I love blogs. I read them all the time. I have been wanting, forever now, to have a blog of my own that I actually WRITE IN more than once a month and that maybe someone somewhere actually reads. I spend too much time talking my husband's ear off about crazy hospital stories that he usually doesn't really want to hear. I need somewhere else to tell these stories. I spend too much time writing stories and posts in my head that I never write down. I need somewhere to get this stuff down, plus multiple people have told me that I need to write about what I am about to go through. Thus, I have re-titled this blog with the hopes of using this space as my place of refuge. A dumping ground, if you will, and also a space to let others know what the heck is going on with me.
One of those who has requested I write about my experiences is Professor John Trimbur, who was my MQP (sort of a senior thesis) advisor at my undergraduate university, whom I respect and admire a great deal. He's a writing professor, now at Emerson in Boston, and although I don't think he really asked for me to start writing publicly, he wanted me to write in general, so here I am. Writing.
In a month I'm supposed to start a MICU (medical intensive care unit) rotation at the military hospital in Texas where I will begin my residency in October. After three weeks of MICU I am supposed to do 4 weeks of Internal Medicine and then take a couple of weeks off before starting residency. I AM TERRIFIED. Did I mention I am scared? A move to a new place (how different can Texas be from New England? very much, I'm sure.), an intense rotation, and: OMG, residency. OMG. RESIDENCY.
Right now I'm doing my AHEC (rural health) rotation in this area...and I have not really made a great impression on my preceptor. I'm so anxious about all this moving crap...and now this. Damn.
I just found out my husband's brother and his wife are having trouble conceiving. Of my husband and his three brothers, this brother is the only one who does not yet have children. All of the five grandchildren in this family were conceived accidentally. His oldest brother and wife have had three baby girls in the last 3.5 years (YES. INSANE.) and his youngest brother got his girlfriend/fiance (now wife) pregnant at 18. They come from a family of six, most of whom are less than two years apart. Her sister had two kids very young. I'm sure that the idea of infertility never crossed their minds when they started trying. I feel awful for them, and so guilty about our lack of fertility problems because of it. Crap. I hope they get some answers and hope soon.
13 July 2007
14 June 2007
uh, some whining.
Yesterday was my mother's birthday. She is 49. She drove 2 hrs up to visit us -yes, on her birthday- even though I insisted we could come to her, or at least meet her somewhere. She came up anyway. We got lunch in town and wandered around a bit. Coming out of the Grasshopper Shop, we ran into one of the trauma surgeons whom I dislike strongly. I wish I didn't dislike this surgeon, but I do. During my 3rd year it was made very clear to me that an important part of the professionalism that goes along with being a decent doctor is that you never insult your collegues in front of patients. I think that is wise advice, which I will try to take to heart and stick to, but I'm not sure where to vent this frustration. This surgeon, Dr. X, is constantly talking smack about osteopathic schools - she does it in such a way that I know she doesn't think she's insulting us, but she is. She insists on trying to 'be one of the guys' with the other surgeons, even though she doesn't need to. There are other women surgeons at this hospital who are still taken very seriously and respected but don't reject the idea that they are women. They don't embrace the idea that woman=inferior, but I think when Dr. X tries so hard to be one of the guys, she perpetuates that idea, and it infuriates me. Plus, she according to a friend of mine she is always telling HIPPA-violating stories in public and she wears hideous trying-to-be-cool glasses. UGGG!
So we're on the sidewalk downtown and she's all gushing over Julia, "oh, it seems like you just had her!" she says. WTF? She was 6 months old when I rotated with you, crazy lady, and I never saw her because you insisted I be on call Q2. And then you had your PA do my evaluation, and he mercilessly ripped me a new one, and now every time I see him he gives me a nasty look - and you don't even care. I'm pretty sure you don't like me either, and whatever, crazy glasses surgeon lady, you totally piss me off.
Anyway. Julia was up half the night puking last night, and OMG, it was pretty awful. I went to the ER this morning smelling of puke. She woke up fine this morning, but when dan left with her I insisted he give daycare the phone # for the ER to call me in case she started puking again. Sure enough, at about 11:30 I was examining the mildly tender foot of an otherwise healthy 74-year-old lady, and I heard, "natalie, line 5, natalie line 5". This never happens, so I was pretty sure she was sick again. I left the old lady, got the phone, and it was Jen at daycare, telling me to come pick up my kid NOW, she just threw up breakfast. Awesome. I flash-signed out the old lady to one of the PAs, made an appointment for Julia to be seen at the hospitals' family practice clinic that afternoon, and hightailed my shit the hell out of the freaking ER (I am really hating the ER right now. More on that later.) I was practically in tears when I got to her, after driving 90+ on the highway. And when I got there...she was bouncing around happy as a little pigtailed clam. I took her in for her appointment anyway, where one of my favorite residents pronounced her fine, and went over to the grocery store to buy some (cough) overpriced sugar water (cough) Pedialyte. She was pretty sleepy by this point, having not napped at all yet, so I strapped her to me with the wrap that Gretchen lent me and she was out like a light about halfway down the sugar isle. She was a big sling-sleeper but had never napped in the wrap, so it was nice. She trasitioned from the wrap to the carseat to the crib without waking up (very unusual for her) and then proceeded to sleep for another 2+ hours. After dan woke her up around 6 for fear that she would sleep until 9 and then never go to bed, she ate some macaroni and we went to the park. No more puking so far but she doesn't seem to like the Pedialyte. I hate pediatric medicine but I think she's going to be ok.
Tomorrow we are leaving for a weekend in Vinalhaven, visiting Dan's aunt and uncle (and cousin, with whom I share names) which means TRAVEL WITH BABY. Jeasus God, are there more scary words? Probably. Anyway. I bought her a cool new fold up baby booster seat, which should come in handy, and my biggest fear is that she'll jump off of the ferry. I almost bought a leash, I kid you not. Where is my Bad Mommy T-Shirt?
So we're on the sidewalk downtown and she's all gushing over Julia, "oh, it seems like you just had her!" she says. WTF? She was 6 months old when I rotated with you, crazy lady, and I never saw her because you insisted I be on call Q2. And then you had your PA do my evaluation, and he mercilessly ripped me a new one, and now every time I see him he gives me a nasty look - and you don't even care. I'm pretty sure you don't like me either, and whatever, crazy glasses surgeon lady, you totally piss me off.
