Forgive me bloggers, for I have sinned...it has been nearly a week since my last blog entry. I promise to publish all comments, add new links, and will foster an attempt to be generally entertaining. Am I forgiven? In the last installment of "(Not So) General Hospital," our fearless protagonist had a serious case of the PMS monster, she was whiny, self-absorbed, worn out, and sleep deprived. Lather, rinse, repeat for the next 5 days. I did get to go to the concert, which was awesome. We arrived early and got to sit in the third row, center. The bands were truly amazing, and I got a cool new long sleeve t-shirt. It takes so very little sometimes.
Unfortunately, I had to turn my pager back on that evening. I got a page in the wee hours of the morning from an ER doc that had been haunting me all weekend long. This attending is the King of Pointless Admissions. He is just incapable of treating and streeting pregnant women with problems unrelated to pregnancy (GI viruses, toothaches, viral upper respiratory infections, etc.) I had already admitted 2 patients over the weekend, and I groaned (inwardly) when I heard his voice on the phone. One of my patients, 23 weeks pregnant, had presented with symptoms of a URI and likely subsequent costochondritis. She also happens to weigh 320 pounds, and had bilateral lower extremity edema. The freaking ER attending ordered a CT chest (during which they screwed up the progression of dye, therefore rendering it useless) and when it failed to show any problem, he then decided she had a possible pulmonary embolus. Her O2 saturations, you ask? 98-100% on room air. Her pulse? 80s-90s. Respiratory distress? No. She did have chest pain...that was reproducible with palpation over the sternum. PE, my ass. I was too tired to argue with the ER doc at 4 in the morning, although I'm sure that I was less than polite about the whole thing. The next morning, her work-up for DVT and PE was, surprise, negative. I was unremittingly bitter for the remainder of the day over the thousands of wasted dollars on unnecessary testing, and for the fear that my patient suffered, as she really believed that she, indeed, was dying. The poor girl is anxious enough as it is. Fortunately, I was able to reassure her before I sent her home from the hospital.
The rest of the week was a blur. There were lots of clinic patients. One late night vacuum delivery, four surgeries, an emergent vacuum delivery, a tubal, and a circ. I have a new medical student with me, and I feel sorry for her quality of learning as she follows me, rushing around, trying to teach in fits and starts. She says that she really loves OB, and that it is her favorite rotation, so far. I really like her, so I'm trying to get her as much hands-on experience as I can, while trying to show her how rough the quality of life can be. You have to go into this profession with eyes wide open. I had her do a hands on hands delivery with me, and she first-assisted on my tubal this afternoon. I miss that starry-eyed optimisim. That used to be me, young, fresh, and not yet cynical. *sigh*
Today is Friday the 13th, which is kinda creepy in itself, but for some reason, it seems even creepier because it is an October Friday the 13th. I know it sounds weird, but as a kid, I used to comfort myself on the various and sundry Friday the 13ths because at least they weren't in October. I don't really know why this is, except for maybe the fact that Halloween was also in October, and that was scary? Who knows? I fully expected this day to be really rough. In reality it was fan-freaking-tastic. It was a gorgeous fall day, clear, cold, bright, and sunny. I only had 15 clinic patients scheduled this morning, so it was the first true "half day" I've had in the office in ages. I even had a colpo and I was still done by 11:45 am! I sweet-talked the OR staff into letting me do my post-partum tubal at one this afternoon, instead of waiting until after 3 pm, and I am officially off -call for the entire weekend. I got to pick up CindyLou early from daycare, and we are chilling out on the couch watching the Curious George movie and snacking on cheese and crackers. My wonderful husband brought home a bottle of champagne, and has promised to pamper me all weekend. What a difference a week can make! Should I be concerned that Friday the 13th has been such a great day for me? What does that say about my inherent goodness? Ah, well, I'll take a good day when I can get one. I hope you all have a wonderful, not scary, Friday the 13th!