I have absolutely nothing to say. There are some days where a lot of interesting stuff happens, and I spend the entire day composing blog entries in my head (most of which never actually make it out of said head). But today has been... ordinary? Boring? Eh. Maybe I'm just not picking up on the interesting things.
I did get to actually help with a vaginal birth this morning. That was pretty cool. Here is my issue with OB, though: delivering babies is pretty freaking cool, but after the baby is out, I want to stay with the baby. At that point, I don't care about the mother any more. I'm all like 'Hello! There's a baby in the room!' and am completely distracted. I much prefer the baby to the mother. Partly, because all that's left for the mother after the baby is out is delivering the placenta (disgusting) and achieving hemostasis (stopping bleeding = boring)
Did you know that yodelling can be spelled with one L or two? You learn something new every day...
Also somewhat interesting is the fellow/attending whose name is Nina, but is spelled Ngina. I am going to add a silent G to my name. I'll be Brengna.
The doctor's parking lot at this hospital (private hospital) is littered with Audis, BMWs and Mercedes. With the occasional Honda.
That's about it for now.
Mar 31, 2005
I Refuse!
Today is my penultimate day of call for my third year of med school (my penultimate year...)!
I'm trying to ignore the fact that for the last two hours, I've alternately been breaking out in a cold sweat and having chills. I refuse to be sick. I prefer to think it is a combination of lack of sleep, and a change from night to day shift. Night shift bumps the temp up to about 90, and day shift keeps it at around 50. I don't understand it. Night shift also sits around and talks the ENTIRE time.
Anyway, wish me luck on call. Hateful thing.
I'm trying to ignore the fact that for the last two hours, I've alternately been breaking out in a cold sweat and having chills. I refuse to be sick. I prefer to think it is a combination of lack of sleep, and a change from night to day shift. Night shift bumps the temp up to about 90, and day shift keeps it at around 50. I don't understand it. Night shift also sits around and talks the ENTIRE time.
Anyway, wish me luck on call. Hateful thing.
Mar 29, 2005
Drumroll....
Today was my last day EVER at the DHP. What, pray tell, is the DHP? I'm glad you asked. Unless you didn't, in which case, I'm a tad bit peeved with you.
The DHP is the "Downtown Health Plaza" which is the place where you go to see a doctor if you don't have any insurance. It is really a great service to the community, and is heavily used - as a place to receive medical care and as a place to force medical students to learn/practice Spanish. Lots and lots of Spanish. Once or twice, I started speaking Spanish (I use the term 'speaking' loosely here) to people with last names like 'Smith.' AKA Non-Spanish speakers.
We get the lovely experiece of going to the resident's clinics at DHP during Peds and OB/Gyn rotations. During Peds, I relied heavily upon the translators, but during OB I branched out more on my own. Dolor? Donde? OK, escuchar a la corazon de bebe ahora. (No clue if that is even close to right)
There are several translators there for people like me. Most of them are great. But then there is Miss Grumpy Pants. I have no clue what her real name is. She is a surly one, though. I was sorely tempted to grab her arm, maybe shake it a little and exclaim (because I do a lot of exclaiming in my mind) "If you hate the job so, why are you here?" Needless to say, no exclamations were made.
But, today was the last time I had to see Miss Grumpy Pants. Ever!
I'm stuffed up and my head hurts. I think Grumpy Pants cursed me.
The DHP is the "Downtown Health Plaza" which is the place where you go to see a doctor if you don't have any insurance. It is really a great service to the community, and is heavily used - as a place to receive medical care and as a place to force medical students to learn/practice Spanish. Lots and lots of Spanish. Once or twice, I started speaking Spanish (I use the term 'speaking' loosely here) to people with last names like 'Smith.' AKA Non-Spanish speakers.
We get the lovely experiece of going to the resident's clinics at DHP during Peds and OB/Gyn rotations. During Peds, I relied heavily upon the translators, but during OB I branched out more on my own. Dolor? Donde? OK, escuchar a la corazon de bebe ahora. (No clue if that is even close to right)
There are several translators there for people like me. Most of them are great. But then there is Miss Grumpy Pants. I have no clue what her real name is. She is a surly one, though. I was sorely tempted to grab her arm, maybe shake it a little and exclaim (because I do a lot of exclaiming in my mind) "If you hate the job so, why are you here?" Needless to say, no exclamations were made.
But, today was the last time I had to see Miss Grumpy Pants. Ever!
I'm stuffed up and my head hurts. I think Grumpy Pants cursed me.
Mar 27, 2005
Happy Easter!