Anyway. Julia was up half the night puking last night, and OMG, it was pretty awful. I went to the ER this morning smelling of puke. She woke up fine this morning, but when dan left with her I insisted he give daycare the phone # for the ER to call me in case she started puking again. Sure enough, at about 11:30 I was examining the mildly tender foot of an otherwise healthy 74-year-old lady, and I heard, "natalie, line 5, natalie line 5". This never happens, so I was pretty sure she was sick again. I left the old lady, got the phone, and it was Jen at daycare, telling me to come pick up my kid NOW, she just threw up breakfast. Awesome. I flash-signed out the old lady to one of the PAs, made an appointment for Julia to be seen at the hospitals' family practice clinic that afternoon, and hightailed my shit the hell out of the freaking ER (I am really hating the ER right now. More on that later.) I was practically in tears when I got to her, after driving 90+ on the highway. And when I got there...she was bouncing around happy as a little pigtailed clam. I took her in for her appointment anyway, where one of my favorite residents pronounced her fine, and went over to the grocery store to buy some (cough) overpriced sugar water (cough) Pedialyte. She was pretty sleepy by this point, having not napped at all yet, so I strapped her to me with the wrap that Gretchen lent me and she was out like a light about halfway down the sugar isle. She was a big sling-sleeper but had never napped in the wrap, so it was nice. She trasitioned from the wrap to the carseat to the crib without waking up (very unusual for her) and then proceeded to sleep for another 2+ hours. After dan woke her up around 6 for fear that she would sleep until 9 and then never go to bed, she ate some macaroni and we went to the park. No more puking so far but she doesn't seem to like the Pedialyte. I hate pediatric medicine but I think she's going to be ok.
Tomorrow we are leaving for a weekend in Vinalhaven, visiting Dan's aunt and uncle (and cousin, with whom I share names) which means TRAVEL WITH BABY. Jeasus God, are there more scary words? Probably. Anyway. I bought her a cool new fold up baby booster seat, which should come in handy, and my biggest fear is that she'll jump off of the ferry. I almost bought a leash, I kid you not. Where is my Bad Mommy T-Shirt?
20 March 2007
here comes some more crazy!
I've been doing a really poor job of updating this thing. The stupid thing is that I really want to be writing more, I am always thinking about it, always coming up with things that I could write here. And then I never do, so they all just sort of keep taking up space in my head. This is nothing new for me: I always have had a hard time finishing things and focusing on things. It is part of the undiagnosed ADD/Anxiety that I'm pretty sure will one day take me down, but so far I have managed to mostly suppress. Although not exactly at the sparing of the people who have to live with me, like Tall Husband, who is well aquainted with my bouts of The Crazy. I wish I didn't do this to him, since he deserves better, the decent guy that he is, but right now I'm stuck. In so many ways.
I also just came across some information about my high school/college ex-boyfriend, who dealt with 4+ years of my insanity (off and on) and is now doing something computer related somewhere in southern California. I am happy for him, that he is WAY better off without me, and apparently happy and doing well. I still think about him a lot (he converted me to the Apple/Mac side, and now my husband has a MacBook - weird, indirect influence of my ex-boyfriend on my husband. just, yeah, WEIRD). Anyway: I was REALLY crazy back then, to him, and although I'd like to thing I've mellowed out significantly when it comes to some crucial things, as being a mom has made me see things differently and forced me to be an adult, I'm crazy now in a mostly different way.
Got a call (well, a voice mail) last night from a college runner friend who demanded answers on our impending move to Texas. I haven't heard from her since her wedding in November, and she apparently saw on MySpace that we're moving, so she called me up all pissed off. Not sure what to make of that, since although I really like her and want to still be her friend, we almost never see each other. I don't think that my moving to San Antonio will make much of a difference. I will take this opportunity to call her, since I have a sort of phone phobia and hate calling people. Now I have an excuse, she'll be expecting me, and it won't be so awkward. Aren't girls supposed to be good at the phone talking thing? I am the worst girl ever.
Somewhat related: Meg, one of my favorite people from high school is now a 2nd year at Vermont med. They do things wierd and she is actually on a rotation right now...Family practice at EMMC! So I ran into her last week at the hospital, there was much shrieking and hugging, and she's supposed to come over to our apartment tonight for dinner. I am super excited. She is really one of my favorite people of ever and I hadn't seen her (until last week) in forever. We lost touch in college (she went to a small liberal arts school here in Maine while I left for the metropolitan jungles of central Mass) but I had tried to get in touch with her a few times. My mom invited her to our post-wedding party. She was actually friends in college with Dan's best friend, so I heard second and third hand stuff about her through him, and did e-mail her when Dan and I got engaged, but she didn't come to our wedding and I figured that all was lost. Then this summer we ran into her mom and I found out she was in med school. I emailed her when I found out through the scheduling lady at EMMC (Jenifer, she's great, we talk weekly) that she'd be coming. Meg is one of those people that is just awesome, through and through, and during high school I felt lucky that she was one of my friends. Like Dr. S below, she's just that cool. Squee! Meg is coming to my house! Yay! If she stands us up I'll be pretty sad. Dan said something like, "I'm excited to meet your friend Meg that you are ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT." I made him promise not to mention that to her. (Besides, I am not always talking about her. Just sometimes. About how cool she is. Damn, I am pathetic. This is what happens when you're the kid everyone picks on in Elementary school: you tend to get all retarded when someone cool actually seems to want to be your friend. At least, that's what always happening to me.)
So, I'll be leaving the UMaine Library early today to pick up Julia and then try to clean the house as much as possible (while cooking dinner and baby wrangling) before she gets to our crummy apartment. I am totally embarrassed at what a shithole our apartment looks like (inside and out) right now. The landlord refused to paint the outside as promised, plus no one plowed this weekend so there is concrete frozen snow preventing anyone from actually getting in or out. And I am just a slob, the place is not organized and kind of dusty. The baby has stuff everywhere, and we have WAY too many books. There are just piles of books and papers all over, plus Dan's stupid erg takes up half of Julia's room/Guest room. Fortunately she's nice and probably won't be too disgusted, at least outwardly, and I'll probably act stupid and be all, "oh, so sorry it's soooo messy!" after I've cleaned all afternoon, like my mom always said, which used to drive me crazy, but, cliches and all, I am totally turning into my mother, which used to be my worst nightmare. Now I am not as scared, but I won't get into that as it will take another 17 pages and this entry is already too long.
Julia had her one year checkup yesterday at the Family Practice clinic (yes, we take her to a Family Doc and not to a Pediatrician...and she's still alive! He hasn't killer her yet). She weighs 19.5 lbs and is 29 inches tall, so she is 27th percentile for weight and 59th for height. I know that she will easily be taller than me (this isn't just a possibility, it's what is most likely based on normal physiology and my height calculated with Dan's. He is 6'3", I am barely 5'2", and yes, there is actually a formula for this that I learned during Foundations of Doctoring first year. end medical geek-out). She worries me because she doesn't talk much (her entire vocabulary: Uh-oh! Da-da (everything is Da or da da) and, very rarely, Mama). She also went through a 'na-na' stage where it seemed like she was trying to say banana (her favorite food) but then she started calling everything nana. She's way ahead in her motor development (started crawling at 6.5 months, walking at 11.5) but seems somewhat behind in verbal, so since I have to find something to worry about, I worry that she's delayed or autistic even though there are no signs of that. She got 3 shots yesterday (I held off on the varicella, even though I thought I would give it to her - probably next time, her doc talked me out of it but I'm not really against it) and I hate it so much when she gets them. We took the long way home, she fell asleep in the car and then let me put her in the crib without waking up, and slept until 6:30 pm. Unfortunately she woke up cranky this morning. Hopefully it passes...I don't want either of us to be miserable.
