day. Then I remembered: No one else from my class has done it!!! I was first! I got quite a thrill when I realized that. I am used to being last (or second-to-last) at everything, since most things are arranged alphabetically. But now, I have knowledge that NO ONE else in my class does. (Except for the former EMTs and people who have done ride-alongs before...but they don't count)
Here's how the day went:
1:00: Brenna arrives at the County EMS. Parks in one spot, gets out of car. Stands and looks at big scary garage, filled with ambulances (ambulanci?). Gets back in car, and follows signs to "EMS Administration Offices" Gets directed (through an indoor stairwell) down to the same scary garage area. Signs liability type waiver.
1:05-1:45: Brenna sits in Lounge, watching some violent movie (which she later - aka right now - finds out to be The 51st State) in which a large number of words were bleeped out.
1:45-3:00: Brenna jumps up and follows the team from Unit 29 when they get called to the aid of a woman with Chest Pain. I must admit, up to this point, I was pretty bored, and sleepy, and trying to figure out when I could gracefully make my escape. Then, we got in the ambulance, and they turned on the lights and sirens and we were OFF! We got to go so fast! It was the coolest thing EVER. Zipping past all these cars, blatantly running red lights. It was supremely cool. The getting the patient part and going to the hospital was also okay, but not as cool as the SPEED.
I stuck around for two and a half more calls (one was to a traffic accident, where they didn't end up needing any assistance - everyone was okay). At one point, we were going 85 miles an hour on Peter's Creek - a road where the speed limit is 45. SO COOL.
I actually would have stayed longer, except 1)I was starving, 2)I wanted to work out this evening, and 3)We were told to leave before dark - "There are bad parts of Winston-Salem, and I don't want you guys going there" said the attending, and I must heed those words of warning - I did see the kinds of trauma that would come in at night... like the man who'd been stabbed 20 times by 'some guy' that just broke into his house. (Turned out 'some guy' happened to be the other boyfriend of the stabbed man's girlfriend...)
Tomorrow is a random, big test day, so no Emergency stuff. Bummer... I want more fast rides!
Apr 25, 2005
Apr 22, 2005
Done!!!
It's over! Third year is over. I could cry. I probably will.
I did just totally fail the radiology test - you'd think that would be impossible with questions whose options include a. hot, b. noisy, c. dark, and so on. But that's what you get for not studying at all. But oh well! I don't care! Because third year is finito.
Now begins the year that I have been told, by many people, on many occasions will be 'the best year of my life.' I'll try not to prove them wrong. (Although, I must say I'm planning on my best years being when I'm in my 60s-80s)
Congrats to my fellow finishers. We did what felt impossible. How cool are we???
I did just totally fail the radiology test - you'd think that would be impossible with questions whose options include a. hot, b. noisy, c. dark, and so on. But that's what you get for not studying at all. But oh well! I don't care! Because third year is finito.
Now begins the year that I have been told, by many people, on many occasions will be 'the best year of my life.' I'll try not to prove them wrong. (Although, I must say I'm planning on my best years being when I'm in my 60s-80s)
Congrats to my fellow finishers. We did what felt impossible. How cool are we???
Apr 20, 2005
Before They Were Stars
If you don't watch American Idol, I say 'Good on ya!' I, however, do. And I'm going to talk about it now, so deal.
There is much debate about one rocker-turned-non-rocker contestant. That would, of course be Constantine. (He of the over-done eyeliner last night) There are those that maintain that Constantine can't hold a tune, and manages to float through each week based solely on his ability to bat his eyes and grin evilly. Granted, the eye batting evil grin is quite enjoyable, but to these people, I have this to say: LISTEN to him. He is not bad. In fact, he is quite good.
Good enough to study at Boston Conservatory (granted, I don't know the reputation that this particular conservatory has, but I can tell you - they wouldn't accept me!). AND good enough to star as Roger in a touring production of Rent. (For those of you not as obsessively familiar with Rent as I am: Roger is a lead. Lots and lots of singing) And he was good as Roger. How do I know, you innocently ask? Because I SAW him!!! Yes, indeed. Rent toured here back in fall of 2003, and of course I went, and I just found out that Constantine was Roger.
Granted, Constantine will not win. He is a musical actor/singer, not a rock star. But, hey, it is cool to watch him knowing that I've been within throwing distance of him at least. As long as I was throwing a paper airplane or something else with good loft and flight distance. Maybe a Frisbee...
