I wish I had blogged sooner because now my memory of my last day is faint. But I'll try my best to recap.
I interacted with a range of med students. The entire day was spent in Suite G. A patient referred to me as a doctor. The doctor referred to me as her student. The med students thought I was a nurse, and the nurse thought I was as a med student. It was time for the big reveal.
"I'm shadowing", I confessed.
Confessed, because after 2 weeks I had started to feel like I was actually all the above. I started to feel like a nurse, med student, and sometimes a physician's assistant. I mean, I could've been, I functioned as all three. It was great, but now reality struck. I was shadowing. Still an awesome opportunity, but I was still in Undergrad.
There were a lot of cool cases that day and I was absorbing all the knowledge like a sponge.
I saw an examination of a girl who had never had a menstrual cycle and wanted to get pregnant. I didn't think it was possible, but all she needed was some hormones. At this point I can't remember exactly why it was possible for her to never have a period, but apparently such situations are common.
I can't remember in detail all the other cases, but the last day was jam-packed with lots of info. With a few days left till school, my shadowing experience is only a memory now. I truly miss it, and just might swing by the hospital in a few days. Once again, another stepping stone to M.D.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Day 9
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.
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.
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.
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