Whoa--we've hit version 3.0, kids. This is the big time. No turning back now! Who am I kidding? There was no turning back once that first med school tuition check was written--not wasting that kind of money.
But really, it does kind of feel awesome to be the top dog. So I started out my third year by getting the heck out of the hospital. Seriously. Cause hospitals are scary places to be in July.
I did an elective at our Northland Urgent Care this month, seeing everything from fractures and split chins to bug bites and sore throats. Also got to see chicken pox, pertussis, a Morgan lens (look it up, it's like a Chinese torture device), viral meningitis, tons of hand, foot, and mouth disease, and lots of super cute kids. Also, still lots of convincing parents that viruses get better on their own and antibiotics won't help.
I wanted to try out the urgent care setting to see if it is something that I could see myself doing at least for the next few years. It's pretty tempting. Shorter shifts, low-key atmosphere, minor procedures for quick fixes (stitching, nursemaid's elbow), sort of sick kids (but not too sick), elements of primary care that I like without some of the stuff I don't like. I still have to decide if it's worth giving up the continuity and getting to know the families in order to have less call and more flexibility.
The schedule lent itself very well to getting my Kilimanjaro training seriously underway. There will be more on that to come, I'm sure. Right now, I'm just trying to build up my quads and my stamina, doing a fair amount of running, swimming, lunges, and hikes with my pack on. With all of that, I've increased my fluid and calorie intake by about 30-40% it feels like, just to keep from losing weight. Makes me wonder if I can keep up on the mountain, since I've heard that altitude makes your appetite fade. Gear shopping is almost done too; picked up some more key items a few weeks ago--headlamp, gloves, CamelBak insulator, etc. We're getting close!
Until next time...go Team USA!
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
7/20
The events of yesterday have thrown me into unrest. I expected the shock and horror and sadness. These things always make us stop and think. How life is short. How much we have to be grateful for. How we shouldn't wait to do the important things. How important it is to reach out to those who are hurting. But then everyone moves on. I think that's what make me crazy. Thirteen years ago, when the rest of the world had moved on, I would sit in my biology classroom and wonder where I would hide if someone came in shooting. When my college roommate watched "Elephant" and said it was so artistic, I wanted to curl up in a ball or vomit, because it was all too familiar. Whether it's right or not, it hits a lot closer to home when the headlines say Colorado. When I drove past that movie theater every day on the way to school. When I have to wake up to an email from my dad saying everyone is okay. And I know that for those much more intimately involved, it will never go away. And when the rest of the world moves on, or uses this to fight political battles about gun control, or when the next shooting comes, they will still be in pieces. And it breaks my heart, but I don't know what to do besides pray.
Father, send Your angels down to wrap Your children in Your love and protection. Soothe their grieving hearts and lift their eyes to see Your light. Draw us back to You and give us the strength to reject the evil one and his lies. Give us Your peace. Amen.
Father, send Your angels down to wrap Your children in Your love and protection. Soothe their grieving hearts and lift their eyes to see Your light. Draw us back to You and give us the strength to reject the evil one and his lies. Give us Your peace. Amen.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
The tough questions
I finished a fluff book from Michelle's bookcase the other day (really, are there any other types of books on that bookcase? just kidding, there's also "Orthodoxy," a book that was recommended to me by my own genome and I had to put down out of boredom. Point: nurture). And in the book, the main characters answer three questions...
1) What do you want to be doing when you die?
2) What would you regret not doing if you died right now?
3) What do you want on your tombstone?
Those questions sounded entirely too morbid for a blog post. At least for a beautiful summer afternoon. And since I make a lot of decisions by ruling things out (see: career choice, hair style, things I can cook), I figured I could at least decide the following...
1) What do I not want to be doing when I die?
-burning alive
-swimming/sinking/bathing/choking/holding my breath in any way
-shopping
2) What would I not regret doing if I died right now?
-becoming a doctor
-seeing the Pope
-eating a Twinkie in one bite
3) What do I not want on my tombstone?
