I don't know what the deal is, but over the last three days, I have had three totally random people just spontaneously compliment me.
On Monday, one of the patients on the floor (not mine) came up and said, "I like your eyes" then made me some art.
Yesterday, the lovely lady selling me my coffee handed me my change and, quite out of the blue (all I'd said to her was 'medium coffee, please') said, "You're pretty."
Then today, I was literally just walking past someone carrying bags of IV fluid in the hall who said, "I like your hair."
What's up people? Apparently, I must be giving off enough 'I'm miserable and my head hurts and I'd so much rather be at home sleeping off this virus that is trying to take over my sinuses and bronchi' vibes that total strangers feel the need to brighten my day with compliments.
And, to be quite honest, it worked! (At least temporarily.)
Have I mentioned, dear reader, how fantastic you are? And beautiful!
May 30, 2007
May 27, 2007
The Plague is Coming! Or Maybe Not...
Apparently, one hundred years ago today a small epidemic of the Bubonic Plague broke out in San Francisco. Less historically notable, but more personally relevant, one year ago today: I broke out in Sacramento. (Yes, I am comparing myself to the Bubonic Plague.)
And on my Year-In-Sacramento Anniversary, I am also celebrating the beginning of my Last Rotation As An Intern. I looked but Hallmark does not, in fact, carry a "Congratulations On Your One Year Living In Sacramento Anniversary And About To Be Starting Your Last Rotation As An Intern" cards. I'm totally going to send them a sappy poem so they can make one.
I've found that I always sink into this slight depression at the beginning of a new rotation. I think it is really just the way my anxiety plays out. That, and the fact that, despite all my other Gemini-like traits (inability to make a decision, a tendency to shy away from philosophical/meaning-of-life discussions, optimistic, etc.) I hate change.
Okay, I take that back (hello, inability to make a decision). Part of me obviously loves change and the challenge it presents, or I would not find myself living in the fifth state of the last ten years. I'm sure there is some psycho-analytically based reason for that, but we'll just call it a gypsy heart (and there's the shying away from meaning-of-life issues!)
The part of me that has to start a new rotation is alway gloomy on these transition days, though. (Did I mention that Gemini is the "twins" - multiple personalities?) I hate not being in control, which is what I think this gloominess boils down to. On the new rotation, I have to start over with new people, places, schedules, attitudes, everything. No control. Grumble.
My Last Rotation is Hem/Onc, which is generally accepted as the 'hardest' rotation of intern year. Seeing as it is the Last Rotation of Intern Year (have I mentioned that?), I'm not dreading the work so much as the change. I am actually looking forward to this month as a whole - the new interns arrive (!), it's my birthday, there is graduation stuff for the seniors, I am moving - all sorts of big and cool stuff is going down. But I still find myself (metaphorically) beating my head against the wall.
Still. It could be worse. I could have the plague!
And on my Year-In-Sacramento Anniversary, I am also celebrating the beginning of my Last Rotation As An Intern. I looked but Hallmark does not, in fact, carry a "Congratulations On Your One Year Living In Sacramento Anniversary And About To Be Starting Your Last Rotation As An Intern" cards. I'm totally going to send them a sappy poem so they can make one.
I've found that I always sink into this slight depression at the beginning of a new rotation. I think it is really just the way my anxiety plays out. That, and the fact that, despite all my other Gemini-like traits (inability to make a decision, a tendency to shy away from philosophical/meaning-of-life discussions, optimistic, etc.) I hate change.
Okay, I take that back (hello, inability to make a decision). Part of me obviously loves change and the challenge it presents, or I would not find myself living in the fifth state of the last ten years. I'm sure there is some psycho-analytically based reason for that, but we'll just call it a gypsy heart (and there's the shying away from meaning-of-life issues!)
The part of me that has to start a new rotation is alway gloomy on these transition days, though. (Did I mention that Gemini is the "twins" - multiple personalities?) I hate not being in control, which is what I think this gloominess boils down to. On the new rotation, I have to start over with new people, places, schedules, attitudes, everything. No control. Grumble.
My Last Rotation is Hem/Onc, which is generally accepted as the 'hardest' rotation of intern year. Seeing as it is the Last Rotation of Intern Year (have I mentioned that?), I'm not dreading the work so much as the change. I am actually looking forward to this month as a whole - the new interns arrive (!), it's my birthday, there is graduation stuff for the seniors, I am moving - all sorts of big and cool stuff is going down. But I still find myself (metaphorically) beating my head against the wall.
Still. It could be worse. I could have the plague!
May 11, 2007
I Make This Look Easy
Guess what! Guess what! It is my last time on the wards at night as an intern! And, after four overnight ward calls, and three weeks of night float, I totally have this stuff all down. I am Intern Extraordinaire (imagine that in bright green, sparkly letters, with a marching band playing in the background, and the Shriner's on their crazy trikes throwing out bags of candy and occasionally Frisbees)
Being an intern on night float, has now become easy!
Except that I am totally and completely lying, and most of the time still feel like I am "playing" doctor and other times feel that I am completely over my head and I don't really know much of anything, and am mostly just flying by the seat of my pants...
