Faux pas

I get flashes where I realise I am completely out of touch with reality.

Today there was a MET call (medical emergency) on my ward. I skulked over to the appropriate room to find the full contingent of Warrnambool's finest all inserting drips, taking notes, getting drugs...in short, running the MET call perfectly. I took a look at the patient, who had copious red blood pouring from his anus, along with large chunky clots. I asked the senior doctor, "Do you need me for this?" and when he said "No" (they had it under control), I went back upstairs and finished my lunch.

Other similar moments of unreality?
- telling a patient, "Oh, good news! You just have to have your carotids stripped and then you'll be better!" Patient looked at me and said, "Sorry, did you just tell me I need to have major surgery on the blood vessels to my brain? Cos it sounded like you said "Good News"."
- telling the same patient, "We got you a slot in today's vascular surgery lineup!" and attempting to high-five him. He was not impressed.
- walking into a woman's room and saying, "Now, I've just got to put my finger in your bum, but don't worry, it'll only take two seconds and then you can get back to your afternoon tea".

Seriously. What the hell has happened to me? I've become one of those doctors you read about in "Why I hate hospitals" columns. But I'm also getting a lot better at my job. That's a scary inverse relationship.

ouchie

Sunday morning in Warrnambool is a beautiful thing. I wake late and wander over to my local cafe for a latte & muffin. I am perched at the bar, powering through the Sunday papers when my yoga instructor waltzes in. She looks completely different out of class; gone is the severe bun, replaced with blonde bouffant and face full of slap (makeup). Next time she chastizes me for my impure life, I will not be afraid.

I'm working in the ED this weekend and it's reconfirmed how much I LOVE this job. It's not a big city hospital; you can't get xray after 5, you beg for ultrasound (probably wont get it unless your patient is spewing blood), and there is a distinct lack of senior staff. But the patients are great; yesterday being Saturday, I saw 5 footy players and 4 netball players, all with various fractures, bruises, sprains and bumps. They say today will be all Mother's Day related injuries- kids eating peanuts at the local restaurant and grannies collapsing after an exciting morning with the grandkids.

All in all, I'm looking forward to it. Plus, ten hour shifts FLY by. I couldn't believe it when they told me I was done last night. It felt like I'd just arrived.

It's also fun to work here cos everyone thinks I'm the local celebrity. "Canada! Wow! I love Canada, I've always wanted to go! Aren't you brave to come all this way..."

And I think, yes. Yes I am.

porn for women?

http://hotguysreadingbooks.tumblr.com/

Yes. Hot guys reading books. "Hot" is subjective, but who doesn't enjoy the literary type?

15 hours yesterday. 1 death, 2 getting shouted at, 3 psych committals. Just about to start 10 hours in ED. It's gonna be a bumpy weekend.

just a small town girl...

I think Vancouver might be a small town. I've been really happy in Warrnambool, feeling really at home and comfortable in this environment, and the reasons are as follows:
- I can see the ocean from most windows on the second floor or higher
- I can get to a sea-side running track within ten minutes
- the whole city is green; grass, trees and flowers are everywhere
- people are, on the whole, friendly and pleasant
- the yoga here is as close to torture as is legally allowed
- I can wear sweats to the grocery store
- I don't feel guilty if I come home from work and chill out; (in Melbourne, I always feel like I should be going to hip bars, trying new restaurants, taking pole dancing classes, etc etc)

All these things are the things I love about Vancouver too; big city, small town feel. Of course, Vancouver has the drawbacks of a small town. I can't go for a manicure without running into the French teacher who hated me in grade eleven (Damn you Bourbonnais!). I would hang out primarily with people I've known since high school. I would eat nothing but sushi for the rest of my life...

Lots of things to consider. Lots on my mind - job applications will be due soon and one must ask herself, "What do I want from the next three years?"

spewing...

I get off the train at a one-platform station and walk 15 minutes to the hospital. Not a single car passes me. I can't sleep at night because the silence freaks me out. From my bathroom, I can hear cows going nuts. I have gone Country.

This happened to me once before, during my first degree. 2 years at an agricultural school ("Guelph - the sound one makes when vomiting!") left me in overalls, two-stepping like a champ.

The hospital is pretty quiet at night (and yes, I'm still at work, 13 hours on) and I have caught myself singing as I walk from floor to floor.

On long shifts, we get a meal ticket to take to the cafeteria. I have enjoyed such delicacies as meat n'potato, lamb stew & frozen veg and hot chips. I sit in the empty cafeteria and listen to the kitchen staff talk about the footy.

"Crikey! Did you see Geelong? Rooted!"
"I know, I was spewing...Where was the heart?"
"Awww, and the kicking! Useless pack of mongrels, the lot of them..."

Then I get paged and go see who needs some more warfarin. Nice work if you can get it...

PS: I've started watching Friday Night Lights and the comparisons between small town Texas & small town Oz are eerie. No cowboy hats, but lots of smokes, fights and people who talk reeeeeal slow. Plus baking for every occasion.

yeehaw.

I am officially a country girl. I moved into my flat last night; they put the interns into Pleasantville-style mini-houses across from the hospital. I made a home-cooked meal from scratch (bacon/chicken/mushroom/pumpkin risotto) and slept, without earplugs, for the first time since I moved to Australia. Bliss.

The patients are starting to know my face. I put a drip in a poor old lady and left a bruise the size of a pineapple on her forearm. Now, every time I walk by her room, she waves the black welt at me and says "Not so clever now, are we?"

My 14 hour shift included drips, catheters, drug charts and a code blue just as I was about to leave for home. When I finally arrived at Ward 9 (I got lost AND got locked into a safety corridor in the psych wing) I found the team chatting to a young girl who had just hung herself on her bedhead. The usual.

Today, I had all my real work finished by about 10am and am now free to wander the hospital looking for tea, cakes and free internet. As I said, I am now pro-country.

4 days down, 61 to go.

Keitha.

The head nurse of my new country ward is named Keitha.

I saw her nametag during orientation and began giggling uncontrollably, but alas, no one else got the joke. We're a long way from Kansas, Toto.

4 hours from the Melbourne, Warrnambool is situated on a lovely vantagepoint, stunning beaches...fabulous local culture...blah blah blah.

They don't have enough accomodation for all the doctors they've employed, so I'm living in a motel (old school;my milk was delivered in a porcelain jug). The hospital was described by our director of education as "a falling down piece of crap". My patient today accused me of pretending to be smart cos I talk funny. They served us tea and scones this morning, because civilized people have morning tea.

Mixed bag, really.

I'm off to scout out the pub (for dinner, I swear. Just dinner.) and then prepare for tomorrow's 14 hour shift. God bless rural Australia.