There is much debate about one rocker-turned-non-rocker contestant. That would, of course be Constantine. (He of the over-done eyeliner last night) There are those that maintain that Constantine can't hold a tune, and manages to float through each week based solely on his ability to bat his eyes and grin evilly. Granted, the eye batting evil grin is quite enjoyable, but to these people, I have this to say: LISTEN to him. He is not bad. In fact, he is quite good.
Good enough to study at Boston Conservatory (granted, I don't know the reputation that this particular conservatory has, but I can tell you - they wouldn't accept me!). AND good enough to star as Roger in a touring production of Rent. (For those of you not as obsessively familiar with Rent as I am: Roger is a lead. Lots and lots of singing) And he was good as Roger. How do I know, you innocently ask? Because I SAW him!!! Yes, indeed. Rent toured here back in fall of 2003, and of course I went, and I just found out that Constantine was Roger.
Granted, Constantine will not win. He is a musical actor/singer, not a rock star. But, hey, it is cool to watch him knowing that I've been within throwing distance of him at least. As long as I was throwing a paper airplane or something else with good loft and flight distance. Maybe a Frisbee...
Apr 17, 2005
D-Day, Six Years Later
Flash back to April 17, 1999... I was 21, a junior at college busy with res life staff, class, friends and, on that particular day, taking the MCAT. The MCAT. The test that was going to determine my future. You cannot get into medical school without going thru the MCAT hurdle. The hardest test I had ever taken up to that point, it was really what felt like my first step towards my chosen career. That must be why this date has lived on in my head as An Important Day (whereas I totally forgot the anniversary of Step One of the Boards...) Back on that sunny Saturday, I had no idea where I'd be sitting in six years.
Back to April 17, 2005, an older and somewhat wiser me is preparing to start her Last Week of Third Year. I feel like I've been catapulted through time. I remember the MCAT day so clearly that I cannot fathom the thought that I'm so far beyond it. I remember exactly what I had for breakfast and lunch that day. Last Week of Third Year. That means that in little over 12 months, I will finally be reaching the culmination of the journey that I started six years ago. Of course, that will only mark the beginning of a much longer trip. (Don't you hate it when people use words like 'journey?')
If I took the MCAT today, I would fail miserably...!
Back to April 17, 2005, an older and somewhat wiser me is preparing to start her Last Week of Third Year. I feel like I've been catapulted through time. I remember the MCAT day so clearly that I cannot fathom the thought that I'm so far beyond it. I remember exactly what I had for breakfast and lunch that day. Last Week of Third Year. That means that in little over 12 months, I will finally be reaching the culmination of the journey that I started six years ago. Of course, that will only mark the beginning of a much longer trip. (Don't you hate it when people use words like 'journey?')
If I took the MCAT today, I would fail miserably...!
Apr 13, 2005
Like a Babe in Arms
I am in the middle of my second to last week of third year. This is absolutely monumental.
I'm in anesthesia this week - it is just a brief, one week rotation. And it is supremely cool! There are all these gadgets and levers and knobs. And the residents are fantastic. A complete change from the OB residents (but they would even be cool without the comparison to OB). I worked with one first year resident who grew up in the Midwest (like me), then moved to the Northwest (like me), went back to the Midwest for med school (kind of like me - I went back for college) and then came here (like me!) And, she is blonde, like me. It was like meeting another version of myself!
So, in the Future of Brenna, Anesthesiology is officially added to my top three career choices (not just because of the residents - it is just dang cool stuff). My top three, again, in case you haven't been paying attention: Pediatrics, Neurology, Anesthesiology.
Pediatrics, Neurology and Anesthesiology are about as different from one another as you can get. Why am I drawn to all three of them? My theory: if you take the first letter of each specialty (P, N, A) and rearrange them, you can spell both "PAN" and "NAP" bringing to mind images of spending all day eating and sleeping - quite possibly the perfect life. (And a life that we all lived until we were about 9-12 months old... ahh, the good old days...)
It is presumably possible to combine all three - to be a pediatric neuroanesthetist. But that abbreviation would be "PNA" which, for you non-med speaking people out there, is the abbreviation for "pneumonia" - most definitely not a perfect life. Besides, I don't think the demand for pediatric neuroanesthetists is very large.
Fortunately, anesthesia is freaking hard to get into nowadays (No call and no clinic - can anyone say 'lifestyle?') Fourteenpeople from the class above us are going into anesthesia. That's over a sixth of the class! But that class is populated with impersonable gunners, the type of person currently flooding the anesthesia market. I am not a gunner, and have valued sanity and quality of life, and as a result, do not have the numbers one needs to become an anesthesiologist.
