One Hundred and Eighty-four, Diapers

I started Newborn Nursery on Tuesday.  I changed my first diaper then.  It was goopy.  But I did a good job!

One Hundred and Eighty-three, Two Days

I joked with my friends before starting the Pediatric rotation on how long I'd go before I came down with something.  The results are in!  I went a paltry two days before getting feverish, having extreme cold chills, a headache, and some muscle aches.  In my defense, I do believe this is related not to the kids I saw yesterday as much as to the flu vaccine I received yesterday at noon.

One Hundred and Eighty-two, Dungeons and Dragons Character

I Am A: Neutral Good Human Wizard (3rd Level)

Ability Scores:
Strength-10
Dexterity-11
Constitution-14
Intelligence-13
Wisdom-14
Charisma-12

Alignment:
Neutral Good A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them. Neutral good is the best alignment you can be because it means doing what is good without bias for or against order. However, neutral good can be a dangerous alignment because it advances mediocrity by limiting the actions of the truly capable.

Race:
Humans are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

Class:
Wizards are arcane spellcasters who depend on intensive study to create their magic. To wizards, magic is not a talent but a difficult, rewarding art. When they are prepared for battle, wizards can use their spells to devastating effect. When caught by surprise, they are vulnerable. The wizard's strength is her spells, everything else is secondary. She learns new spells as she experiments and grows in experience, and she can also learn them from other wizards. In addition, over time a wizard learns to manipulate her spells so they go farther, work better, or are improved in some other way. A wizard can call a familiar- a small, magical, animal companion that serves her. With a high Intelligence, wizards are capable of casting very high levels of spells.


Find out What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?, courtesy of Easydamus

One Hundred and Eighty-one, Everyday Doctoring Stuff

Last week Wednesday I received an email from the Beatnik.  He'd recently done 129 questions to see what Dungeons and Dragons character build he would be and was curious what our friend circle would get.  This was in the morning.  I set aside this task since I was heading into the hospital and decided to confront this monster of a quiz later on that day.

Wednesday continued and I learned that I would be participating in a big surgery starting at 2 PM called a "free fibula flap" surgery.  If you Google it, the second hit that comes up does a good succint job of describing it.  I describe it below in brief.  Anyway, we didn't finish the surgery and I didn't get back to the apartment until 1:00 AM Thursday morning from the hospital.  I had a pounding headache from lack of food and liquids but I had just seen an amazing surgery.  I saw a slew of emails from all of my friends who had replied their character builds throughout the day as they completed the 129 question quiz.  The last one was from the Beatnik again, addressing all of us.  Here it is, and pardon any language that might be offensive to you.

The Beatnik's question to the world:

"Well our party is pretty varied.  We have Drock as the all powerful wizard.  I'm the tree hugging hippy druid.  Crazy Blonde is the know it all Wizard.  Woodwind is the touchy feely Cleric and Lord Chaos is our soul devouring Fighter/sorcerer.  The Engineer is our totally not gay Bard.  And I know you are all wondering the same question I am,

 

WHAT THE FUCK IS DAVE!?!? TAKE THE GOD DAMN TEST!

 

Our group make up would put Lord Chaos in the front.  Me and Woodwind in the middle with the Engineer close behind (Dancing or doing whatever the fuck bards do), Crazy Blonde and Drock as our artillery in the rear (tee hee).  And I know you are all curious about one thing,

 

WHERE THE FUCK IS DAVE?

 

I know me too.  Kinda fun, maybe we should all cosplay sometime (shudder) 

love,

The Beatnik 

p.s.  TAKING THE FUCKING TEST DAVE! "

Reading this at 1:00 AM, I quickly sent out a reply to everyone:

"I just saw a guy’s left jaw taken out, then a bone from his leg taken and put in with a metal bracket to work as a jaw, then his pec from his left chest pasted over the bone, and then multiple skin grafts.  This morning I briefly read your email at 6:00 AM before running off to the hospital.  There I have been until 1 AM right now.  I don’t think I need a test to tell everyone that I’m some type of good cleric

I’ll take it one day. 

-Dave"

I felt that while this might be harsh, it helped explain why I hadn't replied and that I'd get to it when I had a chance.  Little did I realize but in the couple of hours of sleep I got, the Beatnik had responded:

"Lol, now was that so hard?  I kind of realized your crazy schedule after a little while.  You're doing something right now that I could never do.  I know that you're in a world of doctors and people who do this shit all the time.  But, those of us who don't have MD in front of our names are pretty impressed by what you're doing right now.  Just thought you should know. 

Keep up the good work Cleric Dave,

The Beatnik"

This was 6 AM Thursday morning after a 4 hour nap.  I paused.  

and continued to pause.