I've been at UMaine all day supposedly studying for step 2...and mostly wasting time on my computer, which I brought just to listen to iTunes on, since my iPod is all messed up. I spent an hour trying to get it to work this morning and I couldn't. &#$@&*$#!
I keep running into people I knew from high school, which is probably why I have been thinking about High school/College ex-boyfriend/Mac Geek. That and my computer broke and now my iPod is broke, and, damn it, I just wish I knew someone like him who could magically fix it all for me. He used to pull some really magical computer stuff, I have no idea how he did any of it. Someday he'll be the next steve jobs and I'll be that lame-o ex-doctor who accidentally killed someone with her stupidity.
Whee! It is above freezing here today, and it snowed last night. Only 4 months until we move to San Antonio. Holy crap.
I also just came across some information about my high school/college ex-boyfriend, who dealt with 4+ years of my insanity (off and on) and is now doing something computer related somewhere in southern California. I am happy for him, that he is WAY better off without me, and apparently happy and doing well. I still think about him a lot (he converted me to the Apple/Mac side, and now my husband has a MacBook - weird, indirect influence of my ex-boyfriend on my husband. just, yeah, WEIRD). Anyway: I was REALLY crazy back then, to him, and although I'd like to thing I've mellowed out significantly when it comes to some crucial things, as being a mom has made me see things differently and forced me to be an adult, I'm crazy now in a mostly different way.
Got a call (well, a voice mail) last night from a college runner friend who demanded answers on our impending move to Texas. I haven't heard from her since her wedding in November, and she apparently saw on MySpace that we're moving, so she called me up all pissed off. Not sure what to make of that, since although I really like her and want to still be her friend, we almost never see each other. I don't think that my moving to San Antonio will make much of a difference. I will take this opportunity to call her, since I have a sort of phone phobia and hate calling people. Now I have an excuse, she'll be expecting me, and it won't be so awkward. Aren't girls supposed to be good at the phone talking thing? I am the worst girl ever.
Somewhat related: Meg, one of my favorite people from high school is now a 2nd year at Vermont med. They do things wierd and she is actually on a rotation right now...Family practice at EMMC! So I ran into her last week at the hospital, there was much shrieking and hugging, and she's supposed to come over to our apartment tonight for dinner. I am super excited. She is really one of my favorite people of ever and I hadn't seen her (until last week) in forever. We lost touch in college (she went to a small liberal arts school here in Maine while I left for the metropolitan jungles of central Mass) but I had tried to get in touch with her a few times. My mom invited her to our post-wedding party. She was actually friends in college with Dan's best friend, so I heard second and third hand stuff about her through him, and did e-mail her when Dan and I got engaged, but she didn't come to our wedding and I figured that all was lost. Then this summer we ran into her mom and I found out she was in med school. I emailed her when I found out through the scheduling lady at EMMC (Jenifer, she's great, we talk weekly) that she'd be coming. Meg is one of those people that is just awesome, through and through, and during high school I felt lucky that she was one of my friends. Like Dr. S below, she's just that cool. Squee! Meg is coming to my house! Yay! If she stands us up I'll be pretty sad. Dan said something like, "I'm excited to meet your friend Meg that you are ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT." I made him promise not to mention that to her. (Besides, I am not always talking about her. Just sometimes. About how cool she is. Damn, I am pathetic. This is what happens when you're the kid everyone picks on in Elementary school: you tend to get all retarded when someone cool actually seems to want to be your friend. At least, that's what always happening to me.)
So, I'll be leaving the UMaine Library early today to pick up Julia and then try to clean the house as much as possible (while cooking dinner and baby wrangling) before she gets to our crummy apartment. I am totally embarrassed at what a shithole our apartment looks like (inside and out) right now. The landlord refused to paint the outside as promised, plus no one plowed this weekend so there is concrete frozen snow preventing anyone from actually getting in or out. And I am just a slob, the place is not organized and kind of dusty. The baby has stuff everywhere, and we have WAY too many books. There are just piles of books and papers all over, plus Dan's stupid erg takes up half of Julia's room/Guest room. Fortunately she's nice and probably won't be too disgusted, at least outwardly, and I'll probably act stupid and be all, "oh, so sorry it's soooo messy!" after I've cleaned all afternoon, like my mom always said, which used to drive me crazy, but, cliches and all, I am totally turning into my mother, which used to be my worst nightmare. Now I am not as scared, but I won't get into that as it will take another 17 pages and this entry is already too long.
Julia had her one year checkup yesterday at the Family Practice clinic (yes, we take her to a Family Doc and not to a Pediatrician...and she's still alive! He hasn't killer her yet). She weighs 19.5 lbs and is 29 inches tall, so she is 27th percentile for weight and 59th for height. I know that she will easily be taller than me (this isn't just a possibility, it's what is most likely based on normal physiology and my height calculated with Dan's. He is 6'3", I am barely 5'2", and yes, there is actually a formula for this that I learned during Foundations of Doctoring first year. end medical geek-out). She worries me because she doesn't talk much (her entire vocabulary: Uh-oh! Da-da (everything is Da or da da) and, very rarely, Mama). She also went through a 'na-na' stage where it seemed like she was trying to say banana (her favorite food) but then she started calling everything nana. She's way ahead in her motor development (started crawling at 6.5 months, walking at 11.5) but seems somewhat behind in verbal, so since I have to find something to worry about, I worry that she's delayed or autistic even though there are no signs of that. She got 3 shots yesterday (I held off on the varicella, even though I thought I would give it to her - probably next time, her doc talked me out of it but I'm not really against it) and I hate it so much when she gets them. We took the long way home, she fell asleep in the car and then let me put her in the crib without waking up, and slept until 6:30 pm. Unfortunately she woke up cranky this morning. Hopefully it passes...I don't want either of us to be miserable.
I've been at UMaine all day supposedly studying for step 2...and mostly wasting time on my computer, which I brought just to listen to iTunes on, since my iPod is all messed up. I spent an hour trying to get it to work this morning and I couldn't. &#$@&*$#!
