I'm going to just vent for a minute....

About all things Clinical/Work/School related.

(Subtext:  WHY do I do what I do again?)

1.)

I hate med students.
Seriously.  Cannot stand you.

I especially hate when you are asked a question during rounds, and instead of simply responding "I don't know" or "I'll have to read about that", you proceed to ramble on about something you think sounds smart (like the Krebs Cycle) and yet is completely unrelated to what you were just asked.

YOU ARE NOT F'ING FOOLING ANYONE!!

You are a lowly, stupid medical student.

With no people skills because your nose has been stuck in a book

the last 10 years of your life.

Be quiet.

And quit staring at me.

Yes, I have a nice engagement ring.

And no, I'm not fat.  I'm 15 weeks pregnant.

2.)

Why is every patient I have seen this week:

a.)  Demented
(Read:  Picking at diaper.  Holding IV they pulled out.  Etc.)

b.)  Withdrawing from alcohol or cocaine.
Me:  "Can you tell me your name?"
Patient (at 100 decibels):  "WHAT'S YO NAME IS?" (sounds like Rick James)
Me:  "Brianna.  What's your name?"
Patient:  "HAAAAAA!"  (getting nowhere quick)
Me:  "Do you do any drugs, Mr. _____?"
Patient:  "Yes.  I do crack, CRACKA!"

c.)  Psychotic:

Patient:  "That lady in the chair over there has been using my inhaler all night!"

Me:  What lady?

Patient:  "That lady (points at corner)...the same lady who killed my husband last night."

Me:  "Ummmmm....there's no lady.  Your boyfriend died 3 years ago.  This is your inhaler.  I promise you."

Patient:  "Alrighty then, white bread.  If you say so." (laughs hysterically)

P.S.  Co-file this under "slang for white people" I've been called this week.

3.)

Why are the "lucid" patients all completely ridiculous and inappropriate?
a.)  Mid-50's, obese black woman with a tattoo

of a WHITE penis ejaculating onto her saggy boob.

b.)  An old black man telling me he won't take anymore prednisone

because it's giving him "white boy hands."

c.)  A lady with COPD leaving AMA to go have a cigarette outside.

Only to come back to the ER with shortness of breath 2 hours later,

which counts as a new admission.  And a 3-page, hand-written H&P for me.

Hope you reeeeeeeeeeeeeally enjoyed those cancer sticks, sister.

4.)

Old Man Preceptor assigning me 2 hours of reading after 10 hr days.

Ummmm, really?
I don't have enough to do?
You do know I have thesis to finish.

And that I have to get up at 5am to come back tomorrow.  And the next day.

And that I'm preggo-exhausted.

But you're right,

after I get home after sitting in traffic for 2 freaking hours,

there's nothing more I'd love to do than read about the 100 various types of pleural effusions and bronchiolitis obliterans organizing pneumonia.

In fact, it's my top choice for bedtime reading material!!!

5.)
My brakes are squeaking.

Like a GD guinea pig in heat.

EVERY TIME I TAP ON THEM.

The same brakes I just paid $1600 to fix 2 weeks ago.

Stop-and-go traffic, 2 hours each way.  It's driving me INSANE.

I literally have to be talking on the phone or have the radio blaring at all times

in order to avoid gouging out my ear drums.

I even listened to godforsaken Evanescence today because it was the only station playing music.

(It's official:  I may have reached an all-time low.
No wait, it could have been Nickelback.)

Super pumped my "free" morning on Thursday has quickly been filled by sitting in the Toyota lobby eating stale doughnuts and watching GMA.

Who needs sleep?

6.)

Banging my head against the wall trying to change patients' habits.

a.)  Why do diabetic patients insist on drinking a gallon of Hawaiian Punch with every meal?  Congrats.  You just consumed a weeks worth of carbs in one serving.

b.)  You have a trach.  And lung/laryngeal cancer.

SO WHY THE F' ARE YOU STILL SMOKING?

(Not to mention you are on oxygen.

You are lucky you haven't set yourself on freaking fire.)

c.)  You are in a skilled rehab unit for physical therapy because you are morbidly obese and can't move.  SO WHY THE HELL IS YOUR WIFE BRINGING YOU McDONALDS?!?!

I have no words.

Banging. Head. Against. The. Wall.

7.)
Last, but certainly not least...

I REALLY miss my husband.

All of this seems even more depressing and unbearable

when I do not have his cute face and wit to lift me up after these long days.

5 more weeks...

On a funnier note,

this is the best pain scale I have ever seen.

I think I am going to start utilizing this in practice.

;)

I promise to be back tomorrow with something much less

mean/self-pitying/debbie downer-ish to blog about.

Pinky swear.

~Quote via bits of truth~