This morning, I woke up with a bit of a headache. It wasn't a bad headache - more of a nuisance, really. I got up, as always; said hello to the dogs, as always (I'm dog-sitting); got semi-ready here, then went to my apartment to finish getting ready, as always (for this past week-and-a-half, anyway); then... I decided that I wanted a sick day. My headache hadn't gotten any worse, but I realized that these next few months are really the last time in my life that I'll be able to have a sick day without actually being on death's door. Doctors just don't get sick.
Me being me, I only skipped half a day. I can't ditch my sense of responsibility that thoroughly.
I was worried that everyone was going to jump all over me to figure out where I was this morning, but I was met with an overwhelming indifference. It really makes me see how so many of my colleagues can get away with just never showing up. No one cares!
I had a great afternoon, though (headache-free), so I was very glad I went back. The first few patients were somewhat run-of-the-mill for peds endo - constitutional growth delay (aka short kid of short parents), precocious puberty secondary to excess adipose tissue (aka fat kid going thru puberty too early because of... the fatness), etc. Then, I got to see diabetes insipidus, which is just one of the coolest disease names ever, and as a disease is rather interesting, too.
The last patient of the day was another short kid. I expected same ol', same ol', short parents, yada, yada... but there was something just... different about this one. He was a return patient, and my attending doctor didn't have a good explanation for why this kid was short. I went in, did my little song and dance, and in the back of my head was this niggling little thought... perhaps - just perhaps - I had a diagnosis for this kid.
Long story short, I proposed my diagnosis to my attending, and... he thinks I could be right. This isn't the first time I've gotten a diagnosis (ear infections and the like are pretty simple, after all), and it wasn't the first time an attending thought I was smart. But, all the same, there is this little thrill that you get as a student when you realize that you know something. That you know something that a real doctor didn't think of. I fully realize that fifteen - even five - years from now, my brain power will be leagues beyond what it is now - people will ask me questions not to pimp me, but because they actually want to know my opinion. Those occasions are just so rare as a student, that they just feel awesome.
(Actually, now I wonder if other med students have these moments all the time, and I'm just way behind the curve... I doubt it, though. A few classmates have bucket-loads of stories like this. But we don't tend to like them.)
Tomorrow is a special day. For one, it is my dad's birthday (and without him..., etcetera, etcetera). But, to bring everything back to me, tomorrow is the day that we have to certify our rank lists. By tomorrow at 9 pm, we have to have our list of where we want to go for residency finalized. It isn't a huge deal for me, as I've been pretty certain of my list for a while, but still... There is comfort in knowing that I can change my mind. Until tomorrow.
I need to keep myself away from the certifying website because I am highly tempted to make last minute changes. Partially because whenever I think about the 'future,' I see myself in Tucson. But Tucson is not my first choice. So, I start to think... am I going to match in Tucson? Am I supposed to go there? What if I don't match there, but I'm supposed to go there? Should I make it first? But what if? And how? And who? And... ahhh!?
The part of me that isn't going through that existential crisis is totally caught on the 'certified' phrase that pops up once you do certify. It makes me think of the kid in O Brother Where Art Thou that keeps saying "he's bona fide!" No reason, really. Except that they rhyme.
Certified.
Bona fide.
I bought a bottle of wine at Wal Mart the other day. Bad decision, I know. I'm not a wine connesieur - I've even been known to enjoy a nice box of wine in my day. But, my friends, this wine was the worst I've ever tasted. I think it must have picked up some of the taste of despair that runs rampant through Wal-Mart's aisles. Despair tastes sickeningly sweet and cloying with an aftertaste of burnt-sugar-metal.
Yum.
No comments:
Post a Comment