This week has been comprised of mostly lectures and case-based learning for psyche. It's been a nice way to wade back into the hospital pool. My head would probably explode if I were doing 4h ward rounds and being pimped on things like the causes of ascites.

Also, our professor of psychiatry is a very dynamic, engaging lecturer who ensures we don't get bogged down in the language and the esoteric aspects of mental health. So that part has been entertaining and educational.

The other day I thought something he said was quite simple, but interesting. We were talking about the dress code on the psyche ward. He scanned the room to take in what we were all wearing (various degrees of LL Bean, basically).

Turtlenecks, they're so hip right now...turtlenecks.

He nodded and gave his approval, then said, "Just think, when you're getting dressed to come to the psyche ward, it is not about you, it is about the patients. If you're wearing provocative clothes, loud, dangly jewelery, etc., you might distress or distract some of the patients in ways that are uncomfortable for them. Bottom line: it is not about you."

I really liked that way of framing it. Because the school has given us detailed lists of 'acceptable' clothing options, though I have seen some...er...interesting outfits trotted out. I think looking at what you wear to work in that light is probably the best gauge for appropriateness. Who am I wearing this for? And I'd say it applies outside the realm of psyche too.

All this, of course, coming from a woman who hopes to spend her life in scrubs and outlandish clogs. 

More airports, dragging my luggage behind me. More waiting at stuffy gates and cueing for dingy bathrooms. I was able to slightly balance my suitcase on my thigh while weighing in, which allowed me to avoid the $250 excess charge. I didn't feel guilty because last week they charged me $106 and then promptly lost my luggage for two days. I was worried my meeting with Brian was going to be in 3/4 length pajamas with hearts on them and a team-building exercise 1999 t-shirt.

The bright side was being met in Shannon by a friend who had packed an airport picnic lunch. Nothing like arriving to smoked salmon, Greek yogurt, and fresh berries, and a weak cup of Irish coffee.

Two days of mini-vaycay on the west coast, going to my treasured beach and drinking coffee at Moll's Gap was punctuated by having to wake up at 6am to drive to the hospital for my first day of placement.

Thankfully, I am doing a psyche rotation first which means a week of lectures before hitting the ward. It's been a nice way to ease back into school after a fairly frenetic summer, couch surfing from Squamish, BC to Charlottetown, PEI.

Right now life is a little hectic, 1/3 of my belongings in Kerry, 1/3 in the house I am moving into, and 1/3 in my current digs (a spare room at my friend Marg's parent's place) . I was going through bags finding camera battery chargers, hand blenders, lavender oil, textbooks, protein powder, pencil cases, and mittens, all thrown together. Needless to say I'm trying not to feel as scattered as my possessions.

For now, I have my notebook, two pens, clothes for work, and a travel mug. I'll survive the next few weeks until the dust settles. 

Final med: no excuses!

More airports, dragging my luggage behind me. More waiting at stuffy gates and cueing for dingy bathrooms. I was able to slightly balance my suitcase on my thigh while weighing in, which allowed me to avoid the $250 excess charge. I didn't feel guilty because last week they charged me $106 and then promptly lost my luggage for two days. I was worried my meeting with Brian was going to be in 3/4 length pajamas with hearts on them and a team-building exercise 1999 t-shirt.

The bright side was being met in Shannon by a friend who had packed an airport picnic lunch. Nothing like arriving to smoked salmon, Greek yogurt, and fresh berries, and a weak cup of Irish coffee.

Two days of mini-vaycay on the west coast, going to my treasured beach and drinking coffee at Moll's Gap was punctuated by having to wake up at 6am to drive to the hospital for my first day of placement.

Thankfully, I am doing a psyche rotation first which means a week of lectures before hitting the ward. It's been a nice way to ease back into school after a fairly frenetic summer, couch surfing from Squamish, BC to Charlottetown, PEI.

Right now life is a little hectic, 1/3 of my belongings in Kerry, 1/3 in the house I am moving into, and 1/3 in my current digs (a spare room at my friend Marg's parent's place) . I was going through bags finding camera battery chargers, hand blenders, lavender oil, textbooks, protein powder, pencil cases, and mittens, all thrown together. Needless to say I'm trying not to feel as scattered as my possessions.

