writorrhea

it feels good to be back.

i've been spending the last four days in a small, poorly ventilated ER in the Bronx. At any given moment there three residents (peds or ER), two-three attendings (peds or ER), two fellows (peds ER). a couple of nurse practioners and me all running amok from one curtained room to the next. At any given moment there are about 12-20 "charts waiting to be seen."

Everyone walks around, with glistening brows, looking as though they had been to hell and back thrice over.

I fit right in.

I love every minute of it, even when I have to deal with snippy nurses and malicious residents.

Don't worry, I am not tacking on ER to my current list. (medicine? peds? peds? medicine?) But I love the thick salty air of constant hustle bustle.

A nice change of pace from my usual seizure-like state in front of a bright blue screen.

"God WHY do you HAVE to do shifts in the ER?" CB, also known as "Chop-Buster," asked disparagingly.

CB is one of my mentors. Not my primary who wrote that kind letter two weeks ago. CB has been on my bum since the day I met her. I was a directionless migrant from new york who decided to pursue this project on "qualitative research"...with no clue as to what that even entailed. When she had met me, I had blindly drafted an IRB protocol, blindly read article after article on "transitioning children with special health needs," and blindly drafted an introduction/literature review...and she was suitably impressed. And then she proceeded to slaughter everything I ever produced.

I love her. She is ruthless and oftentimes rude. The other night, after I came home from a long shift, I checked my email to find that my poster for student research day was due the last friday. I desperately called CB to ask her what she thought of my last version of the poster.

"I can't get over how ugly it is."

Yeah. She really said that. I bristled as I listened to her go on and on about how she envisioned it. It was clear we had two different aesthetics. Nonetheless I proceeded to work on the damn poster for another two hours. Mind you I had another ER shift to do the next morning.

It's been a long week.

CB busts my chops everyday. But without her I would have never reached this point. Without her I would have never been able to present my research so succintly and precisely...she knows all too well my affliction with writorrhea.

She is not a clinician. She very willingly admits that she does not like clinical medicine at all. I knew that fact when I somewhat mean-spiritedly remarked about how much I LOVE clinical medicine. Which is the truth...I love the intensity, the nastiness, the drama, the folklore...every part of it.

But I felt badly when she responded, with a vacant look on her face, "God I hate it."

But the great thing about CB is that she really knows what she wants and she is brilliant at what she does, and she KNOWS clinical medicine is not for her. I lucked out...I love medicine for all its rawness, and I love research for all its exclusivity...and fortunately I DON'T love the kind of clinical work or the kind of research that would exclude other. I can actually manage to integrate both somehow...

I didn't think this was possible. But now...

As long as I can get past the egos and the stalwarts.

I am excited beyond measure, beyond words. How's that for a change?