On the latest episode of "Castle" he mentions his LSL--Last Supper List. The 12 people with whom you would sup at your last meal. Yup, just said "sup". Castle's includes Lincoln, Einstein, and some billionaire with a great accent. Got me thinking about mine. In reality, for my last meal, I would go Jesus-style and pick my 12 best friends, my Everybody Committee, if you will. But for the sake of the argument, if I were to pick 12 people, past and present, with whom I could share a very unique meal, I would choose:
1. Blessed John Paul the Great.
2. C.S. Lewis
3. James Patterson
4. Blake Shelton
5. Kate, Duchess of Cambridge
6. Grandma
7. Kristine Lilly
8. Peyton Manning
9. The apostle John
10. Immaculee Ilibagiza
11. Leonardo da Vinci
12. St. Teresa of Avila
I also got to thinking about a dream fictional character list. We'll make it a Last Lunch with six.
1. Mr. Bennett
2. Hermione Granger
3.Frank Reagan
4. Anastasia (from the movie; the real Anastasia was probably a diva, and also didn't speak English)
5. Kakuro Ozu
6. Lucy Moderatz
Alright, who's on your list?
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Today I saved Musical Rounds
So, it was my fault that Musical Rounds were in jeopardy in the first place. Let me explain. Our attending this week on the CV surgery side is one of my favorite attendings, but also, as one of our nurse practitioners called her "a little high-maintenance." Not in a bad way once you know to watch for it. Just in a way that she likes things very much her way. Like don't replace potassium IV. And never call her with a blood gas. And every post-op patient must have a drawing of their anatomically (for them) correct heart at their bedside.
Well, in the mess of having a large service and three surgeries on Tuesday, I may have run out of time to do the drawings and then completely abandoned my colleagues by rounding on the medicine side yesterday. When I apologized this morning, they said, "Yeah, we heard about it all day." In other words, Big. Trouble.
Additionally, we had been looking forward to Musical Rounds all week, where each patient gets a theme song played on rounds.
Unbeknownst to me, our attending was planning on canning Musical Rounds since we had failed epically at getting the drawings up on Tuesday. But when I was reminded about them this morning, I cranked out 4 surgically-corrected-congenitally-abnormal heart drawings in about 6 minutes (and then had to fix one cause I didn't realize he also had a right-sided arch). We ran off to tape them to the beds right as our attending walked in from a meeting, ready to round.
I announced our triumphant return to grace and was rewarded with "You just saved Musical Rounds." Score!
I wish we had video-taped the craziness that ensued. First patient--7 year old who has become a favorite of all of ours, sitting wide awake on his ventilator playing with shaving cream--getting extubated. His fist pumps earned him "Eye of the Tiger" (cue dancing and more fist pumps and high fives). Best. Extubation. Ever.
Rounds also featured Michael Jackson, the Beatles, and a rousing sing-along of "Leavin' on a Jet Plane" which I think frightened the floor team who had come down to round on transfers. We did have to pause "White and Nerdy" while some potential big-time financial donors who were touring the PICU walked by.
At some point, I think we also treated some kids who were sick.
Well, in the mess of having a large service and three surgeries on Tuesday, I may have run out of time to do the drawings and then completely abandoned my colleagues by rounding on the medicine side yesterday. When I apologized this morning, they said, "Yeah, we heard about it all day." In other words, Big. Trouble.
Additionally, we had been looking forward to Musical Rounds all week, where each patient gets a theme song played on rounds.
Unbeknownst to me, our attending was planning on canning Musical Rounds since we had failed epically at getting the drawings up on Tuesday. But when I was reminded about them this morning, I cranked out 4 surgically-corrected-congenitally-abnormal heart drawings in about 6 minutes (and then had to fix one cause I didn't realize he also had a right-sided arch). We ran off to tape them to the beds right as our attending walked in from a meeting, ready to round.
I announced our triumphant return to grace and was rewarded with "You just saved Musical Rounds." Score!
I wish we had video-taped the craziness that ensued. First patient--7 year old who has become a favorite of all of ours, sitting wide awake on his ventilator playing with shaving cream--getting extubated. His fist pumps earned him "Eye of the Tiger" (cue dancing and more fist pumps and high fives). Best. Extubation. Ever.
Rounds also featured Michael Jackson, the Beatles, and a rousing sing-along of "Leavin' on a Jet Plane" which I think frightened the floor team who had come down to round on transfers. We did have to pause "White and Nerdy" while some potential big-time financial donors who were touring the PICU walked by.