For now, I have my notebook, two pens, clothes for work, and a travel mug. I'll survive the next few weeks until the dust settles. 

Final med: no excuses!

More airports, dragging my luggage behind me. More waiting at stuffy gates and cueing for dingy bathrooms. I was able to slightly balance my suitcase on my thigh while weighing in, which allowed me to avoid the $250 excess charge. I didn't feel guilty because last week they charged me $106 and then promptly lost my luggage for two days. I was worried my meeting with Brian was going to be in 3/4 length pajamas with hearts on them and a team-building exercise 1999 t-shirt.

The bright side was being met in Shannon by a friend who had packed an airport picnic lunch. Nothing like arriving to smoked salmon, Greek yogurt, and fresh berries, and a weak cup of Irish coffee.

Two days of mini-vaycay on the west coast, going to my treasured beach and drinking coffee at Moll's Gap was punctuated by having to wake up at 6am to drive to the hospital for my first day of placement.

Thankfully, I am doing a psyche rotation first which means a week of lectures before hitting the ward. It's been a nice way to ease back into school after a fairly frenetic summer, couch surfing from Squamish, BC to Charlottetown, PEI.

Right now life is a little hectic, 1/3 of my belongings in Kerry, 1/3 in the house I am moving into, and 1/3 in my current digs (a spare room at my friend Marg's parent's place) . I was going through bags finding camera battery chargers, hand blenders, lavender oil, textbooks, protein powder, pencil cases, and mittens, all thrown together. Needless to say I'm trying not to feel as scattered as my possessions.

For now, I have my notebook, two pens, clothes for work, and a travel mug. I'll survive the next few weeks until the dust settles. 

Final med: no excuses!

Yesterday I had the chance to finally meet Dr. Brian Goldman. It was quite the adventure, getting there and away. But, how many times do you get to to eat seared tuna with one of your medical heroes?

Yesterday I had the chance to finally meet Dr. Brian Goldman. It was quite the adventure, getting there and away. But, how many times do you get to to eat seared tuna with one of your medical heroes?

Yesterday I had the chance to finally meet Dr. Brian Goldman. It was quite the adventure, getting there and away. But, how many times do you get to to eat seared tuna with one of your medical heroes?

12 years ago Keith took the train from Montréal to Halifax to meet me for a mini holiday while I was doing a French immersion program in Pointe D'Eglise, NS. We had very little money and very little idea about local geography, apparently.

After getting halfway to Charlottetown by hitching rides, we somehow found ourselves on the wrong side of the highway with our sign labelled "Bridge". It was only after a couple of long hours that some kind passerby pulled over, manually rolled down the window of her Mercury, and shouted at us that we were on the wrong side of the road if we wanted to get to the bridge.

I should also mention that during that time the sun was hot and we had one line of "Hold me closer, tiny dancer" in our heads. Singing it over and over and over again without knowing any more of the words but being equally incapable of thinking of new songs to replace it with.

We finally arrived in Charlottetown and blew our last $32 on a lobster meal. Somehow we had made a miscalculation of our finances which caused us to discover (too late) that indeed neither of us had any more cash. This was before the days when banks let us have visas or lines of credit. We called Keith's sister (collect) in a panic to have some money wired to us but it was going to take another day to arrive. I knew I had $15 dollars in my bank account so we went on a mission to find a bank machine that doled out cash in $5 bills.

Cue Hallelujah chorus from Handel's Messiah

Eventually we found one and were able to extract my final $15 to make it to the next day. We stayed at a barn shaped hostel run by a tyrant who wouldn't allow any lights on after 2200h. But life was good.

I had completely forgotten about this adventure until I went to visit a fellow blogger / friend this weekend. When I saw the RBC a faint halo appeared around it in my mind and I felt I ought to make a pilgrimage to the automated teller that saved us.


Funny, I thought I was poor then! Oh I had no idea how poor I could go. Sure, I can get wads of cash these days if I want, but I am also six figures in debt with no tangible thing to show for it yet.

Basically, I have the equivalent of a mortgage on the contents of my brain.

Excuse me while I go and put on a bicycle helmet. Always.

