the underwear drawer

neuro consult, returning a page

I'm on call for neurology tonight. I think the funniest thing about neurology call (aside from the scary call room--I discovered today that the strategy employed is to actually to just layer on on more and more new strata of clean bedding over the rumpled bedding underneath, creating kind of a princess-and-the-pea effect) is the fact that I'm holding the neurology consult pager. You know, in case some kid wanders into the ER with a giant honking brain tumor or in status and requires my "expert" advice. And yet, I know almost nothing about Pediatric Neurology. How am I at all equipped to do this job? Oh well, I wasn't equipped to start my residency a year ago either, but here I am.

Between my personal pager, the consult pager, the neurology floor resident pager, and an in-house digital phone, the combined weight of electronic devices on my scrubs is just about pulling my pants off. Gotta cinch that drawstring tight, friends.

Currently reading: My patient's Dilantin levels.

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