clinical years ahead.
So. I finished my PhD. Will turn in the final copies of the dissertation and everything this week; and I've gone back to medical school to finish that doctorate also. But third year, the clinical rotations, are an overwhelming transition...
So far I've done GPC, and now I'm halfway through Family Medicine. GPC was okay, a good introduction, two weeks at a homeless shelter clinic, then a week of pediatric mobile van, and finally one week of the outpatient clinics at the hospital. Overwhelmingly I learned that I no longer remember very much from med school and am over my head. to the extreme. had some good experiences, especially with the main attending at Homeless Shelter Clinic (not naming it), he was amazingly insipiring. Unfortunately, one lady there hated her job, and made sure I knew it; making me really uncomfortable about choosing being a doctor. All of it made me exhausted and feel stupid, and since I'd been working on my own for basically three years all alone; it was hard to get back used to working with ppl all the time, waking at 6 am, etc. So hard. Being smiley and interested all day is actually really hard for an INFP.
So then, I started a month of Family Medicine, where I am assigned to a Primary Care doc in the community and basically shadow and work with him/her for the whole 4 weeks. My doc is in an affluent elderly Jewish community about 30 mins north of where I live, and his patients reflect that population. I have been really, really enjoying it so far, surprising myself with how much I'm liking it. Feel so much more comfortable doing BPs, drawing blood, doing basic histories and physicals, and interacting with the patients. My doc is really interesting and kind, I wasn't sure if he liked me at first, but now I am certain that he does like me and thinks I will be a good doctor.
However, I had my first patient pass away this weekend. He was old, and had dementia, and he came in a few times already to see the doc and me. I saw him primarily this week. And Friday his daughter brought him in, he had a thrombosed artery in the leg which was obviously impairing perfusion; so we brought him to the ER for eval; the Ultrasound showed a clot in the superficial femoral. Not fixable, without surgery; so they did the surg and he was well afterward;.... then went into shock several hours later and was intubated. Very acidotic. Maybe from the reperfusion to the damaged leg? Who knows. His family got to say goodbye, he was reasonably aware, knew his daughter, and said goodbye to her and thank you. And eventually on Saturday he just slipped away.
I am doing okay, actually, but I'm really feeling it for some reason. He was a nice sad little sick man. Not very aware, advanced dementia, but nice. And his daughter was so overwhelmed and amazing and I feel like an ass, somehow, I don't know. Nothing you can do. Medicine is hard. So hard.
I did cry a little, and now I'm home from work and drinking Brandy (not good for me, I know I've been drinking just a smidge too much since going back, but damn, it's hard work and damn, I am sad), and feeling just nostalgic and confused and depressed as hell. Don't even really know if I even want to be a doctor. Much less a psychiatrist which is what I've thought I've wanted for years and years. This is too hard, dealing with ppl all day long, and hearing their problems is really interesting and I like to be able to help them, but when I can't help them? How do I deal with that? How can i go home at night and feel like a human being? It just is the worst thing. And I feel useless and horrible. And a lot of the patients i've seen are holocaust survivors, too, and their faces just tell the most horrible tales, escaping at 14, surviving a camp, watching their parents die in fire pits in lithuania, like. what? Why do ppl have to suffer all their lives and then at the end you're just alone again, all alone. Sorry. I know this is awful to talk about... but. The brandy. And 6 weeks of pain that I've not yet really released. K. can't listen anymore; he's exhausted from listening to my daily recounting of what patients I saw, what diseases they had, how they were doing, how I felt while talking to them.... all that. So... he suggested a blog might help, and since I already have one here :) I'll cut everything for sure. Most of you don't want to read this shit anyhow. But I feel better already having written it. And maybe I'll start posting more of this, to spare my newly-moved-in-life-partner-pre-fiance, and keep my sanity.
I really need to go to my own Psychiatrist and get my meds upped a bit... or I'll never handle this.
And that's all, for now, .... back to unpacking/moving; K. just got all his stuff into our new apartment (finally, two months late!) today, and while he sleeps (nap!) I will get some furniture placed and boxes unpacked.
