James and the Giant Clock

It seems like only yesterday I was stacking a sufficient number of blocks to make people in Denver nod sagely while clucking their approval - "Great things, I tell you! He'll go on to do great things." Oh, wait, my wife is telling me that WAS yesterday. Enough about Denver!

I am halfway through my Family Medicine residency, and it feels great. The patient load has increased, but I am now seeing familiar faces instead of undiagnosed pathologies in those clinic rooms. The ethos of our business/avocation/role is sinking in and the struggles have shifted. It's no longer interminable, stacked days of call and uncertainty; it's now a daily battle with two particular foes - the ever-malicious clock and its brutal henchman paperwork. Right now, I would not be in the least surprised to have a pharmacy fax a request for prior authorization for a patient to have a bowel movement. "So what you're saying is that you don't want me to justify the need for Colace, but rather to authorize this movement of bowels, in general?"

It helps immensely to have such a great group of folks to work with and support us. We have a great nusrsing staff who aren't afraid to yank me out of a clinic room by my tie (dens of microbiological iniquity, by the way) when I am taking too long. Our program coordinator and other support staff manage to keep us from going off the rails while still maintaining a sense of humor. And, of course, we have a great group of attending physicians who are always ready to offer advice and support. Not to mention that I work with a wonderful bunch of residents with whom I can commiserate (gripe) and turn to for opinions on difficult cases or just navigating our convoluted health care system.

Well, gotta wrap this up. I am being eyeballed by a particularly menacing looking clock and a surly, looming hulk of paperwork the clock keeps referring to as "Knuckles."

Vayo con leche,

James