-She forgot to pull the ripcord
-The evil twin
-1984-2012
See kids, we're making progress. I've already ruled out a lot of things. That's pretty close to deciding, right?
Here's to uplifting books!
1) What do you want to be doing when you die?
2) What would you regret not doing if you died right now?
3) What do you want on your tombstone?
Those questions sounded entirely too morbid for a blog post. At least for a beautiful summer afternoon. And since I make a lot of decisions by ruling things out (see: career choice, hair style, things I can cook), I figured I could at least decide the following...
1) What do I not want to be doing when I die?
-burning alive
-swimming/sinking/bathing/choking/holding my breath in any way
-shopping
2) What would I not regret doing if I died right now?
-becoming a doctor
-seeing the Pope
-eating a Twinkie in one bite
3) What do I not want on my tombstone?
-She forgot to pull the ripcord
-The evil twin
-1984-2012
See kids, we're making progress. I've already ruled out a lot of things. That's pretty close to deciding, right?
Here's to uplifting books!
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Residency 2.12: Blue Team
Well, I made it through another year. Go me. My final month of 2nd year was spent with the same kids I first took care of as an intern on inpatient--heart kids and cystic fibrosis. It's amazing how much I've learned in between. I remember my very first overnight call on Blue Team, not letting my senior out of my sight, asking whether it was okay to redose lasix if a kid puked. Last night, on my last overnight call of Blue Team, I basically just laid down and let my fabulous intern handle everything. Maybe all I've learned is how to delegate. Just kidding, I've been doing that for years, right, Mom? Okay, but seriously, it was somewhere in between pushing adenosine on rounds before sending the kid to the PICU and getting every question right on Cardiology Jeopardy that I was able to sit back and go, huh, turns out I know something after all.
Specialty services are funny, because the inner general pediatrician in all of us gets to shine a little bit. When one of our heart babies spiked a fever, the recommendation of the attending cardiologist was to "consider evaluation for otitis media." Resident to the rescue! We didn't even have to call ENT. Another one of the cardiologists admitted to having palpitations when we asked him to come look at a rash. Once again, we saved the day (diagnosis: miliaria crystallina).
Of course, these kids have much bigger problems than ear infections and heat rashes. And even though you know the outlook for heart disease is bad, it doesn't make it any easier to come in one morning and find a kid that you talked to yesterday is brain dead. And it's rather depressing watching teenagers with cystic fibrosis sit around waiting for a lung transplant because they have lost most of their ability to breathe. Thankfully, there were some silver linings. One beautiful boy with Down Syndrome suffered several strokes after his heart surgery, and when he came out of the PICU we weren't sure he would recover any function. He would lay in bed and stare at you, occasionally moving his right hand. But after several days of set-backs, lots of therapy, and optimizing his heart and lung function, we came in on the morning of discharge to see a new boy. He was sitting up in bed, circling his finger near his ear, the universal sign for "You're crazy" with a huge grin on his face. When we came in with the whole team wearing party hats to celebrate him going home, we got an enthusiastic double thumbs up.
This month I had an exceptionally amazing team that worked together like a well-oiled machine, if well-oiled machines could laugh until they cried. Still, I wasn't sad at all to pass off the baton this morning to three brand-spanking-new interns with wide-eyes and shaking hands. I ended check-out with a horror story of a single-ventricle patient who came in overnight with cardiac tamponade, SVT, and laryngomalacia who needed pericardiocentesis, adenosine, and chest compressions, all on the floor since the PICU was full. "And you better run up and check on him right away to make sure the fluid hasn't reaccumulated." The look of relief on their faces when I told them I made the whole thing up was priceless.
Tomorrow I start my Urgent Care elective. Hopefully a nice break away from the hospital that will perhaps help narrow down career choices. But mostly I'm excited to only be working 16 days this month. Hasta!