That's okay, because I hadn't really changed my mind from peds anyway!
I'm in anesthesia this week - it is just a brief, one week rotation. And it is supremely cool! There are all these gadgets and levers and knobs. And the residents are fantastic. A complete change from the OB residents (but they would even be cool without the comparison to OB). I worked with one first year resident who grew up in the Midwest (like me), then moved to the Northwest (like me), went back to the Midwest for med school (kind of like me - I went back for college) and then came here (like me!) And, she is blonde, like me. It was like meeting another version of myself!
So, in the Future of Brenna, Anesthesiology is officially added to my top three career choices (not just because of the residents - it is just dang cool stuff). My top three, again, in case you haven't been paying attention: Pediatrics, Neurology, Anesthesiology.
Pediatrics, Neurology and Anesthesiology are about as different from one another as you can get. Why am I drawn to all three of them? My theory: if you take the first letter of each specialty (P, N, A) and rearrange them, you can spell both "PAN" and "NAP" bringing to mind images of spending all day eating and sleeping - quite possibly the perfect life. (And a life that we all lived until we were about 9-12 months old... ahh, the good old days...)
It is presumably possible to combine all three - to be a pediatric neuroanesthetist. But that abbreviation would be "PNA" which, for you non-med speaking people out there, is the abbreviation for "pneumonia" - most definitely not a perfect life. Besides, I don't think the demand for pediatric neuroanesthetists is very large.
Fortunately, anesthesia is freaking hard to get into nowadays (No call and no clinic - can anyone say 'lifestyle?') Fourteenpeople from the class above us are going into anesthesia. That's over a sixth of the class! But that class is populated with impersonable gunners, the type of person currently flooding the anesthesia market. I am not a gunner, and have valued sanity and quality of life, and as a result, do not have the numbers one needs to become an anesthesiologist.
That's okay, because I hadn't really changed my mind from peds anyway!
Apr 10, 2005
Blackened Toenail
I almost painted my toenails last weekend. I think I tweezed my eyebrows instead, or watched a movie. Or something like that... The point is, had I painted my toenails, and assuming that I had not hated the result and promptly removed said polish, I would have missed seeing my left pinky toenail turn black. No, I don't have some sort of strange occlusive vascular disease. I'm just a klutz, and the battle of Brenna vs. Wal-Mart shopping cart didn't go my way.
Remember being a kid, and wanting to push the shopping cart, so that you could give it a good shove and then stand on the bottom shelf part, turning grocery shopping into an X-treme sport? Okay, I admit that I do that now, probably more often than I did as a child - there is no mom to say "Brenna!" in her exasperated voice (I heard that a lot when I was younger...still do, actually...) to prevent me from Xtreme shopping. (That wasn't what I did today, by the way - I was just a klutz.)
My bike offered me a little more freedon, because Mom didn't tend to be there when I was zipping around the neighborhood on my hot pink Schwinn.
I am house-sitting this week, which means that I'm in a real live neighborhood, with real live families and kids. With real live bikes. I saw several kids out zinnping around on their bikes today, and I really wanted to join them. Seriously, is there anything like being a kid on a bike? Such freedom and joy. Hills are never as exciting as they are when you are going down as fast as you can on your bike with your hands in the air. Or standing on the girly-bar of the frame. Or with your feet on the handlebars. Yes, of course, I did all of these things at one point or another. And, miracle of miracles, I never hurt myself. (Incidentally, the only time I did hurt myself on my bike was on level ground, with hands on handles and feet on pedals. I ran into a parked van...)
Unlike the Xtreme grocery shopping, though, these are things that I have not done for years! These are actually things that I think I'd be too scared to do now. With or without the exasperated mother.
I hate to feel that I'm growing up - I pride myself even, on certain aspects of my immaturity. Apparently, I've gotten old enough to learn fear, though. Or perhaps just a healthy respect for life-threatening activities.
Remember being a kid, and wanting to push the shopping cart, so that you could give it a good shove and then stand on the bottom shelf part, turning grocery shopping into an X-treme sport? Okay, I admit that I do that now, probably more often than I did as a child - there is no mom to say "Brenna!" in her exasperated voice (I heard that a lot when I was younger...still do, actually...) to prevent me from Xtreme shopping. (That wasn't what I did today, by the way - I was just a klutz.)
