Just fulfilling my aunt duties

I know I know, I'm biased, but she's pretty darn cute. 

...even when she's being sassy...

...even when she's sleeping...

...and especially when she's playing peek-a-boo!

Kids. They never trust stuff in books.

ME

Hey, kiddo, how are you feeling today?

PATIENT

I'm okay.

ME

How come you didn't eat any of your breakfast?

PATIENT

Because I was just in a car accident! And they had to staple my stomach back together, and if I eat, my belly will EXPLODE.

ME

It's not going to explode. I promise. Look how delicious this applesauce is! Yum!

PATIENT

How do you know?? You get into a car accident and get your stomach put back together and then you can tell me your stomach won't explode. But until then, I'm not eating. And that applesauce is gross. Blech.

Four years and I still have a lump in my throat

To this day, I regret not dancing with you that night.

I didn't know it would be my last chance.

Love you Grandpa, always and forever.

It's hard out there for a pimp

CO-INTERN

Let's eat out in the student quad.

ME

With all the med students?

CO-INTERN

There are other residents. And pharmacy people too.

ME

Fine.

CO-INTERN

[looking around]

Man, it must be hard being a girl resident.

ME

[essentially inhaling my burger because I am post call and starving]

What do you mean?

CO-INTERN

I mean, it's just hard to look good in scrubs compared to girls dressed in miniskirts and cute tops.

ME

[looking down at my dirty scrubs and then around the courtyard]

...

CO-INTERN

[eating his lunch obliviously]

...

ME

But I'm the only one in scrubs in this entire area...wait, what are you trying to say??

Don't ask me how I knew it was used

Why does this keep happening?

Yesterday night, I was the overnight intern on call. I finished up my admission at 2am, and then quickly ran over to the call room so that I could take a quick nap before my next admission hit the floor. My call room was like it always is. Simple sheet and a pillow. I stole some blankets from the unit, made my bed, took out my contacts, and pulled the sheet aside to jump in.

Except.

There was something on my bed.

Plastic. And circular-ish.

Now, my glasses are not at full strength, because I rarely wear them and can't afford new lenses. So I leaned closer to take a better look. And then I leaned even closer.

And that's when I realized there was a used condom on my call room bed.

It might have been the smell that tipped me off.

Or maybe it's because I touched it and it was a strange mixture of crusty and slimy.  Yeah.

--
To those readers wondering about my first sentence, yes, something similar has happened to me before.

Yes, I realize how ridiculous it sounds

"Security. How can I help you?"

"Hi, um, I need to report a missing purse."

"Uh, ma'am, have you checked with lost and found?"

"Yes, sir."

"Was it stolen?"

"No...not exactly."

"Well, where was the last place you saw it?"

"On the roof of my car."

"..."

Well, it was just one of those days. My pediatrics team had spent three hours rounding. Which sounds normal, until I tell you that we have zero patients. We had won the game! But my attending decided to punish us instead, because he decided we ought to do chart review to make sure we were compliant with all hospital regulations.

Two hours into this mind-numbingly boring exercise, my phone started to go crazy with emails. Turns out that when I opened gmail on the hospital computer, I had unwittingly downloaded a virus and sent it off to everyone I've ever emailed in my life.

Yes, that would include residency program directors and all my deans from medical school.

I spent the majority of the day fielding text messages from strangers and old friends, "Yes, it's been a long time since we've talked....no, ignore the email you got from me...it's a virus" and then making small talk and diagnosing constipation and offering treatment cures for chronic headaches, because I just felt so guilty that I had infected so many computers.

As I headed to my car, I got another text message, from my mother, no less. "You sent me a picture, but I can't see it! Should I download this program to open it?" I promptly freaked out, sending her a million texts to please STOP, do NOT open the program, and for her to please STEP AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER. I put my purse down so that I could use both hands to emphatically text her, all while struggling to get out of white coat. Then I got into the car, as I continued to text my mom.

I peeled out of the parking lot, glad to finally be leaving all the stress of the day behind me, and hoping to get home as quickly as I could to my own non-infected computer where I could change my email password and set all of my many anti-virus programs on quarantine.

It wasn't until this morning that I realized where I had left my purse. 

Yup. On the roof of my car.

Clearly, it wasn't there any more. 

Upside...at least it wasn't a baby?

Not really presyncope after all

He looked at us wide-eyed with horror. "I thought I was going to die!!"

He's nine. And he had almost passed out in the shower. And dripping wet, with the water still running at full blast, he ran to tell his parents that he had almost died. His parents appropriately freaked out and drove him straight to the emergency room.

We were worried about presyncope. Maybe an arrhythmia. Maybe his electrolytes were off. Because fainting? In little kids? That's worrisome.

And then we heard his story. He had a normal day of playing outside with his friends, playing basketball and riding bicycles. He came home stinking of little boy body odor, so his mom had ordered him straight to the showers. Everything was like it's always been, except - and these are his words - "my little bird started to fly!!"

Then, he said, "And everything started to spin around, and I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore! My heart started feeling like it was going to jump out of my chest! And everything got really blurry, and I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE!!"

