Running With Scissors

Since Peas was irate from my lack of blogging...I thought I would update the blog at least once this month. Life has been good on Family Medicine. I get out at 5 on most days and there is even "Half-Day-Wednesdays" where I get to play golf in the afternoons. Basically, for the last two weeks I've been spoiled and I get to keep it up for the next four weeks.

Today we were extremely busy. Patients coming out our ears. I had a great patient. Vietnam Vet, funny, old, etc. You know they're cool (or weird) when they are joking around when you are about to give them a Rectal Exam (or as I told him, The One Finger Salute). I'm not sure if I offended him with that joke or not yet. Anyways, his face was covered in Seborrheic Keratosis as demonstrated by this old man's back below (thanks Mayo Clinic):



They were of varying sizes. Some were small and a couple of them looked like a ferret pooped on the man's face. In other words...they were huge. Apparently the protocol for these bad boys is you just cut them off with a pair of scissors and watch them bleed. Seems savage enough to me. So the doctor showed me once and then gave me the scissors and I went to town. I chopped off about 15 little terds off his face. I went through seven or eight 4x4 inch gauze pads just covered in blood. The patient joked he was going to need a transfusion at the end of the procedure. I was actually considering it as a real option. I wonder what was more terrifying for this poor guy, The Vietcong or Ah Jota weilding a Battle Ax. My gut tells me it was the latter.

I often wonder who in their right mind would let a third year medical student jam a pair of razor sharp scissors in their face and be totally cool with blood pouring down their cheeks. I guess there has to be a first time for everyone...but you can bet your rear-end no med student will ever be lunging at me wtih a sharp metal object. I'd make sure to impale them before they ever got to me. I can't wait till I get to surgery so I can do this stuff everyday.

More Than Meets The Eye...*

Last friday I finished six weeks of pediatrics. In all honesty, I had a lot of fun. The doctors were great, the residents were fun, and the kids were just hilarious. I think it's the only time I'll be able to get away with tickling a patient during a physical exam. Anywhere else I would have a sexual harassment suit slapped on me so fast my head would spin. But it wasn't all fun and games. Sometimes the rotation was BIG and it was UGLY...let me explain.

I was on call on a Saturday and I came stumbling into the wards right on time. While I was walking in I noticed an ambulance parked outside...curious. I went in and we were busy. Admits from the night before and two just arriving with me, one of which via the ambulance parked outside. There are only two residents who work the weekends, so obviously they were busy. I decided to help out I would admit one of the patients that just walked through the door. The residents were grateful for the help. But just as I was about to turn the corner, one of them grabbed me and told me the one thing that any medical student dreads..."The caretaker is a Transgender". I wasn't too sure what that word meant, but from his tone, I knew that I was going to have my hands full as I entered the patients room.

I shuffled into the room and next to our tiny little nursing tech stood a massive he/she. I walked up to take the history as I stood in his/her shadow that stretched across the room. I guess the thing that made this entire experience so difficult was I couldn't convince myself of this persons sex. It makes it hard when I'm not sure whether to address a person as "Sir" or "Ma'am". His giant stature, long hair, and 1970 verbage that he rambled off to me suggested this was just a large male hippy. However, the shaved legs and obtuse chest hinted at the opposite gender. It's been a long time since I have been that confused. It was kinda like watching the beginning of Transformers where the crappy little Camaro changed into an awesome fist throwin', butt-kickin', protector of the universe giant robot (Robit, if you are speaking the Queen's English). But instead of this beat up Camaro changing into something awesome, it turned into an Oldsmobile...or something of that nature.

Maybe the resident was wrong and was just equally as confused and just wanted me to be as lost as he was. Who knows. In the end it really doesn't matter. He/she was as helpful as he/she could have been. I was able to get a complete history with very little holes about a patient who threw food and elbows at the nurses and later in the week tried to escape from the hospital. I love it when cartoons and subsequent movies can teach you lessons about life. You can just hear the theme song now...

*This post was not meant to offend. I apologize ahead of time for any mental anguish my jabberings might have caused.