My bike offered me a little more freedon, because Mom didn't tend to be there when I was zipping around the neighborhood on my hot pink Schwinn.
I am house-sitting this week, which means that I'm in a real live neighborhood, with real live families and kids. With real live bikes. I saw several kids out zinnping around on their bikes today, and I really wanted to join them. Seriously, is there anything like being a kid on a bike? Such freedom and joy. Hills are never as exciting as they are when you are going down as fast as you can on your bike with your hands in the air. Or standing on the girly-bar of the frame. Or with your feet on the handlebars. Yes, of course, I did all of these things at one point or another. And, miracle of miracles, I never hurt myself. (Incidentally, the only time I did hurt myself on my bike was on level ground, with hands on handles and feet on pedals. I ran into a parked van...)
Unlike the Xtreme grocery shopping, though, these are things that I have not done for years! These are actually things that I think I'd be too scared to do now. With or without the exasperated mother.
I hate to feel that I'm growing up - I pride myself even, on certain aspects of my immaturity. Apparently, I've gotten old enough to learn fear, though. Or perhaps just a healthy respect for life-threatening activities.
Apr 8, 2005
The Laboring Parturient
Hee-hee. I think that is my favorite phrase/term in all of OB/Gyn. "The Laboring Parturient." It sounds like a book. Or a really bad band. (Like a band in which I'd be the lead singer/clarinet player) It means, in real-person talk (aka anyone other than the OB anesthesiologist who used the phrase repeatedly): a lady in labor.
But guess what? I never have to deal with any more laboring paturients! Or Papanicolaou smears. Or having to say 'pap smear' in Espanol. (BTW, it is 'papanicolau' in Spanish - they just don't shorten it). Or (wonder of wonders) OB/Gyn residents!!!
Okay, in reality, I will have to deal with all of these in the future. Especially as a budding pediatrician. And, you know, as a woman.
But I do breathe a large sigh of relief, even as I frantically cram for the OB Shelf test - a 100 question national exam designed to make us cower and whimper as we acknowledge our severe lack of ability to learn everything... well, anything, really. Let's just say that my brain has not been soaking up OB/Gyn knowledge terribly well. I can write a mean SOAP note, though:
Haha! It is like another language. Definitely not one of the Romance languages, though.
T minus two hours and fifteen minutes to test time. More cramming!
But guess what? I never have to deal with any more laboring paturients! Or Papanicolaou smears. Or having to say 'pap smear' in Espanol. (BTW, it is 'papanicolau' in Spanish - they just don't shorten it). Or (wonder of wonders) OB/Gyn residents!!!
Okay, in reality, I will have to deal with all of these in the future. Especially as a budding pediatrician. And, you know, as a woman.
But I do breathe a large sigh of relief, even as I frantically cram for the OB Shelf test - a 100 question national exam designed to make us cower and whimper as we acknowledge our severe lack of ability to learn everything... well, anything, really. Let's just say that my brain has not been soaking up OB/Gyn knowledge terribly well. I can write a mean SOAP note, though:
S: Pt s c/o; no HA/RUQ pain/visual change; +FM, -LOF/VB
O: AF VSS, Exam: RRR, lungs CTAB, FF/NT, +BS, 2+ DTR B; FHT: 130-140, Toco: q2-3", SVE: 5/60/+1
A/P: 19 yo G2P1 at 41 c PreE on PPit for IOL, doing well, c/w expectant mgmt and Mg for sz px
Haha! It is like another language. Definitely not one of the Romance languages, though.
T minus two hours and fifteen minutes to test time. More cramming!
Apr 3, 2005
Doomed
The White Cloud Strikes Again. Today is my last day on call and we, with two patients on service, are at the busiest we've been all day. Do you know how slowly time passes with very little to do? The answer is very slow. Very, very slow.
And another, larger, problem with this white cloud junk is the lack of opportunity to actually do anything. My vaginal delivery tally is up to four. My standing around, just being in the way during a vaginal delivery tally is up to three. I did get to help a little during one. A little.
And that's it. One of our two patients just delivered, the other won't go for a while. And I'm done with OB call forever in three hours. All I wanted to do was deliver one baby!
BUT.
I am DONE with OB call FOREVER in three hours. You're not going to hear me complain.
And another, larger, problem with this white cloud junk is the lack of opportunity to actually do anything. My vaginal delivery tally is up to four. My standing around, just being in the way during a vaginal delivery tally is up to three. I did get to help a little during one. A little.
And that's it. One of our two patients just delivered, the other won't go for a while. And I'm done with OB call forever in three hours. All I wanted to do was deliver one baby!