12 years ago Keith took the train from Montréal to Halifax to meet me for a mini holiday while I was doing a French immersion program in Pointe D'Eglise, NS. We had very little money and very little idea about local geography, apparently.

After getting halfway to Charlottetown by hitching rides, we somehow found ourselves on the wrong side of the highway with our sign labelled "Bridge". It was only after a couple of long hours that some kind passerby pulled over, manually rolled down the window of her Mercury, and shouted at us that we were on the wrong side of the road if we wanted to get to the bridge.

I should also mention that during that time the sun was hot and we had one line of "Hold me closer, tiny dancer" in our heads. Singing it over and over and over again without knowing any more of the words but being equally incapable of thinking of new songs to replace it with.

We finally arrived in Charlottetown and blew our last $32 on a lobster meal. Somehow we had made a miscalculation of our finances which caused us to discover (too late) that indeed neither of us had any more cash. This was before the days when banks let us have visas or lines of credit. We called Keith's sister (collect) in a panic to have some money wired to us but it was going to take another day to arrive. I knew I had $15 dollars in my bank account so we went on a mission to find a bank machine that doled out cash in $5 bills.

Cue Hallelujah chorus from Handel's Messiah

Eventually we found one and were able to extract my final $15 to make it to the next day. We stayed at a barn shaped hostel run by a tyrant who wouldn't allow any lights on after 2200h. But life was good.

I had completely forgotten about this adventure until I went to visit a fellow blogger / friend this weekend. When I saw the RBC a faint halo appeared around it in my mind and I felt I ought to make a pilgrimage to the automated teller that saved us.


Funny, I thought I was poor then! Oh I had no idea how poor I could go. Sure, I can get wads of cash these days if I want, but I am also six figures in debt with no tangible thing to show for it yet.

Basically, I have the equivalent of a mortgage on the contents of my brain.

Excuse me while I go and put on a bicycle helmet. Always.

12 years ago Keith took the train from Montréal to Halifax to meet me for a mini holiday while I was doing a French immersion program in Pointe D'Eglise, NS. We had very little money and very little idea about local geography, apparently.

After getting halfway to Charlottetown by hitching rides, we somehow found ourselves on the wrong side of the highway with our sign labelled "Bridge". It was only after a couple of long hours that some kind passerby pulled over, manually rolled down the window of her Mercury, and shouted at us that we were on the wrong side of the road if we wanted to get to the bridge.

I should also mention that during that time the sun was hot and we had one line of "Hold me closer, tiny dancer" in our heads. Singing it over and over and over again without knowing any more of the words but being equally incapable of thinking of new songs to replace it with.

We finally arrived in Charlottetown and blew our last $32 on a lobster meal. Somehow we had made a miscalculation of our finances which caused us to discover (too late) that indeed neither of us had any more cash. This was before the days when banks let us have visas or lines of credit. We called Keith's sister (collect) in a panic to have some money wired to us but it was going to take another day to arrive. I knew I had $15 dollars in my bank account so we went on a mission to find a bank machine that doled out cash in $5 bills.

Cue Hallelujah chorus from Handel's Messiah

Eventually we found one and were able to extract my final $15 to make it to the next day. We stayed at a barn shaped hostel run by a tyrant who wouldn't allow any lights on after 2200h. But life was good.

I had completely forgotten about this adventure until I went to visit a fellow blogger / friend this weekend. When I saw the RBC a faint halo appeared around it in my mind and I felt I ought to make a pilgrimage to the automated teller that saved us.


Funny, I thought I was poor then! Oh I had no idea how poor I could go. Sure, I can get wads of cash these days if I want, but I am also six figures in debt with no tangible thing to show for it yet.

Basically, I have the equivalent of a mortgage on the contents of my brain.

Excuse me while I go and put on a bicycle helmet. Always.

I am waiting to fly across the country (from Pacific to Atlantic) to get ready for my next elective.

Spent my week between gigs trying to cram in as many visits as possible with family, friends, fine dining establishments, and watering holes. More often seeing many people for too few minutes. Soaking up cuddles and Champagne wherever I could. Though I am looking forward to this next experience I am tired from living out of two very heavy suitcases and sleeping in a different spare room every night. (Don't get me wrong, I LOVE that all my friends are grown ups now and actually have spare rooms...)