As 40% of my grade in the OB rotation is based on the test that I take in... 12 days, I really would be doing myself a favor by studying. Apparently, I don't like myself all that much this weekend, though! I DO have the Discovery Channel on right now, though, and they are showing Babies: Special Delivery, whcih is chronicling several complicated pregnancies. So that is kind of like studying. Of course, with statements like "She's also been given penicillin, because she tested positive for Group Beta strep" however, are probably doing me more harm than good. It is Group B strep. The "B" stands for... well, "B."
Another great educational comment: "But in the high risk unit, nothing is ever routine!"
I think I may find more helpful (and relevant!) information here.
I hope everyone is sitting at home nursing a stomach ache after stuffing their faces with pounds of chocolate bunnies!
Another great educational comment: "But in the high risk unit, nothing is ever routine!"
I think I may find more helpful (and relevant!) information here.
I hope everyone is sitting at home nursing a stomach ache after stuffing their faces with pounds of chocolate bunnies!
Mar 23, 2005
Mmmm....
I have fallen in love with a new book. It sustained me through call last night, and through a (cavity free!) dentist visit today. It may be pure fluff, with little actual nutritional value, but Candyfreak by Steve Almond (real name!) is fantastic. So says I.
I was reading it last night while sitting on the refrigerator in the dog house (don't ask). I had a really, really hard time not bursting out laughing at several parts.
It is a book (and we all know I love books) about candy (and we all know I love candy). Book! Candy! CANDY!! Pure bliss.
And interesting and funny, too!
I was reading it last night while sitting on the refrigerator in the dog house (don't ask). I had a really, really hard time not bursting out laughing at several parts.
It is a book (and we all know I love books) about candy (and we all know I love candy). Book! Candy! CANDY!! Pure bliss.
And interesting and funny, too!
Mar 22, 2005
Another Night, Another Dream
(Apparently today is "Use a song Lyric as a Title Day")
I'm on call. Again. Not for the last time. But this time, instead of being on call with my happy, fun, goofy friend that makes time pass quickly, I'm on call with... (dum de dum dum) a (MM)PWHM...
Which brings me to something that has been on my mind for, oh, three or so days. Because, as I am acutely aware, it has been officially over a year since I was dumped by my friends. I cannot believe that I survived. Scratch that. I can believe I survived, I just can't believe that I did as well as I did.
:::Pause for a moment to send my sincerest thank yous to everyone who helped me remember that I am a nice person and that some people do manage to keep liking me. I don't say it enough, but I love you all. :::
I have not decided whether it was a good or a horrible thing to have been in the same rotation group as these people. In some ways it has been among the hardest challenges of my life - to have to see these people who quite literally crused me on a daily basis. In other ways, I think it was good for me to have them around. It let me keep everything in perspective. Had I been able to isolate myself from them, I think they would have built up into this gigantic force in my head. A force that I could see haunting me for a lot longer than a year. In real life, they are now nothing more than a couple of people I'd rather not be around. Hey! Look at that. I just decided (amazing what things come out of your brain at 1 am sitting in a tiny little closet waiting for babies to be born): it was a good thing. Hard, but good.
And really, that's where it ends. They deserve no more of my life now, than just some acquaintances. I will remember the fun times we had, because they were dang fun. But, that's it. I am officially retiring the (MM)PWHM.
I'm on call. Again. Not for the last time. But this time, instead of being on call with my happy, fun, goofy friend that makes time pass quickly, I'm on call with... (dum de dum dum) a (MM)PWHM...
Which brings me to something that has been on my mind for, oh, three or so days. Because, as I am acutely aware, it has been officially over a year since I was dumped by my friends. I cannot believe that I survived. Scratch that. I can believe I survived, I just can't believe that I did as well as I did.
:::Pause for a moment to send my sincerest thank yous to everyone who helped me remember that I am a nice person and that some people do manage to keep liking me. I don't say it enough, but I love you all. :::
I have not decided whether it was a good or a horrible thing to have been in the same rotation group as these people. In some ways it has been among the hardest challenges of my life - to have to see these people who quite literally crused me on a daily basis. In other ways, I think it was good for me to have them around. It let me keep everything in perspective. Had I been able to isolate myself from them, I think they would have built up into this gigantic force in my head. A force that I could see haunting me for a lot longer than a year. In real life, they are now nothing more than a couple of people I'd rather not be around. Hey! Look at that. I just decided (amazing what things come out of your brain at 1 am sitting in a tiny little closet waiting for babies to be born): it was a good thing. Hard, but good.
And really, that's where it ends. They deserve no more of my life now, than just some acquaintances. I will remember the fun times we had, because they were dang fun. But, that's it. I am officially retiring the (MM)PWHM.
How Can You Mend a Broken Heart
We have a patient on the high risk OB service right now that is just breaking my heart. But in reality, it is her heart that is broken.
