Not really, but you should go and listen to this. You should not, however, do so on an emotionally fraught trip to visit an ailing family member, because you will sob uncontrollably in seat 9C for most of your transcontinental flight, which will make the impeccably groomed 20-something in 9D very uncomfortable. Theoretically speaking.
Regardless, it was beautifully done, I thought, in that it bypasses a lot of the unhelpful rhetoric, and did so with tremendous respects for all the options presented. I don't agree with absolutely all the counselling or medical management in this story, and I have some unresolved questions (why the cesarean? why?) but so very worth it.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Rough sailing
I refer you to this article, which was written BEFORE Thursday night.
It's sort of been the perfect storm for me lately. I have a family illness going on, I had a medical malpractice trial starting next week, I had kids and work, I did something bad to my foot which was making it hard to walk. And then the world started falling apart.
It's sort of been the perfect storm for me lately. I have a family illness going on, I had a medical malpractice trial starting next week, I had kids and work, I did something bad to my foot which was making it hard to walk. And then the world started falling apart.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Twee
Did I ever tell you about the friend of mine who delivered a baby at my hospital, during the first few weeks of fellowship?
I went to see her (and her beautiful new baby), and she (a professional, composed woman) squealed when she saw me. "You are adorable in your white coat!" she said. "You look just like a real doctor."
I tried to point out that, in fact, I was a real doctor - and had been one for several years. But she was too charmed, and insisted on taking a picture of me with her phone because I was just so cute.
Last year, I reminded her of this story, and she blamed the Percocet. Nice try, I said.
I went to see her (and her beautiful new baby), and she (a professional, composed woman) squealed when she saw me. "You are adorable in your white coat!" she said. "You look just like a real doctor."
I tried to point out that, in fact, I was a real doctor - and had been one for several years. But she was too charmed, and insisted on taking a picture of me with her phone because I was just so cute.
Last year, I reminded her of this story, and she blamed the Percocet. Nice try, I said.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Even Google Calendar is flummoxed by us
- In-house call schedule (= stay overnight on L&D, deliver babies) at Main Hospital
- In-house call schedule (= stay overnight on L&D, deliver babies) at Associate Hospital
- Correlated post-call days schedule
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Working It
It is amazing what I will do to avoid editing a journal submission.
You know, I haven't done this very much - I just submitted my first original manuscript, and I have a review article (which apparently counts for very little in the academic world) in the works. But that original submission? I simply cannot look at it anymore. The idea that they will probably send it back for revisions makes me very slightly ill.
I'm supposed to take some hours today and work on a different article. But I'd so much rather just sit around and think of cool things to study than actually (1) study them or (2) write about studying them. I believe this is a common condition.
-----------------------------------
Hey, The Bearded Economist [TBE] has a job! Hurray for him!
This is totally what we wanted, and a privilege in these economic times. But we are also adjusting. Someone said to me yesterday: "You used to live money-poor, now you have to live time-poor". Actually, not true. We have always lived time-poor; the downside to our long training has been that for the most part we didn't have the time OR the money. The upside to that is that the infrastructure is all there - the kids have had no change in daycare, the household stuff is already as automated as I can make it, and if it can be outsourced, I sent it out a long time ago.
What we're lacking right now is really flexibility. The last day before TBE started work, Dav had some sort of wheeziness at school. TBE picked him up, nebulized him, took him to the pediatrician appointment I made on my office phone while on my cell phone, instructing the teacher about how to count a respiratory rate.*
This is basically my new nightmare scenario, a sick child who needs to be picked up (and assessed) urgently. I know that if we had to, clearly one (or both) of us would leave work. But because of this, I have gotten worked up when TBE is not IMMEDIATELY responsive by email/text/phone (which is, you know, actually reasonable) because what if school called him instead of me with a sick kid and couldn't get through? And what if it was a really sick kid? And what if, what if, what if?
Given that we have three kids, this sort of scenario has not actually happened that often. I have kind practice partners and some research/didactic time that grants a bit more room for breathing, if I had to leave. And TBE was very clear with the job that he has responsibilities at home, and they were very understanding.
