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

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Didja miss me?

It's been a while, O Best Beloved.  I've been tripping over my own feet or something.  It's not that I haven't had anything interesting going on...

Mid-twenties.  Diabetes.  Vomiting blood.  Gorgeous boy, honestly - slim, well-muscled, all but that "f* it all" expression.  He keeps coming in.  He feels like crap.  I read the old notes - this boy with insulin-dependent diabetes does not want to take his insulin.  Perhaps that is why he feels like crap all the time.  Overnight stay.  Diabetes education.  Will it make a difference?

A sweet lady with some underlying psych issues per her outpatient provider.  Translates into a forty-something woman who reminds me of a temperamental five-year-old.  I come in one morning.  "How are you feeling?"  She opens her eyes.  Kevorkian.  What? Kevorkian.  Tell him to bring his bag.  I'm done with this.  Five minutes later she's demanding to go home.  She hovered over the desk, staring at us as we dictated discharge summaries.  "My mommy's waiting downstairs for me.  Hurry up!"

Went down to Indy Saturday, to volunteer at the health fair.  I worked the "Smoking" Booth, thanks to our local Tar Wars coordinator, who provided me with a ton of marvellous information as well as several hundred pins, and got to operate the carbon monoxide detector.  And then one of the ladies from the vaccinations booth came up to me. 
"They want all the medical students to get a flu shot."
Student health sent an e-mail saying they had flu vaccines.  Then two days later they sent another saying they were out.  This was my chance  I've never gotten a flu shot before.  I figured "why not?"  I have direct patient contact, after all.  Six hours later I got a sore throat. 
Today my arm is still sore, I'm running a temperature up to 100.5, I'm more congested than New York at rush hour, and I still have a head full of patients but no energy to type.  My throat's no longer sore, though.

And to top it all off, I spent the afternoon in a conference call with the Society of Teachers of Family Medicine, trying not to fall asleep.  I'm signed up to moderate one paper session and two discussion groups in January in Albuquerque (anyone live near Albuquerque?  I'll have some free time and I don't know anything about the city); I'm to meet up at the Board of Directors meeting and carry on a dialogue about the miserably out-of-date website for the STFM resident-student session (we discussed the need to somehow make the AAFP/STFM/all the other official resident-student sites non-redundant), and they nearly forgot that I was to give report on the call.  I reminded them.

Tomorrow: morning doctor's appointment for the obligatory Female Exam. I shall bring a book, as usual.  My doctor finds that entertaining.  Also we will be going over to Mom's (is that okay, Mom?) to finish up costumes.  Wednesday: chor, if I can sing.  Thursday night I go up to $first_interview.
Thursday night already.  Havens.
Friday is an interview day (what do I need to bring?  I'm so terrified!) and so Friday night I will need a place to stay.  alythe, can I have some space in your house?  Saturday night is the Great Hallowe'en party - so perhaps on Friday night I will watch my B-horror movies and come up with a plot for a new B-movie.  Sunday we have to be home for church and the youth party.  I'm not certain that omelets after midnight will be possible, though I will certainly be glad to make them for a late-night snack.
And then Monday I go away for another month.  Tuesday is my second interview.  Next Friday I drive to Chicago and Saturday morning I take my Step II CS exam - does anyone have any hints about that?  Saturday afternoon I fly to Boston (anyone in the Boston area?); Sunday afternoon I have the aforementioned BoD meeting; Monday morning I fly back to Fort Wayne.  Monday then I'll drive back down to my away rotaion and maybe have a chance to breathe.  Third interview is the 18th.  Fourth is Dec. 1, and fifth is 8 Dec.  Then maybe I'm done for a while.

Being sick seems to be giving me logorrhea; I'm going to go stare at the walls now, O Best Beloved, and wait for Angel to get home.
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