She is a young Hispanic woman, and this is her first pregnancy. She went to the doctor for a check-up - the first one during the pregnancy (possibly the first doctor visit in a long, long time - at least, I hope so). The doctors noticed a murmur. A bad murmer. A cardiac echo showed that she has a hole in her heart (an atrial septal defect for those in the know). This is something that has almost certainly been there since she was born. Something - perhaps the pregnancy, perhaps time - has caused the blood flow to back up into her lungs, causing pulmonary hypertension (aka Eisenmenger's syndrome). Severe pulmonary hypertension. Plus a bit of severe pulmonic stenosis and severe mitral regurgitation on top of that. In real person terms: she is about one sneeze away from going into total heart failure. And she is pregnant.
Doing a little research online shows me that the official recommendation for women with Eisenmengers is sterilization. AKA no babies. None. Ever. Why? Because the mortality - that means death - rate is up to 50%. Half of these women who get pregnant will die, either before, during or after they give birth.
This young woman had no clue.
And she still didn't as of a few hours ago when I saw her. Because she speaks Spanish, and you need a REALLY good translator to go in to tell someone that we need to deliver her baby at just over 6 months gestation otherwise she may die. She may die anyway.
No one knows what to do with her. We'll probably have to transfer her to another university hospital. One that can do heart transplants, so that she can get added to the list.
It just breaks my heart.
She is a young Hispanic woman, and this is her first pregnancy. She went to the doctor for a check-up - the first one during the pregnancy (possibly the first doctor visit in a long, long time - at least, I hope so). The doctors noticed a murmur. A bad murmer. A cardiac echo showed that she has a hole in her heart (an atrial septal defect for those in the know). This is something that has almost certainly been there since she was born. Something - perhaps the pregnancy, perhaps time - has caused the blood flow to back up into her lungs, causing pulmonary hypertension (aka Eisenmenger's syndrome). Severe pulmonary hypertension. Plus a bit of severe pulmonic stenosis and severe mitral regurgitation on top of that. In real person terms: she is about one sneeze away from going into total heart failure. And she is pregnant.
Doing a little research online shows me that the official recommendation for women with Eisenmengers is sterilization. AKA no babies. None. Ever. Why? Because the mortality - that means death - rate is up to 50%. Half of these women who get pregnant will die, either before, during or after they give birth.
This young woman had no clue.
And she still didn't as of a few hours ago when I saw her. Because she speaks Spanish, and you need a REALLY good translator to go in to tell someone that we need to deliver her baby at just over 6 months gestation otherwise she may die. She may die anyway.
No one knows what to do with her. We'll probably have to transfer her to another university hospital. One that can do heart transplants, so that she can get added to the list.
It just breaks my heart.
Mar 20, 2005
I Wasn't Online Yesterday
Happy (day after your actual) Birthday Maripat!!!
Woop-woop! Bring down the hiz-ouse!
Woop-woop! Bring down the hiz-ouse!
Mar 17, 2005
Lesson for the Ages
If it has been, say, a year or so since the last time you went running, and you decide all spur-of-the-moment to try it again one afternoon: don't start by running three miles. Or you will end up one sore puppy. Believe me, I speak from experience.
Also: Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Also, 2: Happy MATCH Day!!! (a mere 364 days, or about 8736 hours, until mine own)
Also, 3: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARI!!! (I think I have the date about correct...)
Lastly: I missed my One Year Blog Anniversary (3/12/05), so Happy (Late) Anniversary, oh blog-o'-mine. How I love thee, and the ability thou givest me of spouting off to the world at general. You complete me. (tee-hee!)
Also: Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Also, 2: Happy MATCH Day!!! (a mere 364 days, or about 8736 hours, until mine own)
Also, 3: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARI!!! (I think I have the date about correct...)
Lastly: I missed my One Year Blog Anniversary (3/12/05), so Happy (Late) Anniversary, oh blog-o'-mine. How I love thee, and the ability thou givest me of spouting off to the world at general. You complete me. (tee-hee!)
Mar 15, 2005
4 am
I'm tired. Even though I already slept for three or so hours. OB call is another opportunity for me to be on call overnight. Isn't that just great?!
Today... well, yesterday, really, I guess... I got to see one vaginal birth and one C-section of twins.
And I have this to say: we all come into the world looking pretty skanky-nasty. Covered in grayish slime and a nice purplish-blue color. That is until we start screaming.
Scream away little baby, say I. Some day you might find yourself awake at four in the morning just waiting for something interesting to happen...
Today... well, yesterday, really, I guess... I got to see one vaginal birth and one C-section of twins.
And I have this to say: we all come into the world looking pretty skanky-nasty. Covered in grayish slime and a nice purplish-blue color. That is until we start screaming.
