The Importance of Sturdy Footwear: A Lesson Learned

When I moved last year, I was great. I packed those boxes to within the merest cubic centimeter, protected fragiles with just the right amount of tissue paper and bubble wrap, and loaded it all in my truck so exquisitely that I fit in all my worldly goods, with literally no room for a sneeze. But of course, when you're moving across the country, you kind of have to be organized and efficient.

When you're moving across town? Not so much. Especially when you have a whole week in which to do it!

I've been moving in shifts. Saturday, I moved most of my clothes. Monday, I moved my yarn. (As Susan pointed out: surely moving yarn could not have qualified for a whole day's worth of moving. And she was correct. I also moved my DVDs that day... along with a lot of yarn) Yesterday, I decided, was the day to tackle my books.

So, I was a good little worker-bee, and loaded up (most of) my books into banker's boxes - perfect size that I can load up and still comfortably carry (are you not so thrilled with excitement to learn that?!). I am mighty fine at loading up them boxes, if I do say so myself. After I got bored of packing, I put on my most comfortable-ist pair of shoes on hand and started lugging my boxes down to my truck.



Ta-da! The shoes.

Even as I put them on, I knew better. I am the granddaughter of a foot doctor. Flip-flops = evil. My father, who taught me to pack so well in the first place, pounded into my head over and over as I grew up that one should wear STURDY shoes when one is going to do such things as lug boxes of books down, then up, stairs.

It was the second box that my folly did me in. My foot slipped, the flip-flop went one way, my foot the other, and I went d-o-w-n. Hard. Knock-the-breath-out-of-you hard. When-I'm-75-with-bad-arthritis-I'll-look-back-on-that-day-that-I-wore-flip-flops-while-I-moved-books-and-curse-that-day hard. Thankfully, my skill at falling (due to extensive, if unintentional, practice) saved me from hitting my head, or falling onto my hands (hello, scaphoid fracture!)


I did get this nice little souvenir from the trip, though. (hee-hee! catch the pun?!)

They say "Pride goeth before the fall," but for me it is "Sturdy shoes cometh after the fall."

Today, I am going to move Miscellaneous and Sundry, including Shoes. And I will be wearing tennis shoes whilst I do it.

And Then There Were Two...

...years left, that is. Because (drumrollllll): Intern year is over! And, oh. my. goodness. did it speed by! Like flying on the Lear jet from New York to Paris. Not that I've been to Paris. Or, you know, on a Lear jet. But I bet the trip goes by really fast, and while you're still just barely getting over that 'oh-my-gosh-I'm-on-a-Lear-jet' feeling you find yourself being bienvenue'd to Paris. Much like intern year flies by. Which I do know from experience. Because (have I mentioned?) I just finished intern year!

We're putting aside, for the moment, the absolute terror that is the Beginning of Second Year and the Responsibility and Presumed Growth and Expansion of Knowledge Base that implies.

Now it is time for Intern Year Rehash. Because I know that everyone is incredibly fascinated wiht my little life. (for my fellow interns-at-large - I got the info from e-value)

* Total Days of Intern Year: 364
* Vacation Days: 29.58 (I don't know how that works, I'm just reporting stats!)
* Total Hours worked: 2,725.25
* Average Hours per Day (over 334 days): 8.15
* Average Hours per Week (over ~48 weeks): 57.04

* Number of Patients I Saw: Lots
* Number of Parents Who Yelled at Me: 2 or 3. But one mom yelled at me about several of her children, so maybe she should count more...
* Number of _My_ Patients Who Died: Zero - I'm more lucky than skillful
* Number of Patients Who I'd Helped Care For Who Died: Four (sorry to be morbid!)
* Number of Absolutely Freaking Miraculous, Saved From the Brink of Death Cures of My Patients: One (I was not directly involved, just watching from the sidelines)
* Number of Days I Overslept: Probably 10 or so
* Number of Days I Said At Least One Incredibly Stupid Things: 364
* Number of Days I Regretted Choosing This Life: Surprisingly, none.
* Number of Days I Reminded Myself That This is Only For Three Years: 334

Alright, I could keep going with more nonsense, but I'm even beginning to bore myself! I have this next week off, and the masochist inside of me decided that it is time for me to move again. Sigh. So I have to go pack. Which will likely not fly by like those hours on the Lear jet.

