the underwear drawer. every day of the week. |
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Friday . June 27 . 2003 . 11:32pm transitions My first day as a Pediatrics intern was really not that bad. Sure, it was crazy, and we were all running around like headless chickens, bumping into each other, losing things, killing patients (OK, that part was a joke) but as first days go, it wasn't that terrible. I even managed to get out at a decent time, because I discharged one patient and transferred another. Thankfully, I have tomorrow off, and plan to use my time to sleep all day long. Then, Sunday, I'm on call all day and all night, into the next morning. Sunday, bloody Sunday. Best moment of today: MICHELLE (To parent of patient) Hi, it's good to meet you. I'm Michelle Au, I'm going to be taking over care of [child] this week. PARENT Oh, are you the new doctor? MICHELLE'S INNER MONOGLUE No, not really. MICHELLE (Rather long pause) Well...yes. Yes I am. PARENT Good to meet you Doctor Au. MICHELLE'S INNER MONOLOGUE Hee. * * * The New Yorker is the best magazine ever. I never really read it before, thinking it was only for snooty people who like single-panel comics about golf, or for doctor's waiting rooms, but seriously, that is one content-rich magazine. It's a great read for my commute uptown. Pick and article, start reading, and boom, you're there. Thanks for the subscription, Jamal. * * * A little change in tone here, just to warn you. So I got an e-mail from Coleen this morning, passed on through the Wellesley electronic grapevine, informing me that my RA from my first year of college was killed last week in a car accident. The e-mail, originating from this girl's (woman's) father, was calm and touching, but unabashedly graphic about some of the details of the accident and the aftermath. This has put some bad mental imagery in my head, which is unfortunate, because I'd prefer to remember her as I knew her. Tall. Blonde. Pleasant. Quiet. We had a Secret Santa gift exchange that year, which she quite agreeably changed to "Secret Snowflake" on the suggestion that "Santa" was too Christmas-oriented, and then again to "Secret Snowpea" on the subsequent suggestion that "Snowflake" was still too Christmas-oriented. She was on the Ultimate Frisbee team. Her room was diagonally across the hall from that of me and my roommate. There was a pink rug in there. It's strange, because I've seen a lot of gore, and I've seen a lot of tragic situations in the hospital that have gotten under my skin, but nothing, absolutely nothing, is the same as something happening to someone you know. It's just worlds different. What would it have been like to be working in that ER when they brought her in? What must it have been like to see her there, knowing that there was nothing you could do to save her? Did they even try? How must it have been to tell the family? What was she thinking those last moments, if anything at all? Patients die every day. But people you know don't. Thankfully. xo Michelle |
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