Before I go to bed...

Just for : The little boy with the croup and the psycho dad from hell, JG, was discharged on Friday evening. When we sent him home, he was breathing well, no noises or stridor at all, playful and happy. No reason to keep him here, not enough grounds to file a 310 without causing a lot of hassle, and he seemed fine... At 4:00 on Saturday morning, Dr. M got a call from JK, the resident who was on that night. "Dr. M? This is JK. I've got a little boy here in the ER named JG with stridor..." Dr. M.: "And I said 'Is this a joke?' And I was waiting to hear 'Yes,' or 'He's been intubated', but JK just said very calmly, 'No, it's not a joke.'" And so JG came back in with his mom, spent the night, and went home on steroids. We told you he was sick. I would update, but I can't remember what I've talked about, O Best Beloved. And it's getting very late very fast. So notes for later: Came in yesterday and got assigned to a new asthma patient on the wards. Spent almost 40 minutes getting her incredibly complicated social history. Then forgot to get vitals before presenting. "You turned a home run into a double. Sad..." My decision to order a second EEG on the ALTE kid was justified when it turned up left temporal spikes and slowing. Booyah! Got scolded by JK for not telling him I was going to meet Angel for dinner, as he would have let me off hours earlier. Met Angel for dinner. Had a wonderful time. Finished my expanded H&P, will post most likely for peer review later. Stayed up far too late for that. Admitted children tonight after thinking I would get to go home early for lack of anything to do. Got home at 11:20 or so, despite promises from peds inpatient orientation that "evening call is no later than 10, and you'll get home earlier most nights." Am going to sleep 5 hours tonight, maybe 6, after having gotten 4 the night before, and 5 the night before that. Call it residency training. Medical Students: (will post to med_school community too) I am working with the student newspaper, and we think it would be fun to do an article or several about how other med schools do things. Anyone want to be a correspondant for me? :) No call and no papers tomorrow night, I think I may sleep then, so as to be alert and enthusiastic for this weekend. I must study (I hope Blueprints comes in) as the exam is on next Friday. I can't believe this rotation is almost over. I'm terrified of Surgery. If I'd forgotten vitals in Surgery, I would've become the whipping post for everyone... There's a lot more I wanted to say something about, like how the moon as I drove home was the clean-edged half-circle of a scalpel blade, poised luminous above the earth. About the transformation at birth from quiet, goo-covered infant to screaming ball of arms and legs. About looking up things with JL and the ER doctor with the blonde hair that I felt some strange draw to, briefly. About kids and monitors and croup and asthma and the mom who just never bothers to bring her baby in any more, until the 6-month checkup when the doctor called for an ambulance to admit. About AT, the sixteen-year-old who is bright and beautiful and going to wind up dead, burnt out, or pregnant. Horror. But it's late, I'm tired, and I have to be back on the floors at 7 AM. Radiology rounds at 7:30, for our morning report. Dr. M. thinks I'm doing well, that I need to get a little more experience with organisation, but I'm well-read (since when?) and inspiring and energetic. You want to hear inspiring and energetic? I haven't had time for a shower since Saturday evening. Saturday evening. I don't care that I'll be sacrificing sleep; I need one. If I could've gotten my ass out of bed yesterday, I would've taken one then. This morning was a write-off; I'm lucky I got to school. I'm also blessed by a tiny miracle that involved me deciding to throw the trash away in my car. And I looked at the sign next to the trash can and thought "That's funny. Why is there a key tied to the sign?" And then, my fatigue-befuddled brain said to me, "You know, that looks a lot like the yellow wrist bungee that was on the key to S's place that you lost at home somewhere. You don't suppose..." I did suppose, and I pulled out my new-minted spare key, and compared. It was. I guess I must've lost it in the parking lot. Falling asleep at the keyboard. Rambling. Good night, O Best Beloved.