My senior resident and I looked at each other and tried to suppress our laughter. My senior resident smiled at our patient and told him that everything was fine. And that when he was older, he would like those feelings. He looked at us in disbelief, "I'm going to like dying??? NO THANK YOU. I don't even drink SODA cause it makes my stomach feel funny!"

We didn't know how to tell him, nor did we know what to tell the parents, but we're pretty sure our patient just had his first erection.

But just in case, we gave him a bolus of IV fluids.

Yes, I become a floozy after a good meal

THANAN

A new lobster roll place opened near the office. I'm going to eat it til the world ends.

ME

Yum!! Lobster roll!! I had the most amazing lobster roll when I was in NYC. Yummmmm!!!

THANAN

No, that was Luke's lobster. This is Claws.

ME

Yummmmmmm

THANAN

Hahahaha

ME

YUMMMMMMM

THANAN

Are you drunk??

ME 

No, just hungry

THANAN

Same thing.

ME

True.

Public service announcement

She waited for the WALK sign, and once it was her turn to go, she started pushing her 8 month old baby boy across the street. Her parents were right behind her.

She heard a squeal and turned to look at the sound. A drunk driver was careening down the street, coming straight at her at sixty miles an hour.

She screamed in horror. She must have. But in the last three seconds she had, she pushed her stroller as far away from her as she could.

Her baby boy ended up safely on the sidewalk. A little shaken, but otherwise fine.

She died immediately on impact.

---

I took overnight call on Cinco de Mayo. And I will never forget the sight of her mother dropping to the ground, slapping the floor in grief, wailing to the heavens, as she was told that her baby, her daughter, was dead.

Please don't drink and drive.

I guess it would be weird if a psych patient gave me this

Reasons why I love peds:

• No team pager going off every thirty seconds.
• No team phone ringing off the hook.
• Nurses who actually will draw a CBC, instead of asking you to come clarify the order because you didn't write "comprehensive blood count."
• Smaller team lists [On medicine, we're capped at 20, my current peds list is 6.]
• Admitting only every fourth day, instead of every day!

...and of course, the patients.

On my third day on peds, my patient sidled up to me and handed me a rolled up piece of paper. "It's a present, Dr. Wu. For you!"

[front]

[back]

I never in a million years would have thought that the sight of SpongeBob SquarePants would make me feel so touched.

Call me back otherwise I'll deport you

I've been taking care of an old Asian grandpa. He came in with acute confusion, unable to talk to anyone. The ER note said that someone from his family dropped him off, and no one had been back to see him in days.

We put a foley in him and out came three liters of urine. I sent off labs, and his PSA came back sky high. Urology came by to see him and confirmed my suspicions: most likely prostate cancer. We needed to talk to the family to decide what they wanted to do.

I called the family.

I called the family again.

Every day for three days I would try calling the family, before rounds, during rounds, after rounds, before lunch, after lunch, while I wrote notes, before signout, after signout. No one ever picked up. And every time I would leave a message.

The voicemails started off pleasantly. "Hi, this is Dr. Wu, and I'm taking care of your family member. He's doing well, but please give me a call back so that I can discuss his care with you."

But as the days passed, and my messages went unanswered, I got more and more terse. "Hi, this is Dr. Wu, and it is imperative that I speak with you about your relative's care."

I started leaving messages on my patient's tray table and white board, imploring the family to call me the minute they came to visit.

Still nothing.

This was inappropriate. Someone had dumped their grandfather in the hospital and taken off. Who does that? Seriously, who does that?!

I was pissed.

So on the third day, when my patient started to get a little worse, I called the family one last time. It went to voicemail. Of course.

"Hi, this is Dr. Wu, and this is now my twentieth voicemail to your family. It is highly inappropriate for you to send your grandfather to the hospital and then not want to participate in his care, especially when he is unable to voice his needs at this time. This qualifies as a form of neglect, and if I do not hear from you by the end of the work day, I will have no choice but to report your family to Adult Protective Services. Again, you know how to reach me."

I slammed the phone down in disgust.

I sat down at the nursing station, unsure what to do next for my patient. I was calling in a social work consult to try to get my patient placed at a nursing home, when the phone started ringing. The nursing supervisor picked up, and all I could hear was her side of the conversation. "Oh! Yes! Thank you for calling, the doctor has been trying to get a hold of you! No? No, just hold on, she's right here and you can talk to her right -- oh what? Mmhmm. No? Oh okay, good to know."

I almost yelled at her. That was the family I was trying to track down on the phone for days! Why did she just hang up?

Then she turned around.

"Doctor Wu? The family that you've been calling for the last three days? They're a Spanish speaking only family who just had their neighbor translate all of your messages. They said they don't have a relative in the hospital, but they got very concerned when you mentioned going to the police, so they want to know what they have to do for Mr. Chen."

I turned beet red. Turns out the number in my patient's file was wrong this whole time. And I had unknowingly been harassing a very nice Hispanic family who were now afraid of being deported if they didn't come to take my Asian patient home.