I guess the point of this post is to share some pictures I took from a foolhardy trek from school to the Charles River during this very blizzard, but also to share a few thoughts that have stuck with me recently. Read on for thoughts on winter gear and medicine so far.
All season, I've been waiting for the perfect time to photograph our charming campus under snowfall, but this was not what I expected. This particular day was not terribly cold, but windy, which can be worse. The only way to navigate this kind of weather successfully is with ski goggles, wool socks, base layers, and snow boots.
We walked about two miles in total to the river and back, buffeted by wind and taking pictures along the way. The pain of revascularizing frost-nipped fingers is no joke! We helped push a car that got stuck, which was pretty fun.
Oh, yes. The Sunday before was Super Bowl Sunday, and later that week (and before the blizzard), Tom Brady took to social media to proclaim a day of rest in Boston. Well, Mayor Marty Walsh declared a snow emergency when it became clear that this nor'easter was going to be a rough one, all the public schools closed, and finally on the morning of, our classes were cancelled as well.
I shadowed orthopedics call on the Saturday after the blizzard and got some startling facts: on the very icy blizzard-eve (Wednesday), there were 70 ortho consults from the emergency department for ice-related injuries. While I was there, we saw five patients with fractures (four related to ice, one related to ice hockey).
School and research
After a disastrous exam in January, things are looking up. I did very well on my last set of exams, but my academic counselor warned me not to be complacent, but also not to take on too many other things. Those other things are research things, and after a stumble regarding authorship order on an abstract I wrote, I think things are looking up. I will be continuing my project through this summer, working on a manuscript and another conference abstract, and starting two other projects with the same attending surgeon. Research and research acquisition are still mysteries to me, and I fully recognize that I got what I have by emailing the right person at the right time, and by leveling up in "networking" and playing a game whose rules I'm just learning. And, of course, the importance of a paper trail.
I'm pretty lucky to have a mentor who has my back and introduces me favorably to faculty. My next steps are to get funding for the summer, work on the manuscript, and crunch more numbers.
A good surgeon
We have begun our second semester of our clinical medicine class, which now places us under individual mentorship of a doctor affiliated with the school. My preceptor is exactly the kind of surgeon I hope to become, and though I have been practicing my physical exam skills at his clinic, the true value of my time there is in watching him and learning how he interacts with patients.
His patients trust and like him, for one. For those who have been his patients for a long time, he remembers their kids' names and asks how the spouses are doing. When a patient is self-deprecating or despairing, he knows what to say to make them smile. He was able to recognize far before I could that a new patient with many tics and anxieties and worries was not a "difficult" patient, but one with a long history of physical abuse that he needed to (and successfully) gained the trust of. He knew what to say to a family whose patriarch was going to die. He only speaks English, but knows just enough phrases in Spanish or French to make patients laugh. He sketches out surgeries and knows what questions patients have but won't outright ask.
To be fair, I think a lot of his demeanor has to do with the fact that he is older, white, tall, wears a sharp suit to clinic, and looks like a politician. But I've learned a lot so far and know that he is exactly the kind of doctor I want to be.
And, of course, he makes me want to be a surgeon.
Earlier this week, we had a dinner panel talk with several female doctors, mostly surgeons. It's too much to describe, but the energy was great, the speakers were all engaging and hilarious, and I felt very empowered. The night eventually became a call to arms for women supporting women in surgery, fighting the patriarchy, and becoming good doctors.
Anyhow, this is something one of the speakers, our favorite trauma surgeon said:
Keep fighting the fight. Fight it in yourself. Fight it in others. Fight it any place you can. Fight it in every place you can.Will do.
Dr. Samuel Shem
Consider me starstruck -- Samuel Shem came to speak at surgical grand rounds! The lecture was open to medical students as well and I got there early to make sure I got a seat.
Samuel Shem is the pen name of Dr. Stephen Bergman, the author of The House of God, which has provoked discussion and reflection within medicine for almost thirty years. Though considered satire, The House of God revealed the mistreatment and hardship that medical residents saw in training, and is practically required reading for medical students and interns.
It's rare that I get to hear the author's opinions on their own work. But really, this talk was about a great many things, with an overarching theme of retaining humanity in medicine. A few pearls from the talk:
- The House of God is about:
- the fight against injustice
- the danger of isolation
- the healing power of good connections
- medicine is a hierarchy and the group in power is not doctors, but insurance executives and corporations
- medical students are at the bottom of this hierarchy, but have strength in numbers
- the only threat to the group in power in a hierarchy is the quality of connections of the subordinate group
- the only sustainable model of health care delivery in a large, industrialized country is a national health care plan; a private market can only work if it is highly, highly regulated
- relate to patients as people
- the best thing about the Trump presidency is the incredible grassroots resistance against it
This was an exceedingly long post, but I had a lot on my mind
|My friends demonstrating the depth of snow. It looks like they're holding hands, but I assure you they aren't|