The Party's Over

I started this month expecting the worst after my demoralizing experience at the VA last year. However, November has overall been good to me. Ward service at the VA is as a general rule cruel and unusual punishment, but my team has made the best of it. For starters, we got the good schedule. I mean, the really good schedule. I won't bore you with the details, but the bottom line is that we got to skip a daytime admission call every weekend this month and on Thanksgiving. But even with fewer patients, the four walls of our 5'x10' team room would feel pretty darn small if we didn't get along so well.
I couldn't have asked for better interns and med students. The best moments of my month: Intern #1 commented on how we smile more than other teams. Intern #2 actually said he had fun on call. We know you have to laugh so you don't cry. By the way, anyone who makes my interns cry will answer to me. As an intern, you work harder than you thought possible, but people rarely pat you on the back for the hundreds of things you do right every single day. They do, however, manage to point out the one or two things you do wrong every once in a while. Having been there, I now try to let my interns know that I see how hard they're trying and appreciate their effort. And you know what? I think I actually made their month a little easier to bear.
Thank you, Lord. It's good to feel that you have placed me where I am and to know my purpose in being here.

Confessions of this Shopaholic

I love clothes. Jeans, sweaters, skirts, dresses. Especially anything shiny or anything with ruffles.** Apart from my baking, I have somehow acquired within my peer group (overworked internal medicine residents) a repututation for "good shoes." I have chosen to take this as a compliment rather than wondering if people only comment on my shoes to avoid the subject of my intellect, or lack thereof. But I digress.
Other girls exclaim how they don't understand how I wear heels all day. (Secret #1: wear clogs from the parking lot to the hospital as this is the roughest walk of the day.) I also enjoy the compliment in directly inverse proportion to how much I paid for an item. Eg, a compliment on my $50 dress is not nearly as satisfying as one on my $12 purple suede peep-toe heels. (Secret #2-3: DSW and Marshalls.) I will even add up in my head how much my outfit for the day cost just to see if I can keep it under $100, head to toe. I know I'm not alone on this next one because my college roommate admitted the same habit to me; I hold onto stuff I bought cheap/on sale even more than stuff I for which I paid full price. Some things are just such a good bargain that I want them to last forever. (Secret #4: Teach your husband not to put your clothes in the dryer. I love you, Nick!)
So warn any of your friends or loved ones in middle TN that if they end up being seen at Vanderbilt hospital to watch out for the blond doctor with good shoes. She might be planning her next assault on the Anne Taylor clearance rack while you're droning on about your runny nose.

**Disclaimer: I do not recommend dabbling in shiny things that are also ruffly if you are a ruffle novice.

Oooooo, heaven is a place on earth

Hello, all you out there in cyberland! Good news! Nashville just got a little closer to Heaven, by which I mean Texas. CHUY'S HAS ARRIVED! Jen told me of a rumor that the best Tex-Mex in the world was headed to Tennessee, but my dreams became reality when I passed by the almost completed building a couple weeks ago. Nick and I ate there last week, and it was wonderful!! I'm convinced the creamy jalapeno ranch may hold the cure for cancer.

I informed intern #1 (also from Texas) about the arrival of Chuy's, much to her delight. Intern #2 then commented how he is in the mood for a chimichanga. The humor is audible: it's chimich-ah-nga, not chimich-aaa-nga. After having a good laugh at the Yankee's expense, intern #1 and I decided we'll have to introduce him to real-deal Tex-Mex this month. Don't you wish you could come to team dinner?!

This is a stick-up!

You can't make this stuff up. I was threatened today by one of my patients. He didn't want to talk to me or anyone else, let alone take his medications. It fell to me to convince him to cooperate, which I attempted. After telling me how annoying I was, he proceeded to ask the nurse for a gun so he could dispose of me. Aside from the fact that this man is very ill and that I could outrun him in my heels, that was rude and completely uncalled for. Maybe the VA needs a metal detector at the door...

Put on a happy face

Ah, it's November, and that only means one thing... Interview season! Last year I attended interview dinners and lunches with a battle-weary air. Having interns recruit is like the walking wounded troops returning from the front lines slapping the approaching reinforcements on the back, telling them, "It's not that bad" as they hobble on home. You smile with sweet, false reassurance and talk brightly about work as if to say, "Who wouldn't wanna be me?"

Only anyone in his right mind. But I made it through, and they will, too.

A little help, please?

Last night I was the ever-so-lucky chosen one to be on call the night before the rotation switch. I would not, however, have missed this for the world. I'd spent my night shopping online, getting Ben and Jerry's, etc. You know, life or death kinda stuff. Then (I kid you not) I got the following page: "I am stuck on the elevator on the 4th floor. Could u please help get me out? This is not a joke." Well of course it's a joke, but I decide to check, just in case. I head downstairs and hear the muffled sounds of pounding fists from inside one of the elevators. Yes, it is my intern. Stuck. I call maintenance, who upon finally arrives informs me that yep, he can open the elevator, but nope he can't. There is a new rule that they cannot open the elevators for trapped passengers. We must call some outside maintenance company, who estimates their representative will arrive in an hour. Are you kidding? It's almost midnight! I yell through the crack that he should fake a code, to which he replies, "I'm having chest pain!" After some haggling, I ultimately told the maintenance man that Dr. ____'s patient is crashing downstairs and needs him right now. This is in fact true, but I decline to mention that I am actually in charge of Dr. ___ and perfectly capable of handling the situation myself. This works, and presto chango, with the twist of an elevator key (who knew they even had those?), my intern is again a free man. The rest of the night was uneventful, but I hear he had a little incident with a blue highlighter and his white coat the next morning. Moral of the story: take the stairs.

And you may be wondering why he bothered calling me rather than using the emergency phone inside the elevator. Well, bless his heart, he did try the phone first. 911 hung up on him.