Okay, entries do get long. The majority of you whose opinions I respect don't think I need to cut them or don't care, but a few people whose opinions I respect think I should. Whether that means you don't want to read them or you don't like the scroll length doesn't really matter...what matters is that opinion is not unanimous. So I think I'll come out somewhere in the middle, and cut anything that gets too long, but leave a fair-sized opening and/or closing. Because then I don't wind up scrolling through my own entries searching for something. :P
Followed Dr. W around. I want to be her when I grow up.
She's a no-frills, tell-it-like-it-is doctor whose patients adore her and sometimes do what she tells them to. And she's pretty and she's fun and she refers to going to see patients as "playing." She walked up to one of her colleagues one day and asked for a moment of his time. He gave it. "I'm getting numb," she whined. "I just want to take this woman and admit her to the hospital even though she doesn't need to be there." She did, too. Came and found me. "I'm so mad at myself I could spit," she says. "I wussed out."
Last patient of the day, one day, was a mildly mentally retarded woman. Very mildly, note. Comes from an abusive family. Her mother was abused. She was abused. She's married to a schizophrenic man who was put into a hospital after he took an axe to the house. They have a daughter who's been taken into foster care and the court is suing for termination of parental rights
. No visitation, no contact, no legal right to even call her their daughter. They tried to get her to divorce him. It takes $200 to divorce him. She didn't have the money. Nobody helped her. ( Collapse )
Outside the room the doctor turns to me. "God," she says, and it's part epithet, part evocation, part wish - all these things in her voice with its soft New York accent. "I just want to take her home and make her safe."( Collapse )
Two days at the end of my week and one at the beginning - the internal medicine doctors, patient, willing to sacrifice time in their schedules - I make them run late, O Best Beloved
- to teach me. To let me walk into a room and get to know the patient and then explain it to the doctor. And every day, every patient, every time I walk into a room and do
something, it brings me a little closer.
In one year and two months, O Best Beloved, I will be a doctor.