Two weeks of elective, a week of limbo in Ontario, lunch with my CBC BFF* and then it is back to Ireland for the last round of doctor school. The major downside to my relocation is no internet or mobile phone at my billet...I repeat no internet or mobile phone at my billet. 


It is going to feel a lot like when I was in Asia, circa 1999...walking the streets hoping to find an internet cafe that doesn't smell like body odor. In other words, I am apologizing in advance for not replying to emails, sending tweets, blog posting, or being on skype. I am sure I'll have plenty of time to catch up as I doddle around Ottawa for a week waiting to fly back to Ireland on the 27th.
  
Enjoy the sun (but not too much).

Yours in interweb withdrawal...

ABB

*My designation, not his.

I am waiting to fly across the country (from Pacific to Atlantic) to get ready for my next elective.

Spent my week between gigs trying to cram in as many visits as possible with family, friends, fine dining establishments, and watering holes. More often seeing many people for too few minutes. Soaking up cuddles and Champagne wherever I could. Though I am looking forward to this next experience I am tired from living out of two very heavy suitcases and sleeping in a different spare room every night. (Don't get me wrong, I LOVE that all my friends are grown ups now and actually have spare rooms...)

Two weeks of elective, a week of limbo in Ontario, lunch with my CBC BFF* and then it is back to Ireland for the last round of doctor school. The major downside to my relocation is no internet or mobile phone at my billet...I repeat no internet or mobile phone at my billet. 


It is going to feel a lot like when I was in Asia, circa 1999...walking the streets hoping to find an internet cafe that doesn't smell like body odor. In other words, I am apologizing in advance for not replying to emails, sending tweets, blog posting, or being on skype. I am sure I'll have plenty of time to catch up as I doddle around Ottawa for a week waiting to fly back to Ireland on the 27th.
  
Enjoy the sun (but not too much).

Yours in interweb withdrawal...

ABB

*My designation, not his.

I am waiting to fly across the country (from Pacific to Atlantic) to get ready for my next elective.

Spent my week between gigs trying to cram in as many visits as possible with family, friends, fine dining establishments, and watering holes. More often seeing many people for too few minutes. Soaking up cuddles and Champagne wherever I could. Though I am looking forward to this next experience I am tired from living out of two very heavy suitcases and sleeping in a different spare room every night. (Don't get me wrong, I LOVE that all my friends are grown ups now and actually have spare rooms...)

Two weeks of elective, a week of limbo in Ontario, lunch with my CBC BFF* and then it is back to Ireland for the last round of doctor school. The major downside to my relocation is no internet or mobile phone at my billet...I repeat no internet or mobile phone at my billet. 


It is going to feel a lot like when I was in Asia, circa 1999...walking the streets hoping to find an internet cafe that doesn't smell like body odor. In other words, I am apologizing in advance for not replying to emails, sending tweets, blog posting, or being on skype. I am sure I'll have plenty of time to catch up as I doddle around Ottawa for a week waiting to fly back to Ireland on the 27th.
  
Enjoy the sun (but not too much).

Yours in interweb withdrawal...

ABB

*My designation, not his.

Feels like I am back to my nomadic travel nursing days. Once again living out of suitcases and buying tinned fish and microwave meals to avoid over-using kitchen spaces. I had to chuckle when in one day I received emails from several different people all with the same subject heading "Where Are You??". My friend Kara says she has a separate page in her address book just for me. The phone numbers and addresses have changed so many times that she's erased through the paper in some places. I think I have "Z"  all to myself.

I've been planning to spend a few days on the west coast but hadn't quite nailed down when I'd be in specific towns. Kara knew when to expect me (roughly) so I called her yesterday to firm up when I'd be arriving at her house. I had forgotten that I was calling from my friend Erin's American cell phone.

"Hi Kar, how are you?!"

"Hey! Where are you?"

"Sorry I haven't been in touch this week. It's been really crazy and my phone doesn't work outside of the major cities because I am on a crap network--".

[she cuts in]"--Where are you??"

