cupcake

Like most people, I love talking about sex.

There is something so compelling about the ins and outs (!) of human relationships. And this is why I love my job. I meet someone and immediately ask them to describe their most recent sins. I especially enjoy the matter-of-factness that the doctor's office allows.

Do you have sex with men, women or both?
Are you currently sexually active?
Do you have a monogamous relationship, casual partners or both?
Oral, anal, vaginal or other?

Just ticking the boxes Ma'am. All part of the job.

And the answers! I don't pretend to be a wildly experienced woman, but I do read a lot. My most depraved literature can't compete with the day to day transactions of love.

For example: My MtoF transgendered patient can't maintain erections (due to hormone therapy) and asked me for any suggestions on what to do. Her partner is pre-op MtoF trans and I had to ask exactly what components were on offer. And then think about it. And then google it. We came up with some ideas, and she'll report back. I hope.

Other fun sexy-times? Papping a pregnant lady. Diagnosing genital warts. Demonstrating correct condom usage techniques. Googling "poppers" and "bear clubs". Using the words "insertive" and "receptive" in daily conversation.

Don't get me wrong. I am not just a sex-obsessed prevert.

I also really enjoy baking.

Things I heard at work today...

- Bye ladies!
- Those aren't ladies, they're doctors.
- Oh. Bye doctors!

"Dress code? Um. It's a men's hostel, so don't wear anything that makes you look cute. Or anything that can't get barf on it."

"I tried to listen to his lungs, but then a bug crawled across his back, so..."

"When is it safe to have sex after having a baby? Well, a gentleman waits until the episiotomy is sewn."

"It's a good idea to build trust before sticking your hand in someone's vagina."

And so on and so forth.

Another exciting day in the life of...well...what ever I am.
Not a medical student, not yet a doctor. Legally anyways. Which means everytime my boss introduces me as Dr Marriage, and I don't correct him, I am committing a felony.

Anyways, we had obstetrics lectures with an amazing doctor today. She swore, she made inappropriate sex jokes, she told us she'd been kicked out of two different residencies before she found her calling in Family Med and was candid and blunt about how baby-catching both sucks and rocks.

I have a new hero.

mumsy

People often refer to specialties as having personalities. For example, at St V's, the surgeons were brusque, competitive and hyper-masculine. The medical folk were the intellectuals of the team. The ED physicians were the kid running around the back of the classroom after drinking too much red cordial.

I am noticing that different facets of my personality come out to play when I'm immersed in different specialties. Doing internal medicine (in the country) brought out my dispassionate, methodical scientist. I became pragmatic about prolonging suffering, and so convinced more than one patient that it was time to let go.

When I was on cardiac surgery, I behaved like a crazed femme fatale. Stalking about the ward in dresses and heels (when I wasn't in scrubs) I would flirt with my patients while telling them that there was no problem we couldn't handle. Atrial fibrillation? No worries. Chest pain? I can handle it. Cardiac arrest, opening the chest on the ward and hand pumping until we get to theatre? Doesn't faze me. I projected an aura of absolute confidence, wrapped in swishy silks. Then I would go home and cry.

Family medicine is bringing out a dangerous, unfamiliar side. My maternal side. I listen to my patients and I want to hug them. To feed them. To help them get their lives back on track. This is, surprisingly, a problem. My patients this week have been crack addicted felons, meth-heads who are high WHILE I'm talking to them and HIV+ guys who think bare-backing is ok as long as they come "outside". These are tricky people to help.

Still, there were some good moments. Showing a guy the latest cool condoms (courtesy of Trojan) and seeing him take a fistful home. Having my patient shake my hand and thank me for listening. Even the meth-head said, "This was a good day, doc..."*

I suppose that I was initially concerned with the ambiguity, or "soft" side of family med. I was worried that I'd stop being a doctor and turn into a mom. A big, softy. It turns out it's not that simple. Even when you're suppressing the urge to pat everyone on the head and call them "love".

