January 8th, 2004

Nescafe rabbit

Grant me strength.

Made it in this morning at 0615, as promised. Got into scrubs, looked at the board, went up to 4 N to meet Joerg. The man is all about surgery; I don't think I at my most anal-retentive during Peds Surg could have outpaced him. He took night call willingly during his rotations. Me, I'd only do that for Peds or FP. In fact, I'd like to be a resident on call for FM, as opposed to this blasted Surgery. Especially if I got to get to go home to my Angel.
I did nothing last night - nothing but wish I were home with him, just to feel the comfort of being near him. Stared at the screen of Tinuviel and chatted, ate a few more muffins - Lindy made me muffins when I fixed her Pocket PC - and somehow it was 10 PM and I went to bed. I should have studied - I have a Netter I could have gone over and done some anatomy review - but I just couldn't bring myself to do more than a halfhearted review of Gray's.
I still feel a bit mopey and blah, but part of that, I'n sure, is that I'm starving and not sleeping enough. But this morning I did get myself motivated enough to go over our finances. The last of the student loans covered the last of the house debts from moving quite nicely. Now the goal is to keep the credit cards at a nice $0 balance so that my summer loans will go toward a vacation in Hawaii. This would be just after I take my National Boards, and would be a chance to spend some real Quality Time with my Angel. We have been seriously lacking in Quality Time.

I said I'd tell you about the Prophet of the Second Coming yesterday. It was as we were going into Detention for the first time. The doors to Detention and to the mental health wing (the Psych ward, for the non-Politically Correct) are right next to each other in this hospital. And as we came in, we encountered two uniformed officers and a man in a parka. Parka turns to us and says "Good morning. I am the prophet of the Second Coming, anal it will be soon." He went on to explain to us in a most reasonable tone of voice that before the Apocalypse, the United States would come under the control of the Soviet Union, and I think he said something about Gorbachev and the root of all evil, but we were through the door to Detention and the solid steel closed behind us, cutting him off.
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Nescafe rabbit

Whatadaywhatadaywhataday...

Morning: Went in and got labs, wrote an entry during Vascular which shall be posted as soon as I have a chance to hotsync. I'll pick up from there:
Finished rounding to discover that our patient in Detention is going to have to be transferred to the ICU so we can keep him hydrated and do something about his 104º-106º fever. Whoops. Fortunately, he's also going to wind up on the Medicine service sooner or later, which is all good by me. Grabbed breakfast (I have got to find a cheaper way to eat) and then ran off to a meeting with Dr. S, who is a crazy black man by all accounts. He's fun. He was also 40 minutes late, so we met with Dr. G and practised tying knots. I think I understand what I was missing, finally, although I'm still not very good at it. I need some rope to practise on.
Talked about trauma and about reading CT scans, which I did reasonably well paying attention to, even though Radiology makes me unbearably sleepy. I could never be a radiologist. Then went back and wrote notes, grabbed a sandwich, wrote more notes, and handed the Detention patient off to Medicine for a consult. Their assessment? "Assessment: D*head, Plan: Go f* yourself." The man's a medical nightmare. Apparently he's in jail for setting himself on fire and crashing into a hospital or some such; the stab wound that put him in this time is self-inflicted, he's from some middle-eastern country we don't know where or what, and although he speaks English, he refuses to talk. Go figure.

Next on the list was the 50-year-old man who drinks 1/2 pint of Jim Beam and 12 beers a day, smokes pot, lives alone, and last used crack cocaine on the day before he entered the hospital. He didn't want to talk to me either, as I wasn't bringing him food. He has horrible pneumonia and a chest tube in; he's NPO so he doesn't aspirate and bring his saturations down even more. He warmed up a bit and told me about how all the Hindus don't pay any taxes and run the country, and how I could look at any Wal-Mart and see proof. Riiiight

Then in the afternoon was clinic, in which I think I conclusively proved to JB that I suck. I was late (I went to get my pager set up to receive Code 77 alerts, so I know when trauma comes in), I only saw one patient, and it took me all afternoon to figure him out. And then we got a Code 77 page and ran down to the ED.
Turned out it was a drunk hispanic guy who'd been nailed a good one - somehow - in the back of the head. He said his wife scratched him, then he said she tried to shoot him, then he said he'd tried to shoot himself, and a lot of other things. But he was stable, CT looked good, he just had a big bruise and a scalp laceration, which explained why he was bleeding everywhere.
Finished clinic, came back down to the ED. Next door was wailing and sobbing. From what I overheard, the unconscious young child of indeterminate gender being intubated and cathed had gotten hold of a bottle of medicine and drank it. Please, when you have children, be careful...

And now it's time to go find the mandatory financial aid meeting so that I can eat pizza. Until later, O Best Beloved...
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