After a fabulously exhausting beach day, I forced myself to return to work the following day. I was to start at 8 AM. In the school year, such a time may have been reasonable, but on summer schedule my body plead NO.
I managed to rustle out of bed at 7:20 and make it work just after 8.
Even still, with my washed and ironed lab coat, my body refused to comply. I found myself neatly dozing away in the Consultation Room. I would fall into lapses of unconsciousness then awaken just in time to meet eye contact with Doc, who was busily speaking away to a patient. I excused myself and went to cafeteria where I doused up on a large cup of coffee. The caffeine was gradually reaching my bloodstream, but not fast enough.
There were no examinations today or procedures, just revisits and discussing results. Another French speaking patient. I was again reminded of my need to be bilingual and even hopefully trilingual.
I prayed to be done with work by 12 PM, I would even settle for 3 in the afternoon.
To my wonderful surprise, at 10:34 AM I was out the building and on my way home! There were no more patients on the schedule.
Exuberantly, I walked down the street and headed home. The fatigue had worn out and the caffeine was pumping in full throttle. The sun warmed my face and I smiled as I planned what to do with the many hours ahead of me. My day had only just begun.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Day 8
I wish I had some stimulating hospital story to tell, but I don't.
This day consisted of pure indulgence. I told Doc I wouldn't be in, and I took a much needed day off to the Shore. I met up with some of my best girlfriends and we dedicated the day to fun, food, and sun.
Since my return from Europe, I hadn't been eating much. Not in any sickly, depriving way, but more out of health consciousness. Granola and fresh fruit had now grown to be my breakfast favorite opposed to the unnecessarily swamped breakfast deluxe of eggs, meat, bread and other delicacies. So it's not much of a shock to me that during the past two months, I've lost nearly eleven pounds without much effort due to my change of eating and frequent walking.
Yesterday was an absolute breaking of rules.
I ate one of the largest slices of white pizza, topped with spoonfuls of velvety rich ricotta. After beaming in the sun for a few hours, I treated myself to a deep, buttery funnel cake, frosted with confectioners powder and crowned with a perfection of vanilla soft serve.
Half-way through, my taste buds felt pre-diabetic and my stomach was begging me to stop.
Nonetheless, it had been the first time in a long time that I'd had so much junk and delightfully, it was great.
This day consisted of pure indulgence. I told Doc I wouldn't be in, and I took a much needed day off to the Shore. I met up with some of my best girlfriends and we dedicated the day to fun, food, and sun.
Since my return from Europe, I hadn't been eating much. Not in any sickly, depriving way, but more out of health consciousness. Granola and fresh fruit had now grown to be my breakfast favorite opposed to the unnecessarily swamped breakfast deluxe of eggs, meat, bread and other delicacies. So it's not much of a shock to me that during the past two months, I've lost nearly eleven pounds without much effort due to my change of eating and frequent walking.
Yesterday was an absolute breaking of rules.
I ate one of the largest slices of white pizza, topped with spoonfuls of velvety rich ricotta. After beaming in the sun for a few hours, I treated myself to a deep, buttery funnel cake, frosted with confectioners powder and crowned with a perfection of vanilla soft serve.
Half-way through, my taste buds felt pre-diabetic and my stomach was begging me to stop.
Nonetheless, it had been the first time in a long time that I'd had so much junk and delightfully, it was great.
Day 7
I saw my first insemination procedure. It was very, how do I say this--solemn. I watched as Doc filled a syringe with the semen of the patient's husband. He had a low sperm count which lessened the chances of her becoming pregnant. Doc slowly released the semen into her uterus as she lay reclined on the hospital bed. The room was painfully silent. I shot up some prayers in favor of this woman. She was well-dressed and the desire to have a child burned from her eyes. Tears slid down her face when the procedure was over. Then it hit me how desperate she was to have a baby to call her own. More prayers echoed from my thoughts. God please let her get pregnant.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Day 6
Today was a combination of slow and eventful. There were only a few patients yet the morning still seemed crowded. The hospital rooms comfortably fit the patient, doctor, and perhaps the occasional witness or relative. But when you try and squeeze, 3 med students, resident physician, physician, patient, and moi; you get a squished mess. Move just a bit and your knee was hitting the biohazard bin.
Regardless, we all watched and gained experience nonetheless.
The case I found most interesting today didn't involve any rare, risky procedure or disease. Rather, I was intrigued by the language barrier--as I always am. This particular patient said she spoke Portuguese. So I mumbled one of the few phrases I knew (however irrelevant) "fala portuges?" Her eyes lit up as if there was a possible chance of ending this horrible language barrier. They dimmed again once I informed her that I only spoke "un poquinho" even gesturing with my fingers how little I spoke.
"Parlez vous-Français?" I asked.