And the next time I'm on a night? I'm the senior resident. Which means that I'll be in charge. Which means that I should know stuff.
Which explains why I have broken out into Brenna bumps tonight. My last night as an intern.
Being an intern on night float, has now become easy!
Except that I am totally and completely lying, and most of the time still feel like I am "playing" doctor and other times feel that I am completely over my head and I don't really know much of anything, and am mostly just flying by the seat of my pants...
And the next time I'm on a night? I'm the senior resident. Which means that I'll be in charge. Which means that I should know stuff.
Which explains why I have broken out into Brenna bumps tonight. My last night as an intern.
May 9, 2007
Watch Out For Black Cats
I believe there are jobs out there that are pretty... routine. You get up, go in at a particular time, deal with the things that you expect to deal with, meet with people, have breaks, make a few phone calls, order office supplies, and then go home at a particular time. And you kind of have a general idea of what to expect your day or week or month to be like. If you're going to be busy, you know it and can duly prepare.
The same can't really be said about inpatient medicine. Or outpatient, for that matter, but it is really true about inpatient. At the beginning of a day (or night as the case may be - I'm back on night float again) I have NO idea what the day (or night) is going to be like. Because I have no control over when or how kids get sick. Some days we get flooded with kids, other days, it is like someone has pumped a cure-all into the water and it is very quiet. No control.
Which can be hard when you're a control freak.
Not that I am.
(I am.)
(But so are most residents.)
As a result of this lack of control, there is a kind of pseudo-control that exists in resident culture. In laymen's terms, it might be known as "Superstition." I think it becomes our way of feeling that we have some control over what might become of us during our next night. I myself am guilty of believing that I have an 'unlucky' pair of socks. Twice I wore them, and had busy nights. Those socks are now at the back of my sock drawer.
One really universal concept is the "Black Cloud" or "White Cloud." It is the idea that a resident has a certain aura around them that either invites work, or keeps it at bay. So ingrained is this concept in medical culture, that they actually did a research study on it a while back. And it was published! Granted it was in the "Letters" section, and not the actual research article part, but still. It is a big part of our lives.
While I've always been on the fence about colored clouds (mine's kind of a mottled lightish gray), one superstition that I NEVER took stock in was the idea that if you say the name of a patient who is frequently admitted, you're basically inviting that person to come to the hospital.
So last week, when I accidentally called one of the current patients by a name of one of our 'frequent fliers'* and everyone around me got all up in arms, I was like, oh yeah? I don't believe that! Watch! And proceeded to name two more 'frequent fliers.' Just to prove my point.
The next day, the patient who's name I'd accidentally said was admitted. Within the week the other two were.
I think I may be changing my tune here!
And I'm totally going to throw out those socks.
* Frequent Flier is a patient who is frequently admitted, and generally has some bad systemic illnesses or problems - cerebral palsy, bad seizure disorder, etc. I actually hate the term, but as of yet, don't have anything better to call them. And it is faster than saying 'he is a patient that is frequently admitted.'
The same can't really be said about inpatient medicine. Or outpatient, for that matter, but it is really true about inpatient. At the beginning of a day (or night as the case may be - I'm back on night float again) I have NO idea what the day (or night) is going to be like. Because I have no control over when or how kids get sick. Some days we get flooded with kids, other days, it is like someone has pumped a cure-all into the water and it is very quiet. No control.
Which can be hard when you're a control freak.
Not that I am.
(I am.)
(But so are most residents.)
As a result of this lack of control, there is a kind of pseudo-control that exists in resident culture. In laymen's terms, it might be known as "Superstition." I think it becomes our way of feeling that we have some control over what might become of us during our next night. I myself am guilty of believing that I have an 'unlucky' pair of socks. Twice I wore them, and had busy nights. Those socks are now at the back of my sock drawer.
One really universal concept is the "Black Cloud" or "White Cloud." It is the idea that a resident has a certain aura around them that either invites work, or keeps it at bay. So ingrained is this concept in medical culture, that they actually did a research study on it a while back. And it was published! Granted it was in the "Letters" section, and not the actual research article part, but still. It is a big part of our lives.
While I've always been on the fence about colored clouds (mine's kind of a mottled lightish gray), one superstition that I NEVER took stock in was the idea that if you say the name of a patient who is frequently admitted, you're basically inviting that person to come to the hospital.
So last week, when I accidentally called one of the current patients by a name of one of our 'frequent fliers'* and everyone around me got all up in arms, I was like, oh yeah? I don't believe that! Watch! And proceeded to name two more 'frequent fliers.' Just to prove my point.
The next day, the patient who's name I'd accidentally said was admitted. Within the week the other two were.
I think I may be changing my tune here!
And I'm totally going to throw out those socks.
* Frequent Flier is a patient who is frequently admitted, and generally has some bad systemic illnesses or problems - cerebral palsy, bad seizure disorder, etc. I actually hate the term, but as of yet, don't have anything better to call them. And it is faster than saying 'he is a patient that is frequently admitted.'
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