Today was a complete waste of a day and I resent it wholeheartedly. Yesterday I got some great accolades and professional pats on the back from my preceptor at our End of Rotation little sit down and that was nice. He said some really nifty things to me. Really. It kind of made these last five weeks feel less like scraping my brains out with a fork with no anesthesia and more like maybe they gave me some morphine. So that was groovy and all and it felt super (and by super I mean super make me want to barf because nothing puts the pressure on you like having people think great things about you. I'd kind of rather have people expect nothing of me and have me occasionally dazzle them than the converse and repeatedly disappoint). But then I left wondering what I've been wondering all month: should I have gone to medical school? Was this the Right Thing To Do, after all?
But before I could feed the ulcer with it even more I got home and promptly fell flat on my face at 8:15 pm, woke up this morning at 4:00 am to prepare for my super duper special betrothed spot as a guaranteed scrub in student for a radical nephrectomy (latin for: burley take out your entire kidney surgery) because I figured since said preceptor (mentioned above) called the attending surgeon, gave him my name and told him to absolutely let me in, I'd better fucking know at least something about something and maybe a vein or an artery. Or something. Since I was coming in all, yeah hi, I'm Amy, "the PA student", the one Dr. So-and-So called you about. Yeah, I'm special. Let me in. I don't know jack shit.
And then I left the house and forgot my scrubs. I forgot my scrubs. What kind of retarded surgical student forgets their *&@#! scrubs? I got all the way to hospital and only then realized I forgot them. And no, for those of you who might be thinking what I think you might be thinking, no. There are no scrubs I can "borrow". Or use. Or anything. I had to go back and get them. On the train. At 6:30 in the morning. So by the time I got back to the hospital, only 10 minutes after the scheduled start time of the alleged super duper special cool surgery that I and I alone was getting to scrub in on as a treat, the farking thing had been cancelled. Cancelled. Who does that? Who cancels their nephrectomy the day of? Like, yeah, I know. I have massively invasive renal carcinoma and that it's almost all the way through my renal artery, has grown into my adrenal gland and is adhesed to my liver but actually, I'll pass. Thanks.
So then. SO THEN. We had all these lectures scheduled for today that we sat around waiting for, moving from one lecture room in the hospital to another, only to have them all cancelled with one fell swoop, three hours later. So that was awesome.
But anyway, the point is. The point is, the point is. While waiting for mystery lectures to commence, I sat in our little locker room lounge reading Surfer Magazine (I know and all I can say is, I have no idea) and kind of dying inside. I don't know. Really, if you had a magical time travel space machiney thing and you appeared in front of me at that moment and were like, jump in my magical implausible time travel space machine thingie and run off to Indonesia forever and never look back and never return and never set foot in another hospital maybe ever again? I really might have been like, Peace Out and Word to Your Mother. For serious.
But, obviously, I didn't. Because I'm here. (And because they don't actually make magical space time travel machine thingies but whatever, like that matters). And then, the very next minute I was off to a coffee shop to shove enormous quantities of information into my brain and totally kind of sort of loving it.
Because I'm clearly mental and need to be institutionalized.