I keep running into people I knew from high school, which is probably why I have been thinking about High school/College ex-boyfriend/Mac Geek. That and my computer broke and now my iPod is broke, and, damn it, I just wish I knew someone like him who could magically fix it all for me. He used to pull some really magical computer stuff, I have no idea how he did any of it. Someday he'll be the next steve jobs and I'll be that lame-o ex-doctor who accidentally killed someone with her stupidity.
Whee! It is above freezing here today, and it snowed last night. Only 4 months until we move to San Antonio. Holy crap.
08 March 2007
The Best Compliment
I changed the name of this super-popular blog to something more relevant in hopes of getting myself to post more and thus conquer the med student with child blogging niche-let. We shall see how that goes. Also, Julia totally wears pants all the time now (it's cold!), and being that I've been back on rotations since August, the mom part of my life has been encroached upon by the medicine part, so yeah, time for a change.
On to the actual point of this post. Since I am writing this, it will probably take me about five paragraphs to get to said point.
I have a BS in Technical, Scientific and Professional Communication from a tiny engineering school. That degree is kind of unique to med school, most of my classmates have degrees in stuff I still don't understand well enough, like biochemistry and molecular biology, and it was also unique to my undergraduate school - there were six of us in my graduating class. The program was founded and guided by Professor John Trimbur, who advised my senior project (MQP), sophomore project, and taught most of the writing and rhetoric classes that I took - I spent a lot of time working with him in class and individually. I guess that I can't fully and articulately describe how professor Trimbur impacted my life, since (as hokey as this sounds) I still don't really understand it yet. Professor Trimbur was one of the first people whose teaching really challenged me to think, and to think differently, which I would like to think is not as cliche and Tuesdays With Morrie as it sounds. As a relatively unchallenged 19-year-old, I found him to be one of the first people who treated me like a collegue and fully expected me to produce quality work. He didn't want the bullshit that most college students produce, and I didn't want to do that for him (there was one semester I did - I was also taking organic chemistry at the time - and he gave me a B in visual rhetoric. I totally deserved it).
Is it ironic that I am having a hard time writing about my writing professor? Umm, cringe. That's pretty awful. I'm going to have to try to re-articulate this at a later date.
THE POINT.
Professor Trimbur is leaving our tiny school to go be a professor of Writing, Literature, and Publishing at a school that is way more famous for its creativity and other writing related things - the kind of school one would have expected him to be at in the first place (that was one interesting thing about Professor Trimbur - from what I can tell he's incredibly well known and influential in the world of writing and rhetoric, even though he spent most of his career at an engineering school) (there are 600 writing majors at that school. 600!!!). He sent an e-mail to us alumni informing us of this. He's someone (there are too many of these people) I have regretted not staying in touch with, so I wrote back to him.
Because of what he wrote about writing, observing, paying attention, I feel now more than before that I need to put more effort into writing, weather it be here or anywhere else. I have always thought of myself as a writer, but how can that be if I don't ever write anything? Hence the goal of more frequent postings this year for personal reasons, but now the encouragement to do so from an external source that I hold in high esteem.
I hope that I can deliver.
(other stuff)
My medical knowledge is laking, shaky at best. I try to remember the old 'You know more than you think you do' adage but I can feel my brain hemorraging knowledge. The anesthesiologists are bad at pimping, I'm trying to read more, I wish I just knew what I am supposed to know but forgot most of while I was on maternity leave. My program director and chief resident called me last night to talk about when I would be graduating. I told them I want to do some more time in the ICU, but they told me not to worry since I'll have more of that intern year, but, crap, I just DON"T know it. I don't want to tell them that, though. I really need more time on IM since it has been so long since my medicine core and I am expecting my cardiology rotation to suck. I am hoping I'll learn a lot on EM but I'm worried that most of my gaps will need to be filled in with reading. I suck at reading (not that I read at a 3rd grade level or something, I just hate sitting down and reading textbooks. The actual reading itself is not so bad, what is really hard for me is just staying focused for long enough to process and understand. I'd claim I have undiagnosed ADD but I can easily pay attention to and understand the latest US Weekly in the OR break room).
Today was a pretty good day, two interesting cases with a good CRNA, working with the cranky anesthesiologist and showing her that I could intubate and think on my feet (sort of), a good surgeon, a central line with Dr. "special K" who actually does ask me questions and make me think (I can hear my brain creaking), an nurse letting me try a few IVs, an anesthetist letting me try an art line, and one of the other 4th years paged me for lunch. Unfortunately the baby didn't take an afternoon nap and I'm just now getting started on my reading.
I just don't want to be the world's super dumbest intern and kill a bunch of people.
Tomorrow - it's another day.
The end.
On to the actual point of this post. Since I am writing this, it will probably take me about five paragraphs to get to said point.
I have a BS in Technical, Scientific and Professional Communication from a tiny engineering school. That degree is kind of unique to med school, most of my classmates have degrees in stuff I still don't understand well enough, like biochemistry and molecular biology, and it was also unique to my undergraduate school - there were six of us in my graduating class. The program was founded and guided by Professor John Trimbur, who advised my senior project (MQP), sophomore project, and taught most of the writing and rhetoric classes that I took - I spent a lot of time working with him in class and individually. I guess that I can't fully and articulately describe how professor Trimbur impacted my life, since (as hokey as this sounds) I still don't really understand it yet. Professor Trimbur was one of the first people whose teaching really challenged me to think, and to think differently, which I would like to think is not as cliche and Tuesdays With Morrie as it sounds. As a relatively unchallenged 19-year-old, I found him to be one of the first people who treated me like a collegue and fully expected me to produce quality work. He didn't want the bullshit that most college students produce, and I didn't want to do that for him (there was one semester I did - I was also taking organic chemistry at the time - and he gave me a B in visual rhetoric. I totally deserved it).
Is it ironic that I am having a hard time writing about my writing professor? Umm, cringe. That's pretty awful. I'm going to have to try to re-articulate this at a later date.
THE POINT.
Professor Trimbur is leaving our tiny school to go be a professor of Writing, Literature, and Publishing at a school that is way more famous for its creativity and other writing related things - the kind of school one would have expected him to be at in the first place (that was one interesting thing about Professor Trimbur - from what I can tell he's incredibly well known and influential in the world of writing and rhetoric, even though he spent most of his career at an engineering school) (there are 600 writing majors at that school. 600!!!). He sent an e-mail to us alumni informing us of this. He's someone (there are too many of these people) I have regretted not staying in touch with, so I wrote back to him.
Professor Trimbur,He replied:
Congratulations on your new opportunity. I have to say that I was
somewhat shocked to see the news that you are leaving, but having
moved away from WPI myself I can't really plead with you to stay! I'm
sure Emerson will be a great place for you.
I wanted to write in response to your alumni information request a few
months back, but I was in the middle of a lot of uncertainty at the
time and I wouldn't have been able to give you any real information.
