I fail at life.Even when I'm trying really really hard to be a *SUPA STAR!*
I'm currently on outpatient peds with a pretty well-known Chicago pediatrician. I'm gonna call him Dr. T here, because he is just as intimidating and awesome as the real Mr. T. Anyways, I've been busting my chops trying to impress him these past couple of days, mainly so I can get a glowing letter of recommendation from him. Yesterday, Dr. T asked me to come in for Saturday morning clinic, since I would be missing half of next week for tests and other fun exam-like things. Clinic started earlier at 8am, but also finished by noon at the latest, he promised.
Now, even though we typically get weekends off during the outpatient weeks, I was more than willing to come in. After all, Dr. T promised that I'd see lots of really cool patients - from a trisomy 18 mosaic to a girl with Rett's syndrome. And that recommendation letter was hanging over me - I really needed a good one, saying that I was a great student willing to go the extra mile, willing to come in on the weekends.
First of all, I just want to say that I am normally not a super star. In fact, I'm probably the farthest thing from a star, let alone a super one. Even when I want to be a star student, I just can't manage to get to work more than 5 minutes early. And I definitely don't have the smarts to be one of those super intelligent students who knows the answers to every single bizarre and out-there pimp question. Heck, I don't even know the answers to questions that are glaringly obvious to others. So me? Yeah, my starlight doesn't shine so star bright.
I normally would have said something about having to study for my upcoming tests, and if it would be okay if I didn't come in this Saturday. But I didn't. Because I wanted to be a star for just once in my life. Because it feels nice to feel all bright and shiny, and like you're actually a somebody in this tank of sharks.
So I went in on Saturday. Made the hour-long commute to work. Saw some kiddos, listened to some lungs, gave out some stickers, and held down some arms while the nurse gave out pointy kisses.
Then I made the hour-long commute back to my apartment.
I was going to have to work tomorrow as well, since I was scheduled to go in for day call at the hospital. For the past five weeks, my co-teammate and I had been complaining about having to work on Superbowl Sunday. So, on a whim, I decided to check the schedule to see when I would get off and if I could possibly still make it back in time for the halftime show ads.
And then I saw it.
Michelle - Saturday February 6th - Urgent Care (day).
Holy crap. I was supposed to be at the hospital. I don't know why I thought I was working on Sunday, or why I had talked about Superbowl Sunday all this time, when in reality, I was supposed to be at the hospital. Right then and there.
I freaked out, naturally. I hadn't changed out of my clinic clothing yet, so I ran downstairs, hailed a cab, and high-tailed it to the hospital.
It ended up working out okay. Sorta. I mean, pediatricians have a reputation for being nice after all. And after just a mildly severe scolding that brought me to tears only once, the attending took me in and showed me the ropes and letting me see some patients on my own. And I finished out the rest of that shift, promising to come in and make up the rest of the time next weekend.
Moral of the story? I cannot be a super star for the life of me. I should just keep doing what I normally do - staying in the middle of the pack, trying hard not to be noticed. Because when I do try to be special, I just end up being a delinquent.
Sigh. Med student fail.