"I am in Squamish! I was thinking of coming to your place....tomorrow?"

"You are in Squamish? Really? Because your phone number says Idaho and if there is one person in the world who could plan on being in the lower mainland but end up in Idaho, it is you."

I think I am going to take that as a high compliment, a reflection of my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-wanderlust tendencies which I often think have long faded away. 

Feels like I am back to my nomadic travel nursing days. Once again living out of suitcases and buying tinned fish and microwave meals to avoid over-using kitchen spaces. I had to chuckle when in one day I received emails from several different people all with the same subject heading "Where Are You??". My friend Kara says she has a separate page in her address book just for me. The phone numbers and addresses have changed so many times that she's erased through the paper in some places. I think I have "Z"  all to myself.

I've been planning to spend a few days on the west coast but hadn't quite nailed down when I'd be in specific towns. Kara knew when to expect me (roughly) so I called her yesterday to firm up when I'd be arriving at her house. I had forgotten that I was calling from my friend Erin's American cell phone.

"Hi Kar, how are you?!"

"Hey! Where are you?"

"Sorry I haven't been in touch this week. It's been really crazy and my phone doesn't work outside of the major cities because I am on a crap network--".

[she cuts in]"--Where are you??"

"I am in Squamish! I was thinking of coming to your place....tomorrow?"

"You are in Squamish? Really? Because your phone number says Idaho and if there is one person in the world who could plan on being in the lower mainland but end up in Idaho, it is you."

I think I am going to take that as a high compliment, a reflection of my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-wanderlust tendencies which I often think have long faded away. 

Feels like I am back to my nomadic travel nursing days. Once again living out of suitcases and buying tinned fish and microwave meals to avoid over-using kitchen spaces. I had to chuckle when in one day I received emails from several different people all with the same subject heading "Where Are You??". My friend Kara says she has a separate page in her address book just for me. The phone numbers and addresses have changed so many times that she's erased through the paper in some places. I think I have "Z"  all to myself.

I've been planning to spend a few days on the west coast but hadn't quite nailed down when I'd be in specific towns. Kara knew when to expect me (roughly) so I called her yesterday to firm up when I'd be arriving at her house. I had forgotten that I was calling from my friend Erin's American cell phone.

"Hi Kar, how are you?!"

"Hey! Where are you?"

"Sorry I haven't been in touch this week. It's been really crazy and my phone doesn't work outside of the major cities because I am on a crap network--".

[she cuts in]"--Where are you??"

"I am in Squamish! I was thinking of coming to your place....tomorrow?"

"You are in Squamish? Really? Because your phone number says Idaho and if there is one person in the world who could plan on being in the lower mainland but end up in Idaho, it is you."

I think I am going to take that as a high compliment, a reflection of my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-wanderlust tendencies which I often think have long faded away. 

He had a little turban of gauze wrapped around his shaggy blonde head. Perfect rows of white teeth and blue eyes. I imagined that when Jack Johnson was 4 years old he probably looked like him; brightly colored board shorts, a mini ROXY hoodie, and lime green flip flops.  Despite the bloody gash (thanks to a fall on his grandparents fireplace) he was chatty and informed me he loved visiting Canada because he could play in the snow, his middle name meant "wave" in Hawaiian, and that he'd rather have an apple juice than a spider man sticker thankyouverymuch. 

After I unwound the gauze and inspected his scalp, I had to irrigate the wound with some saline to clean up the bloody tangle of hair before stapling it. He brought his hand up just above his head and hunched his shoulders down while I cleaned it, but didn't cry or pull away.

I was dropping the used bandages and gauze into the bin and untangling the situation when he cocked his head in my direction, studying my face while I scrubbed.

I really like your earrings.

Aw, that is so sweet of you, thank you!

You're welcome.  

Can't think of the last time an adult complimented my jewelery while I was repairing their head wound. Mind you, adults in that situation are usually fallen down drunk and mildly abusive.

I almost feel like most of my patients in the ED have been part of an elaborate ruse to woo me into pediatrics. It's working people, it is working!!

