30 Something Baby Doc

God, I hate norplant removals ...esp at the end of a busy day in the office! This has got to be the most retarded form birth control ever conceived.

OK Mam, we're gonna make an incision on your arm to place the birth control and several years later we're gonna leave an even bigger scar tryin to dig those damn things out of your arm.

I'm glad it's off the market.

I got rid of my old classic clunker (peace of shit!) and replaced it with a new 2005 mustang . Only problem, it's a manual transmission and I've never driven one before.

Parents, teach your children how to drive sticks.

I'm gettin better though:-) I was coming back from the grocery store last nite and a 2003 corvette pulled up next to me (IT'S ON NOW!) No, I wasn't planning on drag racing (I'm too old for that) but I wanted to at least appear competent with my newly learned skills.

I lightly dumped the clutch at the light and the car briskly skirted foward, I picked up speed and smoothly shifted into second, kicked the throttle and I was all ready for third! I wasn't paying attention and accidently shifted back into first (Ouch!) My tires loudly screeched and I was suddenly thrown forward as I quickly decelerated. I'm sure the dude in the vette got a good laugh as he pulled away.

Hey at least I didn't stall it.

The following is an article from the Washington Post. I ask you to just to read it with an open mind. This is not meant to offend but just explore what out country values the most. I pray for the families and that God may comfort them with their loss.
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(White) Women We Love
By Eugene Robinson.

Someday historians will look back at America in the decade bracketing the turn of the 21st century and identify the era's major themes:Religious fundamentalism. Terrorism. War in Iraq. Economic dislocation. Bioengineering. Information technology. Nuclear proliferation. Globalization. The rise of superpower China. And, of course, Damsels in Distress. Every few weeks, this stressed-out nation with more problems to worry about than hours in the day finds time to become obsessed with the saga-- it's always a "saga," never just a story -- of a damsel in distress. Natalee Holloway, the student who disappeared while on a class trip to the Caribbean island of Aruba, is the latest in what seems an endless series.Holloway assumed the mantle from her predecessor, the Runaway Bride, who turned out not to have been in distress at all -- not physical distress, at least, though it's obvious that the prospect of her impending 600-guest wedding caused Jennifer Wilbanks an understandable measure of mental trauma.Before the Runaway Bride, there were too many damsels to provide a fulllist, but surely you remember the damsel elite: Laci Peterson. ElizabethSmart. Lori Hacking. Chandra Levy. JonBenet Ramsey. We even found, or created, a damsel amid the chaos of war in Iraq: Jessica Lynch.The specifics of the story line vary from damsel to damsel. In somecases, the saga begins with the discovery of a corpse. In other cases,the damsel simply vanishes into thin air. Often, there is a suspect from the beginning -- an intruder, a husband, a father, a congressman, a stranger glimpsed lurking nearby.Sometimes the tale ends well, or well enough, as in the cases of Smart and Lynch. Let's hope it ends well for Holloway. But more often, it ends badly. Once in a great while, a case like Runaway Bride comes along to provide comic relief. But of course the damsels have much in common besides being female. You probably have some idea of where I'm headed here.A damsel must be white. This requirement is nonnegotiable. It helps if her frame is of dimensions that breathless cable television reporter scan credibly describe as "petite," and it also helps if she's the kind of woman who wouldn't really mind being called "petite," a woman with a good deal of princess in her personality. She must be attractive -- also nonnegotiable. Her economic status should be middle class or higher, but an exception can be made in the case of wartime (see: Lynch).Put all this together, and you get 24-7 coverage. The disappearance of a man, or of a woman of color, can generate a brief flurry, but never thefull damsel treatment. Since the Holloway story broke we've had more news reports from Aruba this past week, I'd wager, than in the preceding 10 years.I have no idea whether the late French philosopher Jacques Derrida hung on every twist and turn of the Chandra Levy case; somehow, I doubt he did. But I suspect the apostle of "deconstructionism" would have analyzed the damsel-in-distress phenomenon by explaining that our society is imposing its own subconsciously chosen narrative on all these cases.It's the meta-narrative of something seen as precious and delicate being snatched away, defiled, destroyed by evil forces that lurk in the shadows, just outside the bedroom window. It's whiteness under siege. It's innocence and optimism crushed by cruel reality. It's a flower smashed by a rock. Or maybe (since Derrida believed in multiple readings of a single text) the damsel thing is just a guaranteed cure for a slow news day. The cable news channels, after all, have lots of airtime to fill.This is not to mock any one of these cases (except Runaway Bride) or to diminish the genuine tragedy experienced by family and friends. I can imagine the helplessness I'd feel if a child of mine disappeared from a remote beach in the Caribbean. But I can also be fairly confident that neither of my sons would provoke so many headlines.Whatever our ultimate reason for singling out these few unfortunate victims, among the thousands of Americans who are murdered or who vanisheach year, the pattern of choosing only young, white, middle-class women for the full damsel treatment says a lot about a nation that likes to believe it has consigned race and class to irrelevance.What it says is that we haven't. What it says is that those stubborn issues are still very much alive and that they remain at the heart ofthe nation's deepest fears.