"Oui", this time her whole face lit up. French was her first language, and she proceeded to explain her medical complaint to me in French.
"Je parle un peu", again gesturing with my fingers how little.
Another failed attempt at breaking the language gap.
We resorted to the hospital's telephone interpreter who communicated it all to the patient.
Still, I wouldn't give up. "Hablas espanol?"
"Si", she replied, still smiling at my failed attempts to communicate with her.
Finally a language I could almost speak. In a tangled mix of aujourd'hui, você , and caminar I was able to tell her just what she needed to know, medications, exercise, and all.
Something about mixing the three languages in such a beautifully tangled web affirmed my passion for languages and desire to become fluent in all three. So, here I am, one week later still praying for some opportunity to spend 3 months in France and 3 months in South America and return a walking translator.
Regardless, we all watched and gained experience nonetheless.
The case I found most interesting today didn't involve any rare, risky procedure or disease. Rather, I was intrigued by the language barrier--as I always am. This particular patient said she spoke Portuguese. So I mumbled one of the few phrases I knew (however irrelevant) "fala portuges?" Her eyes lit up as if there was a possible chance of ending this horrible language barrier. They dimmed again once I informed her that I only spoke "un poquinho" even gesturing with my fingers how little I spoke.
"Parlez vous-Français?" I asked.
"Oui", this time her whole face lit up. French was her first language, and she proceeded to explain her medical complaint to me in French.
"Je parle un peu", again gesturing with my fingers how little.
Another failed attempt at breaking the language gap.
We resorted to the hospital's telephone interpreter who communicated it all to the patient.
Still, I wouldn't give up. "Hablas espanol?"
"Si", she replied, still smiling at my failed attempts to communicate with her.
Finally a language I could almost speak. In a tangled mix of aujourd'hui, você , and caminar I was able to tell her just what she needed to know, medications, exercise, and all.
Something about mixing the three languages in such a beautifully tangled web affirmed my passion for languages and desire to become fluent in all three. So, here I am, one week later still praying for some opportunity to spend 3 months in France and 3 months in South America and return a walking translator.
Day 5
A complete makeup for the very unproductive Day 4.
I worked 8 to 5, with just short of 30 minutes for lunch. We saw almost twenty-five patients in that time span. From PCOS & endometriosis cases, to finally witnessing a previously infertile patient now pregnant in her first trimester (after losing a whooping 11 pounds)! to running into a patient I knew and practicing my first personal experience with patient confidentiality. It was an eventful, yet tiring day.
Moral? I'm sure I had some type of substantial moral in the heat of the day. But now its all foggy. One thing that I am coming to learn each day is, although doctors undoubtedly make a lot of money, they work extremely hard for it. From what I've seen, there are no leisure filled one/two hour lunch breaks; 20 minutes with a salad can do. They deal with emotional stress from patients, and sometimes ignorance too. Not including the amount of knowledge they must accumulate and continue to expand throughout their career.
As I continue to learn, my respect for the field flourishes.
Today, I commend doctors.
I worked 8 to 5, with just short of 30 minutes for lunch. We saw almost twenty-five patients in that time span. From PCOS & endometriosis cases, to finally witnessing a previously infertile patient now pregnant in her first trimester (after losing a whooping 11 pounds)! to running into a patient I knew and practicing my first personal experience with patient confidentiality. It was an eventful, yet tiring day.
Moral? I'm sure I had some type of substantial moral in the heat of the day. But now its all foggy. One thing that I am coming to learn each day is, although doctors undoubtedly make a lot of money, they work extremely hard for it. From what I've seen, there are no leisure filled one/two hour lunch breaks; 20 minutes with a salad can do. They deal with emotional stress from patients, and sometimes ignorance too. Not including the amount of knowledge they must accumulate and continue to expand throughout their career.
As I continue to learn, my respect for the field flourishes.
Today, I commend doctors.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Day 4
The most hectic two plus hours of my life.
This sums up day 4.
Where do I begin?
I arrived at 10:50 dressed and ready for a lecture presentation. Students participating in a summer intensive program would be sharing their research findings as a conclusive to their lab work, so Doc asked that I attend. I arrived to an empty office except for the Secretary who kindly told me everyone had left for the presentation already. She gave me directions simple enough that I could find where the lecture was to be held. I arrived at the building to a disgruntled security guard who refused to let me enter without my hospital ID.
Lesson #1- Never leave home without your I.D.
For the past few days, I had been effortlessly entering without my I.D., so when I realized I'd left the house without this morning, I shrugged and figured no biggie I'll get in anyway.
Well, not with this security guard.
Long story short, I took the 4 min cab ride to and from home and returned I.D. and all.
Access.
Now to find this mysterious Lecture Hall.