He had a little turban of gauze wrapped around his shaggy blonde head. Perfect rows of white teeth and blue eyes. I imagined that when Jack Johnson was 4 years old he probably looked like him; brightly colored board shorts, a mini ROXY hoodie, and lime green flip flops.  Despite the bloody gash (thanks to a fall on his grandparents fireplace) he was chatty and informed me he loved visiting Canada because he could play in the snow, his middle name meant "wave" in Hawaiian, and that he'd rather have an apple juice than a spider man sticker thankyouverymuch. 

After I unwound the gauze and inspected his scalp, I had to irrigate the wound with some saline to clean up the bloody tangle of hair before stapling it. He brought his hand up just above his head and hunched his shoulders down while I cleaned it, but didn't cry or pull away.

I was dropping the used bandages and gauze into the bin and untangling the situation when he cocked his head in my direction, studying my face while I scrubbed.

I really like your earrings.

Aw, that is so sweet of you, thank you!

You're welcome.  

Can't think of the last time an adult complimented my jewelery while I was repairing their head wound. Mind you, adults in that situation are usually fallen down drunk and mildly abusive.

I almost feel like most of my patients in the ED have been part of an elaborate ruse to woo me into pediatrics. It's working people, it is working!!

He had a little turban of gauze wrapped around his shaggy blonde head. Perfect rows of white teeth and blue eyes. I imagined that when Jack Johnson was 4 years old he probably looked like him; brightly colored board shorts, a mini ROXY hoodie, and lime green flip flops.  Despite the bloody gash (thanks to a fall on his grandparents fireplace) he was chatty and informed me he loved visiting Canada because he could play in the snow, his middle name meant "wave" in Hawaiian, and that he'd rather have an apple juice than a spider man sticker thankyouverymuch. 

After I unwound the gauze and inspected his scalp, I had to irrigate the wound with some saline to clean up the bloody tangle of hair before stapling it. He brought his hand up just above his head and hunched his shoulders down while I cleaned it, but didn't cry or pull away.

I was dropping the used bandages and gauze into the bin and untangling the situation when he cocked his head in my direction, studying my face while I scrubbed.

I really like your earrings.

Aw, that is so sweet of you, thank you!

You're welcome.  

Can't think of the last time an adult complimented my jewelery while I was repairing their head wound. Mind you, adults in that situation are usually fallen down drunk and mildly abusive.

I almost feel like most of my patients in the ED have been part of an elaborate ruse to woo me into pediatrics. It's working people, it is working!!

...that's why I'm totally broke!

I had a feisty 8 y.o girl come in tonight. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a messy pony tail, an oversized black Karate hoodie hung low over her leggings. I saw she had the beginnings of two black eyes, a bit of a swollen nose, and a bump sitting on the bridge. She excitedly told me about how she got accidentally head-butted yesterday in karate just before winning her competition. She then mock-kissed her biceps.


So what brings you in today? Are you worried your nose is broken?

Yeah, we need to check it out....this [said while circling her face with her index finger] is my money maker.

And that was when an 8 y.o girl became my hero. I mean, she had me at the bicep kissing, but that line cinched it.

...that's why I'm totally broke!

I had a feisty 8 y.o girl come in tonight. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a messy pony tail, an oversized black Karate hoodie hung low over her leggings. I saw she had the beginnings of two black eyes, a bit of a swollen nose, and a bump sitting on the bridge. She excitedly told me about how she got accidentally head-butted yesterday in karate just before winning her competition. She then mock-kissed her biceps.


So what brings you in today? Are you worried your nose is broken?

Yeah, we need to check it out....this [said while circling her face with her index finger] is my money maker.

And that was when an 8 y.o girl became my hero. I mean, she had me at the bicep kissing, but that line cinched it.

...that's why I'm totally broke!

I had a feisty 8 y.o girl come in tonight. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a messy pony tail, an oversized black Karate hoodie hung low over her leggings. I saw she had the beginnings of two black eyes, a bit of a swollen nose, and a bump sitting on the bridge. She excitedly told me about how she got accidentally head-butted yesterday in karate just before winning her competition. She then mock-kissed her biceps.


So what brings you in today? Are you worried your nose is broken?

Yeah, we need to check it out....this [said while circling her face with her index finger] is my money maker.