Scream away little baby, say I. Some day you might find yourself awake at four in the morning just waiting for something interesting to happen...
Mar 14, 2005
Mar 13, 2005
I'm With the Bride
Last night I had the lovely experience of going to my first ever Bachelorette Party. We all wore matching pink T-shirts that said "I'm with the bride." And the bride wore a white shirt that said "The bride" and a veil (covered in condoms)
Oh, yeah, and the whole thing was in Charleston. I heart Charleston.
So, being a person who has gone out on occasion in the past, of course I'd seen bachelorette parties before. Usually in a "oh, look, there's a bunch of giggly girls with one wearing a veil/tiara/feather boa/some form of penis decoration - must be a bachelorette party." Then I proceed to go on my merry way. Turns out, that is not most men's reactions. They honestly seemed to be fascinated with the whole concept of a large group of girls (there were 13 of us) out specifically to celebrate a wedding. Of course it probably helped that we were toting along an inflatable penis. Other bachelorette parties were also very excited to see us.
On the whole, I have never felt so conspicuous going out to bars and/or dancing before. It was fun! Of course once is about enough for me. I'm perfectly happy to go back to my days of blissful anonymity.
I propose here, though, that every woman should have a 'bachelorette party' with her friends at least once a year. Even if there are no weddings forthcoming. It is just a fun way to feel special for the night!
Back to real life now, though, and to a place where I will feel decidedly un-special. I am about to embark upon my two weeks of high-risk obstetrics. These two weeks are purported to be two of the worst imaginable weeks of third year. Wish me luck...
Six weeks of third year left, total. Just under 14 months until I'm an MD. Ack!
Oh, yeah, and the whole thing was in Charleston. I heart Charleston.
So, being a person who has gone out on occasion in the past, of course I'd seen bachelorette parties before. Usually in a "oh, look, there's a bunch of giggly girls with one wearing a veil/tiara/feather boa/some form of penis decoration - must be a bachelorette party." Then I proceed to go on my merry way. Turns out, that is not most men's reactions. They honestly seemed to be fascinated with the whole concept of a large group of girls (there were 13 of us) out specifically to celebrate a wedding. Of course it probably helped that we were toting along an inflatable penis. Other bachelorette parties were also very excited to see us.
On the whole, I have never felt so conspicuous going out to bars and/or dancing before. It was fun! Of course once is about enough for me. I'm perfectly happy to go back to my days of blissful anonymity.
I propose here, though, that every woman should have a 'bachelorette party' with her friends at least once a year. Even if there are no weddings forthcoming. It is just a fun way to feel special for the night!
Back to real life now, though, and to a place where I will feel decidedly un-special. I am about to embark upon my two weeks of high-risk obstetrics. These two weeks are purported to be two of the worst imaginable weeks of third year. Wish me luck...
Six weeks of third year left, total. Just under 14 months until I'm an MD. Ack!
Mar 8, 2005
Which is Better: Silence or Stupidity
I am just so annoyed right now that I don't even know how to describe it.
Today was a perfectly normal day, with really nothing that went wrong. Then we had our lecture at 4 and I feel like my head imploded. The lecturer was one of those deluded people who actually wanted, and expected full participation. For some groups, this is not a problem. Unfortunately, I seem to be in a group of monks that only fulfill their vow of silence during lectures. NO ONE answers anything. Okay, that is an exaggeration. Of the 15 of us, there are 3-4 that regularly open their mouths to answer questions. That leaves 11 silent bodies.
Today, the lecturer was WAY above our heads. Well, at least way above my head. I didn't know anything, may some of the others did. But I tried! As one of the 3-4 regular speakers, I did my duty - I answered questions. Of course, EVERYTHING I said was wrong. I just kept sounding stupider and stupider. (heh. Stupider...) Eventually, it got to the point where even I stopped answering. I just couldn't handle it any more. I wanted some semblence of support from the rest of my group. Sigh.
Today WAS a game of 'Read My Mind,' though, so I don't blame the others for not piping up.
Dr. Attending: What other anemia can you get during pregnancy?
Me (or some other brave soul): Um, hemolytic?
Dr. Attending: Well, I guess, but I was really thinking sickle cell.
OR
Dr. Attending: What other vitamins should she be on?
Brave soul: Um, folate?
Dr. Attending: Related to anemia.
Brave soul: Um, B12?
Dr. Attending: That has to do with that GI lecture I gave you last year.
[Silence]
Brave Soul: B6?
Dr. Attending: Vitamin C!
