hospital food Today I had my session at the Morchand Center, this medical education thing they have at Mount Sinai Hospital where medical students spend the whole day interviewing and examining actors feigning disease. I even believe that there was a Seinfeld episode about this experience, in which Kramer was paid to pretend that he had gonorrhea. (I must admit that never really watched Seinfeld, though I do have a passing familiarity with the show, as I am an inhabitant of the planet Earth) It was a long day, and good practice, though some diagnoses were easier than others, depending on how much the actors chose to feed you. ("Oh, and I should mention that I've been drinking a lot and peeing a lot and eating more and losing weight," said the man in Room 2 even before some students had a chance to ask the questions themselves. Though he was billed only in his chart as a "51 year-old man presenting with complaints of fatigue," we all referred to him the entire day as "Diabetes guy." The only way he could have made his diagnosis more obvious is if he had said something like, "Y'know doc, sometimes I feel as though...I don't know...I feel as though my peripheral tissues are more resistant to insulin than they used to be," and then proceeded to elbow me in the ribs, winking pointedly.) In all, it was a good time, if for no other reason than getting me out of Surgery for the entire day. During the scheduled lunch break, Dave and Kamillah and I went down to the hospital cafeteria to grab a bite to eat, and proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes marveling over how beautiful and shiny Mount Sinai was. While we attend a highly respected medical school in the area, I'll be the first to admit that our hospital is somewhat dingy, and the neighborhood in which we're situated is not exactly the most sought-after real-estate in Manhattan. In some ways, I almost feel that our medical center depends too much on its strong reputation alone, confident that it will draw in patients and good students and high-powered doctors on the sheer force of Big Name. And Big Name is all well and good, but in exchange for that, there's not really much in the way of enticements for those of us who choose to come here. And when I say "not really much," I guess I really mean "not at all." I expect this whole scheme has been working for them so far, and I don't really have a lot of bargaining power here--after all, didn't I elect to attend school here despite it all? I guess in the end, all I'm really saying is this: Mount Sinai has the best hospital cafeteria ever. MICHELLE (Running around the various food stations) Kosher Korner! The Grill! New York Deli! This cafeteria has everything! KAMILLAH (As though in a daze) Veggie burgers. Four flavors of frozen yogurt. Vanilla coke. Oh my god. DAVE You know I'm totally applying here for my residency now, right? I used to go to high school right down the street from Sinai (at Hunter College High School, for any of you potential alums out there), and people would often volunteer at the hospital, because we were a nerdy little school of bright, upward-bound, pre-pre-med geeks. Volunteers get free meal tickets for the hospital cafeteria. Sometimes you could pick up extra meal tickets if you hit up the volunteer office secretary with just the right combination of assertiveness and charm. And way back when, it would be many an afternoon that we would spend in that hospital cafeteria, sharing a plate of curly fries and plotting further ways to maximize our acquisition of free hospital food. Those were sad, strange times. Right now I'm ridiculously fatigued, and waiting for the water in my shower to warm up before I jump in and hose off. There's something wrong with the hot water pumps in our building, in that the past few days, I've needed to let the shower run for a good half an hour before the water rises to a temperature that I can even tolerate--that is to say, barely lukewarm. I think of all the water I'm wasting and I cringe. But then I think of jumping into an ice-cold shower at 3:30 in the morning and cringe more. So let the rivers run, baby. xo Michelle |
Wednesday . June 12 . 2002 . 7:35pm |
hospital food Today I had my session at the Morchand Center, this medical education thing they have at Mount Sinai Hospital where medical students spend the whole day interviewing and examining actors feigning disease. I even believe that there was a Seinfeld episode about this experience, in which Kramer was paid to pretend that he had gonorrhea. (I must admit that never really watched Seinfeld, though I do have a passing familiarity with the show, as I am an inhabitant of the planet Earth) It was a long day, and good practice, though some diagnoses were easier than others, depending on how much the actors chose to feed you. ("Oh, and I should mention that I've been drinking a lot and peeing a lot and eating more and losing weight," said the man in Room 2 even before some students had a chance to ask the questions themselves. Though he was billed only in his chart as a "51 year-old man presenting with complaints of fatigue," we all referred to him the entire day as "Diabetes guy." The only way he could have made his diagnosis more obvious is if he had said something like, "Y'know doc, sometimes I feel as though...I don't know...I feel as though my peripheral tissues are more resistant to insulin than they used to be," and then proceeded to elbow me in the ribs, winking pointedly.) In all, it was a good time, if for no other reason than getting me out of Surgery for the entire day. During the scheduled lunch break, Dave and Kamillah and I went down to the hospital cafeteria to grab a bite to eat, and proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes marveling over how beautiful and shiny Mount Sinai was. While we attend a highly respected medical school in the area, I'll be the first to admit that our hospital is somewhat dingy, and the neighborhood in which we're situated is not exactly the most sought-after real-estate in Manhattan. In some ways, I almost feel that our medical center depends too much on its strong reputation alone, confident that it will draw in patients and good students and high-powered doctors on the sheer force of Big Name. And Big Name is all well and good, but in exchange for that, there's not really much in the way of enticements for those of us who choose to come here. And when I say "not really much," I guess I really mean "not at all." I expect this whole scheme has been working for them so far, and I don't really have a lot of bargaining power here--after all, didn't I elect to attend school here despite it all? I guess in the end, all I'm really saying is this: Mount Sinai has the best hospital cafeteria ever. MICHELLE (Running around the various food stations) Kosher Korner! The Grill! New York Deli! This cafeteria has everything! KAMILLAH (As though in a daze) Veggie burgers. Four flavors of frozen yogurt. Vanilla coke. Oh my god. DAVE You know I'm totally applying here for my residency now, right? I used to go to high school right down the street from Sinai (at Hunter College High School, for any of you potential alums out there), and people would often volunteer at the hospital, because we were a nerdy little school of bright, upward-bound, pre-pre-med geeks. Volunteers get free meal tickets for the hospital cafeteria. Sometimes you could pick up extra meal tickets if you hit up the volunteer office secretary with just the right combination of assertiveness and charm. And way back when, it would be many an afternoon that we would spend in that hospital cafeteria, sharing a plate of curly fries and plotting further ways to maximize our acquisition of free hospital food. Those were sad, strange times. Right now I'm ridiculously fatigued, and waiting for the water in my shower to warm up before I jump in and hose off. There's something wrong with the hot water pumps in our building, in that the past few days, I've needed to let the shower run for a good half an hour before the water rises to a temperature that I can even tolerate--that is to say, barely lukewarm. I think of all the water I'm wasting and I cringe. But then I think of jumping into an ice-cold shower at 3:30 in the morning and cringe more. So let the rivers run, baby. xo Michelle |