And that was when an 8 y.o girl became my hero. I mean, she had me at the bicep kissing, but that line cinched it.

So the last week at work involved a couple of milestones. I am so sleep deprived right now that I can only think of one (thanks to two 6am shifts starts, Ryan's recent surprise 40th birthday keg party, and 11h of driving in the last 4 days).

My attending asked me to page the neuro team for one of our patients and I mentally froze. Lowly medical students do not consult with other teams in Ireland. What amount of detail should I go into? How much history do they want? Is it like a geriatric consult where you have to mention how many pets they have and if they can still drive themselves to get groceries? Or is it like a surgical consult where you say there is a fracture, please fix it?

I told the unit clerk my name (Albino) and asked her to page the neuro team for me. 

A few minutes later I was assessing another patient when "Dr. Blackbear please pick up line 70770 for neurology, Doctor Blackbear" came over the PA . At first I was reflexively tuning out the sound of the announcement as it crackled into the room. Then I realized the call was for me! Yes, the title wasn't accurate but I have to admit it briefly made my stomach flutter with excitement. I know it sounds cheesy but I've been ignoring that interruption while in hospital for the last 12 years. It hit me that sooner rather than later I would actually be Doctor Blackbear! It is quite an exciting (and frightening) prospect.

Most days this journey feels so long that I almost forget that at some point the tuition payments end, the paychecks and different responsibilities begin, and new goals appear on the horizon. Hearing my name paged overhead was a jolt of reality: in a year from now I won't be able to ignore those calls and the next chapter will be beginning.

Excited!!!

So the last week at work involved a couple of milestones. I am so sleep deprived right now that I can only think of one (thanks to two 6am shifts starts, Ryan's recent surprise 40th birthday keg party, and 11h of driving in the last 4 days).

My attending asked me to page the neuro team for one of our patients and I mentally froze. Lowly medical students do not consult with other teams in Ireland. What amount of detail should I go into? How much history do they want? Is it like a geriatric consult where you have to mention how many pets they have and if they can still drive themselves to get groceries? Or is it like a surgical consult where you say there is a fracture, please fix it?

I told the unit clerk my name (Albino) and asked her to page the neuro team for me. 

A few minutes later I was assessing another patient when "Dr. Blackbear please pick up line 70770 for neurology, Doctor Blackbear" came over the PA . At first I was reflexively tuning out the sound of the announcement as it crackled into the room. Then I realized the call was for me! Yes, the title wasn't accurate but I have to admit it briefly made my stomach flutter with excitement. I know it sounds cheesy but I've been ignoring that interruption while in hospital for the last 12 years. It hit me that sooner rather than later I would actually be Doctor Blackbear! It is quite an exciting (and frightening) prospect.

Most days this journey feels so long that I almost forget that at some point the tuition payments end, the paychecks and different responsibilities begin, and new goals appear on the horizon. Hearing my name paged overhead was a jolt of reality: in a year from now I won't be able to ignore those calls and the next chapter will be beginning.

Excited!!!

So the last week at work involved a couple of milestones. I am so sleep deprived right now that I can only think of one (thanks to two 6am shifts starts, Ryan's recent surprise 40th birthday keg party, and 11h of driving in the last 4 days).

My attending asked me to page the neuro team for one of our patients and I mentally froze. Lowly medical students do not consult with other teams in Ireland. What amount of detail should I go into? How much history do they want? Is it like a geriatric consult where you have to mention how many pets they have and if they can still drive themselves to get groceries? Or is it like a surgical consult where you say there is a fracture, please fix it?

I told the unit clerk my name (Albino) and asked her to page the neuro team for me. 

A few minutes later I was assessing another patient when "Dr. Blackbear please pick up line 70770 for neurology, Doctor Blackbear" came over the PA . At first I was reflexively tuning out the sound of the announcement as it crackled into the room. Then I realized the call was for me! Yes, the title wasn't accurate but I have to admit it briefly made my stomach flutter with excitement. I know it sounds cheesy but I've been ignoring that interruption while in hospital for the last 12 years. It hit me that sooner rather than later I would actually be Doctor Blackbear! It is quite an exciting (and frightening) prospect.