Biblical Prophecy or Resident Contract?

I was sitting at a nursing station checking my patients' vital signs and lab results this morning, when I looked up and saw some artwork adorning a child's door.

It was a lovely picture with a big sun, and children by a river, and birds in the sky, and flowers and a big tree. And over everything, in big, black letters, the words: "And no resident will say, 'I am sick.'" (Isaiah 33:24)

Seriously? They've got the patients giving us a hard time too now?

Homework, Chipmunks and Coleslaw

Lately I have really enjoyed tying random concepts together as the title of my blog post. Yes, I am stating the obvious - something else I like to do.

I have finally reached the Last Week of Intern Year. Ideally, I would have started this week in top form: knowledgable about a vast array of topics; quoting scholarly articles in my discussion of patient management; balancing demands of patients, parents, nurses, dietitians, discharge planners, subspecialists without a drop of sweat. In reality? Not so much.

Two things impeded my glory today: #1: I am ridiculously tired, and am barely able to complete my normal daily tasks (i.e. walking, talking, eating), much less balance all the people who want me to do things AND #2 My attending is VERY PASSIONATE ABOUT TEACHING. He asks a lot of questions. And gets very excited when I answer right. And when I get a question wrong (which I frequently do), he gets even MORE excited that I have the chance to LOOK SOMETHING UP!!! LEARNING OPPORTUNITY!!! This stresses me out. See #1.

And, now? At the end of a long, stressful day during which I had to do all sorts of challenging things like WALK and TALK IN SENTENCES and DRIVE (and manage a septic patient in respiratory distress on the floor)? I have to look up those things that I didn't know. Because tomorrow, he is going to ask again. And I think if I don't know the answer twice in two days, he will get so excited that his head will EXPLODE.

It is my last week, though. The new interns - aka our replacements - started their orientation last Friday. They're all bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Like chipmunks. But better dressed. I'd say that I can't believe that this year is over, but that sounds very cliche. So I'll just think it really hard. (Because I can't believe it!)

I'm trying to think of a smoothe way to transition from new interns to coleslaw. Hmm. Okay, follow me here: One of the new interns maybe, kind of, sort of looks like a cabbage patch kid. Speaking of cabbage... (hee-hee!)

I have recently developed a great love for coleslaw. I always thought I hated coleslaw. But now I love it.

My goodness, but that was a boring story. If life were like DVR, you could rewind back to the part about me not saying that I couldn't believe that intern year was as-good-as over, then fast forward through the part about cabbage patch kids and my new-found love of coleslaw. But life isn't like DVR, and you just spent several seconds of your life reading, first the boring story of how I like coleslaw, followed by the even more boring exposition about how you should have fast-forwarded through it if you could have. Stop the insanity!!!

I have to go do my homework now. I'm trying to figure out if there is any information I could glean about hemoglobinopathies or glycolysis (seriously, people - I have to review glycolysis) in Harry Potter. Because I really just want to read Harry Potter.

So You Think You Can...

A lot of semi-interesting stuff has been 'going down' (to use the street slang that I am so known for) lately. But nothing compelled me to actually sit down and write another blog post until my beloved show, So You Think You Can Dance, managed to amuse me so greatly tonight.

Plus the fact that we have our "Rising R2" retreat tomorrow, and I don't have to go in until nine. Nine! NINE! I would like to tattoo the number nine to my forehead and take a picture of my face while I am skydiving out of a clown-populated jumbo jet through rings of fire into a pool of sharks to demonstrate just how happy I am about going in at nine. Except that particular demonstration of X-treme emotion would probably be taken more as fear/apprhension than the actual joy it means. So, instead, I should take a picture of me with the number nine tattooed to my forehead while I am asleep, deeply, at 5 am and 6 am. And 7 am. And, why the heck not - 8 am!

Oh, how greatly I digress.

I was watching SYTYCD tonight and for just a second, on the screen flashed by what was possibly the oddest grouping of facial expressions I had ever seen in TV: (brought to you by the magic of DVR)


Until I saw this shot:


Hee-hee! These are some of the contestants from last year, in case you don't follow the program. They're actually reacting to the judges, not the dancers.

Maybe later I'll write more.

But maybe I'll be sleeping.

NINE!!!