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Life has been super busy and super boring. I think it's all because super cute intern has moved on to greener pastures and I'm mourning. :( While it may not have been true love, it was definitely TrueLust and made the entire month survivable and entertaining. The intern who replaced him is a girl and therefore not interesting.
CuteIntern's facebook profile reads this: "Custom has made dancing sometimes necessary for a young man; therefore mind it while you learn it, that you may learn to do it well, and not be ridiculous, though in a ridiculous act." Soulmates. Srsly. (Or not).
In more news, I have not talked to DateBoy since said date. I'm thinking about calling DateBoy and inviting him to my house for Thanksgiving dinner, which may be the most forward thing I've ever done. Or not, because I keep changing my mind.
I've put on weight this month because of all of the stress. And the easily available candy at the nurses station. I haven't worked out in a month. So much for the plan to be down ten pounds for Christmas, so I could finally, finally have a vacation without my mother mentioning how unhealthy I look.
I've had some very difficult patients that I've had to deal with that have sucked compassion out of me. I've realized that I hate treating migraines. But to make up for it, I've had 3 of the loveliest patients, including two who have made a romantic out of me again, because they (and their spouses) have proved that true love really exists.
My next day off is Thanksgiving, which happens to be my birthday. I haven't had a day off since the 28th of last month. I get four days off in a row to make up for it. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to come back.
I've been on call every Tuesday except one since the last week in September. Tuesday is clinic day, which means I have to see all of my patients before 8. Since I really shouldn't be in before 7 (therefore, having enough time to go to noon conference the next day and not break the ACGME 30 hour rules), it makes the morning incredibly hectic. What makes them even more fun: all of those Tuesdays, except for one, my team has been post call. So I have to hurry through clinic (where I always get behind), race through lunch, so that I can go upstairs and admit the 3 ER patients, learn about the NICU transfers, follow up on the stuff that the other intern wasn't able to complete, write my own patient notes that I didn't get to do in the morning, discharge the half dozen patients of the intern's (because my patients are all rocks which I collect) and then start getting pages every 30 seconds on 3 different pagers. Yeah, I loathe Tuesdays. Only a year left of clinic!
The best part: I'm still on call every Tuesday until the middle of December. And every weekend except Thanksgiving.
I'm still trying to remember why I loved neurology. I think I need to see David Renner when I go home so that I can be reminded. It's probably pathetic that when prospective interns come and interview here, I end up gushing about Utah more than the program here.
Susan and Bobby and Allison are coming for Thanksgiving. I'll be cooking something delicious, I hope. Should I ask DateBoy or is that really weird? I think I need more furniture if I do.
I spent the evening reading old Gilmore Girls fanfiction. Mostly general stuff, featuring townies, and it made me realize once again what a brilliant, wonderful show it once was.
I'm going to the opera next week with two of my girlfriends, Kristen and Erika. The Merry Widow. I was very excited when I first heard about it, because from the radio ads, it sounded like it was the translation that I fell in love with in high school. Alas, my sleuthing has proven that it is not so (although I think it'll be better than the San Francisco version), but I'm still ecstatic about it. I'm dressing up. I can't wait.
I'm also having a painting party involving my living room next week as well right before the opera. Need to clean the place before before then, I think. And I need to buy paint. And moth balls.
I'm totally addicted to this blog and have wasted away more of my evening reading her archives and laughing so hard I almost started vomiting.
I'm going to be 29 in 2 weeks. And I think that's enough to stop any more random musings.
CuteIntern's facebook profile reads this: "Custom has made dancing sometimes necessary for a young man; therefore mind it while you learn it, that you may learn to do it well, and not be ridiculous, though in a ridiculous act." Soulmates. Srsly. (Or not).
In more news, I have not talked to DateBoy since said date. I'm thinking about calling DateBoy and inviting him to my house for Thanksgiving dinner, which may be the most forward thing I've ever done. Or not, because I keep changing my mind.
I've put on weight this month because of all of the stress. And the easily available candy at the nurses station. I haven't worked out in a month. So much for the plan to be down ten pounds for Christmas, so I could finally, finally have a vacation without my mother mentioning how unhealthy I look.
I've had some very difficult patients that I've had to deal with that have sucked compassion out of me. I've realized that I hate treating migraines. But to make up for it, I've had 3 of the loveliest patients, including two who have made a romantic out of me again, because they (and their spouses) have proved that true love really exists.
My next day off is Thanksgiving, which happens to be my birthday. I haven't had a day off since the 28th of last month. I get four days off in a row to make up for it. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to come back.
I've been on call every Tuesday except one since the last week in September. Tuesday is clinic day, which means I have to see all of my patients before 8. Since I really shouldn't be in before 7 (therefore, having enough time to go to noon conference the next day and not break the ACGME 30 hour rules), it makes the morning incredibly hectic. What makes them even more fun: all of those Tuesdays, except for one, my team has been post call. So I have to hurry through clinic (where I always get behind), race through lunch, so that I can go upstairs and admit the 3 ER patients, learn about the NICU transfers, follow up on the stuff that the other intern wasn't able to complete, write my own patient notes that I didn't get to do in the morning, discharge the half dozen patients of the intern's (because my patients are all rocks which I collect) and then start getting pages every 30 seconds on 3 different pagers. Yeah, I loathe Tuesdays. Only a year left of clinic!
The best part: I'm still on call every Tuesday until the middle of December. And every weekend except Thanksgiving.
I'm still trying to remember why I loved neurology. I think I need to see David Renner when I go home so that I can be reminded. It's probably pathetic that when prospective interns come and interview here, I end up gushing about Utah more than the program here.
Susan and Bobby and Allison are coming for Thanksgiving. I'll be cooking something delicious, I hope. Should I ask DateBoy or is that really weird? I think I need more furniture if I do.
I spent the evening reading old Gilmore Girls fanfiction. Mostly general stuff, featuring townies, and it made me realize once again what a brilliant, wonderful show it once was.
I'm going to the opera next week with two of my girlfriends, Kristen and Erika. The Merry Widow. I was very excited when I first heard about it, because from the radio ads, it sounded like it was the translation that I fell in love with in high school. Alas, my sleuthing has proven that it is not so (although I think it'll be better than the San Francisco version), but I'm still ecstatic about it. I'm dressing up. I can't wait.
I'm also having a painting party involving my living room next week as well right before the opera. Need to clean the place before before then, I think. And I need to buy paint. And moth balls.
I'm totally addicted to this blog and have wasted away more of my evening reading her archives and laughing so hard I almost started vomiting.
I'm going to be 29 in 2 weeks. And I think that's enough to stop any more random musings.
