Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘medical residency’

I was waiting for my 3:30 “Chief Complaint: Rash” to show up when a co-resident’s sister texted her about “an explosion” at the marathon finish line. Almost immediately (as we were skeptically searching Google News and Twitter’s #BostonMarathon hashtag for verification), the hospital over-headed the verification we were looking for: “ALL AVAILABLE ANESTHESIOLOGISTS PLEASE REPORT TO THE OR IMMEDIATELY. ALL AVAILABLE ANESTHESIOLOGISTS PLEASE REPORT TO THE OR IMMEDIATELY.” Within seconds, sirens blared and we saw ambulances rushing out of our emergency department.

It was real.

It took us a minute to gather our thoughts before we rushed down to the ED in case backup was needed. On our trek across the hospital, we ran into numerous other physicians, nurses, and other medical personnel, many of them also in a hurry to get to the emergency room. Police officers gathered at every hospital entrance and placed us on lock-down.

In the ED, the adrenaline was palpable. The non-marathon-associated patients were being mobilized in an expedited manner in preparation for the unpredictable. The trauma teams were there. The beds were clean and ready. And I was surrounded by a variety of colleagues all gathered without having been called, all with the same intention and for the same purpose: to help. There were medical students who had come in on their afternoon off in case the hospital needed extra manpower. A co-resident had run back to the hospital after an exhausting 24-hour shift in the pediatric intensive care unit “just in case.” A pastor was pacing the emergency waiting area, ready to support grieving families.

Fortunately, our hospital did not receive any children with life-threatening injuries. While the same cannot be said of our adult side, one thing is true: there were more personnel immediately available to help than there were wounded. And most personnel stayed at the hospital past the end of our shifts in case we were needed.

Bostonians across the city were busy doing the same. We’ve all heard the stories already… the marathoners that kept running to the nearest hospital to donate blood; the firefighters and cops carrying mangled bodies to safety; the spectators running towards the bomb to help the injured; people opening their homes to perfect strangers from around the world after all the area hotels had closed down.

I can only account for my experience from my own hospital, but I am confident that my experience was a universal one. That out of a horrific day where innocent people lost limbs, and families lost loved ones, we found ourselves united to a common end. Because for every act of evil, there are one-thousand acts of kindness. And because tragedies like yesterday’s do less to highlight what is wrong with the world, and more to reveal what is right about humanity.

bostonSkyline

In memory of Martin Richards, 8; Krystle Campbell, 29; Lu Lingzi, 23; and the over one-hundred innocent that were injured in Boston on 4-15-2013

Read Full Post »

slumber1

Growing up, my favorite thing of all time was to have slumber parties with my best friends. Then I grew up. And it turns out slumber parties with my best friends are still my favorite thing of all time. They consist of good (read: terrible) food, great chatter, and an insane amount of laughter.

When I got into residency, I hoped and prayed for a good group of co-workers. But only a few days into my new “job,” it was obvious that I had just become part of the coolest new family. And to tell you the truth, I pretty much can’t get enough of them. So what better way to have a great time and celebrate friendship than with a huge, obnoxious, all-girls (sorry, boys) slumber party at mi casa? Fortunately, I was not the only fan of the idea…

slumber16

slumber20

slumber8

slumber12

slumber19

Wolfgang had a good time too, making sure every single person paid attention to him between sips of their margaritas (THANKS FOR MAKING THEM FOR US, JEFFREY!).

slumber7

slumber17

After about 3 hours of scarfing down chips and queso, delighting in fine cheeses with crackers, and stuffing our faces with veggie dip, chocolates, cupcakes, and caramels, we made smores. You know, for dessert.

Wolfgang helped start the fire, obviously.

slumber13

slumber9

slumber15

slumber14

People slowly trickled away over the next hours due to important stuff like work, dental appointments, and severe cat-allergy attacks bordering on impending anaphylaxis. And others stayed through breakfast, lunch, and dinner the next day. The true mark of a fellow slumber-party fanatic like me! Thanks, K!

