my reg was away sick today. again. i walked into the ward at 750am having only slept about three hour last night because it was so hot. straight away i was asked to check out a confused oldie who had a fall a few hours ago. he needed three stitches to his forehead. after that, another drowsy 80 something who was making green things coming out of both ends of her gi tract. gave her some fluids. then sorted out a diabetic who was having trouble peeing. did some ward work. certified someone dead. then the social worker grabbed me for a family meeting i didn't know about. held a family meeting of my own. listened to fifteen minutes of whinging on the phone from an angry son. did more ward work. had lunch at 5pm. admitted someone. more ward work. checked some bloods. trudged home at a quarter to eight.
aussie day was good. watched tennis and cricket at gareth's house while listening to the triple j countdown. drank a lot. saw the fireworks by the lake with thousands of people in the drizzle. then had pancakes and maccas while watching the tennis. so lovely...
next week i start after hour on-calls. monday, wednesday, friday, and the entire weekend. *sigh* i need a holiday already *big sigh* paperwork is already piling up. *bigger sigh* and we're still staying on the top floor of the hospital. *biggest sigh*
at least we got paid on wednesday!! =)
27.1.06
18.1.06
this is dr li from gandarra calling...
things are going better than i had feared. i might even say i'm happy, but that would just be silly.
despite the main consultant announcing that he's going away for six weeks ("the heart and soul of gandarra" one person told me), initial impressions of my scattered caffeine-loaded reg, and horror stories from last years interns, i have survived my first three days (well, i am walking out of here as soon as i finish typing this up).
the nurses at gandarra have been very understanding (as would befit those who have spent years working in a palliative care unit). they suggest what drugs i should prescribe, at what dose, via which routes, how often and how to spell the drug name. wonderful. slowly i'm getting to know my oldies. they're lovely. my reg clare has been holding my hands through everything, and has a wonderful attitude: all the work is hers unless i claim it. my pager has gone off once so far, and it was the previous intern asking for my email address and me offering to buy him a drink for all the paperwork he did on the weekend after he was supposed to have left. haven't done an iv yet - that fear is still there to be conquered.
ten/eleven hour days are manageable when all you've got to do after you knock off is go to the pub, or walk around the lake, or watch tennis on tv. i have a feeling that the rest of the world is rushing by crazily but i'm just cruising along...
but things are nevertheless different. i still catch myself referring to myself as a medical student. and everytime i sign my name i have to stop and admire it. but cynicism is starting to creep in. like xiu said, when you only have three patients it's easy to know them well and see them everyday. but when you have nine - or twenty - it's a little harder. and all the paperwork!
i remember watching an episode of er, in which carter tells the interns to write a letter to themselves. i think that's a fantastic idea. we should all do it. we should all try and hold on to something of the dreams we had as medical students...
despite the main consultant announcing that he's going away for six weeks ("the heart and soul of gandarra" one person told me), initial impressions of my scattered caffeine-loaded reg, and horror stories from last years interns, i have survived my first three days (well, i am walking out of here as soon as i finish typing this up).
the nurses at gandarra have been very understanding (as would befit those who have spent years working in a palliative care unit). they suggest what drugs i should prescribe, at what dose, via which routes, how often and how to spell the drug name. wonderful. slowly i'm getting to know my oldies. they're lovely. my reg clare has been holding my hands through everything, and has a wonderful attitude: all the work is hers unless i claim it. my pager has gone off once so far, and it was the previous intern asking for my email address and me offering to buy him a drink for all the paperwork he did on the weekend after he was supposed to have left. haven't done an iv yet - that fear is still there to be conquered.
ten/eleven hour days are manageable when all you've got to do after you knock off is go to the pub, or walk around the lake, or watch tennis on tv. i have a feeling that the rest of the world is rushing by crazily but i'm just cruising along...
but things are nevertheless different. i still catch myself referring to myself as a medical student. and everytime i sign my name i have to stop and admire it. but cynicism is starting to creep in. like xiu said, when you only have three patients it's easy to know them well and see them everyday. but when you have nine - or twenty - it's a little harder. and all the paperwork!
i remember watching an episode of er, in which carter tells the interns to write a letter to themselves. i think that's a fantastic idea. we should all do it. we should all try and hold on to something of the dreams we had as medical students...