* He followed this with "cos I had 3 women looking at my dick". I choose to only hear the first bit.

pro: tiny wiggly butts

Babies can have so many different rashes. The Resident and I spent a good portion of this afternoon comparing rashes and Australian/Canadian terms for rashes.

What she calls a cherry hemangioma, I call a strawberry haemangioma.
What she calls lace-like, I call reticular.
When I say "Mongolian blue spots" she shudders. Slate-blue naevus is the PC-approved term. I don't suppose the Mongolians would mind, but hey, this is Canada!

My new home/clinic specializes in LBGQT (?) patients, new immigrants, the homeless and tiny, tiny babies. I was at work for 9 hours today. I did not get paid. Will not, in fact, get paid for my next 6 weeks of service. But I had a great day.

I love my job. I love being at work. Even for no pay. Even though they introduce me as "the IMG sort-of doctor".

I had forgotten how much fun medicine can be. Dr G is back in the hizzouse.

when animals attack

So, this thing happened to me during the LMCC.

(Background: LMCC is the Canadian medical licensing exam. It is a 9 hour, computer-based exam. The morning consists of 200 multiple choice questions. The afternoon gives you roughly 50 cases and you write in answers based on said cases. Phew.)

The case was vague. An eleven year old boy is hiking in the woods with his family when he suddenly becomes ill. He is pale, sweaty and his heart is racing. By the time he gets to you (ER) he is unresponsive.

I read this and though, Oh! Easy, right? This kid has obviously been bitten by a poisonous snake or spider and is going into respiratory failure.

But. BUT. This exam is set in Canada. There are no poisonous snakes in Canada.

Or are there? Are rattlesnakes are part of the Canadian fauna? Surely copperheads can migrate across the border? No. But what if there is another kind of snake?

The exam board is from Ottawa, are there poisonous snakes in Ottawa (insert political reference here) or do they have ticks or other insects I'm not familiar with?

But! What else would it be? There are no signs of anaphylaxis (swelling, wheals, stridor). There are no indications that the kid has an underlying disease. It must be snake-bite.

But what snake would have bitten him?...

I went round like this for a while. Specfically, for ten minutes and thirty seconds. (You get a time breakdown of how long you spend on each question. My average was 32 seconds. This ten-minute blip was not reassuring.)

A similar thing happened during my last Canadian exam. The question was about frostbite. I sat in front of the screen blinking and mumbling to myself because in 4.5 years of Australian med school, frostbite had never come up. Blue ringed octopus stings? Sure. Lethal sunburn? Absolutely. But no frostbite.

With luck, I will have passed. If not, I'll write the damn thing again.

In the meantime, I get 6 weeks of "integration to the Canadian medical system", which will hopefully teach me the herpetological biodiversity of Canada.

I'm sure that's a priority.

home

I get off the plane and see my parent(s) waving at me, Tim Hortons in hand. They will immediately try to take my bag, feed me and tell me that the phone hasn't rung since last time I was home.

My Dad will suggest that any and all complaints can be solved by going to the gym. I will go to the gym with him and as we leave he'll say, "We should go again tomorrow".

Desi and I will drink too much coffee and talk for 5 hours without pausing, then decide to take a joint nap and watch 30 Rock.

J&K will suggest drinking, hockey or a combination of the two. We will yell at the TV.

Tippi will confuse my parents with his grown-up voice. "I didn't recognize him! He said it was Geoff! Who's Geoff?"

The 6 week English communication course is done (spoiler: I passed) and my licensing exam is a a faint PTSD nightmare. I am an official grown-up employed person. I am living the dream.

Still, it's nice to know that Vancouver is here. A place where I am not responsible for anyone else. Where I don't have cause pain, break bad news or tell people what to do. I'm embracing the regression to my teens. I'm going to stay in my pajamas until 2, then go to Dairy Queen for a blizzard.