bad call days

When call is bad, it is just so freaking bad. Thankfully, it was my last call ever. That's right - EVER! But damn it, did it have to be as bad as it fucking was?!?

We got a 1800+ gram premature baby at about 11am. He was dead by 615pm. Babies that large (and as old as he was - 29 weeks by exam) - aren't supposed to do that badly. But this kiddo had a lot of things stacked against him - mother had no prenatal care, baby didn't get steroids prior to delivery, he was born to a mother who'd already lost several pregnancies. But still. I've never had to do chest compressions before - and God help me, I never want to do them again. It's terrifying! Am I compressing the chest enough? Am I in the right spot? Am I actually circulating any blood?

The first two times we coded the child, he came back. I did 5 minutes of chest compressions and suddenly the heart rate popped back up where it was supposed to be. Twice. Then the last time, he just... pooped out. No resurgence in heart rate, no nothing.

And of course, that time, my fellow wasn't there. I had no backup. It was freaking fantastic.

Eventually the fellow came back to the NICU, and we gave more medicine, but nothing helped. He died. It sucked.

It was my last call ever, and I never want another one like it. If I go crazy and change residencies and have to do this whole damn thing over again - I never want a call like that again.

RFBBV - SRO Edition

For those of you who don't speak acronym:

Rules for baseball viewing - standing room only edition!

Ah, the joys of standing room only seats. Well known to fans in Boston and New York City, most fans in other parks don't routinely encounter these strange beasts. So, this is a special edition just for Houston fans bewildered at their 'seats' that aren't.

1) Don't be a bitch. Example of a bitch:

• Lovely hubby and I arrive at the NCLS game early to grab a superlative standing room spot - in our case, in right field just behind the foul pole. We procede to stand in our spot for the next four hours waiting for the game. The game starts - GO ASTROS! - but eventually, nature calls. I vacate my spot and do my business. While I'm gone, a small boy shimmies into my standing space, looking like he's waiting to go down the ailse to a seat. No big, right? Wrong - not when his mother is a bitch and snottily tries to shove my husband aside and keep me from my hard-earned floorspace. Her excuse? "Standing room only means standing room only. Our tickets are all the same and we're standing." Huh? If you got here late, your ticket is not the same as mine. Standing room only means that the folks who arrive first get the best place to stand. It does not mean that if one of those early-comers goes to get a beer, take a leak or have a smoke some yahoo who showed up 15 minutes after the game started can grab the spot. Unsprisingly,a verbal tussle with this woman ensued and the usher sided with me. Now, ushers aren't, by nature, nice or forgiving creatures. Remember, these are the same folks who evict drunks. Thus, to display the level of bitch-dom this smelly fart of a woman displayed to incur the notice of an usher - well, it was just remarkable.

Well, there you have it - don't be a bitch. Be nice. Or at least be respectful.

2) Save your marital troubles for another time - a NLCS game or World Series game is not the time. We saw a couple start fighting during game four of the NLCS (you know, one of the games we won), and then they left the game! What the fuck?!? For Pete's sake, sell your tickets and get some marraige counseling! The money would be better spent for everyone concerned.

3) Make friends. It's easy in SROs - with each play, each hit, each crappy call by the ump, the people standing around you become your best friends from the night. You can't help but share space and bump hips/elbows/heads, which eventually leads to sharing emotion, triumph and (sometimes) pain. I will never forget the face of the Hispanic guy behind me, screaming (with me, in my bad Spanglish), "uno mas, uno mas" when Brad Lidge was one strike away from clinching the NLCS. I have no idea who he is, but he's my friend.

4) No cell phones - text messages only. First of all - how the fuck do you expect to hear anything? Everyone's screaming, jumping, jostling each other - the noise level is astounding. Second of all - everyone else is on his cell phone, so you can't get a connection anyway. Solution? Text messaging. They almost always go through and they don't make much noise. Very nice.

5) Have fun. Yeah, your feet are going to hurt, but damn it, you get to see NLCS or World Series baseball live and in person. You can see the field, hear the noise, high five your neighbors. It is one of the best baseball experiences ever. So enjoy.

GO 'STROS!

Rule for baseball viewing (continued) post-season edition

1) Sit in your seat. Poaching is just bad form in October. We all paid enough for our tickets, let us enjoy our reward.

