I would like to first point out, before we even get started: after my last post, I had a minor Zoom-based showdown with the HR department about some professionalism modules I was refusing to complete and I got in pretty big trouble. In case you are interested, I stood my ground like the dumpster-inhabiting dipshit I am and ended up NOT HAVING TO DO THE MODULES. F**K YEAH.
I want you to picture a dumpster. A bad one, full of rotting fast food, like a McDonalds-parking-lot-at-3am dumpster. One that no one bothers to lock or protect from animals because even the racoons will stay away from the fermenting, rancid waste.
Got a mental picture? Now place that dumpster aboard a Viking funeral of a ship, ablaze, sailing toward an enormous waterfall with nothing but jagged rocks below.
I would like to blame my prolonged absence again on COVID-19. To be fair, it does dominate about 95% of my work life and probably 50% of my personal life, but honestly, I’ve just gotten lazy.
The last time I published here was March 5, where I started with “it seems like we are inevitably headed for a massive, global pandemic.” For once on this blog, I get to say I WAS RIGHT ABOUT SOMETHING IN RESIDENCY! No attending or dad can correct this.
As of this writing, my area’s daily hospitalization rates look like a Space-X rocket launch. We’re out of ICU beds, regular beds, gurney, cots, sleeping bags, and patience. The worst is somehow yet to come. I am coping with this impending doom by playing with my dog and, finally, writing again.
Well, from listening to the news it seems like we are inevitably headed for a massive, global pandemic. Millions of people will die. Soon thereafter, the zombies will rise, coughing and sneezing coronavirus loogies on the few healthy people left.
COVID-19(/the coronavirus/SARS-nCoV-2019/whatever) is likely to be, if it isn’t already, a pandemic. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people are probably going to get sick. Some will die. As an ER doctor, I am almost certain to catch the disease. Seriously. Continue reading
Yes, it has been very long. This is because my life outside of residency lately has been consumed with raising a small weapon of mass destruction named Otis.
This is Otis when I got him:
This is Otis now:
As you can see, he is a) much bigger and b) a Systematic Toy Destroyer. A well-meaning resident gifted me a plush toy for him; Otis ripped it in half in about thirty seconds.
Another July has come, and with it an upgrade in my rank and nominally in my salary. I make a whole $2.75 an hour now!
In the third and fourth years of this program, I’m considered a “senior” resident. Senior residents have some additional responsibilities over those of juniors: we are supposed to keep an eye on the entire emergency department, make sure everyone is pulling their weight, lead resuscitations, and teach novice learners. Continue reading
The journey through second year of residency is an interesting one. As I’ve mentioned before, we are tasked with two major, new responsibilities: performing most procedures and seeing a much greater volume of patients. We’ve all gone through a substantial adjustment period. It’s been hard.
One of these journeys is toward two, or greater, patients per hour. I hit this milestone rather infrequently. In fact, it is about as likely for me to achieve this as I am to win a game of Oregon Trail. It is far more likely that I will die of dysentery, or make it no further than Fort Collins before my oxen quit on me. Continue reading
I am now done with my ICU month. I would just like to reiterate, again, that being on 30-hour call every third day for an entire month is total and complete bullshit that ruins your body and soul and no one should have to do it.
I have also been advised by legal counsel, also known as one-half of the Bringers of Life, that in my previous post I apparently ran a small risk of getting in trouble. I am not sure why; perhaps this is because I reference in somewhat pointed terms that one of my hospital sites (the Not A Real Hospital one) is run about as efficiently as a traffic jam. Continue reading
Hi. I have just completed a stint of night shifts – twelve in the last fourteen days – and I feel like a moldy, rotted potato.
As I write this, I’m trying to “flip back to days” for a regular day shift tomorrow, as the cruel scheduling gods have elected to grant me one day of work during normal people hours (albeit on a Saturday) before switching back to a third week of uninterrupted nights. Continue reading