Why even bother speaking, you may ask, when all the others get by with remaining mute? Well, I have been a teacher at various points in my life, and I know how awful it is to be there looking at the silent class, waiting for someone to just get the ball rolling. I have sympathy for the lecturer, and I have a desire to get out of lecture faster. Today it just ended up frustrating the heck out of me. Bye bye heck, you're all gone from me.
I'm going to go find chocolate now. Mmm. Chocolate. And a book that doesn't contain any uteri.
Today was a perfectly normal day, with really nothing that went wrong. Then we had our lecture at 4 and I feel like my head imploded. The lecturer was one of those deluded people who actually wanted, and expected full participation. For some groups, this is not a problem. Unfortunately, I seem to be in a group of monks that only fulfill their vow of silence during lectures. NO ONE answers anything. Okay, that is an exaggeration. Of the 15 of us, there are 3-4 that regularly open their mouths to answer questions. That leaves 11 silent bodies.
Today, the lecturer was WAY above our heads. Well, at least way above my head. I didn't know anything, may some of the others did. But I tried! As one of the 3-4 regular speakers, I did my duty - I answered questions. Of course, EVERYTHING I said was wrong. I just kept sounding stupider and stupider. (heh. Stupider...) Eventually, it got to the point where even I stopped answering. I just couldn't handle it any more. I wanted some semblence of support from the rest of my group. Sigh.
Today WAS a game of 'Read My Mind,' though, so I don't blame the others for not piping up.
Dr. Attending: What other anemia can you get during pregnancy?
Me (or some other brave soul): Um, hemolytic?
Dr. Attending: Well, I guess, but I was really thinking sickle cell.
OR
Dr. Attending: What other vitamins should she be on?
Brave soul: Um, folate?
Dr. Attending: Related to anemia.
Brave soul: Um, B12?
Dr. Attending: That has to do with that GI lecture I gave you last year.
[Silence]
Brave Soul: B6?
Dr. Attending: Vitamin C!
Why even bother speaking, you may ask, when all the others get by with remaining mute? Well, I have been a teacher at various points in my life, and I know how awful it is to be there looking at the silent class, waiting for someone to just get the ball rolling. I have sympathy for the lecturer, and I have a desire to get out of lecture faster. Today it just ended up frustrating the heck out of me. Bye bye heck, you're all gone from me.
I'm going to go find chocolate now. Mmm. Chocolate. And a book that doesn't contain any uteri.
Mar 4, 2005
Three Months
That is apparently how long it takes one to get over the crash of a computer, and the loss of a novel. Interesting, no?
My computer crashed about three months ago. If you'll remember, that was right around the time that Nanowrimo came to an end. I had successfully reached the 50,000 word mark (50,009 to be exact), and was finally getting around to posting it on my novel blog... Then came the crash. Like the stock market in 1929, my computer crashed; like the investors in 1929, my hopes and dreams were crashed with them.
Except that it took them years and years to get over it, and it only took me three months. And lots of chocolate.
I've finally gone back to my website, copied everything I had posted there, and discovered that I lost around 16,500 words. Not too bad... I don't think I even really liked much of the last 10,000.
So, what happens now? (does that phrase make anybody else think of Evita? Well, I don't know. I have to re-read what I wrote to decide how terrible it really was. Then, maybe if I'm feeling inspired I'll try to work on it some more.
Some others of us could use some inspiration, too, I believe...
My computer crashed about three months ago. If you'll remember, that was right around the time that Nanowrimo came to an end. I had successfully reached the 50,000 word mark (50,009 to be exact), and was finally getting around to posting it on my novel blog... Then came the crash. Like the stock market in 1929, my computer crashed; like the investors in 1929, my hopes and dreams were crashed with them.
Except that it took them years and years to get over it, and it only took me three months. And lots of chocolate.
I've finally gone back to my website, copied everything I had posted there, and discovered that I lost around 16,500 words. Not too bad... I don't think I even really liked much of the last 10,000.
So, what happens now? (does that phrase make anybody else think of Evita? Well, I don't know. I have to re-read what I wrote to decide how terrible it really was. Then, maybe if I'm feeling inspired I'll try to work on it some more.
Some others of us could use some inspiration, too, I believe...
Mar 2, 2005
Horn-Tootin' Brenna
I don't like to toot my own horn (okay, sometimes I do, but I swear this isn't really one of them), but I got an e-mail the other day that has thrown me back into a state of confusion and doubt. The e-mail reads thus:
So... Just when I had given neurology up (partially because we still haven't gotten our grades back and I was not certain whether I had done well or terribly) I get a freaking recruiting e-mail! I didn't even know that people did that kind of thing. I can tell you that I don't think the pediatrics department does. Which wouldn't be necessary, anyway, as I spent the entire rotation in Cheerleader mode (aka Like me! Like me! Give me Honors! I'm Going into Peds Girl)
I would be much more appreciated in Neurology, that's for sure. What's a girl to do?