But (especially given our terrible adventures this past autumn), I spend a lot of time strategizing about these unexpected illnesses and sort of ineffectually worrying about it. Some of it is leftover-slash-now-permanent anxiety, but some of it is legitimate, as last week's asthma adventure showed us.
Thoughts? Strategies? I know that Cloud of Wandering Scientist has dealt with this a lot (and without a nanny/babysitter) - anyone else?
*I really thought he had grown out of his proto-asthma. I was wrong. Now everyone has been oriented about Signs and Symptoms and When To Call 911. He's fine, although it took a LONG time for the wheeziness to resolve. Why yes, I am still a bit freaked out.
You know, I haven't done this very much - I just submitted my first original manuscript, and I have a review article (which apparently counts for very little in the academic world) in the works. But that original submission? I simply cannot look at it anymore. The idea that they will probably send it back for revisions makes me very slightly ill.
I'm supposed to take some hours today and work on a different article. But I'd so much rather just sit around and think of cool things to study than actually (1) study them or (2) write about studying them. I believe this is a common condition.
-----------------------------------
Hey, The Bearded Economist [TBE] has a job! Hurray for him!
This is totally what we wanted, and a privilege in these economic times. But we are also adjusting. Someone said to me yesterday: "You used to live money-poor, now you have to live time-poor". Actually, not true. We have always lived time-poor; the downside to our long training has been that for the most part we didn't have the time OR the money. The upside to that is that the infrastructure is all there - the kids have had no change in daycare, the household stuff is already as automated as I can make it, and if it can be outsourced, I sent it out a long time ago.
What we're lacking right now is really flexibility. The last day before TBE started work, Dav had some sort of wheeziness at school. TBE picked him up, nebulized him, took him to the pediatrician appointment I made on my office phone while on my cell phone, instructing the teacher about how to count a respiratory rate.*
This is basically my new nightmare scenario, a sick child who needs to be picked up (and assessed) urgently. I know that if we had to, clearly one (or both) of us would leave work. But because of this, I have gotten worked up when TBE is not IMMEDIATELY responsive by email/text/phone (which is, you know, actually reasonable) because what if school called him instead of me with a sick kid and couldn't get through? And what if it was a really sick kid? And what if, what if, what if?
Given that we have three kids, this sort of scenario has not actually happened that often. I have kind practice partners and some research/didactic time that grants a bit more room for breathing, if I had to leave. And TBE was very clear with the job that he has responsibilities at home, and they were very understanding.
But (especially given our terrible adventures this past autumn), I spend a lot of time strategizing about these unexpected illnesses and sort of ineffectually worrying about it. Some of it is leftover-slash-now-permanent anxiety, but some of it is legitimate, as last week's asthma adventure showed us.
Thoughts? Strategies? I know that Cloud of Wandering Scientist has dealt with this a lot (and without a nanny/babysitter) - anyone else?
*I really thought he had grown out of his proto-asthma. I was wrong. Now everyone has been oriented about Signs and Symptoms and When To Call 911. He's fine, although it took a LONG time for the wheeziness to resolve. Why yes, I am still a bit freaked out.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Late night scheming
Is this even interesting?
I can't even tell anymore.
But half of the time? Giving good medical care? Is nothing more than resource allotment.
I can't even tell anymore.
But half of the time? Giving good medical care? Is nothing more than resource allotment.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Brain Pseudo-Cramp
I spend two days a week overseeing prenatal ultrasounds and doing consults. The majority of those scans are Level II anatomy scan at 18 weeks. This is the major scan where we look at all the parts of the fetus, both for structural anomalies, as well as for clues to genetic abnormalities. It is Stressful, perhaps even STRESSFUL, because this scan is a comprehensive physical exam of a non-compliant body INSIDE of another body and therefore, by definition,gives you limited information. So we mine our information for clues about things that may or may not be going on. And we live in fear of Missing Something Important.
Today, mid-morning, I'm reviewing a scan, and as always, after reviewing the tech's pictures, I scan through the fetus myself. Quickly, I see something in the fetal stomach. What is that? Is it just a weird angle? Nope, I scan back and forth and it's really there. It's...debris. A mass? In the fetal stomach? I don't think I've ever seen this before.
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