Specialty services are funny, because the inner general pediatrician in all of us gets to shine a little bit. When one of our heart babies spiked a fever, the recommendation of the attending cardiologist was to "consider evaluation for otitis media." Resident to the rescue! We didn't even have to call ENT. Another one of the cardiologists admitted to having palpitations when we asked him to come look at a rash. Once again, we saved the day (diagnosis: miliaria crystallina).
Of course, these kids have much bigger problems than ear infections and heat rashes. And even though you know the outlook for heart disease is bad, it doesn't make it any easier to come in one morning and find a kid that you talked to yesterday is brain dead. And it's rather depressing watching teenagers with cystic fibrosis sit around waiting for a lung transplant because they have lost most of their ability to breathe. Thankfully, there were some silver linings. One beautiful boy with Down Syndrome suffered several strokes after his heart surgery, and when he came out of the PICU we weren't sure he would recover any function. He would lay in bed and stare at you, occasionally moving his right hand. But after several days of set-backs, lots of therapy, and optimizing his heart and lung function, we came in on the morning of discharge to see a new boy. He was sitting up in bed, circling his finger near his ear, the universal sign for "You're crazy" with a huge grin on his face. When we came in with the whole team wearing party hats to celebrate him going home, we got an enthusiastic double thumbs up.
This month I had an exceptionally amazing team that worked together like a well-oiled machine, if well-oiled machines could laugh until they cried. Still, I wasn't sad at all to pass off the baton this morning to three brand-spanking-new interns with wide-eyes and shaking hands. I ended check-out with a horror story of a single-ventricle patient who came in overnight with cardiac tamponade, SVT, and laryngomalacia who needed pericardiocentesis, adenosine, and chest compressions, all on the floor since the PICU was full. "And you better run up and check on him right away to make sure the fluid hasn't reaccumulated." The look of relief on their faces when I told them I made the whole thing up was priceless.
Tomorrow I start my Urgent Care elective. Hopefully a nice break away from the hospital that will perhaps help narrow down career choices. But mostly I'm excited to only be working 16 days this month. Hasta!
Monday, June 25, 2012
My heart song
It was sophomore year, the first game of the season. We sat in a dark classroom, our giant ABK bags spilling out from underneath our desks, heads down, as the music started. "We call them cool, those hearts that have no scars to show..." As the song played, I could feel the energy building throughout the room, 17 girls ready to leave it all on the field, "yearning to get out of control."
That was the first time I heard it, and every time I hear it again, that memory comes back. The motivation to go outside myself, to risk something for a purpose, to lay everything on the line. It's something that I've faced over and over. That first time, it was just a soccer game, but in the 13 years since, it's been many things. Serving on team for TEC, applying to medical school, climbing 14ers, moving to Kansas City, being vulnerable in friendships, standing up for what I believe in, caring about something so much it hurts. They were times that I could feel the fear inside me rising up, threatening to take over, making me want to go back to someplace safe. It's so easy to stand on the edge and sigh with relief that I don't have to feel...heartache, disappoint, regret, shame. But it's never enough. It's never enough until I push myself into the flames. Yes it burns, but it's a purifying fire that gives life, not death. It's there that I feel alive.
That was the first time I heard it, and every time I hear it again, that memory comes back. The motivation to go outside myself, to risk something for a purpose, to lay everything on the line. It's something that I've faced over and over. That first time, it was just a soccer game, but in the 13 years since, it's been many things. Serving on team for TEC, applying to medical school, climbing 14ers, moving to Kansas City, being vulnerable in friendships, standing up for what I believe in, caring about something so much it hurts. They were times that I could feel the fear inside me rising up, threatening to take over, making me want to go back to someplace safe. It's so easy to stand on the edge and sigh with relief that I don't have to feel...heartache, disappoint, regret, shame. But it's never enough. It's never enough until I push myself into the flames. Yes it burns, but it's a purifying fire that gives life, not death. It's there that I feel alive.