2) Two words: logo gear. The only exception to this rule is for costumes. If you're dressed up as a bee, we know what side you're on. If you're in jeans and a Polo shirt, we don't know if we should boo at you or high five with you. These things are important, damn it!

3) Get to the park early, and for Christ's sake, don't be late. Let me repeat: DON'T BE LATE! Baseball parks should have stand-by lists - if you're not in your seat (or at least in the park) by the end of the first inning, the seat should be released to one of us who would give our left tit to see the game.

4) Don't drive. 'Cause, c'mon, you will be drinking. If your team is winning, you'll be celebrating. If your team is losing, you need something to cry in. And if you're drinking, don't drive. Simple.

5) If, perhaps, you're overweight and, perhaps, your ass is bigger than your seat - don't whine about it. How many times have I heard folks complain that the seats at Fenway are too narrow? Many. How many times have I thought that the problem wasn't the seat but the ass sitting in it? Every damn time. As an entire society, we need to get on a diet and move our asses over to the gym. Let's get a move on, people! The seats fit our asses just fine in 1918.

6) If you're more excited about the gimmicky shit on the Jumbo-tron than the pitch count, go home and watch the game on TV, douchebag. Get your ass out of the seat - a real fan needs it.

7) Let me repeat once again - SIT THE FUCK DOWN!

8) Signs are good. So are big foam fingers, painted faces, costumes and babies in logo gear.

9) Pick a damn side. It's the playoffs, and by now you only have two options. It's not hard, I promise - flip a damn coin if you need to.

Oddest baseball viewing experience ever

So my hubby and I went to the Nine Inch Nails concert on 10/19 - the day of game 6 in the Astros/Cards NLCS. Needless to say, we were quite torn. But hey, we bought the tickets and paid our money, so off we went to the Toyota Center.

After milling around and checking out the (not so stellar) opening band we decided to try to find a TV. And we did. We proceded to watch the Astros kick Redbird booty surrounded by fishnet clad goths - all of whom were screaming their heads off. And not just one kind of goth, but many flavors. We had catholic schoolgirl goths*, raver goths, old-school goths, punk-rock goths and industro- goths**. The ringleader of all the screaming was a classic - tall skinny dude with a plain black t-shirt over fishnet, black leather wrist cuffs, ringed collar, tight black bondage pants, black shit-kickers, heavy eye make-up and dyed, spiked black hair.

His favorite chant was, "Fuck the Redbirds!"

I have never seen a group of goths that animated about anything. Including front row seats at a NIN concert (which I had the privledge of obtaining twice in my life). Pretty freaking amazing.

But don't worry, hubby and I left the bar in time to see Trent. Mmmmm... Trent.

*Bible toting goths? What the fuck?!?
** Yah gotta wait for the second and third picture to come up on the slideshow to see the examples of indstro-goths. Sorry about that.

deliquent

I know I haven't posted. But, damn it, there was post-season baseball.

I do have things to say:
1) rules for post season baseball
2) the oddest baseball viewing ever
3) more rules for post-season baseball - standing room only edition
4) rules for sports bar NLCS viewing - e.i. why screaming at the TV isn't stupid
5) why simply doing your job is a good thing.

Extra peace and chicken grease, peeps!

Mushroom risotto for dummies

I like to cook quite a bit. One of my favorite things is to cook for other people - especially really involved time-consuming multi-step recipes. Informal dinner parties at my condo are my favorite kind of entertainment. I can baste the chef all I want (since I don't have to drive), I can make sure that I like everything on the menu (even the veg. items), and if I do all the cooking I don't have to do much cleaning ('cause whoever cooks does not clean - thems the rules of the hiz-ouse.)

So I thought I would share some of my favorite recipes - not that you can't find most of these on other sites. Almost everything I do is a close variation of a published reciple. I'm no chef - I can't create new food, but I sure as hell can take a recipe and make it yummy!

With a nod to Alton Brown, here goes - Mushroom Risotto ala doctawife.

