Chicago has my heart

I don't know how to write this post.

There's so much nostalgia bursting through, all these memories competing for top dog honors, all these loves and friendships that I don't know how to convey on paper.

I love Chicago. I love Northwestern. And most of all, I love my friends.

Really had quite the amazing reunion weekend. Pictures and posts to come.

No place like it

Chicago, I'm coming home.

Long distance friendships

Best friends don't last forever.

It's just hard to maintain that level of closeness, especially when you're separated by 2000 miles and multiple time zones and strange night float schedules and engagements and new babies. So, it's hard. And the best-ness in the friendship starts to feel a little less "be fri" and a little more like you're marching slowly but inevitably towards the "st. end."

So best friends don't last forever, because they just can't.

After two and a half years, I finally saw J again.

Two and a half years is a long time. A long time trying to sustain a friendship on just random text messages and occasional happy birthday facebook wall posts. And we both knew that if it weren't for interviews, there was no way he'd be out here in Los Angeles visiting me.

I think he knew it was awkward too. He didn't ask to stay with me, but booked a hotel instead, opting instead to spend $300/night out of his measly resident salary to avoid awkward silences and lack of personal space.

So when we finally met up the day after his interview, it felt a bit strange. It felt a bit awkward. I mean, where do you start off a real-life actual conversation that you haven't had in two years? I pulled up to his hotel, and got out of my car to give him a big hug.

Instead his giant chin punched me in the forehead.

And right away, we started laughing, and the awkwardness melted away, as he pulled out his phone to show off pictures of his brand new baby, and then took my phone to create some new shortcut to fix my GPS so that I can actually find my way home now from anywhere in the United States. (Yes, I might be more excited about that than seeing J for the first time in a two years.)

So sure, best friends don't last forever. But at some point, best friends become dear friends. And that's when you know you'll be friends for a long time, even if you don't talk on a weekly basis. Because you know each other well enough that you can just pick up where you left off, even if you're both ten pounds heavier and now dealing with more stressful life issues like mortgages and diapers instead of midterms and final papers.

I'm going back to Chicago next weekend for my undergrad reunion. Here's hoping that this whole best-friends-equals-dear-friends-who-aren't-awkward-around-each-other theory holds up and I can show off my new non-awkward, non-klutzy self.

I don't have high hopes.

Too soon?

No hope, no cash, no jobs - but at least there's bacon.
And if you play the game right, you're never more than seven degrees away from it.

And then I ran up some stairs like Rocky

I never want to be known as the stupid psych resident.

I know the stereotype is out there. That the psych resident only knows how to sedate patients, and that if a patient were to present with chest pain, we'd call it factitious disorder first before thinking of getting an EKG.

I like to think that there's absolutely no way that would ever ever happen, but I gotta admit, I'm only five months out from medical school, and because I've been in my very happy bubble of psychiatry and psychiatry only, I've forgotten a lot of stuff.

It's hard to remember all that medicine we learned in school, especially when I'm not using it every day. True story, last week I treated a patient's athlete's foot with a vaginal antifungal cream. Thankfully, it was indicated for both. I'm also very thankful that I didn't switch it up the other way around and give a foot cream for someone's vagina. That probably would not be very good. Or pleasant.

I know. I'm not doing much to dispel the stupid psych resident stereotype.

But today! Today I saw a patient in the med ER, and after I assessed her and put her on a hold for suicidal ideation, I let the resident know that we'd take over as the primary service as soon as they could give me some recommendations to teat her pelvic inflammatory disease, and as long as it wasn't via intravenous delivery, we could totally take care of it. The ER resident stared at me, "she doesn't have PID." "Oh, well she's endorsing some symptoms that sound like it might be PID?" I stuttered, unsure of myself, unsure if I actually remembered the symptoms correctly. The ER resident smiled at me patronizingly, and said that he would check it out again, but he was sure the patient was fine and could be transported immediately to our ward. I smiled passive aggressively back at him, and thanked him for this very interesting consult.

The patient finally came to our psych ER eight hours later. After she had been diagnosed with PID secondary to trichomonas infection.

Booyah.

Reason #278 for why we should have electronic charting

ME

So this guy can probably go. He came in with suicidal ideation, but is now saying he's fine and he was contracted for safety.

ATTENDING

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. Start at the beginning. Give me an actual presentation on him.

ME

Oh. You want the whole spiel, not just the dispo plan.

ATTENDING

Yes.

ME

[flipping through the chart to find the patient's H&P which was written by my co-intern]

Umm.

ATTENDING

Does he have a job?

ME

Um, no, I think I read that he was unemployed.

ATTENDING

Does he do drugs?

ME

No, I asked the patient, and he denies any alcohol or illicit drug use.

ATTENDING

What does the chart say?

ME

[still flipping]

No, no drug use. Utox on admission was negative.

ATTENDING

So why was he laid off from his job?

ME

[finally finding the H&P amidst all the other paper documentation]

Okay, here we go. Here's the ID -- this is a 55 year old Hispanic male with no prior psych history, presenting with suicidal ideation and prolonged depression after a MVI five years ago.

ATTENDING

So he doesn't do drugs, but he took a multivitamin five years ago. Why the hell do I care about that?

ME

Oh. I mean motor vehicle accident (MVA). I couldn't read the handwriting. Sorry.

Very happy unbirthday

Well, I'm officially dreading turning twenty-seven.

Which might be why I'm dead set on watching everything on my DVR instead of going to bed.

I know. I'm so rebellious.