We feasted on sushi, took a walk along the the quiet, snowy sidewalks, and had a therapeutic arts-and-crafts session.

slumber5

slumber2

slumber6

slumber10

The cherry-on-top was ending with a surprise brownie-sundae birthday party for one of the boys.

slumber3

slumber4

Now if only Jeffrey would get home from his fun weekend of skiing with the guys, my weekend will be complete.

Read Full Post »

You read about diseases and their complications in medical school. You memorize the pathophysiology behind all the possible ways you can die, and then you get tested on them.

You read all about the lives that the flu claimed the year H1N1 hit. You watch your first cardiac arrest as a medical student during a shift in the emergency department.  You experience the death of your own grandparent.

But nothing prepares you for the death of a pediatric patient.

What is it about children that makes their death such an unfair, nearly unbearable tragedy? Is it their innocence in the face of a miserable situation? Is it our inability to fully control their pain no matter how much morphine we pump through their veins, or fully control their air-hunger no matter how much respiratory support we provide? The inability to explain to them why we need to stick a needle in their arm and take out vials and vials of blood? What is it?

It is because to a 4-year-old, nothing makes sense about: “I am trying to help you feel better, so now I need to drill a hole into your bone marrow.”

It is the fear that takes over your being when you see the blood pressure drop, the heart get tired, the skin turn pale—no matter how good the chest compressions and how adequate the fluid boluses and how appropriate the dose of epinephrine (and the second dose, and the third dose). It is the moment in time that you realize it’s over but you’re still trying, keeping a strong face, calling for more help and continuing to stare at the monitors—hoping for a miracle while the whole time reciting “Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…” over and over again in your head. It is the moment the nurse turns to you and yells: “The heart rate’s not coming up, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?!!!” But there’s nothing left to do. It is the moment when you call the parents into the room. It is the utter nonexistence of comforting words.

And when it’s done, and small child is gone, and the parents are being taken care of elsewhere, and the room has been cleaned, you sit and you cry with the nurses. You ask your attending what you could have done differently. You feel foolish for not having known sooner, acted more quickly, done the impossible.  And then you walk away, feeling undeservedly fortunate in all of your health and vitality, swearing never again to complain about life’s trivialities.

He was just 2 months old. He was supposed to have a life full of ear infections, detentions for being silly in class, arguments with his pediatrician about marijuana being “a medicine,” struggling through class in college, getting dumped by the “love of his life,” paying bills, and all the other nonsense that we tend to make such a huge fuss about.

It is very difficult. And one passing does not make the next one easier. Because it’s about children. And it’s enough to scare you to death about having kids of your own one day.

Does it make me a better doctor? I’m not sure. I hope?

But it sure throws things into perspective.

kids

Read Full Post »

I’m 2 months into my 2nd year as a pediatric resident (which means I survived my month in the pediatric intensive care unit… heehee!!!), and as I sit here incredulous about time’s ability to fly past me, I can’t help but muse over how I managed to make it through my intern year.  Besides taking a quick, pertinent patient history, and getting pretty good at looking in kids’ ears as they actively fight me and my otoscope, I picked up on a few things that ensured my year was, for the most part, a smooth sail.

So after much thought, here it goes… my Ten Commandments for surviving a medical internship:

1) Know how to introduce yourself.

If you walk into the neonatal intensive care unit on your first day of your rotation, and you tell the nurse that’s been working there for 30 years, “Hi, my name is Dr. Blah-blah-blah,” they will not be fooled.  They are FULLY aware that you are a glorified 4th year medical student with two new letters after your last name, and that you have NO IDEA what you are talking about.  Instead, drop the title, offer your first name with a friendly handshake, and DO WHAT THEY TELL YOU.  On the other hand, if the lab is taking forever to process blood tests you sent off on a patient two hours ago, pick up the phone, politely but firmly introduce your Dr. Blah-blah-blah self, and you’ll realize that somehow, magically, things get done.

hi, I’m new here! will you be my friend??!

2) Accept that you don’t know anything.