Hardware
deep, heavy bottomed skillet
spatula
measuring cup
small pot
cutting board
chef's knife
deep pasta pot
cheese grater

Software
1 cup aborrio or carnaroli rice
4 x 2cm diameter leeks - white part only, cut across the grain into 1 inch disks then washed by soaking in the deep pasta pot
1lbs. mushrooms - shiitake, white, baby bella, dried morel all work, caps only, quatered
4 tablespoons butter, divided evenly
4 tablespoons olive oil
about 32 ounces (two boxes) of chicken stock - I like the organic free range kind. If vegetarian, use imitation chicken stock or mushroom stock.
1/4 cup sherry, brandy or white wine - sherry is the best, so use it if ya got it.
1/4 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon - substitute 1 teaspoon dry tarragon if that is all you have
Kosher salt to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

• Heat the chicken stock in the small pot over low heat. Do not boil.
• Heat olive oil and half of the butter over medium heat. Once the oil is heated, add the leeks. Saute for three minutes until just starting to soften. Keep the leeks moving enough and the heat just barely low enough that they don't brown.
• Add the mushrooms and a pinch of salt and cook until soft, about 7 more minutes.
• Stir in the rice and keep it moving in the pan. Watch for the rice kernal to change from fully opaque to translucent with an opaque center. Without this step, the risotto won't become creamy as it should.
• Deglaze your pan with a hit of sherry. I tend to be generous with the sherry, but you just need enough to coat the bottom of the pan.
• Once the sherry (or whatever) has almost fully evaporated, add 1/4 - 1/3 cup of the hot chicken broth and stir to mix. Warm chicken broth is necessary to let the rice release its carbs out into the pan, creating that creamy texture we all know and love. Risotto with cold or room temperature stock just doesn't work. Once the first batch of stock is almost fully absorbed, add the second 1/3 cup. Keep repeating the cycle until the rice is firm to the tooth, but pleasantly soft and creamy (about 20 minutes). The amount of stock used will vary, just keep a good supply nice and hot in the small pot.
• Once the rice is done, add the remaining butter, taragon, parmesan, salt and pepper. Serve immediately.

Bon Apetit!

Simple rules for baseball viewing, part II

This will be the second in a series of rules for the viewing and enjoyment of live baseball. Eventually, these guidelines will expand to include home or sports bar fandom as well, but for now let's keep the focus narrow.

First, let's just review the most important rule from part I - SIT THE FUCK DOWN! Once in the stands, find your seat and park your ass. DO NOT stand up and discuss your beer choices, hug your neighbor, talk about the latest gossip or in any way, shape or form obscure my view of the playing field, or else I will hurl peanuts and insults at your head.

Now that we've got that straight, we'll move on to the next installment.

Part II

1) If you are going to be at the game, be at the game. Don't go to Fenway or Minute Maid to socialize with your friends and dick around with your new camera phone. Go to the park to watch baseball. Some socializing is great - provided it pertains to some aspect of baseball or something else going on in the stadium. But if you're ignoring the game - why the fuck are you there? Cheaper places to giggle over boys exist, and then you won't be annoying me with your annyong adolescent chicanery.

2) Get your beer before the middle of the seventh, 'cause once the first pitch of the eighth inning is thrown, you're shit outta luck. No mas Corona! And if you miss your window for purchasing beer, don't whine. It just makes you look like a douche.

3) Support your team, whether they are playing at home or away. Clap spontaneously when your pitcher has two out, a full count and two guys on base. Holler out his name to let him know you care. Yell insults at the umpire (commonly known as 'blue') when the call goes the wrong way. Don't wait for the stupid organist or the jumbotron to urge you to 'get loud' - do it yourself. If your team is the home team, don't let those cocksucking Cubbie/Yankee/Tribe/BoSox fans be louder than the home fans! Get riled! Drown those idiots out, damn it! If your team is the visiting team, you know that your boys are clearly better and you are a better, more dedicated fan than those losers! Drown out the home crowd - the visitor's fans can and will start a longer, louder chant than the home team's yahoos.

4) Buy logo gear and wear it. The saddest thing I've ever seen is an Abercrombie and Fitch baseball cap turned inside out as a rally cap. What the fuck? If you are dedicated enough to wear the rally cap, you should be dedicated enough to buy a $20 cap. Besides, a cotton MLB cap is probably less expensive than the damn A&F hat anyway. Looks cooler, too.

5) Don't leave. There are nine innings in baseball, and your ticket won't be pro-rated if you only watch seven. Furthermore, great things can happen in the late innings. So what your team is down three runs in the bottom of the ninth! Morgan Ensberg or Trot Nixon or A-rod might just hit a walk off grand slam - and if you leave you won't get to see it. And what is the fun in that? Besides, I will ridicule you to no end if I see you leaving. Freaking fair weather fan!

What happened?

