She was spitting mad....
My blog represents my personal experiences and perspectives. This includes many anecdotes from my medical practice. I have been scrupulous to anonymize these anecdotes and to avoid ever belittling or making fun of patients. (I often make fun of and criticize myself, my colleagues, and the institutions where I have worked.)
It was well into my third year. Because I lived a distance from the medical center and shared cars with a group of other medical students, it was not unusual that I would spend the night at the hospital. When this happened, I would split my time between the library (or some other place to read and study) or sitting near the front desk of the emergency department, watching for interesting cases that I might follow and learn from during the course of the evening. I still remember ‘cluster night.’
It’s hard for me to believe that there was a phase of my life - once upon a time and long, long ago - when Nordic skiing was unknown to me, rather than the abiding passion it has become. But it’s true.
It’s obvious, of course, and nothing more than basic behavioral psychology: if you reward a behavior, you will get more of it.
Try as I might, I cannot remember when or why my father and I began collecting stamps.
Jigsaw puzzles were a traditional part of our family’s summer vacations.
A meeting is an unnecessary gathering of the unwilling, led by the unknowing, doing the impossible for the ungrateful. (Slogan from a popular poster during the 1960s.)
(Dedicated to Robert J. Haggerty, MD)
It was winter and I was almost halfway through my third year of medical school in Rochester, New York. I was enjoying my pediatric rotation, even though it meant I was up much of every third night, and chronically sleep deprived. Getting to bed by 2 am and having three or more hours of uninterrupted sleep was considered a good night. In addition to pediatrics, I was learning to nap, and trying to learn to function despite exhaustion.
We are having a cold spell this week. According to the news, it is the coldest spell the area has seen in two winters, and people can’t stop talking about it. Mostly they complain, of course, though locals of a certain age couple their complaints with commentary about how much colder it used to be. Good or bad, people like to complain about the weather, which is fine with me. I just ignore them.
What I find sad is how many people let weather interfere with living. I learned this early on after moving to Maine.