You're looking at fun-loving and slightly neurotic woman with big dreams of advancing the field of women's health and reproductive freedom while staying sane and enjoying life in the few spare moments I have. I am a first-generation American and physician in the field of obstetrics and gynecology.
In respect to my patients, co-workers, attendings, and to HIPAA, all identifying information (including initials) has been changed. Hell, I even add a little fiction for extra fun. Any similarity to names, dates, or clinical circumstance is entirely coincidental.
Thoughts, opinions, political stances, daydreams, and other nonsense expressed in this blog are my own. My writings do not express the views of any group, institution, residency program, or other organization.
In preparation for the season's biggest snowstorm, schools have been closed, work schedules have been rearranged, grocery aisles have been cleared, and snow plows are rearing to go. Now, as the evening turns into night, guess how many inches are on the ground? A big fat zero! For a California girl who still sees each snow day through the awestruck eyes of a four-year old, this plain sucks! There goes my dreams of post-call snowball fights, sledding, and snowmen. Boo.
Instead, I wait for another night to pass in the MICU. It is suspicously quiet. My senior resident is sleeping in the call room (slacker!). The nurses are huddled in their social circles basking in their daily gossip (did I hear my name?). Patients are tucked away in their narcotized slumbers (can I have some?). And yours truly, the intern with nothing to do, has spent the last two hours engaged in some highly productive activities: eating and reading internet gossip. What could be more exciting at 9:30pm than Apple Jacks and Kendra's post-baby body secrets? (Uh, photoshop? Duh!) Or John Mayer spilling his guts about Jessica Simpson bedroom ways? (Remind to never hook up with that D-bag, by the way). Of course, now the sugar in my bloodstream has me antsy, antsy, antsy.
If there was snow out I could go run around in it until I tuckered out. Instead, looks like I'm hitting up perezhilton.com again.