Okay - what the heck happened to my Red Sox? I know, I know we won last year, which should make me feel good. And I did - I do. But we were on top of the AL East for so stinking long. Why did we have to blow it at the end of the season?

Now the whole shebang might well rest on the final three game series against the Yankees. I hope they (the Yanks) all stub their toes and break their hands in the next several days!

But the good news is that I'm discharging one of my babies - and he's mostly normal! He's a former extreme preemie with multiple complications who has somehow hung on to the greater part of his brain and neurologic function. He's so freaking cute, too. He has little black curls and a big 'ole grin.

So nice.

NICU goodness

The NICU is depressing. For every baby that leaves mostly healthy and mostly normal, there seems to be five babies that either die or leave with serious neurological devistation. Which is just freaking fabulous, if you know what I mean.

I just had to go tell a mother that the Pseudomonas ventriculitis is most likely gonna kill her kid. He's not hemodynamically unstable - he looks just like he did this morning prior to his ventriculotomy. But when the neurosurgeons went in to look around, all they saw was puss. Clearly, our antibiotics aren't worth crap for this kid.

So he's gonna die. The only questions remaining are when and how.

Remind me why I like my job?

The Aftermath... duh duh duuuuuuhhhh

First off, to all of my readers who are relatives or out of state friends: We're fine. No windows broke, no flooding, power is back on, the hubby and cats are fine.

Nothing much happened in my part of the world. Some branches were down, lots of us lost power, some yahoo got shot while trying to loot and nearly everyone ran out or nearly ran out of gas. Other than that, Rita was almost a non-event.

Which is very very cool.

I feel horrible that our neighbors to the east got hit so hard, but I have to say that I couldn't be happier that Houston was spared. Now, of course, many of those people who got stuck in traffic trying to evacuate are saying that they'll never leave town for a hurricane again. The doctor part of me is horrified - these people will put themselves at such huge risk. The bitchy Darwinian part of me thinks that these folks will just have to learn the hard way; furthermore, if they aren't fleeing like sensible people then there will be more room on the highway for my loved ones.

But life is pretty much back to normal. I've switched rotations, so now I'm in the community hospital NICU. Hmmmmmmmmmm... babies. Life is good, 'cause right now there aren't any fetuses. Just plenty of ventilator depended chronic lung babies, some feeders and growers and a couple of former fetus train wrecks. The really really super cool thing is that due to a scheduling fluke, I don't have to take call until this Sunday.

Rock on!

Another day, another dollar

Well, so far so good. I have no idea how the house is doing, but we're fine here in the community hospital. Apparently we picked the right community hospital to hang out in - its twin a little ways up north has lost power and is transfering all of the patients here. Whoo-hoo!

We'll be awright.

Much ado about nothing...

That is, if a category 3 hurricaine counts as nothing. So the whole trajectory of the storm changed this afternoon and that bitch is veering away from Houston to the east. Part of me is happy happy happy. (That would be the vastly larger part, by the way.) The other part of me is a little mad. We - and by we I mean my husband, my friends, my colleages, my colleages' spouses - did so much prep work. Everyone is exhausted. Most of us came into the community hospital packed for a 5-7 day stay. I know I did. I also brought enough food for myself for about four days and enough water for two. If it all turns out to be unneeded, a small part of me feels a little jilted.

I kinda wanted a 'I lived through Rita' t-shirt. Stupid, huh?

But really, I'm so fucking greatful that this thing has decided to chill out and calm down. I was convinced that Rita was going to blow our windows out. See, we have these tall single pane windows on both the west and east walls of our condo. To make matters worse our condo is supposed to resemble a loft, which means the entire place is just one huge oblong room. So if the window(s) shattered, our entire place would get drenched and we'd have a large, $200,000 wind tunnel. And we couldn't board up the windows 'cause the outside is stucco - there would be no place to attach the plywood to the wall.

But thankfully all of that looks less likely now. 60 MPH winds = possible damage. 150 MPH winds = total destruction. Therefore, 60 MPH winds = good.

When this is all over I'm taking a very long nap.

One Rita I wouldn't want to drink

So here we sit in the path of a category 5 hurricaine. I have to say, this is one of those experiences I had hoped to avoid while living down here on the Gulf.