We call them cool
Those hearts that have no scars to show
The ones that never do let go
And risk the tables being turned
We call them fools
Who have to dance within the flame
Who chance the sorrow and the shame
That always comes with getting burned
But you've got to be tough when consumed by desire
'Cause it's not enough just to stand outside the fire
We call them strong
Those who can face this world alone
Who seem to get by on their own
Those who will never take the fall
We call them weak
Who are unable to resist
The slightest chance love might exist
And for that forsake it all
They're so hell-bent on giving, walking a wire
Convinced it's not living if you stand outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire
There's this love that is burning
Deep in my soul
Constantly yearning to get out of control
Wanting to fly higher and higher
I can't abide
Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire
Those hearts that have no scars to show
The ones that never do let go
And risk the tables being turned
We call them fools
Who have to dance within the flame
Who chance the sorrow and the shame
That always comes with getting burned
But you've got to be tough when consumed by desire
'Cause it's not enough just to stand outside the fire
We call them strong
Those who can face this world alone
Who seem to get by on their own
Those who will never take the fall
We call them weak
Who are unable to resist
The slightest chance love might exist
And for that forsake it all
They're so hell-bent on giving, walking a wire
Convinced it's not living if you stand outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire
There's this love that is burning
Deep in my soul
Constantly yearning to get out of control
Wanting to fly higher and higher
I can't abide
Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Moving on...
I've been so busy at work lately that the end of this year has crept up on me. All of a sudden, we have new chief residents, the senior roast, graduation, people packing up their stuff, signing contracts...and new intern orientation starting tomorrow. TOMORROW! I'm not quite ready for this year to be done. Not ready to say goodbye to people who have been by my side for the last two years (although thankfully several of them are going to be hanging around in various capacities; I might die if they were all leaving), not ready to break in a whole new class of baby doctors, not ready to be the third years--the ones everyone else looks to when things go wrong, the ones who should be level-headed and know what to do next, the ones who have to start looking for jobs (eek). Up until this point, my whole life has been neatly mapped out for me--college, medical school, residency--I didn't have to have a 5-year plan, because I was on an 11-year plan. Well, I've got one year left until I have to be a grown up...better make the most of it!
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Residency 2.11: Well Baby
Wow, as I typed that title, I'm realizing that we are very close to Residency version 3.0...does that scare anyone else? Where have the last 2 years gone?
I spent the last month over at Truman in the Well Baby Nursery. We mostly just got to look at cute babies all day, plus go to deliveries and cover the NICU when we were on call (which felt like ALL the time). There were a few long calls, and a few sick babies, but overall it wasn't bad. Had a few cool moments that reinforce this crazy career choice, like last night when I got to reassure a tearful mom that her baby was going to be just fine, or getting to intubate a lifeless baby in the delivery room and then see the baby do great. We also did something like a thousand circumcisions. I always did a little dance inside when the baby was a girl.
And I will say there are few things more therapeutic than rocking a cute baby to sleep in your arms. But the best part by far was the great group of people that were over there this month--attendings, seniors, and interns. Truman can feel very isolated and lonely, but we made the best of it, and I dare say, occasionally even had fun (awesome halfway breakfast, guys!). Makes all the difference in the world.
And now I have to go read about my new team that I take over tomorrow. And maybe eat a cookie.
I spent the last month over at Truman in the Well Baby Nursery. We mostly just got to look at cute babies all day, plus go to deliveries and cover the NICU when we were on call (which felt like ALL the time). There were a few long calls, and a few sick babies, but overall it wasn't bad. Had a few cool moments that reinforce this crazy career choice, like last night when I got to reassure a tearful mom that her baby was going to be just fine, or getting to intubate a lifeless baby in the delivery room and then see the baby do great. We also did something like a thousand circumcisions. I always did a little dance inside when the baby was a girl.
And I will say there are few things more therapeutic than rocking a cute baby to sleep in your arms. But the best part by far was the great group of people that were over there this month--attendings, seniors, and interns. Truman can feel very isolated and lonely, but we made the best of it, and I dare say, occasionally even had fun (awesome halfway breakfast, guys!). Makes all the difference in the world.
And now I have to go read about my new team that I take over tomorrow. And maybe eat a cookie.
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