25%

25%--that's how much of my intern year I've completed. And it feels pretty good. This last month (inpatient general medicine at VA hospital) wasn't as bad as the first, but still took a toll on me. There's something about VA hospitals that tends to depress me. I'm not sure if it's the rampant tobacco, alcohol, and drug abuse that usually follows veterans around, or if it's just the monotony of one old man after another coming onto my service. Maybe it's the smell of poop, which is definitely the predominant aroma in most hallways in that hospital. In fact, it might have been the poop that was actively filling one of my patients' beds while he was nonchalantly chatting with me about some of his inventions. Perhaps it was the sad fact that one of the patients on our team was convinced somebody had come into his room in the middle of the night and pooped in his bed. How little faith would you have in the state of the world at that point, if you sincerely believed that other people were capable of an act as heinous and vile as pooping in your bed while you slept? Another factor contributing to my depression may be the fact that I saw more than my fair share of death and debility this last month. On my last two post-call mornings I had to participate in "the talk" with some of my patient's families and almost completely lost it each time. It's pretty clear that I'm not cut out for that. Whatever it is or was that got into my head this month, I'm glad it's over.

There were several days this last month that I'd be on call, and as I walked down the long hallway to the stairway at the end that led down to the emergency room I would stop at the end to look out the window that faced west and overlooked the entire valley. I was lucky enough to pass by that window on 2 or 3 occasions while the sun was setting over the mountains, and something about each of those moments made me really miss not working 80 hours a week. I was also lucky enough to be at the hospital on my birthday. Even though I had a great day before my birthday (see "My birthday" post), the actual day itself was pretty awful. I had the misfortune of listening to some stupid sad song on the radio on the way to the hospital that morning, and I spent the rest of the day having a really tough time missing all my family and friends. It was probably the toughest day that I've had since we moved here, and it had nothing to do with work or being on call. I don't think I've turned on the radio since then.

It took me one good night of sleep (last night) to get into a completely better mood. I woke up this morning and realized my VA rotation was over and then went right back to sleep. My rotation for this next month will be in the ER at the University Hospital. It looks like I'll be working a whopping 30 hours a week or so. The hours are kinda screwy, though; I go in tonight and tomorrow at midnight, but then have to switch and work day and evening shifts later this week. I think I'm going to enjoy this rotation. I didn't get to do an ER rotation in medical school, so this will be fun for me. And I'll have about 50 hours per week to enjoy not being on a tough rotation. Maybe now that I have time to actually see Anna (tell her Hi for me if you see her....I see that she was on this blog earlier), I will pop out of whatever funk I've been in for the last few weeks. And before I know it December will be here, and we'll be back home to visit.


p.s. Please don't send me brownies laced with Prozac or send the police to my house or anything like that. After reading the post above I realized it sounds kinda pitiful. I promise this self-pity was due to an unfortunate series of events that have since resolved. Seriously, I'm ok now. Today I played Rock Band, drank a beer in the garage while changing my oil, and ate a calzone for lunch. Things are looking up.