Helicopter Doctor Or Baby Steps……

So I obviously haven’t found the cure for my Blogger’s Block yet. [Grr.] I do, literally, have two pages full of potential blogging topics saved up at this point. It’s not like I’m lacking material, just…the…the…well, If I knew what ‘it’ was I’d get some of it and be blogging more.

Anyway.

Before the List O’ Potential Topics gets any more overwhelming, I thought I’d better take a whack at writing something, and where better to start than today? Baby steps right? Baby steps……

I had two very clear and distinct thoughts during clinic today. Or rather, while hospitalisting because I ended up spending most of my day in the hospital and not seeing clinic-type patients.

Thought #1: “Is this what scut work looks like?? Am I a total scut monkey right now??”

The thought occurred to me as I labored away slowly, painfully, battling the Evil EMR Overlord for every coherent sentence, at only my second progress note of the day. It was almost 1100. I am not fooling myself at all, I am way the h*ll too slow at rounding. I should note I was not only writing notes all morning. I was also assessing patients (okay there were only three, I said I am way the h*ll too slow), writing orders, communicating with my attending, calling various other facilities to obtain patient information, pestering the radiology department, calling to schedule follow up appointments, and regularly re-filling my coffee cup (Did I mention I’ve been battling an Evil EMR Overlord? This takes coffee people. Lots and lots of coffee.).

On my way to the radiology department for the seventh time, I started thinking scut monkey. Now, I have heard the term ‘scut’ thrown around since I started medical school. I have know idea what the term actually means, aside from the fact that I associate it with haggard looking interns, and, it just sounds bad. (And maybe kind of perverted? But that’s probably just me. Moving on.) Now that I think about it, I probably should actually look it up. Hang on while I use some highly sophisticated medical literature searching software (aka The Google).

Right.

1. Scut

Thank you Urban Dictionary. (P.S. there is a 2. Huh. Apparently, I was right. ‘Scut’ does have rather perverted origins.) Definitions aside, right after I had thought #1 today, I thought, “Hey, scut isn’t so bad. I can totally do this. Yeah!” Once again, proof positive that I have chosen the right career path after all.

 

Pick me! Pick me! I’ll be your scut monkey!

 

Enter Thought #2: “I am (going to be) a total Helicopter Doctor.”

Which occurred after I had spent all morning at the hospital, took a brief lunch (coffee) break, and returned to the hospital ostensibly to research a patient’s records for a presentation and ended up spending over an hour obsessively checking on talking to the patients I had spent all morning with. Until my attending called and asked (very nicely under the circumstances) that I come back to the clinic to (actually) see a (clinic) patient.

I ran into a fellow 4th year on the way back to clinic while I was ruminating. “Dude, I am going to be a total Helicopter Doctor,” I said. Unaccustomed (unbelievably after all this time) to my random fits of verbage, they were like “What??” “You know, like a Helicopter Mom. I’m going to be a Helicopter Doctor.” “Oh geez…….”

I don’t really know what the point of worrying about it is. I’ve identified the tendency and I’m hoping (hoping) that with experience I will be more efficient (i.e. faster and less obsessive), but still caring. And thus, not spending inordinate amounts of time on routine tasks and checking in with patients constantly to ensure said tasks have had their desired effects.

You know, so I can actually leave the hospital someday without the nagging feeling that I’ve forgotten something. Like to turn off the iron or, oh I don’t know, order a lifesavingdiagnosismaking medication/test/procedure. Crap.

 

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In other news, it is Valentine’s Day.

As you may have guessed, rather than spending the day with my SO, I spent the day hovering over patients. But I did drop off an eclair for him (Um, no, it did not come with that bow wrapped around it and heart stickers with googly eyes stuck all over it. Yeeesh.) and sent him a very apropo Dr. Who Valentine.

Okay, this is the one I was going to send until I chickened out at the last minute realizing it may have been, er, misconstrued by some.

 

In return, I found this waiting for me at home:

Red roses, my favorite. I know its cliche, don't judge.

And this in my fridge:

"This is how my heart feels when I'm not with you."

 

All together now, Awwwwww…..I really need to learn to leave work someday. Without nagging feelings. Baby steps. Baby steps……..

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