Thursday . June 26 . 2003 . 9:25pm
and so it begins
I'm all ready for tomorrow.
I packed up everything that I'm going to need, along with many things that I probably won't need, into my work bag. I have my Harriet Lane, my Sanford guide, my reflex hammer, my tape measure, my stethoscope. The Sanford guide has a handful of Sesame Street band-aids and some stickers tucked into the dust jacket. The stickers are pictures of frogs.
My white coat is on a hanger in my closet and ready to go. It's going to feel weird when I put it on, because it's long. I have two pens ready for action, and a "Spanish for Pediatrics" book in one of the lower pockets. My name tag is pinned above my right chest. The gold med school pin that I got at graduation is pinned on one lapel. My pager is on, even though it's all fancy and high-tech so I'm really not sure if I know how to use it, or what to do if it starts beeping.
I picked up my patients yesterday and today. I read through their charts, looked up the acronyms I didn't know, talked to the seniors on the floor. I've come to grips with the fact that I'm going to be taking care of a patient in the children's hospital who is older than I am. I've familiarized myself with the new computer order system.
I looked up the bus schedule for tomorrow morning. I looked up the subway schedule. I already set my alarm for tomorrow morning. 4:00am. I figured out exactly which connections to make I'll need to get to work on time. Of course, "on time" is a relative term, because in actuality, I'll probably be getting there more than an hour early. It's excessive, I know, but I'm too neurotic not to my first day on the floor.
I'm ready. Ready! Ready to go! First day of internship! Rock and roll!
I'm totally not ready. It's all a sham. How did I get this MD? What am I going to do tomorrow? What the hell is going on?
And so it begins.