I whisper your name (ayradyss) wrote,
I whisper your name
ayradyss

  • Mood:

Inna-gadda-da-vida, baby, don't you know that I love you?

Surgery final exam: Check. Came out of it feeling drained, exhausted, abused, and as if I should've brought some Surgi-Lube with me to aid in proper administration of the exam. Kara tells me that's how it's supposed to feel. I probably did fine, she says. It felt like a Medicine exam - I wish I'd had Medicine first.
But it's over, and as soon as I finish this brief update I'm going to go sit in the lounge for an hour and play FFIX before going to a meeting, then heading home. Home for a weekend of guilt-free relaxation. I can't bloody wait.

TB test: Check. Totally negative, will recheck in 3 months.

School pictures: Check. $42 for wallets, a copy of the composite, and the privilege of having my hair fixed by the photographer. And Mike to grin at me and say "look out!" as I was leaving and he was coming in. Made me feel good.

Also felt good in the OR the other day when TJ asked me why I was going into FP. "You're really smart," he says. "You could be an orthopod, anything you want..." I could be an orthopod. Now there's a compliment.
See, there's a hierarchy in medicine, a list of smartness. And FP-Peds-Pathology-Emergency Medicine are all at the bottom of it. Orthopods, Paediatric surgeons (of any sort), and anyone who makes more than $300,000 a year without taking call are at the top of the list. They're smart. Because we're all smart, we had to be to get here. Smart or incredibly motivated or both. The trick, they say, is to get into a competitive specialty and make buckets.
Thanks, but I think I'll be stupid.
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