I have become so inundated with cholecystectomies (gallbladder removals) and hernia repairs (fixing weak areas of bellies and groins) and other surgical terms that I was missing out on the simple fact that the majority of humanity never sees the things surgeons and the OR staff do.  Yeah, during the surgery I wondered who the hell thought up taking someone's bone from a leg to rebuild a jaw, but the actual procedure never amazed me because it made sense.  To laypeople though, it's practically magic.  The patient sees the difference between what they used to look and feel like compared to how everything is after a surgery and it's amazing.  

That's what my two months on Surgery have boiled down to: Amazing.

One Hundred and Eighty, Surgery? Check!

I passed my Surgery clerkship.

Today at my oral exams, an interesting interaction occurred.  I was examined by two surgeons both of whom I've had some form of interaction with during my rotation.  At the start of the exam, one of them asked me in what field of medicine I was interested.  I'm not prone to lying for the sake of cozying up to someone so I stated the fact that I was undecided but was building an idea of what was important to me.  One of those realizations was that I did not feel I would be up to the lifestyle of a surgeon.  Hence I was thinking I'd end up in family medicine or pediatrics.  Then the examination continued.  I did fine in the exam and as I was shaking their hands in preparation to leave, the fellow who had asked me what I was interested in told me not to go into family medicine or pediatrics.  "It would be a waste."

One Hundred and Seventy-nine, Mail Goggles

Read all about it.  It's Genius!

In other news, shelf exam tomorrow in Surgery.

One Hundred and Seventy-eight, Bills

At times it's easy to get caught in the whirlwind that is Third year and forget to pay the bills.  I didn't this time, but this is one of two times this school year I've been close to missing deadlines not through forgetfulness as much as no-time-to-devote-to-it-ness between being at the hospital most of the time and playing hard when I'm home.  Is my balance perfect?  Hardly, but I hope I'm learning my place and what I can do to maintain myself decently.  This weekend was good between kite-flying, practicing taking histories and physical exams, and hanging out with some good friends.  

One Hundred and Seventy-seven, Day 7/8

HUZZAH!  Power returned sometime between 9:30 PM and 12:30 AM!

One Hundred and Seventy-six, Day 6

Still no power...[sigh]

One Hundred and Seventy-five, The Elderly

I went into a room to check on an 83 year-old man's progress that day.  "Good morning sir." I said clearly as I turned on the light and approached his bed.  His eyes perked up and his head tilted slightly towards my voice.  In the corner the television was blaring away on some news channel some family member or nurse had put on for him.  I realized as his eyes stared at the ceiling that he would not be focusing directly on me.  I involuntarily speak louder asking him how his night was.  In reply, a slew of noises issued from his toothless mouth.  I put my ear close to him to hear him better.  No avail.  How was I supposed to gather information from this fellow?!  I stood at the side of his bed despairing that this man with a rich history (all 83 year-old people have a rich history) couldn't communicate what he was trying so hard to tell.  I continued explaining my exam steps as I checked his heart and lungs and operative site and legs.  He never stopped with his trail of words.  In fact, I couldn't hear clearly at all in his chest due to his larynx sending sound waves down through his body into my stethoscope.  As I said goodbye and left, he quieted down in what I imagine was frustration.  He might have had a stroke, but he obviously was aware of people.  He just couldn't communicate effectively and that is what made me saddest.

In opposition to that experience, I met a nurse later on that day who was from the Philippines.  She had immigrated 58 years ago.  At the spry age of 79, she worked regularly in the operating room as a circulating nurse--the nurse who makes sure everything runs smoothly in the OR and gets stuff we don't have in there.  She was telling us stories about her younger days and stuff about her husband.  Her husband is Japanese and apparently when she married him, the Philippine government took away her Filipino citizenship.  She told an elaborate story about how she eventually kept from being deported to Japan through friends in high places and even getting her name on a bill that Lyndon Johnson signed.  And then there was the story about her husband who was to be deployed in the war "in just a few days when the war ended."  At one point a newer worker in the area, some nurse or tech, came by asking if she would help move the patient back to the ready OR.  The 79 year-old fixed a look on the intruder which clearly meant, "Let me finish my story, then I'll take care of it!"  She picked up where she was decribing a kamikaze's underwater counterpart, a Kaiten.  Her husband had been training as a pilot for one of these and was scheduled to be deployed a couple days after Nagasaki.  Her wrinkled face was animated throughout the storytelling.  Deep furrows appearing in her brow when reciting the parts regarding her possible deportment and the fact that her husband was a Kaiten pilot.  Wrinkles clearing out with her smiles when she reached the happy conclusions of remaining in the States and her husband not being deployed incidentally.

In one day I encountered two people who showed me the wide variability in human function and communication.  I also grew to appreciate different qualities in each.  From the gentleman patient, I had a glimpse of future disability that is more likely to strike than sudden death and the possibility of unheard stories.  From the nurse, I learned the richness of a life and the joy of knowing the lives others have lived.  In fact, it gave me hope hearing her realizing that the gentleman probably had regaled other people with his own stories prior to his mishap.  I hope those people take those stories and remember them time to time.  

What are we but the sum of our experiences and knowledge?