Most days this journey feels so long that I almost forget that at some point the tuition payments end, the paychecks and different responsibilities begin, and new goals appear on the horizon. Hearing my name paged overhead was a jolt of reality: in a year from now I won't be able to ignore those calls and the next chapter will be beginning.

Excited!!!

Success:

When you correctly diagnose an appendicitis in a child who no one thought had appendicitis.

When you think you heard coarse lung sounds in the right middle lobe and (lo!) the x-ray shows a RML pneumonia.

When you finally get a kid who has clamped his teeth down on your tongue depressor to actually open his mouth wide enough to see tonsils. 

When part of your work day involves witnessing a 4 y.o perform a convincing and prolonged air-drum solo on his dinner tray with 2 brightly colored straws.

When you finally get a sample of liquid gold urine from a child with tummy pain and a fever.

Fail:

When you are taking a history and ask about immunization status and the parent states, "Immunizations are not based on science". 

When you ask a parent to keep their kid from eating any food until their nausea / vomiting / abdominal pain are sorted out and you go back in the room to find the child eating bright blue cotton candy (or is that a success because the child is clearly feeling better?)

Success:

When you correctly diagnose an appendicitis in a child who no one thought had appendicitis.

When you think you heard coarse lung sounds in the right middle lobe and (lo!) the x-ray shows a RML pneumonia.

When you finally get a kid who has clamped his teeth down on your tongue depressor to actually open his mouth wide enough to see tonsils. 

When part of your work day involves witnessing a 4 y.o perform a convincing and prolonged air-drum solo on his dinner tray with 2 brightly colored straws.

When you finally get a sample of liquid gold urine from a child with tummy pain and a fever.

Fail:

When you are taking a history and ask about immunization status and the parent states, "Immunizations are not based on science". 

When you ask a parent to keep their kid from eating any food until their nausea / vomiting / abdominal pain are sorted out and you go back in the room to find the child eating bright blue cotton candy (or is that a success because the child is clearly feeling better?)

Success:

When you correctly diagnose an appendicitis in a child who no one thought had appendicitis.

When you think you heard coarse lung sounds in the right middle lobe and (lo!) the x-ray shows a RML pneumonia.

When you finally get a kid who has clamped his teeth down on your tongue depressor to actually open his mouth wide enough to see tonsils. 

When part of your work day involves witnessing a 4 y.o perform a convincing and prolonged air-drum solo on his dinner tray with 2 brightly colored straws.

When you finally get a sample of liquid gold urine from a child with tummy pain and a fever.

Fail:

When you are taking a history and ask about immunization status and the parent states, "Immunizations are not based on science". 

When you ask a parent to keep their kid from eating any food until their nausea / vomiting / abdominal pain are sorted out and you go back in the room to find the child eating bright blue cotton candy (or is that a success because the child is clearly feeling better?)

I had a patient who came in with a very itchy rash over her entire body. It was a busy day and she waited with her dad for about 3 hours before being seen. She readily jumped up on the bed and pulled up her dress to show me the angry red bumps on her belly, then kicked off her black boots to show me the bottom of her feet, which had been spared.

Her little thighs were raw with scratching and I felt terrible for her long wait. I said to her, "I am so sorry that you had to wait so long to see a doctor, especially on this lovely day".

She shrugged and said, "It's okay, I know you have lots of other patients to see too!"

She was six years old.

In five years of emergency nursing and three years of medical school I've never had an adult respond with the same selfless and realistic view of the situation.

Adults of the world, take note. Children of the world, stay awesome.

I had a patient who came in with a very itchy rash over her entire body. It was a busy day and she waited with her dad for about 3 hours before being seen. She readily jumped up on the bed and pulled up her dress to show me the angry red bumps on her belly, then kicked off her black boots to show me the bottom of her feet, which had been spared.

Her little thighs were raw with scratching and I felt terrible for her long wait. I said to her, "I am so sorry that you had to wait so long to see a doctor, especially on this lovely day".

She shrugged and said, "It's okay, I know you have lots of other patients to see too!"

She was six years old.

In five years of emergency nursing and three years of medical school I've never had an adult respond with the same selfless and realistic view of the situation.

Adults of the world, take note. Children of the world, stay awesome.