I think my people will be fine. My husband, thank the powers that be, is leaving town. Last time we communicated, my husband agreed to go away to Dallas (Hi Lizard!) with the cats to stay with his brother. I'm wholeheartedly in favor of this plan, 'cause then I won't have to worry about him. I don't want him here if this sucker is going to be bad.

I have to stay. The pedi residents will be manning the floor at the Community Hospital and at the MSDQCH through the storm. All of us plan to stay for quite a long period - up to 96 hours if need be. The Chiefs currently plan to have my team on call tonight, so home tomorrow post call, work Friday for as long as needed, have a "day off" on Saturday (expected landfall that morning) and then come in to relieve the other MDs on Sunday. We've been explicitly asked to not show up on Saturday so that someone minimally fresh will be available to take on patient care Sunday.

I'm not sure how the current plan is going to work out. I mean, will I even be able to get back to work? I would rather not be home on Saturday. I really don't want to be home on Saturday, actually. I'll probably just come in on Saturday and not work.

Or something like that.

But anyway, I'll get a up-close and personal view of a wicked strong hurricaine. Oh, joy. Hear the excitement in my voice... NOT.

But Chris will get out, I'll be safe in the hospital and that is what is important.

Update:
So, the plan is for my team to be "off" on Saturday. However, the hospital is kindly giving us space to ride out the storm overnight Friday. My team and I figure that folks should get the hell out of Houston, but barring that, the safest place to be is inside one of the hospitals.

I can't say that I'm excited about 48+ hours in the hospital. But it could be fun in a twisted sort of way - kinda like a big pajama party.

We'll just have to see!

Things that don't suck

I haven't been having the greatest three months, so I've decided that tonight I'm going to create a list of things that don't suck. Just to make me feel better.

My husband
Our cats
Zoloft
Sex
Guinness
Sam Summer
Astros
BoSox
Live baseball - Major League or triple A
The resident crew - the uber-bachelor, the soon-to-be-married, the (mostly) happily single
The boyz (which, oddly enough, includes more than one girl!)
The Proletariat
My aunt
Ice hockey
Mythbusters!
Risotto
Epicurious.com
Blue Man Group
James Bond
Central Market
Weezer
NIN
Grey Goose Vodka
Helios
Ireland
Scotland
Paris
Vienna
Family Guy
DVR
The Internet
Action Flicks

Enough for now. If any of my three readers want to, start your own list!

Q4 Kicks My Ass

Or, A Lesson on Terminology.

In medicine, every drug or intervention order must include a frequency. Furthermore, doctors are lazy writers. Abbreviations? Hell yes! Acronyms are good too. So instead of writing "every 4 hours" or "every day" we write "q4h" or "qday". That's a reduction of nearly 73% or 57% respectively.

As a group, residents expand this system to quantify our call nights. Call runs on a repeating schedule - every third, fourth or fifth night. Hence, q3, q4 or q5. As an intern, I had a lot of q4 months. And I did okay.

I must be old, but now q4 really kicks my ass. I feel like I'm on call or post call all the time. I'm tired, I'm cranky and my undereye circles are expanding at an exponential rate. And let's not even talk about the party my acne is having on my chin. Yuck.

But repeat after me, I'm not an intern any more! This remains cause for celebration. I only have have two months of call this year. Sooooooooooo much better than ten months, and it is soooooooooo good to NOT be on the bottom of the totem pole.

So really, life ain't bad.

Goddamn it all to hell

JJ (the kiddo who died) not only herniated (ie pushed his brain out of his skull), not only had eye findings consistent with abuse but also had relatives who had fucking reported abuse to CPS days prior to the injuries leading to his death. Apparently, these relatives had seen him covered in bruises.

Goddamnitalltohell.

Not only did he die, his death was preventable.

Not that it helps any, but the step-Dad has been arrested for homicide. I hope he roasts.

Tagged again

Seven Things Meme

Seven things I plan to do before I die...
1. See Mt. Fuji
2. Start a clinic or foundation for under-insured children.
3. Get my MPH (masters in public health)
4. Have kids.
5. Retire in the mountains and ski all the time.
6. Go to cooking school.
7. Biuld a modern design, eco-friendly house with my husband.

Seven things I can do...
1. Belch louder than any other female I know.
2. Belch louder than most men I know.
3. Take care of asthma
4. Ski
5. Cook well.
6. Make my husband smile.
7. Keep aquarium fish alive.

