May 6th, 2004

Nescafe rabbit

It's lunchtime...

Marsh sells sushi. I had sushi and sake last night, and I'm having it for lunch (no sake), since it apparently keeps all right overnight, and it's just darn yummy.

And the computer is free.

Went to a chemical dependency group today, and had my feelings reconfirmed. I want to be so strong and so willing to admit my mistakes. I figured, since I was over at the hospital where I did my anaesthesia rotation, that I'd make a go at finding the staff member who watched me do an NG tube insertion way back at the beginning of January, on the only day when I didn't have my Taika with me to sign off on the procedure. We keep procedure logs, you see. They're required, and we're required to be signed off on everything. And I am missing signatures on three procedures. One is an observation of ventilator management, and two are NG (nasogastric) tube placements. Have e-mailed my resident from Trauma Surgery to ask if she'll sign for vent management; I have done one of the two NG placements - I didn't have Taika, it was the last day of the rotation, I couldn't have her sign.
I walked into anaesthesia control and asked if there was a staff member who was about my height, female, and asian. That's all I could remember about her. There was, only one. And when I paged her, she showed up and agreed immediately that she'd be happy to sign off. One down. One to go.

Also heard back from the OB clerkship director. He says:
Sorry about the delay....finally was able to see $doctor today and he was waiting for some input from one of the residents.
The long and short of it....$doctor reviewed the evaluations with the residents. They all stand by their commments and "find them self-explanatory." $doctor did mention that if you wished, you could arrange to make an appt with him at $hospital for further discussion. He can be reached at $number.

So now I have to nerve myself up to call and make an appointment with $doctor - the site director for $hospital. Because I've gone this far, I can't turn back now. I want to know what I did wrong. Not today. Today I want to revel in getting something signed-off on, and come in early tomorrow to meet up with an anaesthesiologist who'll let me do an NG placement. Tomorrow or Monday. The thought makes my stomach twist.
  • Current Mood
    curious curious
Nescafe rabbit

Truth, part II

In honour of the rotation:
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And as I answered the questions, I found in each the diagnosis they were searching for. And I reiterate what I have been told, so many times, is true: We all, each of us, display traits of many different personality disorders. What changes them from personality traits to disorders is whether or not those traits are fixed and maladaptive. For example, I have worked hard to emphasize my obsessive-compulsive traits; they are the method of compensating for my attention-deficit traits and the absolute hallmark of a good medical student. These are adaptive traits. My histrionic qualities...those, on the other hand, have occasionally caused me trouble. They border on maladaptive at times. But they are not fixed. You see.

Obsessive-compulsive traits are what earned me the biggest surprise yet of my third year. After lunch, after my entry was posted, Megan looked up at me. "You, uh, don't need to check your mailbox, do you?" This was said in a tone so blatantly suggestive that I half-expected a "wink-wink, nudge-nudge, know-what-I-mean?" to follow it. The proper answer to that question is, of course, "Of course." And so we checked mailboxes.
I High-Passed Surgery!

Riding high on that event, we returned to the CIU, where I made the mistake of answering the phone. (It's an unwritten rule: if you didn't page someone, don't answer the phone.) A was on the other end. "Nykki! Can you come over here and do a physical exam on an admit?" They have us do physical exams on admits.

But this, O Best Beloved, was a very special admit.
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Chemical dependency lecture, hour one: He stands in front of us, young, eager, the best of the best, the brightest minds and the most diligently applied young doctors-to-be that we can imagine ourselves being. We joke with each other about being "slackers" if we don't study of an evening. Parties are carefully scheduled for after exams. He looks around at the room. "There are about twenty of you in here," he says, words measured. "That means two of you, sometime in the course of your lives, will be alcoholics."
Twenty pairs of bright and attentive eyes pivoted at his words, my own included, scanning the faces of the other nineteen students in the room, weighing what we each knew about the others, judging the likelihood of each person being one of those two.
Because, after all, it could never be me.
  • Current Mood
    shocked shocked