One thing I won't do: Obstetrics and/or Gynecology. I'm only on my third day of the rotation and it honestly is not going that terribly (we'll see if I'm singing a different tune after 'STD Clinic' at the health department tonight) but I just feel... wrong. Hairy.
There are two (female, of course) residents on Gyn-Oncology team that I'm on this week. Both are nice. But get this: their names are Cassie and Suzy. Cassie and Suzy. CASSIE and SUZY! Good grief.
Remember that episode of Scrubs? The one where the OB residents are trying to lure Elliot to join them? They are depicted as an ongoing slumber party type of girl. I know that Scrubs is one of the most accurate programs out there in terms of depicting medical training. But even I thought that perhaps they were exaggerating the OB/Gyn thing. Nope.
Cassie and Suzy!
I have never heard two residents giggle so much. Mostly when the attending is around. The male attending. The male attending who does not have a wedding ring on (could mean single, could mean doesn't wear ring). Giggling + male = Flirting. At least in my book. So, yes, these residents are FLIRTING with the attending. I never thought I'd see such a thing.
This is why I can't go into OB. Don't get me wrong, I can giggle with the best of them. I'm just generally not around patients when I do it.
Disclaimer: I am intending no harm to the above mentioned residents or attending. All are quite competent as physicians, and the patients seem to really enjoy them. The comments I made, though they may sound disparaging, are just my way of saying that I don't fit in. And you know how we all fight the unknown...
Hi Brenna,
have been thinking back on the good students on neurology in the past year and wanted to send out some random recruiting e-mails. What are you going to do with your life? Remember how fun neurology was?? Hint, hint.. You would be good at it. Please let me know what you are going to do as I am interested and if I can help you in any way whatever you choose to do, then please feel free to ask...
So... Just when I had given neurology up (partially because we still haven't gotten our grades back and I was not certain whether I had done well or terribly) I get a freaking recruiting e-mail! I didn't even know that people did that kind of thing. I can tell you that I don't think the pediatrics department does. Which wouldn't be necessary, anyway, as I spent the entire rotation in Cheerleader mode (aka Like me! Like me! Give me Honors! I'm Going into Peds Girl)
I would be much more appreciated in Neurology, that's for sure. What's a girl to do?
One thing I won't do: Obstetrics and/or Gynecology. I'm only on my third day of the rotation and it honestly is not going that terribly (we'll see if I'm singing a different tune after 'STD Clinic' at the health department tonight) but I just feel... wrong. Hairy.
There are two (female, of course) residents on Gyn-Oncology team that I'm on this week. Both are nice. But get this: their names are Cassie and Suzy. Cassie and Suzy. CASSIE and SUZY! Good grief.
Remember that episode of Scrubs? The one where the OB residents are trying to lure Elliot to join them? They are depicted as an ongoing slumber party type of girl. I know that Scrubs is one of the most accurate programs out there in terms of depicting medical training. But even I thought that perhaps they were exaggerating the OB/Gyn thing. Nope.
Cassie and Suzy!
I have never heard two residents giggle so much. Mostly when the attending is around. The male attending. The male attending who does not have a wedding ring on (could mean single, could mean doesn't wear ring). Giggling + male = Flirting. At least in my book. So, yes, these residents are FLIRTING with the attending. I never thought I'd see such a thing.
This is why I can't go into OB. Don't get me wrong, I can giggle with the best of them. I'm just generally not around patients when I do it.
Disclaimer: I am intending no harm to the above mentioned residents or attending. All are quite competent as physicians, and the patients seem to really enjoy them. The comments I made, though they may sound disparaging, are just my way of saying that I don't fit in. And you know how we all fight the unknown...
Feb 27, 2005
Land of the Perky
Yesterday afternoon, I was privileged enough to attend a wedding shower of a friend of mine from school that is getting married. (Thus the wedding shower... duh.) I've only ever really been to one wedding shower before - one peril of moving all over the country is that you are rarely there when your friends are getting married.
So, there I was, being all wedding-showery and cutesy and girly, when I had a sudden realization: I had, unknowingly, fallen in amongst the girls that drove me CRAZY in college. The cutesy, flirty, girly, cliquey, PERKY girls. There were no sororities at my college, but if there had been, these girls would have been the presidents and social directors. They were nice and all, but as a group, they were quite frightening. With enough energy to power the Twin Cities for days.
And there I was, smack dab in the middle of one of their wedding receptions.
It was okay, really, except that I felt hairy. Yes, that's right. Hairy. Interestingly, being around these cute petite girls doesn't make me feel huge and hulking like it should, it just makes me feel hairy. I realized, as I sat there during the Opening of Presents, that I hadn't even thought about plucking my eyebrows or shaving my legs in much more time than it takes for plucked/shaved hair to grow back.