Seven things I cannot do...
1. Sing
2. Understand why anyone would hit or shake a child.
3. Tolerate dogs.
4. Fake interest when I just don't care.
5. Waterski
6. Skydive - I'm very scared of heights.
7. Do much of anything with my left hand.

Seven things that I find really attractive about the opposite sex...
1. Penises
2. Laughter
3. Kisses with lots of tounge
4. Open-mindedness
5. Bums. Especially bums in a really nice pair of black pants or jeans.
6. Intellegence.
7. Blue eyes.

Seven things I say the most...
1. I love you. (To hubby)
2. My name is Dr. Doctawife, welcome to the hospital, sorry you're here. What brings you in today?
3. Thanks.
4. Did you remember to check on the ... (to my interns)
5. Whatever.
6. This is Dr. Doctawife, returning a page.
7. What do you mean, the patient is here (in the ICU)! No-one called to give me check out!

Seven Books I love...
1. Anything by Mercedes Lackey.
2. Most Nora Roberts books.
3. Alll of the Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling
4. The Harriet Lane Handbook for general pediatric reference.
5. Most books by Christine Feehan.
6. Anything by Sherilynn Kenyon.
7. The Texas Childrens Hospital Formulary. I can't do my job without it.

Update

So the kid I talked about in my last entery died. His pupils became fixed and dilated yesterday at about 8:30 pm.

To fight child abuse, you can donate money here. If you suspect child abuse, you can call 1-800-252-5400 in the state of Texas. For more information on Texas Child Protective Services, you can check out their website.

Remember, some folks shouldn't have kids. It is up to the rest of us to make sure those kids eventually have someplace better to go.

Post call

This is an experiment. Life always seems skewed after a night on call, and I've talked about it a lot with my hubby. But I've never written about it. He says that I'm grumpy, impatient and somewhat moody post-call. I have no idea what I am. Other than damn tired, of course.

So I thought I'd write a post-call entry today and then read it tomorrow. Just to see how the 'normal' me views the post-call me.

First let me talk about call. "Being on call" does NOT mean that I'm at home, maybe answering one or two pages from anxious mothers, sleeping peacefully in my own bed. While a resident, being on call means getting to the hospital at about 7am on day one and leaving at about 1pm on day two. Yes - that's more than 24 hours straight in the hospital.

And no, one does not sleep in a nice dark room in a quiet portion of the hospital all night while maybe one or two nurses page you about anxious mothers. As an intern it meant dealing with 2/3rds bullshit, 1/6th social chaos and 1/6th true medical problems. ALL night. As a senior resident, it means dealing with 1/4rth bullshit, 1/2 intern problems (eg how to deal with social chaos) and 1/4rth real Sickness. Of course, as an upper level the Sick patients might, at any time, stage a coup and storm the other three quarters of my time. Don't shoot til you see the whites of her eyes! Needless to say, everyone is up all night long.

So last night was a gem. Three intubated kiddos, two of which were Sick, and three regular admits. The Sickest child is likely the victim of abuse. And guess what! He's most likely gonna die. At one point last night, his intracranial pressure hit 80 mmHg.

That's bad. The goal is less than 20. Intracranial pressures of 80 = intracranial badness/impending doom.

Motherfucker. Some people just shouldn't be allowed to procreate.

On a more positive note, leftovers are good. Mmmmmmmmmm... meatloaf.

Lines, tubes and protocols

On call again.

And apparently, my formerly stable white cloud, which served me well through two years of residency, has turned black. Every freaking time I'm on call I either get really high volume or really sick kids.

Even the chief resident noticed. As a matter of fact - he made it official. He looked at me tonight and said, "Well, you have a second PICU admission on the way. I should have known - it's your call night, after all."

But first I have to explain what a white or black cloud is. A resident with a 'white cloud' is someone who has easy call nights. Few admissions, no one too sick, no social disasters, no transfers from the PICU. A resident with a 'black cloud' (which would now be me) gets multiple admissions, Sick patients, folks on other people's teams going from sick to Sick, social nightmares and issues with miscommunication between consulting services.

Oh, the joy.

It didn't used to be this way. I sailed through most nights on call, at least here at the community hospital. I never cared for more than, oh, five patients. Luscious. Apparently, that is not to be my fate this time around.

I know I sound whiny. I'm sorry, I'll stop soon. I just needed to follow in Ween's footsteps and take a moment to bitch.

On a brighter note, friends will be coming over to dinner Sunday night. Yay!