May 11, 1996

   Graduation May Seventeenth. The whole ceremonial lamb-skin thing is feeling pretty anti-climactic though - for all intents and purposes, I've been done since before the winter holidays.

   Started the year out with a bang: medicine sub-I, complete with a hell-month in the MICU. You wanna talk about your learning curve? Need to learn a bit of medicine? Hang out in the unit and work your ass off - by the end of the month, you'll be humming along at fever pitch, guaranteed. The schedule sucked, what with call q3, but what incredibly wonderful work. Study for the boards? What the hell for? I've been in the unit for the past month. Followed it with service in the E/D then another month in a dedicated peds E/D, then ambulatory gyn. Now that's the kind of stuff to do if you really want to learn how to take care of sick folks.

   Ended with a whimper, natch: the rest of the year was fluff. Neuro - bah. Rads. Not that they aren't incredibly important fields of study, but the teaching was about nil. Anesthesia was worth it though. Hey, lookit that - I actually got the ET tube in his trachea! Wonders may never cease...

   I really haven't done any medicine for at least four months, and by the time I start work it'll be closer to six. Like I'm going to be even marginally competent for my first shift in the E/D. Yeah - right. I find myself praying fervently that the spirochetes will hang on - I suspect that at this point, they're the only things connecting any of my neurons. I've got to remember my mantra: penicillin is my enemy, penicillin is my enemy. C'mon guys - don't let me down now. Jeeze, I hope alcohol isn't toxic to the little fellas...

   Don't get me wrong - I'm excited as hell about starting. I mean, this is what I've been waiting for for years. But O gods above, please don't let me kill anyone as I get back up to speed. Nervous? What - you think I might be nervous? No, man - I'm fucking scared to death. You see, the problem is that as far as patient care is concerned, I'm aggressive as hell. Cocky. And as a general rule, I'm good at what I do. But after this hiatus? I can see it now: Ah - lessee. Hm. Okay, she's breathing on her own - that's a good start. Ummm... (scratches head, looks confused) Now what?

   Have I impressed you that I think the transition to residency is going to be, ah - interesting? Okay, fine. I'll leave it alone then.

Intern angst. Wheee.

   On the up-side, I have seven weeks to indulge in denial before Life as I Know It comes to grinding halt. Don't try this at home kids, these men are trained professionals. They're used to sitting around all evening drinking beer. My liver loves me.

   Dennis is up from the Deep South to study and then sit for part I of the USMLE. Ouch. Scheidler is moving back to the 'Burgh as well, starting surgery at the same place I'll be doing emergency medicine. We're going to scare them very badly, me and Scheid: Ah - what is this bastion of strength I see before me? Are my eyes deceived? Why no, its none other than the illustrious Doctor Scheidler himself! Sir: this humble intern conveys formal greetings to the Department of Surgery on behalf of the Department of Emergency Medicine. So at any rate, there'll be folks around to play with as I celebrate the end of six months' carefree abandon. Of course, Scheid is going hiking in Hawaii for three weeks before he starts, the bastard. Not that I can complain really, after just getting back from a drunken festival of cruelty in London myself... Wine, women and song - make merry whilst ye can, my boys, for we are on the eve of descent into The Hospital, from which we may emerge to see the light of day only on the solstice, by leave of Our Master, the Chief Resident.

   Our esteemed Editor assures us that you dear people will be curious as to who we are, and what we do when we're not laboring under the yoke. Far be it for me to argue; if it weren't for editors, I wouldn't be writing at all. As for me, I'm not quite so cynical a bastard as this little missive might lead you to believe. Really - I promise. I write, occasionally something that might even be worth reading. I listen to loud music. I tend to drive too fast. I plow through novels at a truly alarming rate - gimme a day off and I might go through two or three. Gets expensive in a hurry, let me tell you, 'cause I like to own them - libraries aren't an option. I love good beer, good conversation and witty, attractive women (not necessarily in that order).

   I don't think I'm articulate enough to tell you how passionate I am about my work though - If you bear with me long enough however, I might be able to paint a picture of it for you, if I'm lucky.

Off we go then. Onwards!

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