A kind man, directed me to where it would be; Down the corridor, double doors, elevator up, left, turn right, face... after corridor I had tuned out and my face just kindly nodded and smiled while my mind remained detached.
I managed to get to the elevator and go up but now what?
Another kind person (everyone was so nice) actually left her office and brought me to the Lecture Hall.
But now I was late, so I had to use a different entrance. Who could've told me that going up one flight to an alternative entrance would take another 15 min of my life.
Ugh.
Regardless, God shone on me at the moment and realized my increasing irritation and rising levels of stress so finally I arrived to the daunting Lecture Hall and crept in silently, sliding into the last row of the amphitheater.
I had made it just in time to catch a few minutes of the last presentation.
I spotted Doc and friends sitting up front and went and greeted them after the presentation ended.
A girl I'd gone to JHS was also there, as a presenter.
Although I was able to meet more faces in my field, I didn't fully take advantage of the opportunity beforehand. I hesitated and put down an invitation to the following reception out of sheer __?__ (shyness is the only word I can think of that's suitable).
So, Lesson #2. Cut the crap. Shy is not acceptable. Be bold, its the new shy.
I regret not going.
Not that I would've landed a position or gained access to Medical School, but it would have enriched my experience and broadened my knowledge.
Just more lessons for the road to M.D. and better learned now than years from now.
This sums up day 4.
Where do I begin?
I arrived at 10:50 dressed and ready for a lecture presentation. Students participating in a summer intensive program would be sharing their research findings as a conclusive to their lab work, so Doc asked that I attend. I arrived to an empty office except for the Secretary who kindly told me everyone had left for the presentation already. She gave me directions simple enough that I could find where the lecture was to be held. I arrived at the building to a disgruntled security guard who refused to let me enter without my hospital ID.
Lesson #1- Never leave home without your I.D.
For the past few days, I had been effortlessly entering without my I.D., so when I realized I'd left the house without this morning, I shrugged and figured no biggie I'll get in anyway.
Well, not with this security guard.
Long story short, I took the 4 min cab ride to and from home and returned I.D. and all.
Access.
Now to find this mysterious Lecture Hall.
A kind man, directed me to where it would be; Down the corridor, double doors, elevator up, left, turn right, face... after corridor I had tuned out and my face just kindly nodded and smiled while my mind remained detached.
I managed to get to the elevator and go up but now what?
Another kind person (everyone was so nice) actually left her office and brought me to the Lecture Hall.
But now I was late, so I had to use a different entrance. Who could've told me that going up one flight to an alternative entrance would take another 15 min of my life.
Ugh.
Regardless, God shone on me at the moment and realized my increasing irritation and rising levels of stress so finally I arrived to the daunting Lecture Hall and crept in silently, sliding into the last row of the amphitheater.
I had made it just in time to catch a few minutes of the last presentation.
I spotted Doc and friends sitting up front and went and greeted them after the presentation ended.
A girl I'd gone to JHS was also there, as a presenter.
Although I was able to meet more faces in my field, I didn't fully take advantage of the opportunity beforehand. I hesitated and put down an invitation to the following reception out of sheer __?__ (shyness is the only word I can think of that's suitable).
So, Lesson #2. Cut the crap. Shy is not acceptable. Be bold, its the new shy.
I regret not going.
Not that I would've landed a position or gained access to Medical School, but it would have enriched my experience and broadened my knowledge.
Just more lessons for the road to M.D. and better learned now than years from now.
Day 3
Uneventful.
Ok, maybe this isn't exactly the best word I could come up with to describe the entire day, but in my head it was--sorta.
I didn't see any stimulating procedures, for the most part the cases included amenorrhea.
One highlight of the day though was, I got to interview patients.
Using the template, I asked away. I enjoyed that part. I can say it was a bit awkward at first, asking strangers their 'coital frequency' (how many times a week they have sex). But overall it was educational.
Another short day, nothing traumatic enough to report to House or Grey, but just another stepping stone to the M.D.
Ok, maybe this isn't exactly the best word I could come up with to describe the entire day, but in my head it was--sorta.
I didn't see any stimulating procedures, for the most part the cases included amenorrhea.
One highlight of the day though was, I got to interview patients.
Using the template, I asked away. I enjoyed that part. I can say it was a bit awkward at first, asking strangers their 'coital frequency' (how many times a week they have sex). But overall it was educational.
Another short day, nothing traumatic enough to report to House or Grey, but just another stepping stone to the M.D.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Day 2
Hysteroscopy and Sonograms and a Pap Smear. It was Day 2 and I was looking up more cervixes than I'd ever imagine my eyes would see.
At first I cringed at the thought and felt just a bit overwhelmed. I can't even stand to see much pain, and hysteroscopies can be a wince painful. So, I buffed myself up and watched the first one. The patient screamed at the pain, when the doctor suctioned out a small sample of tissue to be analyzed at the Pathology lab.