Now things are somewhat more settled, I wanted to write and let you
know that I got married, I'm still in med school, and I matched at an
internal medicine residency at Brooke Army Medical Center in San
Antonio, Texas. I'm somewhat ambivalent about Army medicine,
especially with what's been in the news lately, but I'm happy to have
matched. The biggest news is that my husband and I had a baby girl in
March of 2006. I did take an extended leave of absence from med
school and I'll be graduating this October.
I wish I could come to project presentation day next month but I won't
be able to. I hope very much that everything goes well there but
especially that your new position proves to be as wonderful as it
should be. I feel privileged that I had the opportunity to work with
you while I was at WPI. I hope that Emerson appreciates what they are
gaining.
Thank you and good luck,
-Natalie
TC '03
Dear Natalie,That's all I wanted to write about. The e-mail made me all teary, especially in the middle of my electives where no one cares what I do or what I know, I do know that this influential, important person thought that I didn't suck. I really appreciate that.
Thanks so much for the kind note. I've got mixed, complicated feelings
about leaving WPI but know it's the right thing -- that I should do one
more different thing before I retire.
I had heard about the baby from someone -- not sure who -- but what's her
name? I just loved it when our daughters were little. I know we were
tired all the time but infants, toddlers, little kids are just so great.
And it all passes so fast, so hold on to your memories
Your residency may be of more interest than it seems. I absolutely
understand your ambivalence but maybe this is an adventure that you are
particularly well suited for. My suggestion: start writing about it as
soon as you get there, be observant, pay attention to what people say and
how they say it, you know all this stuff. I don't know who the hospital
in San Antonio serves but I do know that there are a lot of soldiers
coming back from a brutal and brutalizing war that must need a lot of
help. The bright spot, in my mind, is that San Antonio is an awesome
city.
Natalie, I hope you understand that you were one of a handful of students
who came through the TC/Professional Writing that I really connected with.
Please stay in touch. And from now on you have to call me John.
Warm regards to you and your family,
John
Because of what he wrote about writing, observing, paying attention, I feel now more than before that I need to put more effort into writing, weather it be here or anywhere else. I have always thought of myself as a writer, but how can that be if I don't ever write anything? Hence the goal of more frequent postings this year for personal reasons, but now the encouragement to do so from an external source that I hold in high esteem.
I hope that I can deliver.
(other stuff)
My medical knowledge is laking, shaky at best. I try to remember the old 'You know more than you think you do' adage but I can feel my brain hemorraging knowledge. The anesthesiologists are bad at pimping, I'm trying to read more, I wish I just knew what I am supposed to know but forgot most of while I was on maternity leave. My program director and chief resident called me last night to talk about when I would be graduating. I told them I want to do some more time in the ICU, but they told me not to worry since I'll have more of that intern year, but, crap, I just DON"T know it. I don't want to tell them that, though. I really need more time on IM since it has been so long since my medicine core and I am expecting my cardiology rotation to suck. I am hoping I'll learn a lot on EM but I'm worried that most of my gaps will need to be filled in with reading. I suck at reading (not that I read at a 3rd grade level or something, I just hate sitting down and reading textbooks. The actual reading itself is not so bad, what is really hard for me is just staying focused for long enough to process and understand. I'd claim I have undiagnosed ADD but I can easily pay attention to and understand the latest US Weekly in the OR break room).
Today was a pretty good day, two interesting cases with a good CRNA, working with the cranky anesthesiologist and showing her that I could intubate and think on my feet (sort of), a good surgeon, a central line with Dr. "special K" who actually does ask me questions and make me think (I can hear my brain creaking), an nurse letting me try a few IVs, an anesthetist letting me try an art line, and one of the other 4th years paged me for lunch. Unfortunately the baby didn't take an afternoon nap and I'm just now getting started on my reading.
I just don't want to be the world's super dumbest intern and kill a bunch of people.
Tomorrow - it's another day.
The end.
07 March 2007
Anesthesia elective rotation, week 3.
I didn't want to do this rotation. I tried to get ER first. They decided they didn't want a student, so I begged the other hospital in town to take me for ER, having heard good things from a classmate. They are apparently in them middle of getting a new department head and some other stuff, so they didn't want me either. I went back to the scheduling lady here and all she could offer me, at 2 weeks before the hypothetical rotation was to start, was anesthesia. So I took anesthesia, even though I have no desire to ever be an anesthesiologist or a surgeon. I have seven more days of this, not including today. Yes, I am counting.
I wanted to come to this hospital because it has one residency program and I felt that I could do more working under attendings instead of residents. It turns out I was completely wrong, a hospital with multiple residencies would have made a lot more sense, because the attendings are used to teaching and the residents are great to learn from. Here there are tons of midlevels instead of residents, and I just feel lost. The attendings don't know what to do with me, and I am not 'aggressive' enough to barge in and ask anesthesiologists I don't know if I can do their intubations or lines or whatever. There are a few I got comfortable with at the beginning of the rotation and I have tried to stick with them and I have been able to do a few procedures that way. There are others that I have been too shy to approach, and today the OR is staffed with angry looking anesthesiologists who I don't know. I did one tube today in the cardiac OR and then spent the rest of the morning reading People in the breakroom (I need to go back and finish reading about Britney's rehab stay, though!). There is a lot more that I could do, and I have spent some really quality learning time with some great CRNAs as well, but now it is noon and I have retreated to the library for what might be the rest of the afternoon, until I sneak out around 2-2:30 and go get my daughter.
I hate that I am doing this. I hate that I am being like this. I hate that I am so intimidated and just trying to to the absolute minimum to pass. When did I become this person? Why don't I care? Why couldn't they have just made me a schedule and stuck me with people?
The reading I have done for this rotation has been interesting. The CRNAs have taught me a lot. I am just sick of trying to 'be aggressive' when I know that it really means just getting in the way of the anesthesiologists. I am sick of the one of them in particular who keeps yelling at me. I am sick of pacing the halls in the OR, trying to find something to do but being too scared to ask for something, and then when I do ask, there is nothing to do.
Anyway: I don't think I'll be an anesthesiologist. I didn't want to do this rotation, I'll be happy when it is over. I have learned how to intubate, and I'm really glad I was lucky enough to get that opportunity. I wish more was asked of me, but then I slack off anyway, so I really must be one of those minimum-effort-for-maximum gain people. I'm not comfortable or happy with that.
I could be or should be spending time with my daughter. I guess that's a good enough reason as any to not waste this time and put myself out there, even to the anesthesiologists I'm intimidated by (not sure why, anyway): I should make the most of my time away from Julia, even if it sucks.