So, today became Hair Removal Day. I plucked and I shaved. And the result? I am cut and swollen, and you can't even really tell the difference (except for the swelling and bleeding) because I have BLONDE hair.
But at least now I don't feel hairy!
So, there I was, being all wedding-showery and cutesy and girly, when I had a sudden realization: I had, unknowingly, fallen in amongst the girls that drove me CRAZY in college. The cutesy, flirty, girly, cliquey, PERKY girls. There were no sororities at my college, but if there had been, these girls would have been the presidents and social directors. They were nice and all, but as a group, they were quite frightening. With enough energy to power the Twin Cities for days.
And there I was, smack dab in the middle of one of their wedding receptions.
It was okay, really, except that I felt hairy. Yes, that's right. Hairy. Interestingly, being around these cute petite girls doesn't make me feel huge and hulking like it should, it just makes me feel hairy. I realized, as I sat there during the Opening of Presents, that I hadn't even thought about plucking my eyebrows or shaving my legs in much more time than it takes for plucked/shaved hair to grow back.
So, today became Hair Removal Day. I plucked and I shaved. And the result? I am cut and swollen, and you can't even really tell the difference (except for the swelling and bleeding) because I have BLONDE hair.
But at least now I don't feel hairy!
Feb 24, 2005
Angry Incompetence
As much as I liked my pediatrics rotation (which ends today - well, tomorrow really, after the tests), and as much as I liked the heme/onc week of it, let me tell you HOW relieved I was to leave today. Yesterday I briefly mentioned my 'less than confident' intern. Well, today, I think her head was about to implode.
EVERY little thing was stressing her out today. And when she didn't understand something, or didn't know the answer to a question, she just got louder. I swear, by the end of the day I needed ear plugs to protect my ears from permanent hearing loss. She just sounds angry. Loud, angry and confused.
Along with louder and possibly angrier, she'd get more frantic - stacking papers up, jumping from one thing to another. A question such as: "So-and-so is back from their test. Can they eat now?" was enough to make her jump out of her seat and run out of the room. I don't know why. The answer was clearly yes. Which is just as easily said while sitting calmly with nicely organized papers.
Sigh. Some people really worry me. Because, gentle readers, some day this woman will be a doctor. Wait. She IS a doctor. But some day she'll be off on her own, practicing medicine.
And do you really want to see some one who will hit the ceiling when you ask if your kid is ready to start eating solid foods?
Ahh, but I am too, too harsh. She has time yet to learn much more. Much, much more. But let me tell you this: I will NOT be that way.
Except, perhaps, on Tuesdays.
EVERY little thing was stressing her out today. And when she didn't understand something, or didn't know the answer to a question, she just got louder. I swear, by the end of the day I needed ear plugs to protect my ears from permanent hearing loss. She just sounds angry. Loud, angry and confused.
Along with louder and possibly angrier, she'd get more frantic - stacking papers up, jumping from one thing to another. A question such as: "So-and-so is back from their test. Can they eat now?" was enough to make her jump out of her seat and run out of the room. I don't know why. The answer was clearly yes. Which is just as easily said while sitting calmly with nicely organized papers.
Sigh. Some people really worry me. Because, gentle readers, some day this woman will be a doctor. Wait. She IS a doctor. But some day she'll be off on her own, practicing medicine.
And do you really want to see some one who will hit the ceiling when you ask if your kid is ready to start eating solid foods?
Ahh, but I am too, too harsh. She has time yet to learn much more. Much, much more. But let me tell you this: I will NOT be that way.
Except, perhaps, on Tuesdays.
Feb 23, 2005
Stamping Out Disease, part deux
Okay, they knock the little kiddie out, then they jam a needle thing-a-ma-bobby into his little hip. The needle is surprisingly not all that big. And it isn't really a needle like you'd picture a needle. More like a blue plastic toy contraption that has a two inch sharp metal piece sticking out of one end. I think the blue plastic part is for traction - it must be dang hard(ish) to jam a needle into bone.
Okay, Lindsay, get up off the floor now. I'll stop talking about bones and needles.
Alright. So, doctor gets bone marrow, nurse lady puts marrow into and on top of several different tubes and slides. Little kiddie is then woken up. Easy peasy, no? It is! The parents even stayed and watched.
I assumed my participation would end with the... Well, actually I didn't really participate per se in any of this. I was merely an observer. But, the attending did invite me to travel with her to the lab to check on the results.
