You can decide the verdict after reading this post on whether I'm ridiculous or boring, I suppose.
Supposedly, learning is the spice of life. Or was that variety. Maybe variety of learning. Learning, learning, learning. Either applies I guess.
Man, do I have a lot to learn.
I feel like the learning:hour ratio is like at a maximum out here in Smalltown, which is exactly what I was hoping for, but sheesh it's tiring. If it's not an hour filled with learning, it's an hour scrambling up what I can for food, spending some quality time (read: studying) with the Furbabies (who are troopers, might I add - for the inconsistency of my schedule is astounding at times), or sleeping. Unfortunately probably not enough sleeping.
Multitasking has become my new norm. An example: As I type up this blog post, I'm also making a quiche and fruit salad. Haven't decided yet if I'll also make some tabouleh (spelling? tabouli? bah!). Oh, and don't forget about the two loads of laundry that are going.
I'm making what will hopefully be a delicious and relatively nutritious vegetable quiche. I have learned that if not in some readily consumable form (ie. above noted quiche), vegetables have found a way to sneak right out of my regular diet. Ditto for fruit, hence fruit salad. Blame it on having next to no time for food prep and being sans wonderful, culinarily-blessed Husband (and yes, I realize culinarily is not a word.)
Speaking of food, I went to the local grocery store today for my 15 minute shopping trip. I still can't believe how shopping with the Mr. takes usually about an hour and costs twice as much as shopping for just myself, and the groceries last only half as long as they do for me. I suppose we now know who eats all the food usually :O)
And no, I still haven't figured out if I should be tipping the nice folks who help carry my groceries out.
There are a few other things I've realized since living separately from the Mr. First, the garbage doesn't actually magically empty itself and be replaced with a new bag every day. I think I knew this, but it has become very apparent to me lately. Also, it's a little known fact that I hate cleaning out tupperware containers of food. I can attest to detesting this since I was a young girl, and what luck, I found someone who actually likes (okay, doesn't mind) to clean out the fridge and it's many mysterious containers. Alas, I was at a loss to find not one but two containers with most probably expired contents this afternoon, eyeing me as I peeked in the fridge. I couldn't ignore them any longer and since the Mr. isn't planning on visiting this week, I couldn't wait and pawn them off on him. Humph. I succumbed and emptied them. Not a fan, not a fan. And don't even think I'm investigating any creepy noises at night.
This new lifestyle could take some getting used to, I say.
Oh, I'm making all of this food to help prevent the acute starvation crises that I have been having spending these long-ish days at the hospital/clinic with no hope of sustenance in sight. (So what if I'm a little overdramatic. Sue me.) So I am making some ready and easy-to-scarf meals and snacks. I have also compiled a clinic survival pack of instant oatmeals, granola bars, rice cakes and microwave soup thingies for any future situations similar to last night - a hunger so evil I was driven to fast food. As soon as I was freed, I fled to the one drive-thru you can be certain to find in any small town in Alberta (no matter how small) and scarfed down a meal that most certainly brought me 1 step closer to a heart attack. I was so famished that I even forgot to take off my seatbelt before trying to get out of the truck. Laugh if you must. Unfortunately I then suffered for the night with one seriously upset stomach (and for the night, I mean until 8:30pm when I went to bed).
And to think, I haven't even gotten to telling you about the whole learning-how-to-be-a-real-doctor part yet. And for those of you who think maybe my thought is getting a bit tangential, please bear/bare with me (PS. Does anyone actually use those little strawberry-leaf remover thingies when they're cutting up strawberries? Hm. A definite mystery.)
Well, the quiche is in the oven and the salad is made, the laundry buzzed but I'm ignoring it, so I'll update on the medicine-side of my life.
I'd have to say that if even half of the call shifts are as, should we say, fruitful as the ones I've had thus far, I'm going to be pretty kick-ass at this whole doctor costume by the end of this year. Yes, maybe my attempts at putting in IVs are so far 2:2 (2 success and 2 going interstitial), and in emergency situations perhaps all I'm useful for is keeping out of the way with eyeballs bigger than grapefruits in awe while "we" do an emergency intubation on a patient with flash pulmonary edema. Sometimes I hold an ultrasound probe or something equally as minimal, and I'm thankful they haven't yet depended on me to do anything seriously important. But that time is coming, grasshopper.
But I have been seeing lots of healthy and sick little kids in clinic, which is great for perfecting my physical exam skills on sometimes happy, and sometimes screaming children. I've wondered whether exposure to so many tiny terrors is good at my vulnerable pre-procreation stage of life, and hope that not all kids are as crazy as the little constipated buggers I see in clinic. All I can say is thank goodness for flavoured tongue depressors. Totally having those in my future practice.
Wishes do come true though. Yesterday, for example, I think to myself - hmm, well we haven't seen much in the way of fractures or GI stuff, or deliveries yet. And then some lady's horse decides to go opposite to the one she's leading after being spooked by a rogue moose, she falls off and bam! fractured humerus. A gent comes in with wicked RUQ pain and bam! acute cholecystitis. And to top it off, at the end of the shift, we have a 38 week pregnant lady come in with query labour. Ask and you shall receive.
|Serious truth. #3.|
I'm going to not think anything like that again, because talk about an exhausting shift. Sprinkle in a little dysfunctional uterine bleeding, casting an avulsion fracture of a lateral malleolus (read: broken ankle), debating about a pulmonary embolus when the nearest CT scanner is an hour away, and removing a metal foreign body from someone's eye.
I told you it was intense.
I think that snapshot is all I can give you tonight, as I'm getting tired and The Little Stink is running around (yes, running!) doing his squeaky breathing, which tells me he either needs some mother-lovin' or to pee. It can be tough to tell, believe it or not.
Until next time. Don't hold your breath for the next post.
(Although if you happened to stop breathing, I might know what to do. Maybe.)
A latte lattes and love,