In elementary school, you were in the A-Honor-Roll.  In high-school, you were in the National Honor Society.  In college, your GPA got you into medical school.  In medical school, you somehow survived.  In intern year, you don’t know anything.  You are at the bottom of the totem pole of life.  Realize it.  Embrace it.  And do something about it!  Ask the nurses lots of questions (who, after doing #1 above, and after you’ve demonstrated respect for their experience and knowledge, will be on your side), take note of how the upper-level residents gracefully waltz their way between patients, and be open to feedback and constructive criticism.

first day of first grade.  completely unnecessary photo, but awwwww….

3) Don’t ever imply that people are not doing their job.

Unless of course, you want to die.  Sure, you sometimes write an order to discontinue a patient’s IV fluids and 4 hours later you realize they are still running.  Bring it to the respective person’s attention, apologize that you didn’t make yourself clear earlier, and move on.

4) Quit complaining.

OH MY GAWD.  Were you really expecting to have a fantastic schedule, weekends off, and a high salary?  Please.  You FINALLY arrived at the point in your life towards which you have been working for as long as you can remember.  You chose this and you are fortunate enough to have achieved it.  You work 80 hours a week, get 4 days off a month, and have a broken circadian rhythm… and you knew it would be this way.  And now you are surprised that you are stuck in the hospital on a Friday night?  Quit being a baby.

booyah! champagned it.

5) Have a positive attitude.

#4 nicely leads to #5.  While a negative attitude weighs you down and brings out the worst in you, a positive attitude lifts you up, puts you in the appropriate mindset, and brings out your best.  If you HAVE to spend New Year’s Eve covering the hematology and oncology floor, why not allow yourself to be ok with it?  Decide every day to open your mind and heart to this profession you chose, and give it your best.

being silly facetiming with my dad at 3 am. we were both on call, me in Boston and he in Mexico… and we were wearing matching scrubs!

6) Expect the worst.

If you are starting a week of nights, expect a very high patient load, lots of notes to write, patients that suddenly need to be resuscitated, and absolutely no time for sleep.  This way, if you only admit a few patients, patients behave themselves, and you are able to sneak in a 2 hour nap at 4 am, you will feel like the luckiest person alive!

7) Dress the part.

It takes just as much work to throw on black pants and an old sweater as it does to look a little fabulous.  And when you look good, you feel good.  And when you feel good, you work good.  And when you work good, people are happy with you.  And when people are happy with you, you love your day more.  Get it?

pizzazz.

8) Stay organized.

If you are going to be admitting patients, always keep admission materials on hand (for example, at my hospital this means a history and physical form, and medication reconciliation form, and a doctor’s medication order sheet).  If you are in the neonatal intensive care unit, stuff your bag with materials on how to adjust ventilator settings, how to make a blue baby that’s not breathing alive again, etc.  And get some sort of small notebook that fits in your white coat or scrub pocket where you can slowly collect pearls of information regarding patient care.  My choice was MGH’s Pocket Pediatrics, because it has rings and I can add important things to it.  It also has pockets inside the front and back covers, where I keep my PALS card, list of hospital phone numbers, table with normal vitals signs for every pediatric age group, brochure of different IV fluid and electrolyte solutions available at my hospital’s pharmacy, etc.

my Pocket Pediatrics = my security blanket

9) Don’t beat yourself up.

I used to sit at morning and noon conference (the equivalent of our short, daily “classes” during residency) agonizing about everything they were talking about that I wasn’t understanding.  The more I agonized, the more my mind shut down.  Now, I pay as much attention as possible.  If I don’t understand something, I try my best to make a mental note to look it up or ask someone about it afterwards, and move on.  I have also fully given in to the theory that we residents learn by osmosis: the idea that we learn without being aware of it, through our daily exposures.  It’s true.  And you don’t actually believe it until the new wave of interns arrives and you think “Wow! I actually know more than they do!”

juggling 3 pagers

10) Treat yourself.