BUT.
I am DONE with OB call FOREVER in three hours. You're not going to hear me complain.
Apr 1, 2005
Code Blue in the Vatican
One benefit of being up all night is being on top of the big news stories that happen while everyone else is sleeping. I've been checking up on the pope all night. And he is not doing well.
He has a tracheotomy from a few weeks ago, a feeding tube put in his nose a few days ago, and now they are saying he suffered "cardiocirculatory collapse." I'm honestly not sure what is meant by that phrase. To me, it means that his heart may have stopped and that they possibly had to give him drugs - or electric shocks even - to start it again. Not quite the same as a heart attack - that is when blood flow to the muscle of your heart gets blocked somehow, causing the muscle to malfunction. With something called a 'collapse,' I picture more of a situation where the heart just stops beating. His body is old and weak, and he has been putting up a fight for a long time.
What happens when people get old and frail and their bodies get tired of fighting? If left to their natural resources, most people would stop eating. It is a natural part of aging - just another way of your body slowing down. I of course don't have proof, but I think of it as a slow systems shut-down of sorts. Start giving your body less and less fuel, and eventually it just kind of drifts to a halt.
The pope, however, is a firm believer, as he wrote in 2004, that "The administration of water and food, even when provided by artificial means, always represents a natural way of preserving life ... not a medical procedure." And, since life should be preserved at all costs, it follows that all of those people who stop eating should get feeding tubes to prolong their lives.
I just don't think I agree with that. If that were true, we'd be force-feeding a lot more elderly people who don't necessarily want it. There are a lot of sons and daughters out there that want to keep their parents around for as long as possible for fear of losing that parent. There are also sons and daughters out there that want to keep their parents alive through the holidays, summer, vacation, whatever, until it gets to be a more convenient time for them to die.
There is a time when I think it is okay to let a person go. Not necessarily euthanasia (I am still undecided about that). Just a nice, peaceful, natural death. The way God intended. Slow systems shutdown.
Of course the question that comes then, is where to draw the line. But I don't have to answer that! Besides, it is 3:45 in the morning and I've been up for way too long to think about things like that.
As a last plug, I do encourage everyone out there, regardless of age, to have some sort of end of life plan and make sure that people know about it. (And I need to follow my own advice). The Pope is 84. Terri Schiavo was in her 20s when her tragic accident occurred. There is no way to know...
He has a tracheotomy from a few weeks ago, a feeding tube put in his nose a few days ago, and now they are saying he suffered "cardiocirculatory collapse." I'm honestly not sure what is meant by that phrase. To me, it means that his heart may have stopped and that they possibly had to give him drugs - or electric shocks even - to start it again. Not quite the same as a heart attack - that is when blood flow to the muscle of your heart gets blocked somehow, causing the muscle to malfunction. With something called a 'collapse,' I picture more of a situation where the heart just stops beating. His body is old and weak, and he has been putting up a fight for a long time.
What happens when people get old and frail and their bodies get tired of fighting? If left to their natural resources, most people would stop eating. It is a natural part of aging - just another way of your body slowing down. I of course don't have proof, but I think of it as a slow systems shut-down of sorts. Start giving your body less and less fuel, and eventually it just kind of drifts to a halt.
The pope, however, is a firm believer, as he wrote in 2004, that "The administration of water and food, even when provided by artificial means, always represents a natural way of preserving life ... not a medical procedure." And, since life should be preserved at all costs, it follows that all of those people who stop eating should get feeding tubes to prolong their lives.
I just don't think I agree with that. If that were true, we'd be force-feeding a lot more elderly people who don't necessarily want it. There are a lot of sons and daughters out there that want to keep their parents around for as long as possible for fear of losing that parent. There are also sons and daughters out there that want to keep their parents alive through the holidays, summer, vacation, whatever, until it gets to be a more convenient time for them to die.
There is a time when I think it is okay to let a person go. Not necessarily euthanasia (I am still undecided about that). Just a nice, peaceful, natural death. The way God intended. Slow systems shutdown.
Of course the question that comes then, is where to draw the line. But I don't have to answer that! Besides, it is 3:45 in the morning and I've been up for way too long to think about things like that.
As a last plug, I do encourage everyone out there, regardless of age, to have some sort of end of life plan and make sure that people know about it. (And I need to follow my own advice). The Pope is 84. Terri Schiavo was in her 20s when her tragic accident occurred. There is no way to know...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)