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 will preface this story with a disclaimer: I am not exaggerating the following.
On one short-handed urgent care shift right before Christmas, wait times to see the doctor (me) stretched to four hours, at which point people started a light riot.
The urgent care where I was working normally has two providers at once: an MD and either a nurse practitioner or a physician assistant. That day, the nurse practitioner called out sick with COVID, leaving me alone.
In a little more than a month, the new interns will arrive. Much like last year when I wrote “Intern Year is Over,” I greet this milestone with joy and relief – not because I am thrilled and excited for the interns to roll in, but because I am thrilled and excited to be DONE. WITH. SECOND. YEAR.
“Why?” the interested reader/grandma may ask. After all, if intern year is when you learn the byzantine system that is medicine at two different academic centers, second year is when you focus on your actual medical knowledge. Your procedural skills. Your team-based communication. Continue reading
There is a Bible in medicine for interns. Published in 1978 by an intern doing his first year in internal medicine, The House of God is a cynical and hilarious look at the dehumanizing, cruel, and sad life that is residency. Continue reading
Iiiiiiiit’s SOAPBOX TIME PART TWO!
Let’s start with a throwback to my surgery rotation.
Allow me to describe, briefly, the scene before a minor surgery. Like a lipoma excision, or a skin graft. The room is sterilized about fifteen minutes before the patient is wheeled back; no one is allowed in without a mask. Once the patient comes in and is put under anesthesia, they’re sterilely draped. You can’t even touch the lights without a special sterile holder, and anyone near the sterile field has to wear a ridiculous-looking full-length gown and specially-sized gloves. Continue reading
A couple of weeks ago, the program director for my postbac program sent me an email asking if I’d participate in a panel discussion for this year’s current inmates (the kids going through the wringer like I did last year) about the interview process. It dawned on me that my cohort is exactly a year removed from when we began the application process last year.
If you’ll remember from my timeline post, The Long Haul Begins, the primary med school application doesn’t even open until June. On the advice of this same program director, we were told to start our personal statements over winter break – for me, just over a year ago. Continue reading
For as much general vitriol I spew forth on this blog, I like to think I’m a pretty nice guy. I like people. I am friendly to gate agents when my flight is delayed. I used to send a “daily dose” of internet humor around to co-workers every morning.
At an interview, you’re supposed to be yourself, and I generally am. But I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon: the night of and day after an interview, particularly one for which I’ve had to travel, I am not nice. For lack of a better word, I am an asshole. Continue reading
After spending the better part of a month flying to and from medical school interviews, I have one overriding question: Why does flying suck so much?
Flying used to be fun. A trip flying the friendly skies was an event where the airport was an exciting place, you complimented the pilot on a good landing and the flight attendants smiled and said “sure!” when you asked for the entire can of Sprite.
When did that vision die? When did airlines become cattle car operators with a dull coat of paint, and when exactly did we allow our fear to scare us so badly it’s recommended we arrive at the airport two hours early to sit through Security Theater? Continue reading
A while ago, a friend of mine sent me a link to an article published on a website called “21 Reasons to Become a Vegetarian.” It was oddly posted on an adopt-an-animal website; I tracked down the origin of the article to a doctor named Vernon Coleman, who wrote a vegetarian book “Food For Thought,” as well as other books on politics and, apparently, cricket. He is also an outspoken opponent of vaccinations (hooray, polio!) and “conventional cancer treatment.” Yeah.
My friend, by the way, was a vegetarian and on her way to becoming a full-blown vegan.
Below is the article, with each bullet point from the original article in black answered by my annotation in red. Before you read, you should know that I think vegetarianism is perfectly healthy if done right and not an intrinsic bad. I do take issue with vegetarians trying to convert me, a top-of-the-food-chain steak eater, to vegetarianism. It’s like a Mormon trying to convert dead Jews: a lost cause. Give it up, people. And enjoy the skewering (ha!) of the article below. It starts with a couple of concessions: Continue reading