the underwear drawer

walk-in doctor

I was the walk-in doctor at my clinic today, meaning that I saw all the patients who didn't have scheduled appointments but who showed up with various and sundry complaints. In all, I saw sixteen patients over the course of the day, and due to the nature of the job of walk-in doctor, all of them were sick. It was like having my own mini ER. If I don't catch something by the end of this rotation, it will truly be a miracle.

Being on outpatient, I've had to rejigger my schedule somewhat, mostly for the better. For example, instead of waking up two hours before sunrise, now I get to wake up only half an hour before sunrise. Sweet! Also, since my start-time is later than Joe's, I've forfeited my ride into work, and am back into the hustle and bustle of my one hour mass transit commute to the hospital. Can't say I really mind it all that might, though. Sure, I spend an extra hour or so a day commuting, but there's something very Zen about sitting on the subway, reading a book, maybe with a hot chocolate in one hand. But that's if you get a seat. Standing on the subway for the commute uptown is decidedly un-Zen. It would classify it more as one of those yoga torture-poses.

Tomorrow morning I'm supposed to be at the Genetics clinic, and then am on scheduled to be giving vaccines at my general Peds clinic in the afternoon. I don't like giving vaccines. Usually when I see my own patients, I just write which vaccines the kids are supposed to get, and the nurses do the dirty work. But I guess on outpatient, they want you to get the FULL GENERAL PEDIATRICS EXPERIENCE, hence my afternoon will be spent drawing up and dispensing little vials of Pediarix, PedvaxHib and the like. I hate being the bad guy. The worst is with little babies, that look on their face right after you jab the needle in and depress the plunger. That progression from smiling to stunned to screaming their fool heads off, when they finally realize that they've been betrayed.

Currently reading: "Friday Night Lights." This is a really interesting book, despite the fact that I have basically no idea what they're talking about when they get into the nitty gritty football parts. Thanks to my commute, I've already finished half of the book in one day! It's all especially fascinating for me, because I attended both high school and college at institutions where there was no football team at all. The idea that a high school would charter a private jet to fly their players from Point A, Texas to Point B, Texas is mind-blowing. I hope there'll be a point later on in the book where Dawson, in a fake Southern accent, spits out "I don't wahnt...your lahfe." That would be awesome. Especially if Dawson's character was named "Boobie". Can you tell me that Boobie never, ever got made fun of in the locker room? Please. (For those of you who haven't read the book yet...uh, there's a player on the team named "Boobie". Which I'm sure you've well figured out by now.)