At some point, I think we also treated some kids who were sick.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Normal isn't a bad thing
When you're in the PICU, it's hard to find moments of normalcy. Working 70+ hours a week with a 4:40 am alarm is NOT normal. Putting in 5 chest tubes in 3 days (not me personally; I only did one of them), watching a rhythm strip progress towards asystole in a DNR patient with 25 family members in the room, running to 3 codes in one night, constantly pacing from one end of the 1/8 mile unit to the other...NOT normal.
So, imagine the treat it was to sit out on a back porch post-call, drinking Boulevard, listening to feet-tapping music, eating jalapeno-cream-cheese-and-bacon-stuffed mini peppers and homemade pizza (yeah, my friends know how to cook like whoa), and playing Mexican dominoes. Barefoot and blissfully happy.
If I can have a few of those moments every week, I may make it out of this month between a 3 and a 7.
So, imagine the treat it was to sit out on a back porch post-call, drinking Boulevard, listening to feet-tapping music, eating jalapeno-cream-cheese-and-bacon-stuffed mini peppers and homemade pizza (yeah, my friends know how to cook like whoa), and playing Mexican dominoes. Barefoot and blissfully happy.
If I can have a few of those moments every week, I may make it out of this month between a 3 and a 7.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Residency 3.9: Green Team
"I'm tired. The kind of tired you can't sleep off."
I'm watching 'Blue Bloods'--my new favorite past time--and Frank's talking about retiring. I'm not ready to retire quite yet, but I am tired. This month was long. If you'll remember, Green Team is our senior-only inpatient team. This month, due to some unforeseen scheduling difficulties, our teams were restructured and we ended up with a bigger team and a bigger census. Made for busy days and sometimes painfully long rounds. Even with having my favorite attending on for two weeks of the month, it was draining.
I think one of the things I'll take away from this month is just an appreciation for the breadth of our training. When you're on inpatient, you hear about every interesting kid who comes through the hospital, even if they aren't on your team. Every diagnostic dilemma, PICU transfer, bizarre test result. We see some really weird things; things that you only read about in textbooks, and have access to awesome specialists. Part of the reason it's hard to reflect on these months is that we see SO much that by the end, it's somewhat of a blur. It's hard to retain anything when you never have time to sit down. But I know that some of it must stick.
Yesterday, I took checkout on two different kids who were being transferred to our team. Both were complicated stories in their own right, and as I listened to the check out, I found myself formulating and adapting a differential and a plan on the fly, anticipating what my next five steps were going to be. And I realized that the scope of our experience prepares us really well. When you've seen just about everything that can cause abdominal pain or seizures, it makes it a lot easier to look for the zebras, or to rule them out.
So, I suppose it should be a good tired. Because it means I'm becoming a better doctor. Which won't make it any easier to get up at 4:40 tomorrow morning to head into the PICU. So off to bed I go.
I'm watching 'Blue Bloods'--my new favorite past time--and Frank's talking about retiring. I'm not ready to retire quite yet, but I am tired. This month was long. If you'll remember, Green Team is our senior-only inpatient team. This month, due to some unforeseen scheduling difficulties, our teams were restructured and we ended up with a bigger team and a bigger census. Made for busy days and sometimes painfully long rounds. Even with having my favorite attending on for two weeks of the month, it was draining.
I think one of the things I'll take away from this month is just an appreciation for the breadth of our training. When you're on inpatient, you hear about every interesting kid who comes through the hospital, even if they aren't on your team. Every diagnostic dilemma, PICU transfer, bizarre test result. We see some really weird things; things that you only read about in textbooks, and have access to awesome specialists. Part of the reason it's hard to reflect on these months is that we see SO much that by the end, it's somewhat of a blur. It's hard to retain anything when you never have time to sit down. But I know that some of it must stick.
Yesterday, I took checkout on two different kids who were being transferred to our team. Both were complicated stories in their own right, and as I listened to the check out, I found myself formulating and adapting a differential and a plan on the fly, anticipating what my next five steps were going to be. And I realized that the scope of our experience prepares us really well. When you've seen just about everything that can cause abdominal pain or seizures, it makes it a lot easier to look for the zebras, or to rule them out.
So, I suppose it should be a good tired. Because it means I'm becoming a better doctor. Which won't make it any easier to get up at 4:40 tomorrow morning to head into the PICU. So off to bed I go.
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