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pjchung
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Name: Peter
Country: United States
State: New York
Birthday: 6/28/1980
Gender: Male
Interests: No.
Expertise: Yes.
Occupation: Other
Industry: Other
Message: message me
Member Since:
8/14/2002
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| Being at Mattel Children's Hospital means that around Christmastime, your patients get some pretty freaking amazing gifts. I stood in the hallway outside the gift storage room for ten minutes playing with this loop-de-loop car thing and thought about trying to smuggle it home under my whitecoat. Seriously, some of these toys are just unbelievable. And the word is they have too many to give away at this site alone, and are busily transporting them to other hospitals in the community.
But sometimes something goes wrong in the equation. I call one of my patients "James-Bond-villain-guy" because he has that disorder which makes him unable to feel pain. His entire life, he's gotten into trouble because he's intentionally broken fingers, dislocated joints, and chewed on parts of his body to stimulate himself, simply because he didn't know what it meant to hurt. Now his body is something of a mess, with fingers that are far too short and stubby to articulate properly. And his Christmas present? A complete bundle package of Guitar Hero 3. I don't think he hold the guitar, much less strum it. What's stranger is that it's the PS3 version. I doubt he has a $500 system sitting at home in Bakersfield. While it's nice that some kind-hearted soul decided to purchase some warm-fuzzies by donating such an extravagant present, it seems particularly cruel to give something so inappropriate. Like if someone gave me a deliciously lacy negligee that just made my butt look too big.
I wonder if I contracted some kind of severe disease around this time, I could maybe get an HD TV, an xbox 360, and a Rock Band bundle. And maybe a pony. Yeah. That'd be nice.
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| Somehow I've gained the reputation of a flirter. "There's always one in every class," my senior resident smirked at me. "Some guy who plays it up to the nurses on the wards." I protested to no avail that there are only four guys in my class, and one of them is gay. So when a nurse says I'm "the favorite intern," I say it's less about my social capital and more about swimming in a small kiddie pool. It's like my high school, where we had a graduating class of 76 seniors and just about anyone can end up prom king.
It's true, the nurses like me. I hang out by their station compliment them on their fancy scrubs, and they tell me I should marry a nurse. "Stable job, three shifts a week," one said. "Good pay--better than yours right now--with not as much debt to pay off." When I told one of them, a nurse named Sally, that I was already involved, she said, "Just make sure not to touch your girlfriend's flower before you're married, because that's against Sally's religion." She then continued, "It's too bad my son doesn't follow my advice. I think he already touched his girlfriend's flower. I know because one day I found her touching my son's nipple."
And after I had completed a series of rotations at other hospitals, one of the nurses welcomed me back to UCLA and said, "Just make sure to hold on to your pants." She claims she was trying to say "pens" but her new braces make it hard for her to enunciate. In truth, most of these nurses are 40 year old Filipino women, which is
just about my demographic. Middle-aged women have always been my
specialty.
How else can I explain how I can go entire call nights without being paged while my co-interns are getting up every 20 mins to write orders for stool softeners? It seems the nurses I work with would rather have constipated children than a grumpy male intern.
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| While on call in the nursery, a co-intern and I were looking for
childhood pictures of ourselves. (This was because we had already seen
all the episodes of "A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila" that were on the
air). "I think I have one on my blog," I said.
"You have a blog?" She didn't think I was the type.
It's been a lengthy absence from xanga.
I figured people have plenty of sentimental musings on life and death
and dying from medical students and residents on the web, and I didn't
feel that I had much to add. There were questions of legality in how
much I could say about the patients (and doctors) that came into my
life, especially those high-profile types running around Los Angeles. And there eventually comes a limit on how much you're willing to
share about your personal life (once you stop going on blind
dates).
But I think it's time for me to start blogging again. Not that I think
anyone's still around to read this any more...I think everyone's too
busy chucking books and raising cyberpets and being pirates/ninjas on facebook. But I'm glad to be more honest and less exhibitionist. Intern year
hasn't afforded much incentive for introspection, but in looking back
at my posts from medical school, I think I thought about things a whole
lot more than I do now. Just this week, I helped resuscitate a 23 week old baby
that weighed about as much as a bottle of water.
It--he--had hands that were about as thick as my thumb. We were all frustrated because the parents wanted everything done for their child even though the survival odds were astronomically low. Then I went and got breakfast.
I heard he developed a grade IV intraventricular hemorrhage and his brain is basically full of blood. The parents are still praying for a miracle.
I think it's be worthwhile to have something to look back on to refresh my shoddy
memory on how this year--supposed to be "worst year of my life"--is
going. For those of you who are curious about how my life is going, I know how hard it is to get a hold of me, and if you actually care to ask, well, it's the least I can do to post something once in awhile (even it's horrendously boring and tangential). And anyway, with the WGA on strike, the networks are running out of good TV shows to air. Don't get me started on how much Heroes season 2 is annoying me. I half-want to drop out of residency so I can join Joe Yang's endeavor to script the next hit sitcom. Or maybe The Real Residents of Grey's Anatomy, a reality show in which interns compete with each other to see who can be the first to sleep with an attending.
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| Reason 1: Dad: You seem older now. More like a man.
Me: Is that because I have an MD?
Dad: <rubbing my head> No, because I got married when I was your age. Reason 2: Dad: <on living alone for the past 2 weeks> I wanted to go watch that new pirates movie, but it was sold out. So then I noticed there was a DVD-room where you can watch movies in a private room, but when I went up there to check it out, I saw it cost $9! I asked the person, "Why on earth would you pay more than the cost of a movie ticket to watch a DVD?" And the person behind the counter said,"Gee, that's a good question."
Me: You know those DVD-rooms are where young couples go to, um, do "stuff," right? They're really shady.
Dad: Really? <pause> I guess I should've taken my girlfriend, then. Reason 3: Dad: She's not TOO religious, is she? She's not...boring?
Me: No, dad, she drinks alcohol. She's starting to like wine.
Dad: <proudly> Because of you? | | |
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