Thanks for listening..
So far I've done GPC, and now I'm halfway through Family Medicine. GPC was okay, a good introduction, two weeks at a homeless shelter clinic, then a week of pediatric mobile van, and finally one week of the outpatient clinics at the hospital. Overwhelmingly I learned that I no longer remember very much from med school and am over my head. to the extreme. had some good experiences, especially with the main attending at Homeless Shelter Clinic (not naming it), he was amazingly insipiring. Unfortunately, one lady there hated her job, and made sure I knew it; making me really uncomfortable about choosing being a doctor. All of it made me exhausted and feel stupid, and since I'd been working on my own for basically three years all alone; it was hard to get back used to working with ppl all the time, waking at 6 am, etc. So hard. Being smiley and interested all day is actually really hard for an INFP.
So then, I started a month of Family Medicine, where I am assigned to a Primary Care doc in the community and basically shadow and work with him/her for the whole 4 weeks. My doc is in an affluent elderly Jewish community about 30 mins north of where I live, and his patients reflect that population. I have been really, really enjoying it so far, surprising myself with how much I'm liking it. Feel so much more comfortable doing BPs, drawing blood, doing basic histories and physicals, and interacting with the patients. My doc is really interesting and kind, I wasn't sure if he liked me at first, but now I am certain that he does like me and thinks I will be a good doctor.
However, I had my first patient pass away this weekend. He was old, and had dementia, and he came in a few times already to see the doc and me. I saw him primarily this week. And Friday his daughter brought him in, he had a thrombosed artery in the leg which was obviously impairing perfusion; so we brought him to the ER for eval; the Ultrasound showed a clot in the superficial femoral. Not fixable, without surgery; so they did the surg and he was well afterward;.... then went into shock several hours later and was intubated. Very acidotic. Maybe from the reperfusion to the damaged leg? Who knows. His family got to say goodbye, he was reasonably aware, knew his daughter, and said goodbye to her and thank you. And eventually on Saturday he just slipped away.
I am doing okay, actually, but I'm really feeling it for some reason. He was a nice sad little sick man. Not very aware, advanced dementia, but nice. And his daughter was so overwhelmed and amazing and I feel like an ass, somehow, I don't know. Nothing you can do. Medicine is hard. So hard.
I did cry a little, and now I'm home from work and drinking Brandy (not good for me, I know I've been drinking just a smidge too much since going back, but damn, it's hard work and damn, I am sad), and feeling just nostalgic and confused and depressed as hell. Don't even really know if I even want to be a doctor. Much less a psychiatrist which is what I've thought I've wanted for years and years. This is too hard, dealing with ppl all day long, and hearing their problems is really interesting and I like to be able to help them, but when I can't help them? How do I deal with that? How can i go home at night and feel like a human being? It just is the worst thing. And I feel useless and horrible. And a lot of the patients i've seen are holocaust survivors, too, and their faces just tell the most horrible tales, escaping at 14, surviving a camp, watching their parents die in fire pits in lithuania, like. what? Why do ppl have to suffer all their lives and then at the end you're just alone again, all alone. Sorry. I know this is awful to talk about... but. The brandy. And 6 weeks of pain that I've not yet really released. K. can't listen anymore; he's exhausted from listening to my daily recounting of what patients I saw, what diseases they had, how they were doing, how I felt while talking to them.... all that. So... he suggested a blog might help, and since I already have one here :) I'll cut everything for sure. Most of you don't want to read this shit anyhow. But I feel better already having written it. And maybe I'll start posting more of this, to spare my newly-moved-in-life-partner-pre-fiance, and keep my sanity.
I really need to go to my own Psychiatrist and get my meds upped a bit... or I'll never handle this.
And that's all, for now, .... back to unpacking/moving; K. just got all his stuff into our new apartment (finally, two months late!) today, and while he sleeps (nap!) I will get some furniture placed and boxes unpacked.
Thanks for listening..