Now, I did say that I didn't have the gold touch, but I do have to tell you that, in Medical Student Land, one-on-one time with an attending is tantamount to bushels of gold. Bushels! Especially when the attending is the clerkship director. ESPECIALLY when the attending is the clerkship director of pediatrics. Smashing!
I got a full half hour of walking around with Dr. Attending, asking thoughtful and relevant questions. All the while thinking "Ha! Someone to ask for a recommendation letter! She actually knows that my name is Brenna, not Brenda or 'that student' This is great. Sound smart, sound smart! And stop talking to yourself!!!"
Then, to top it all off, we went to look at the bone marrow smear of the adorable little two year old whose symptoms were all concerning for leukemia. And he didn't have it! He instead has something called Idiopathic (or Immune-mediated) Thrombocytopenia - ITP. 90% of kids with this recover pretty quickly without any problems.
Isn't that great? I think so.
To celebrate, I went home and had a processed cheese and pickle sandwich. With horseradish. It sounds like I'm pregnant, but I'm really just poor and haven't been grocery shopping for a while.
La di da!
HAPPY DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY, DAD!!! Way to go!
Okay, Lindsay, get up off the floor now. I'll stop talking about bones and needles.
Alright. So, doctor gets bone marrow, nurse lady puts marrow into and on top of several different tubes and slides. Little kiddie is then woken up. Easy peasy, no? It is! The parents even stayed and watched.
I assumed my participation would end with the... Well, actually I didn't really participate per se in any of this. I was merely an observer. But, the attending did invite me to travel with her to the lab to check on the results.
Now, I did say that I didn't have the gold touch, but I do have to tell you that, in Medical Student Land, one-on-one time with an attending is tantamount to bushels of gold. Bushels! Especially when the attending is the clerkship director. ESPECIALLY when the attending is the clerkship director of pediatrics. Smashing!
I got a full half hour of walking around with Dr. Attending, asking thoughtful and relevant questions. All the while thinking "Ha! Someone to ask for a recommendation letter! She actually knows that my name is Brenna, not Brenda or 'that student' This is great. Sound smart, sound smart! And stop talking to yourself!!!"
Then, to top it all off, we went to look at the bone marrow smear of the adorable little two year old whose symptoms were all concerning for leukemia. And he didn't have it! He instead has something called Idiopathic (or Immune-mediated) Thrombocytopenia - ITP. 90% of kids with this recover pretty quickly without any problems.
Isn't that great? I think so.
To celebrate, I went home and had a processed cheese and pickle sandwich. With horseradish. It sounds like I'm pregnant, but I'm really just poor and haven't been grocery shopping for a while.
La di da!
HAPPY DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY, DAD!!! Way to go!
Stamping Out Disease!
Putting aside for the moment that I am currently tired, hungry and bored and that no one seems to be feeling the compulsion to send me home (I need to study!!) becauss the upper level left and the intern here is... less than confident, I have had a pretty amazing day.
Not in the everything-I-touch-turns-to-gold-I-can-do-no-wrong-and-here's-my-winning-lottery-ticket way, but in the gee-that's-just-pretty-dang-freaking-cool-and-I-got-to-be-a-part-of-it way. [editorial note: typing with a lot of dashes instead of spaces is really hard]
A two year old presented to his peds office yesterday because he'd been bruising all over. He was sent to the heme/onc clinic here for work up. What is the most likely diagnosis with easy bruising (and oh yeah, toss in some petechiae and an enlarged spleen and low white blood cell count) All the little children say: Leukemia!
So, two year old (whose mother, by the way just had a baby a few months ago and is supposed to go back to work tomorrow) is admitted to the heme/onc service for a bone marrow aspirate. I, eager-beaver of a med student that I am, tagged along.
In the bone marrow aspirate, they start an IV and knock the little kiddie out, then
HA! I was sent home. I'll finish the story later.
BAM.
Not in the everything-I-touch-turns-to-gold-I-can-do-no-wrong-and-here's-my-winning-lottery-ticket way, but in the gee-that's-just-pretty-dang-freaking-cool-and-I-got-to-be-a-part-of-it way. [editorial note: typing with a lot of dashes instead of spaces is really hard]
A two year old presented to his peds office yesterday because he'd been bruising all over. He was sent to the heme/onc clinic here for work up. What is the most likely diagnosis with easy bruising (and oh yeah, toss in some petechiae and an enlarged spleen and low white blood cell count) All the little children say: Leukemia!
So, two year old (whose mother, by the way just had a baby a few months ago and is supposed to go back to work tomorrow) is admitted to the heme/onc service for a bone marrow aspirate. I, eager-beaver of a med student that I am, tagged along.
In the bone marrow aspirate, they start an IV and knock the little kiddie out, then
HA! I was sent home. I'll finish the story later.
BAM.
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