We had her first birthday party on Saturday, which was great. We tried to get pictures of her next to the cake and she kept swiping at it and getting her fingers in the frosting. She loved the cake and the presents and the attention. She's been teething a lot (she now has 3 teeth, it took her forever to get them) and has been extra grumpy, so I was worried that the party wouldn't go well with a grumpy kiddo. But, she was happy, and everyone was happy to see her. we didn't get any enormous presents that can't fit into our apartment (like we did at Christmas!) and everyone seemed to have a decent time. There were monkey balloons, how could it not have been good?
The moral of the story: I feel like I'm in a complete funk, totally riddled by anxiety over parenting, the messyness that is my schedule, our (lack of) money situation, starting residency this fall (I know NOTHING) and so many other things. I'm worrying so much I can't even think. I know this is bad but I am not in a position right now to be able to fix it. How stupid is that?
The lady next to me is chewing her gum really loudly and it is driving me INSANE, so I'm going to have to go do something else, like maybe go back to the OR. Crap.
I was hoping it would make me feel better to write all that down but it completely doesn't. Now I feel worse for being a whiney whiner. ARRRGh!
I didn't want to do this rotation. I tried to get ER first. They decided they didn't want a student, so I begged the other hospital in town to take me for ER, having heard good things from a classmate. They are apparently in them middle of getting a new department head and some other stuff, so they didn't want me either. I went back to the scheduling lady here and all she could offer me, at 2 weeks before the hypothetical rotation was to start, was anesthesia. So I took anesthesia, even though I have no desire to ever be an anesthesiologist or a surgeon. I have seven more days of this, not including today. Yes, I am counting.
I wanted to come to this hospital because it has one residency program and I felt that I could do more working under attendings instead of residents. It turns out I was completely wrong, a hospital with multiple residencies would have made a lot more sense, because the attendings are used to teaching and the residents are great to learn from. Here there are tons of midlevels instead of residents, and I just feel lost. The attendings don't know what to do with me, and I am not 'aggressive' enough to barge in and ask anesthesiologists I don't know if I can do their intubations or lines or whatever. There are a few I got comfortable with at the beginning of the rotation and I have tried to stick with them and I have been able to do a few procedures that way. There are others that I have been too shy to approach, and today the OR is staffed with angry looking anesthesiologists who I don't know. I did one tube today in the cardiac OR and then spent the rest of the morning reading People in the breakroom (I need to go back and finish reading about Britney's rehab stay, though!). There is a lot more that I could do, and I have spent some really quality learning time with some great CRNAs as well, but now it is noon and I have retreated to the library for what might be the rest of the afternoon, until I sneak out around 2-2:30 and go get my daughter.
I hate that I am doing this. I hate that I am being like this. I hate that I am so intimidated and just trying to to the absolute minimum to pass. When did I become this person? Why don't I care? Why couldn't they have just made me a schedule and stuck me with people?
The reading I have done for this rotation has been interesting. The CRNAs have taught me a lot. I am just sick of trying to 'be aggressive' when I know that it really means just getting in the way of the anesthesiologists. I am sick of the one of them in particular who keeps yelling at me. I am sick of pacing the halls in the OR, trying to find something to do but being too scared to ask for something, and then when I do ask, there is nothing to do.
Anyway: I don't think I'll be an anesthesiologist. I didn't want to do this rotation, I'll be happy when it is over. I have learned how to intubate, and I'm really glad I was lucky enough to get that opportunity. I wish more was asked of me, but then I slack off anyway, so I really must be one of those minimum-effort-for-maximum gain people. I'm not comfortable or happy with that.
I could be or should be spending time with my daughter. I guess that's a good enough reason as any to not waste this time and put myself out there, even to the anesthesiologists I'm intimidated by (not sure why, anyway): I should make the most of my time away from Julia, even if it sucks.
We had her first birthday party on Saturday, which was great. We tried to get pictures of her next to the cake and she kept swiping at it and getting her fingers in the frosting. She loved the cake and the presents and the attention. She's been teething a lot (she now has 3 teeth, it took her forever to get them) and has been extra grumpy, so I was worried that the party wouldn't go well with a grumpy kiddo. But, she was happy, and everyone was happy to see her. we didn't get any enormous presents that can't fit into our apartment (like we did at Christmas!) and everyone seemed to have a decent time. There were monkey balloons, how could it not have been good?
The moral of the story: I feel like I'm in a complete funk, totally riddled by anxiety over parenting, the messyness that is my schedule, our (lack of) money situation, starting residency this fall (I know NOTHING) and so many other things. I'm worrying so much I can't even think. I know this is bad but I am not in a position right now to be able to fix it. How stupid is that?
The lady next to me is chewing her gum really loudly and it is driving me INSANE, so I'm going to have to go do something else, like maybe go back to the OR. Crap.
I was hoping it would make me feel better to write all that down but it completely doesn't. Now I feel worse for being a whiney whiner. ARRRGh!
01 March 2007
An incident
It was one of my new year's resolutions to write in the blog or write in something 3 times a week. um, yeah. So it is now March 1st and similar to that excercise-all-the-time and lose 20 pounds resolution I made, I've barely gotten anywhere. Today, however, I did take the baby for a run in the jogger (lesson learned: overbundle the baby, even when it seems too warm out to you. Bad mama!) and now I'm writing something. Maybe March will be a great Turning Point in the life of this Slacker and good things will finally happen. Or, maybe I'll just continue my procrastinating ways, with all the blog reading on the couch and hating myself for not losing these last 20 lbs of baby weight yet. Time will tell.
However, today there was an incident, and I can't discuss it with my husband because it is A Girly Thing (I could discuss it with him, he just would be all grossed out, not get it, and not appreciate it), so instead I'm going to leave it here. For the sake of the person that this story is about, I seriously hope that no one ever reads my blog, like, ever. If you read the story below and know whom I'm talking about, e-mail me so I can take it down. It is kind of super-humiliating.
Right now I'm rotating through anesthesia as another great 'lifestyle' 4th year elective (I did Pathology in December. Brutal!) so I'm spending tons of time in the OR, trying to look busy and interested, when I'm not in the cafeteria taking a 1.5 hour lunch or surfing the internet in the female physicians' OR locker room. Back in the fall when I was doing surgery (HATE) I met the new neurosurgeon, Dr. S. She was on call when one of our trauma patients came in with a couple crushed thoracic vertebrae, and she let me scrub in on the surgery. I had heard good things about her, but when I finally met her I developed a huge I-totally-want-to-be-your-friend type girl-crush on her. Dr. S has two small kids, listens to AC/DC in the OR, is incredibly friendly and funny, down to earth, brilliant, and insists that people call her by her first name. I really enjoyed talking to her about medicine and other stuff, and she would always say hi to me in the OR or the hallway, even when I wasn't on surgery. Everyone likes her (people who work in the OR are tough to crack, they usually hate everyone, especially someone new, but people GUSH about how much they love Dr. S). She's not too peppy or perfectionist, even though she's totally brilliant and awesome. She even wears the ugly elastic-waist tapered ankle scrubs but can totally pull them off because she's so awesome. She's an incredible person. She just also happens to be a fucking NEUROSURGEON, which makes her even more awesome and goddess-like in my opinion.
