Get up, go to work, quiver in face of attending, come home, watch TV (lots of CSI: Miami and Mythbusters), whine about cooking dinner, go to bed. Get up, repeat (insert a chewing-out by said attending). Get up, repeat. Get up extremely late, bake a gingerbread (I took it out of the oven a shade early, so it was too gooey in the middle), drive to the boonies, have Thanksgiving with hubby's grandmother, drive home, go to bed. Get up, watch football, go shopping to finish wedding registry, go out to dinner with father-in-law, come home, go to bed. Work Saturday, come home, watch lots of TV. Work Sunday, come home, watch even more TV. That brings us up to tonight, where I'm watching Mythbusters and reading other people's blogs.
It was a bit of a depressing week. I'm usually a "superstar" in medical things. My peds attending told me she wished all students were like me (I blushed). Fast forward a month, and I'm a gibbering idiot. Thanks to a miscalculation of my time and a misunderstanding, I failed to write any notes on my patients before rounds and failed to check DTR's on a patient with a TSH of 53, so I was told I obviously didn't want to learn and that my performance was "unacceptable". All this on the second day of the rotation. Ever since, when I have to speak to my attending, I've started shaking like a leaf--it's truly pitiful.
He's a hardass, this is true. He's also an unbelievably intelligent man, a very caring physician, and a demanding teacher. He won't be doing my eval, so I don't necessarily have to impress him; I just don't want to be a blithering idiot. It doesn't help when I have interactions like this:
Surgery intern: Hey, how's it going?
Me: Hey, I haven't seen you since trauma. I'm on medicine now.
Intern: Oh yeah? Who's your attending?
Me: [Dr. Hardass]
Me: Gee, thanks.
If people didn't continue to say things like this to me, maybe my stomach wouldn't be tied in so many knots. Perhaps I'd be sleeping better, not constantly imagining my next interaction with the man.
Other than that, the only news I have to report is that one of my patients gave me a bracelet this morning. I tossed it in the trash (out of his view, of course), as it was constructed of the band from a latex glove and some sort of paper, and it wasn't entirely clean. He told me it had the power of the Bible in it. Who knew dressing a guy's decubitus ulcer could prompt such gratitude.