12.1.06
stories from the wilderness
well, here i am again, at the centre of the universe.
a few hurried days in melbourne - the highlight of which was having lunch with the remnants of group a on lygon street with lubie, who looks like either one of the hanson brothers or kurt cobain (depending who you ask). then got a ride to ballarat with mika. god knows my friends spoil me, and i will surely *never* learn to drive.
i'm unmistakably in the country. people behave differently here: they will go out of their way to help you, but are rather inefficient. what they lack in sophistication and subtlety they make up in warmth and generosity. each person wears multiple hats and the boundaries between people are blurred, which means there's less red tape but also less privacy. we've been told countless times that our reputation will definitely preceed us - so try not to get on people's bad sides.
we have a good bunch of interns here. there will be fifteen of us (including the urology intern rotated out from rmh). at the moment a few of us are staying on top of the hospital - looks like i'll be moving into our new accommodation (keith house on pleasant street - for group a it's the old girls house from semester nine) next weekend at this stage. it's still being renovated.
don't think i'll be coming back to melbourne this month. the next few weeks will surely be a blur. what i thought was going to be a cushy first rotation (subacute = geri, pall care, rehab) now sounds like the rotation from hell. i'll be the only intern in a place filled with oldies not quite sick enough to be in hospital but not quite well enough to be home. at least they're not putting me on call in the first couple of weeks. last time they did that the intern crashed and burned.
time to take my own pulse.
a few hurried days in melbourne - the highlight of which was having lunch with the remnants of group a on lygon street with lubie, who looks like either one of the hanson brothers or kurt cobain (depending who you ask). then got a ride to ballarat with mika. god knows my friends spoil me, and i will surely *never* learn to drive.
i'm unmistakably in the country. people behave differently here: they will go out of their way to help you, but are rather inefficient. what they lack in sophistication and subtlety they make up in warmth and generosity. each person wears multiple hats and the boundaries between people are blurred, which means there's less red tape but also less privacy. we've been told countless times that our reputation will definitely preceed us - so try not to get on people's bad sides.
we have a good bunch of interns here. there will be fifteen of us (including the urology intern rotated out from rmh). at the moment a few of us are staying on top of the hospital - looks like i'll be moving into our new accommodation (keith house on pleasant street - for group a it's the old girls house from semester nine) next weekend at this stage. it's still being renovated.
don't think i'll be coming back to melbourne this month. the next few weeks will surely be a blur. what i thought was going to be a cushy first rotation (subacute = geri, pall care, rehab) now sounds like the rotation from hell. i'll be the only intern in a place filled with oldies not quite sick enough to be in hospital but not quite well enough to be home. at least they're not putting me on call in the first couple of weeks. last time they did that the intern crashed and burned.
time to take my own pulse.
3.1.06
brave new world
new years eve, i found myself on another planet. it was a world made up of bold contrasting colours: red, white, black and silver. there was a strange noise in the air, a rapid incessant beat from a headphoned creature in the corner. the place was populated by children of the night: guys on stimulants and chain smoking, in muscle shirts and singlets, with shaved heads and tattoos, trying to pass themselves off as skinheads; girls in airy ball dresses of silky pastel colours; skinny dudes with tight pants, massive belt buckles, big hair and mascara; girls who look like robo-vixens from space stations. they were all beautiful and glittering, but with hollow gazes. they were all mad. or lonely.
explained to nick my take on these people: i was once in a pub with thomo and taisia. i think it was the elephant and wheelbarrow on bourke and exhibition. i had no voice that night, thanks to a virus. we were on the edge of the dance floor, listening to a rock band. i was watching these thirty-something year old men on the fringe of the crowd, checking out these fat filthy drunk chicks on the dance floor. i was apalled, and felt relieved that i wasn't as desperate as them. but then, empathy kicked in (as it always does with me). i have a good family and good friends. i've had a good education, and i have never been deprived of anything. my social and psychological makeup is relatively sound. who knows what rough hands life has dealt these people? i cannot judge them. and loneliness, what a powerful emotion it is!
just before new years someone told me they were attracted to me. what a strange feeling. what do i do now?
explained to nick my take on these people: i was once in a pub with thomo and taisia. i think it was the elephant and wheelbarrow on bourke and exhibition. i had no voice that night, thanks to a virus. we were on the edge of the dance floor, listening to a rock band. i was watching these thirty-something year old men on the fringe of the crowd, checking out these fat filthy drunk chicks on the dance floor. i was apalled, and felt relieved that i wasn't as desperate as them. but then, empathy kicked in (as it always does with me). i have a good family and good friends. i've had a good education, and i have never been deprived of anything. my social and psychological makeup is relatively sound. who knows what rough hands life has dealt these people? i cannot judge them. and loneliness, what a powerful emotion it is!
just before new years someone told me they were attracted to me. what a strange feeling. what do i do now?
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