Had to readjust a little. Taken around 11:15 PM PST.
Had to readjust a little. Taken around 11:15 PM PST.
This also isn't to say that I ate out every single day. Summer was the perfect opportunity for me to expand my skill set beyond nunchuku skills, bow hunting skills, and computer hacking skills, to include cooking skills. With encouragement from Anne and Danny, I've boiled pasta, grilled meat, baked banana bread, and made other non-bachelor foods (i.e. PB&J sandwiches). In fact, my proudest moment this summer was recreating an old favorite of mine from home: fried dumplings.
It's been about a month since my last post, and I now have two months of my M3 year under my belt. A lot of other classmates are in the process of studying for end-of-rotation exams ("shelf exams"), and some have already completed shorter one-month-long rotations. However, the three-month-long Internal Medicine rotation is the single longest rotation of the year, so I still have one more month to go. In that month, I will have to find time to study for the massive Medicine shelf exam (the biggest shelf of the year) as well as for the smaller Michigan-specific Medicine quizzes (the EKG quiz, the chest X-ray quiz, the cardiology quiz, and the pattern recognition quiz). Fortunately, after two months of inpatient medicine split between the VA hospital and St. Joseph Mercy hospital (St. Joe's) filled with nights spent in the hospital, I now have a month of outpatient clinics, which means free nights and weekends (sounds like a cell phone commercial). The other advantage of the outpatient service is the vast number of patients I will get to see everyday. It will be hard work trying to interview, examine, and evaluate patients in less than 30 minutes, but I should be able to get a diverse collection of medical problems to learn about firsthand.
Granted, one of the priorities of medical school is learning the basic clinical knowledge needed to diagnose and treat patients. This is where being responsible for patients and studying for school exams come in. Yet, in my short time as an M3, my patients have taught me a lot more than simply the science of medicine. I've learned, for example, that I enjoy aspects of primary care. I was evaluating a patient once for a heart attack, and in the process of the interview I ended up explaining why it was important for him as a diabetic to conduct daily checks for foot ulcers. Not only was I excited to be able to answer a medical question posed by a patient, but it was also rewarding to see how the patient truly appreciated my taking the time to help him understand his medical condition. At the same time, I've also seen the flip-side of primary care when one of our patients was unable to receive proper post-hospitalization alcohol rehabilitation after losing her health insurance. This upcoming month of outpatient medicine will give me more of a taste for the primary care setting. My time on the wards so far have also been filled with a mix of emotions. One of our elderly patients at St. Joe's fell into a coma from the aftermath of an infection that overwhelmed his already frail body. We informed his family members that he was unlikely to recover from this state, and they decided to make him "comfort care," which means they wanted no further medical interventions. When I last saw this patient with the medical team, his daughter was holding his hand and stroking his head as he slipped in and out of mild seizures. I felt a lump grow in my throat as I watched this woman attempt to comfort her father in his last days of life. After leaving the room, I was struck by the juxtaposition of this end-of-life moment with the hospital-wide lullaby that played minutes afterwards, signalling a successful delivery in the birthing unit. Another patient had an acute mental status change that our team thought was due to an infective abscess in her brain. Unfortunately, her chronic kidney disease meant using contrast dye in the MRI scanner to confirm the diagnosis could potentially cause severe renal failure. Both her and her father agreed that it was worth risking this rare but fatal reaction in order to obtain the information needed by our medical team. With the abscess disrupting her brain's language centers, this patient fought through broken sentences to let us know simply that she was scared.