em-pathetic

There is a huge and fascinating article in today's Globe & Mail about empathy. It's loosely focused on the recent tragedy in Norway and explores the idea that "evil" in people can actually be attributed to a lack of empathy.

The researchers interviewed discuss situations where people (and animals) display a lack of empathy; chronically, such as in people with Autism, or acutely, in the case of torture or murder.

I have previously gone on record saying that my clinical medical skills improved when I learned to suppress my empathy.

As a medical student, I had trouble placing drips (IV's). I would wince as the patient winced. I would break into a sweat, fumbling, jostling the tip and carving up their delicate vessels. Then I'd have to find another vein, and repeat ad nauseum.

When I learned to shut my empathy down, I found I could treat the vein as an isolated problem. Yes, I can hear someone wailing and moaning and carrying on, but I just have to slide this needle into this tube and get some red stuff. Smooth as. No worries.

In the article, they talk about people who can spontaneously shut off their empathy in morally difficult situations. These people are sociopaths.

Luckily, in family medicine, I rarely do procedural stuff.

I do, however, hear about 20 sad stories a day. Some things are horrifying; surprise pregnancy with a side of surprise HIV, domestic violence, sudden death and disease. Some things are less extreme, but just as devastating for the people going through them. I ended up comforting a jilted lover for 40 minutes as they sobbed into my tissue box. (Your tax dollars at work.)

Here, at week four, I have run out of empathy.

Not at work - I have an endless supply of sympathetic nods, heartfelt sighs and respectful, supportive, asexual shoulder pats.

My lack is coming through at home. I don't give a shit.

Worried about your career trajectory? I could care less! Your haircut doesn't flatter you? Suck it up! You're just not sure if he likes you enough? Blow me! And that's just self-talk. My friends get it worse.

I read the article thoroughly, looking for people who get empathy-depleted. Not a sociopath, not yet Autistic. I wanted to know that burn-out doesn't necessarily lead to mass murder. Alas, I couldn't find anything to soothe.

In order to get my empathy back, I'm going to watch kitten DJ's all night. People can be harsh, but kittens never let you down...

Three Oh.

Officially old. But not, unfortunately, mature.

I am truly grateful that every year my life gets better and better. When I'm 95 (Happy Birthday Gran!) I will be having more fun than is physically possible. I can just feel it.

Time to dance!




En espagnol!

Love!

Monday is the worst day, right?
Not so! Not if you're living the dream that is family medicine.

On paper, it was a typically crappy medical day:
8 -12: "Evidence based medicine" (eg: reading journal articles aloud to each other) followed by "Behavioural medicine" (eg: social worker reading journal articles to us).

1-5: Clinic (eg: poking sick people & their icky parts)

5-9am: Call (eg: pager panic)

BUT in reality:

8-10: Immunization Trivial Pursuit
Seriously. Our program director (and head of U of T family med) actually made a Trivial Pursuit board game with questions about various vaccines. I believe the green was Diptheria, blue was Hepatitis and orange Varicella. I learned a tremendous amount, though I couldn't shake my craving for a G&T and some Pender sunshine.

10-12: Social work articles? Nope! Parenting lessons! And thanks to my father's professional tutelage, I had all the answers.

This relates to the time Dad asked brother & me to make a powerpoint on parenting for his students. As we turned his notes into slides, we exchanged worried glances. "Time outs? Neutral language? Psychological discipline? We've been parented!"

1-5: Clinic! Transgendered alcoholics begging for rehab! Tiny kids with sore ears! Swabs for lesbians with cheating lovers! Medical marijuana for HIV positive old dudes!

And as for call...

As of 10pm, I have taken some pages, answered some questions and done some reading. All from the comfort of my own home. With take-out tacos. In my undies. (34 degrees here).

I love my job.

a day late, a buck short?

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie.

From scratch. Pastry & all.

I feel so wholesome that I'm compelled to go out dancing in trashy bars with drunk doctors.

summer fun

When you have warm summer evenings, the smell of jasmine coming through the window and humidity-curled hair brushing at the nape of your neck, you know you're on vacation.

To fill your empty hours (and cos the strawberries are rotting in the box) you can make pie.















Of course, when you have the attention span of a five year old on red cordial, you may only make the pastry and the filling, then get distracted.

You will go across the street and steal DVDs from Ian. Come back and admire your toenails. Google "rhubarb poisoning" and think about the legal definition of "criminal intent". Stew the rest of the rhubarb. Realize that you only have enough pastry for a bottom crust. Realize that you've run out of flour. Give up, google Dashboard Confessional and listen to summer songs.



Toronto in summer is awesome. I'll never work here; there's too much else to do!
I'll finish the pie tomorrow.

summer fling!

I don't know what to tell you...

I've finished the PRP. (Pre-residency program, aka "teach Sam to speak Canadian"). I have a small, perfectly formed apartment. My hospital feels like home. I've met my bosses. I am excited to be a family doctor. I have new friends. I've found the good coffee spot and shamelessly hit on the proprietor.

It's been a busy 3 months. Aside from getting peed on by multiple infants, I have no recent medical stories. July first will be my first day as a (legal) Canadian doctor.

I'm going to lie in the sun listening to summer pop until then. Join me!

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.