Dr. S happened to be on vacation last week, per my friend Tricia who is doing a neurosurgery elective. So I saw Dr. S in the OR today when I was attempting to intubate her patient, and she said, "Hi Natalie!" which was awesome because she's amazing and she actually knew who I am. It made my day (well, sort of, but it may have been eclipsed negatively by the badness that follows) so when I saw her in the hallway later after the case I asked her about her vacation and we chatted a little bit about her trip to Vegas and stuff. (She loves Vegas. Swoon.)
While we were talking I noticed that she was wearing the ugly elastic tapered scrubs again, and then I accidentally noticed that, ohmigod, she had a medium-large menstrual blood stain right there in the front of her crotch. I tried to continue the conversation while internally debating if I should tell her or not. I decided that, yes, I should definitely tell her, she really needed a new pair of pants, but I couldn't figure out how to do it in the middle of a public OR hallway with people possibly within earshot and, oh, I felt so bad for her, I really hoped no one else had seen. I couldn't keep up my end of the conversation since I was to preoccupied with trying to figure out how to tell her, so it sort of fizzled and someone came down the hallway with a stretcher, she moved to get out of the way and took that as an opportunity to leave the weird medical student who was holding her up and go do important neurosurgeon things.
I knew that she does her post-op dictations in the locker room computer closet where I hide and surf the internet, so I went there and found her talking with one of the anesthesiologists. Damn! I pretended to be looking for something in my locker, and I dug a tampon out of my coat. Then she left and I kind of panicked, thinking I wasn't going to be able to help her and she would be wearing those pants for the rest of the day, OMG, fortunately the sterile gown we wear in the OR would cover it, but she would still be exposed in between cases, not good. BUT! Then she came back a few minutes later, while I was still standing there holding the tampon and looking stupid.
This is the part that makes me cringe the most (really/unfortunately). When she came back, she had a small black duffel bag with her, and she made some comment about forgetting her pads and stuff today. I thought, thank goodness, she'll be ok, but then I wondered if she would know to change her pants. I guess I should have known that she would know, since the woman is a BRILLIANT FREAKING GODDESS OF NEUROSURGERY but I am relatively not that smart, and will never be a neurosurgeon, so I made some stupid-ass comment that was mean to translate to 'oh, ha ha, I've been there, that sucks! [ps: change your pants]' and it came out like, 'oh good, I was just going to offer you something' (ie the tampon in my hand) which translated more to "OMG!!! I saw your icky pants!"
Obviously, I fled the locker room right after these brilliant words came out of my mouth. I later saw her in passing and she was wearing new, clean (tapered, elastic-waist, tucked in) scrubs. She didn't say anything.
So she knows that I knew, but didn't warn her soon enough, and also I totally fumbled the opportunity to help a fellow female in need. I seriously hope that she doesn't hate me forever but I wouldn't blame her if she did.
There it is: Another short story made long. Maybe that's why I never blog, it takes me too freaking long.
The baby (turns one tomorrow!!!!!!) has been sleeping for over two hours now. I hope she's still alive.
However, today there was an incident, and I can't discuss it with my husband because it is A Girly Thing (I could discuss it with him, he just would be all grossed out, not get it, and not appreciate it), so instead I'm going to leave it here. For the sake of the person that this story is about, I seriously hope that no one ever reads my blog, like, ever. If you read the story below and know whom I'm talking about, e-mail me so I can take it down. It is kind of super-humiliating.
Right now I'm rotating through anesthesia as another great 'lifestyle' 4th year elective (I did Pathology in December. Brutal!) so I'm spending tons of time in the OR, trying to look busy and interested, when I'm not in the cafeteria taking a 1.5 hour lunch or surfing the internet in the female physicians' OR locker room. Back in the fall when I was doing surgery (HATE) I met the new neurosurgeon, Dr. S. She was on call when one of our trauma patients came in with a couple crushed thoracic vertebrae, and she let me scrub in on the surgery. I had heard good things about her, but when I finally met her I developed a huge I-totally-want-to-be-your-friend type girl-crush on her. Dr. S has two small kids, listens to AC/DC in the OR, is incredibly friendly and funny, down to earth, brilliant, and insists that people call her by her first name. I really enjoyed talking to her about medicine and other stuff, and she would always say hi to me in the OR or the hallway, even when I wasn't on surgery. Everyone likes her (people who work in the OR are tough to crack, they usually hate everyone, especially someone new, but people GUSH about how much they love Dr. S). She's not too peppy or perfectionist, even though she's totally brilliant and awesome. She even wears the ugly elastic-waist tapered ankle scrubs but can totally pull them off because she's so awesome. She's an incredible person. She just also happens to be a fucking NEUROSURGEON, which makes her even more awesome and goddess-like in my opinion.
Dr. S happened to be on vacation last week, per my friend Tricia who is doing a neurosurgery elective. So I saw Dr. S in the OR today when I was attempting to intubate her patient, and she said, "Hi Natalie!" which was awesome because she's amazing and she actually knew who I am. It made my day (well, sort of, but it may have been eclipsed negatively by the badness that follows) so when I saw her in the hallway later after the case I asked her about her vacation and we chatted a little bit about her trip to Vegas and stuff. (She loves Vegas. Swoon.)
While we were talking I noticed that she was wearing the ugly elastic tapered scrubs again, and then I accidentally noticed that, ohmigod, she had a medium-large menstrual blood stain right there in the front of her crotch. I tried to continue the conversation while internally debating if I should tell her or not. I decided that, yes, I should definitely tell her, she really needed a new pair of pants, but I couldn't figure out how to do it in the middle of a public OR hallway with people possibly within earshot and, oh, I felt so bad for her, I really hoped no one else had seen. I couldn't keep up my end of the conversation since I was to preoccupied with trying to figure out how to tell her, so it sort of fizzled and someone came down the hallway with a stretcher, she moved to get out of the way and took that as an opportunity to leave the weird medical student who was holding her up and go do important neurosurgeon things.
I knew that she does her post-op dictations in the locker room computer closet where I hide and surf the internet, so I went there and found her talking with one of the anesthesiologists. Damn! I pretended to be looking for something in my locker, and I dug a tampon out of my coat. Then she left and I kind of panicked, thinking I wasn't going to be able to help her and she would be wearing those pants for the rest of the day, OMG, fortunately the sterile gown we wear in the OR would cover it, but she would still be exposed in between cases, not good. BUT! Then she came back a few minutes later, while I was still standing there holding the tampon and looking stupid.
