If there had been someone in that empty lobby of a psychiatry building where I took shelter from the wind to have my conversation - if there had been someone to hug me, I would have broken down and cried.
I cannot stand to fail.
I did the best I could to remind myself that things happen, to think about the way that I wasn't getting enough sleep, the fact that the rotation's structure simply didn't do well for me, to mentally review all of my other accomplishments (my Surgery evaluations praised me highly as empathic, organized, and knowledgable) in an attempt to offset this single rotation's bad evaluation. And I played about ten games of Spider Solitaire. I feel better now, and I have been saying that I wanted this whole thing to be done with.
I don't like the result; I'm still lost as to what horrible thing I was saying and doing. But I'm done.
The rest of today involved lectures on personality disorders, sitting around waiting for nothing to happen, seeing 0 patients, getting locked out of the inpatient psychiatry unit, and the best ever conversation between staff. "...yes, I know him....yes....a coat hanger?"
Seems the patient coughing up blood secondary to having three to ten knives in his stomach (don't look at me, he swallowed them) had a coat hanger removed from his small bowel last year. We spent ten minutes trying to figure out how one swallows a coat hanger.
No stories today; it's a lazy Monday and I'm being boring. Besides, I'm drained by this afternoon's conversation.