Have fun.  Allow yourself to catch up with old friends.  Talk to your mom.  If you have a weekend off, make pancakes for breakfast! If you have a balcony, sit outside with a good book.  Check your free weekends ahead of time, and plan what you want to do with each one so that your precious days off don’t go wasted (camping weekend, skiing trip, etc.).  And DON’T FORGET YOUR HOBBIES!  If you are happy outside of work, you’ll be happy inside of work.

amazing day at the beach with my residency friends and some of our significant others

So there you have it. What do you think?  If you too have gone through this, please share YOUR advice in the comments below.  We’d all love to know about your experience!

Good night to all of you, and happy medical training!

“Likes” make a blogger’s heart happy, and comments make a blogger’s heart happiest! So if you’re reading, let me know!
Subscribe for email post notifications on the right-hand sidebar, and follow DoctorOnTheSide on Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest!

Read Full Post »

GOOD MORNING, WORLD!!!!

It’s 6 am and I’m watching the sun come up from the recesses of the emergency department as I come off a coffee high.  To kick off my year as a—AHEM!—junior resident (as in, no longer intern), I’ve been working the overnight shift in the ER… and I finally got my system down for how to survive this place.  For me, it takes 5 key items… regardless of how many puking, lacerated, feverish, or plain old healthy kids with anxious parents show up:

my security blanket: my pocket pediatrics book (which fits in my scrub pants’ back pocket) that i’ve customized by flagging everything i need to find quickly, and to which i’ve inserted my PALS card (like, the algorithm we follow to save lives and stuff), a chart of normal vital signs for all age ranges, and a list of hospital extensions for everybody i could ever possibly need to bother in the middle of the night

The list of intelligent things I carry around ends there.

good comfortable shoes (that usually look more awake than i do)

a warm, soft, lightweight jacket… because hospitals are FREEZING at night!

Sally the Purple Monkey, as named by one of my patients; she lives on my stethoscope and makes me less scary

snacks. lots and lots of snacks.

But most importantly, good cheer!

I have the next 3 days off, and plan to finish refurbishing my latest garage sale treasure during that time.  Yay!  Stay tuned for a Before-and-After post soon… as well as for a post on how I survived the scariest thing I’ve done to date: my intern year of residency!

Happy Sunday!

“Likes” make a blogger’s heart happy, and comments make a blogger’s heart happiest! So if you’re reading, let me know. Subscribe for email post notifications on the right-hand sidebar, and follow DoctorOnTheSide on Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest!

Read Full Post »

Image

entrance to our secret garden

You may have noticed that I have been MIA for a month.  Heme-onc (the pediatric cancer ward) came back to haunt me, and take up all my time.  I’ve been getting through a large coffee every morning and a double-shot espresso every afternoon, and in the evenings I find myself juggling two options: sleeping a full 6 hours, or showering.  As one of my fellow residents tends to say: “It’s not very glamorous.”  I WOULD like to announce, however, that I finally hit the 2 week Sister Patty effect with heme-onc.  Remember how frustrated I was at the beginning of the year when it never came?  It came.  A few months late, but it came!  And now, as my second month of heme-onc comes to an unexpectedly quick close, I realize that so is my first year as a pediatric resident.  And I think I am ready to not be The Intern anymore.  I think.  In celebration of this realization, and of surviving the year I’ve been scared of ever since I decided to become a doctor, Wolfgang and I treated ourselves to a long quiet hike today (which I promptly documented with a few quick iPhone shots).  Did I ever tell you that our quaint little house is in front of a forest?  And that upon stepping outside our front door, you practically walk into a wooded hiking trail (a.k.a.: our secret garden)?  Maybe that’s how Jeffrey and I survived intern year…

Image

in the door from work, and out the door with Wolfgang for an impromptu hike (in my weekend work attire)

my ever-faithful hiking buddy, boy-scout neck-tie and all…

Image

“i love this i love this i love this i love this!!!!” -Wolfgang

discovering new flowers… what IS this?

stopping for a quick drink in this freshwater stream, and to take in its relaxing sound

Sorry this took soooooo looooong!  Shame on me!  I hope you all had a splendid weekend!

Sorry this took so long, but remember, comments and “likes” make a blogger’s heart happy!  Subscribe for email post notifications on the right-hand sidebar, and follow me @DoctorOnTheSide!

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,064 other followers