This is the part that makes me cringe the most (really/unfortunately). When she came back, she had a small black duffel bag with her, and she made some comment about forgetting her pads and stuff today. I thought, thank goodness, she'll be ok, but then I wondered if she would know to change her pants. I guess I should have known that she would know, since the woman is a BRILLIANT FREAKING GODDESS OF NEUROSURGERY but I am relatively not that smart, and will never be a neurosurgeon, so I made some stupid-ass comment that was mean to translate to 'oh, ha ha, I've been there, that sucks! [ps: change your pants]' and it came out like, 'oh good, I was just going to offer you something' (ie the tampon in my hand) which translated more to "OMG!!! I saw your icky pants!"
Obviously, I fled the locker room right after these brilliant words came out of my mouth. I later saw her in passing and she was wearing new, clean (tapered, elastic-waist, tucked in) scrubs. She didn't say anything.
So she knows that I knew, but didn't warn her soon enough, and also I totally fumbled the opportunity to help a fellow female in need. I seriously hope that she doesn't hate me forever but I wouldn't blame her if she did.
There it is: Another short story made long. Maybe that's why I never blog, it takes me too freaking long.
The baby (turns one tomorrow!!!!!!) has been sleeping for over two hours now. I hope she's still alive.
25 September 2006
hiding in the closet at the hospital
I think I spend more time hiding/pumping in the dictation closet off of the OR women's locker room than I do actually seeing patients and/or cases. Not that I am seeing many patients, really, since I am spending a lot of my time attempting to watch surgeries. Since we had no schedules set up for us before this rotation, we watch cases that the trauma guys have and then try to follow our patients to the OR for whatever it is they have going on. Often that means hunting down the surgeon after considerable amounts of lurking in the OR, and then asking pretty pathetically if it's ok if I watch or scrub. Fortunately I've been able to scrub on a bunch of stuff, and I say fortunately only because it's what I've needed to do, I think, to pass this rotation. The guidelines are so vague that I really have no idea if what I'm doing is even near what they would like me to be doing. I like seeing patients in the ICU and I could pretty much spend all my time doing that, really, if they let me. Surgeries, or as they call them, 'cases', just do not excite me. I'm glad that I decided when I got pregnant that I probably did not want to be a surgeon. Let's see if being anything else is even something I am capable of, though. My brain is so rusty after having been off with Julia for so long that I really feel like I know absolutely nothing. I was stumped on friday by a really basic anatomy question and the surgeon asked me if I had passed anatomy. Perhaps he was joking, but I didn't find it so funny. I was incredibly embarassed.
Speaking of being irritating, I've always been told by many, "be nice to the nurses!" which of course I try to be, but does anyone ever tell the nurses to be nice to the medical students? OtherMedStudent and I were chatting quietly during a case today and one of them told us to shut up. Then OtherMedStudent was chastized by another nurse for walking too close to the sterile cart, which she really wasn't close to and was watching out for. I've had a nurse shut a door in my face before. Granted, most of the nurses/techs/etc are very pleasant and helpful, but I really don't think that this admonition to be nice goes both ways. And I will need to write more later about the weird dynamic between the female nurses and the female doctors.
I was on pretty much all weekend, leaving Husband at home to watch the little one. I didn't think I'd be here all day both days, I thought I'd be able to come home right after rounds ended and then maybe come back if they called me in for something. Instead there were cases that needed to be brought to the OR both days and I was expected to be there, so I was. And I really didnt' want to be, especially for that second one on sunday (perforated bowel-yuck). Husband seemed pretty irritated when I finally did get home, baby had been grumpy all day and he needed to grade papers. So I hung out with her and made dinner, letting him get his stuff done, but I didn't get to read much or work on ERAS stuff (I am incredibly behind on that). And I had barely seen baby all weekend and not happy about that.
Husband and I do not get to spend much time together anymore. I fear that we don't really have much to talk about right now. We're both so tired late in the day and we end up just watching TV and going to sleep without really saying much to each other. Then I have to wake up early and we do it all over again. I leave to come here and he brings the baby to daycare.
Sometimes the daycare thing doesn't bother me, sometimes it really, really does. I don't really like surgery and I want it to be overwith, but I also need to finish school (as does Husband), and to do that, someone else needs to take care of her. I fear a lot that they think I am a bad mom, never dropping off or picking up my kid (husband does almost all of that, since the daycare is on his campus and 40 min roundtrip from where I am). They even said early on that a lot of Dads did that, but I still feel like they probably find me negligent. I did go there once to get her on my first week of surgery and the girl holding her didn't know who I was.
Three more weeks of this to go. I really just want to go home and take a nap, but I'm going to go see if they brought my patient in for his case.
I hate the OR.
Speaking of being irritating, I've always been told by many, "be nice to the nurses!" which of course I try to be, but does anyone ever tell the nurses to be nice to the medical students? OtherMedStudent and I were chatting quietly during a case today and one of them told us to shut up. Then OtherMedStudent was chastized by another nurse for walking too close to the sterile cart, which she really wasn't close to and was watching out for. I've had a nurse shut a door in my face before. Granted, most of the nurses/techs/etc are very pleasant and helpful, but I really don't think that this admonition to be nice goes both ways. And I will need to write more later about the weird dynamic between the female nurses and the female doctors.
I was on pretty much all weekend, leaving Husband at home to watch the little one. I didn't think I'd be here all day both days, I thought I'd be able to come home right after rounds ended and then maybe come back if they called me in for something. Instead there were cases that needed to be brought to the OR both days and I was expected to be there, so I was. And I really didnt' want to be, especially for that second one on sunday (perforated bowel-yuck). Husband seemed pretty irritated when I finally did get home, baby had been grumpy all day and he needed to grade papers. So I hung out with her and made dinner, letting him get his stuff done, but I didn't get to read much or work on ERAS stuff (I am incredibly behind on that). And I had barely seen baby all weekend and not happy about that.
Husband and I do not get to spend much time together anymore. I fear that we don't really have much to talk about right now. We're both so tired late in the day and we end up just watching TV and going to sleep without really saying much to each other. Then I have to wake up early and we do it all over again. I leave to come here and he brings the baby to daycare.
Sometimes the daycare thing doesn't bother me, sometimes it really, really does. I don't really like surgery and I want it to be overwith, but I also need to finish school (as does Husband), and to do that, someone else needs to take care of her. I fear a lot that they think I am a bad mom, never dropping off or picking up my kid (husband does almost all of that, since the daycare is on his campus and 40 min roundtrip from where I am). They even said early on that a lot of Dads did that, but I still feel like they probably find me negligent. I did go there once to get her on my first week of surgery and the girl holding her didn't know who I was.
Three more weeks of this to go. I really just want to go home and take a nap, but I'm going to go see if they brought my patient in for his case.
I hate the OR.
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