Did I mention that I'm at [upstate New York community hospital] this month? Well, I am. It's a very different type of hospital experience from working at the mother ship--a lot smaller, a lot less academic, a lot fewer patients to deal with. For example, we actually get to eat lunch most days.
This morning was busy, though. For the past two weeks, we've been averaging four, maybe five patients a day on the floor. This is a small community hospital, after all. They don't even have a completely dedicated Pediatric floor, let alone a whole children's hospital like we have back in the city. This means we have little babies admitted for asthma exacerbations rooming next door to an 89 year-old demented grandmother who is convinced that she has "trained" her cats to talk.
They're like dogs, I trained them to speak!
Oh, how nice. Like "meow meow," right?
No! They talk! With words!
No, like, "hello, how are you today, I want some food please."
Really? They can say all that?
Well, you have to train them to do it. (Conspiratorially) My daughter wants me to train her cats to talk to, but I refused.
So usually, not so busy here. But this morning, we came in to find thirteen patients on our list. Which would be totally fine back at our home hospital, but here, we don't really have much backup, so we were running around somewhat frantically until early this afternoon. We got rid of a handful, transferring some and discharging others. The rest, we'll probably stick with for the next few days, or at least until their regular pediatricians decide that they can go home. That's the thing about being a resident. You pretty much have to do whatever the attending says, whether you agree with their management style or not.
Come on, community pediatricians! Take a stand! No more unnecessary tests and treatments! Grow a pair and send your patients home!
(Don't tell them I said, "Grow a pair.")