The next patient, I feared for. A slender, young Pakistani women who was unable to get pregnant. She spoke no English and had her husband translate the procedure for her. We went into the room--myself, the doctor, a med intern, the nurse, and a nurse practitioner.
Initially, I couldn't figure out the beautiful dialect rolling off her tongue as the patient spoke to her husband. Later, in the treatment room, I learned it was Ordu; the native tongue of Pakistan. Coincidentally, the N.P. was Pakistani and gracefully translated the procedure and results to the trembling Pakistani patient. As the camera and tubes went up her cervix, her legs trembled. Surprisingly, there were no shouts or screams. She did let a few tears out, but she endured the procedure.
Other patients included severe cases of endometriosis, benign tumors blocking the cervix, and high-risk pregnancy candidates.
It's hard to tell someone that they can't get pregnant--ever. It's sad to see 40 something old women come in with all sorts of medical issues of their own, only hoping to be able to get enough hormones to make them fertile then conceive.
One case was a woman with two kidney transplants and underlying lupus. But she wanted a child of her own. What do you say? It's sad, and hard.
Day 2 was fulfilling and exhausting all at once. Let's see what Day 3 has in store.
Day 1
White Lab Coat and it felt great. Walking through the hospital doors, I felt as if I had already finished my Boards and had been in practice for years. The reality, I'm still in Undergrad with just one year to go and the MCAT is in sight, just merely haunting me.
The patient I remember the most from this day was a man, possibly infertile. The only infertility male patient that day. I wasn't aware of the intensity an observship entailed. Naively, I wasn't aware of the outright exposure patients must undergo in order to be treated.
"Here's a blue gown, take everything off"
"Even the underwear?"
"Everything"
This would soon be a clip of the words that would familiarly roll off my tongue all day.
The man, obviously uncomfortable avoided eye contact as the doctor, a med student, and myself peered on intrigued. His sheer uncomfortableness was making me uncomfortable, so I looked away as the doctor measured his testes, then felt his genitals for any signs of a hernia.
The next patients weren't as intense. I like the word intense, it seems to characterize hospital experiences.
Anyway, this was a female patient, also infertile and suffering from endometriosis. Prior to working at the hospital, I hadn't realized how common endometriosis cases are. I am blessed to not have any such complications, because it is painful. And I'm a sucker for pain.
My favorite part of this particular day was a phone encounter I had with one of the doctor's patients. These were the Nurse Receptionist words as she handed me the phone:
"I have a patient on the phone, she speaks 90% Spanish"
I love Spanish. Am I fluent? No. But I love every bit of it. So I offered my assistance.
"I can try, I speak a little Spanish"
Before my mind could process, I was on the phone asking the lady on the other line to "habla mas gradualmente por favor". To my surprise after endless pauses and "ah's" and all the snippets of miscommunication, I was able to communicate to her in a strong Spanglish that she needed to contact the Gynecologist office in order to get fertility hormones ahora.
The lesson of day? Learn Spanish! I am praying and praying that God gives me an opportunity to learn to speak Spanish fluently soon and for free.
The patient I remember the most from this day was a man, possibly infertile. The only infertility male patient that day. I wasn't aware of the intensity an observship entailed. Naively, I wasn't aware of the outright exposure patients must undergo in order to be treated.
"Here's a blue gown, take everything off"
"Even the underwear?"
"Everything"
This would soon be a clip of the words that would familiarly roll off my tongue all day.
The man, obviously uncomfortable avoided eye contact as the doctor, a med student, and myself peered on intrigued. His sheer uncomfortableness was making me uncomfortable, so I looked away as the doctor measured his testes, then felt his genitals for any signs of a hernia.
The next patients weren't as intense. I like the word intense, it seems to characterize hospital experiences.
Anyway, this was a female patient, also infertile and suffering from endometriosis. Prior to working at the hospital, I hadn't realized how common endometriosis cases are. I am blessed to not have any such complications, because it is painful. And I'm a sucker for pain.
My favorite part of this particular day was a phone encounter I had with one of the doctor's patients. These were the Nurse Receptionist words as she handed me the phone:
"I have a patient on the phone, she speaks 90% Spanish"
I love Spanish. Am I fluent? No. But I love every bit of it. So I offered my assistance.
"I can try, I speak a little Spanish"
Before my mind could process, I was on the phone asking the lady on the other line to "habla mas gradualmente por favor". To my surprise after endless pauses and "ah's" and all the snippets of miscommunication, I was able to communicate to her in a strong Spanglish that she needed to contact the Gynecologist office in order to get fertility hormones ahora.
The lesson of day? Learn Spanish! I am praying and praying that God gives me an opportunity to learn to speak Spanish fluently soon and for free.
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