My patient today described me as extremely handsome and good looking. She a very pleasant 88 year old lady who's as sharp as a tack.

Sometimes it's the little things that makes you happy:-)

I was at a mandatory resident graduation dinner the other night. It sometimes amazes me at how my co-workers who drink the most tend to have the most fun at these events on average. Alcohol is the universal social lubricator. Unfortunately, I only had 2 beers that night:-(

There's nothing worse than telling a patient they have an agressive cancer. I had to do that yesterday.

When I get the pathology diagnosis back from the lab, I immediately rehearse in my head how I'm going to tell the patient. I strongly want to be optimistic and candy coat the situation, but when your 5 year survival is 30 - 50% there's not much candycoating you can do.

I hate being blunt and realistic but I feel it's the only way for the patient to realize what they are up against. I've seen patients in the past with unrealistic perceptions regarding their disease have horrible outcomes with no quality of life up to the very end.

I try to put myself in the position of the patient. Your sitting in the examining room waiting for the biopsy result hoping and praying that it is benign. The doctors enters, makes small talk then informs you that you have a malignancy, suddenly every priority in your life changes instantly. I see this in the eyes of patients when I give bad news and I hate it. The physician counsels the patient regarding treatment plan and prognosis, but more than likely, the patient hears absolutely nothing after the word "cancer" is spoken. It's always nice to have a family member present.

My patient handled it very well and I pray she'll be one of the 30 -50% that make it. She has the right attitude...... optimistic but realistic.

1) Learn how to drive a manual transmission.

2) Learn spanish on a conversational level (I blogged about this earlier this year).

3) Learn how to swim freestyle (I can only breast stroke now ..an not very well).

Well, my 24 hour urine was normal. But my blood pressure remained elevated. My diastolics ranged from 90 - 100. I went to my doctors appointment today after I had finished a morning shift in the operating room with a 1st yeart intern. Needless to say, I was alittle tense. I've been feeling all week like I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Also I was having a persistent headaches centered around my eyes. I just have not felt right for the past few weeks.

My doc was great. He spent 15 minutes talking with me regarding stress and the physician's lifestyle. I have always felt that I must solve everyones problem. These problems tend to come from all directions.......patients, co-workers, family and friends.

My doc gave me a choice of possible antihypertensive medications. He explained the risks and benifits. We decided to go with the beta-blockers. I took one this afternoon and I'm feeling better already. I tried to fight it off as long as I could, But I after all is said and done, we are only as good as our genes.

Pregnancy is a physiologic not a pathologic process. The patient expects a healthy infant to be the sole outcome. They place a great amount of trust in the hands of the obstetrician. But regardless of the degree knowledge and skills I possess, I am not God and never will be. I can do everything right follow all the subspecialty guidelines by the letter and the outcome is still bad.

I hate that, but what hurts the most is that the physician (myself) is initially blamed by the patient. When you devote your life to the care or others, the latter hurts like hell.

Yesterday on Labor and Delivery was the type of day that could cause you to have nightmares for the rest of your life. Sometimes I really think I need a new career:-) I'll blog about it later.

It's after midnight and I'm on call in the hosptal. I ate a full dinner around 6pm. It's been a fairly busy night with a trip to the OR to rule out an ectopic pregnancy and we just finished a stat
C-section. I had a taste for one of those small pathetic cheeseburgers from McDonalds and I wound up ordering a Big Mac , large fries, 10 piece Nuggets and 2 apple pies and I ate the whole damn thing. What the hell am i doing to myself? (esp. with my F--ked up blood pressure)