The power of

Perhaps a good way to finish off the year would be on a churchy note. A subject that infrequently comes up on this blog nowadays. I'm not sure why though, given that the world miracle is bandied about so often in medicine, or prayers for intervention in desperate situations are so frequently utterred.

Several days earlier at the christmas morning service the Rev was talking about the importance of family and had mentioned in passing that his aged father was quite unwell. Nothing more was said, but evidently a number of people had inquired after his fathers health over recent days.

This morning the Rev took a moment to briefly thank everyone who had inquired after his father and informed everyone that all medical treatments had ceased, and it was expected that his father would shortly be called home. For a man whose job description involves dealing with death on a routine basis, he managed to deliver this news with a heartfelt, yet matter of fact tone. Quite sombre, yet informative.

Just as he was about to change topic to other matters at hand one of the kindly older blokes jumped up and interrupted "Rev, can I  pray now for your parents?" And it was really wonderful. He spoke this extremely heartfelt prayer. It was so honest and so very genuine. A beautiful prayer of thanksgiving for a life fully lived. Incredibly moving.

I love when things like that happen. The capacity to vocalise the thoughts, feelings and yearnings that we all have within without fear or worry. It was beautiful. Not because it was fancy but because it was right.

It's a cause for some serious introspection.

Those crazy Yanks

Like a lot of people I have marveled at how the Americans treasure their guns so dearly. I remember once watching some sort of TV show of 'remarkable survival stories' where a man is trying to duck back and forth around a rather slender tree while a guy empties a clip from a 9mm handgun in to him. The guy got shot several times and was very fortunate to survive. Or so I thought.

Movies have trained us to expect people to die straight away when winged by a bullet from a handgun. In fact, 6/7 people in the states shot with a handgun don't die.

The physics of bullets hitting people (though extremely disturbing) is quite fascinating. Just recently I was talking to people about bullets hitting water, and how far you have to dive in order to be protected.

It turns out that the super fast bullets tend to destroy themselves, breaking in to shrapnel when they hit water, whereas the slower bullets will actually go a bit further. Interestingly, it seems the same seems to be true for people getting shot.

I recommend this Youtube video by an American anesthesiologist if you'd like to hear more about it. It's probably useful information if you plan on dealign with people who have been shot.

On a related note, I've been thinking about 4th year electives. I'd really like to go somewhere in Africa, but probably not South Africa (everybody goes there.) Might see some of this stuff, not that I see myself as a trauma junkie in any way at all.

Me Doctor. You patient.

So I should probably explain, or at least give a bit of context for those that don't understand medical school. I'm in a post-graduate course. It is four years long, the first two years you are left to study from books. Your occassional interactions with patients are awkward, but slowly you learn a few things:

1. All girls are pregnant till proven otherwise.

2. Blood loss without pain is always worrying.

Mostly though, you are left to feel stupid and realise that you know next to nothing.

I am about to enter the second half of the course, where the books are now secondary to constant interaction with patients. I anticipate the interaction will continue to be awkward, some girls will turn out to be pregnant, and I will be worried by any form of bloodloss (even when I'm taking it.)

Mostly though I expect to feel stupid and realise I know next to nothing.

I'm excited though, as I'm moving out to the country. My first time out of home, my first time seeing patients who are both real, undifferentiated and possibly sick. Annoyingly, the benevolent master that is Flinders University has decided to slug its students rent, where previously the trip to the country has been free. Thanks Flinders! At this stage the rent charged is only modest, but falls a literal couple dollars below the threshold for rent-assistance from the government, therby costing me more. Thanks Flinders! Ughhh. To think, at Adelaide Uni they have to pay the medical students to go to the country. At Flinders we pay... it's no wonder Flinders Uni has a complex about being the poor cousin. We are.

In preparation for this big adventure, I've decided to sell my beloved Jeep. It breaks my heart, but I need something economical and safe. So I've bought a lancer, that I'm hopeful will not kill me, unlike the Jeep which was always a little skittish. The proximity to death was just one of the reasons I felt so alive driving it though. In the same way that hanging around an old peoples home makes you fell alive. Wait... What?

Maybe cars are different.

I do like the new car, but I really am having troubles moving on. I guess one never forgets their first vehicular love. It's sad to have owned your dream car, only to then go back to 'the rest.' I foresee another Jeep in my future. Or at least something stupid.

So now we move on. Away from Flinders. For my group of friends this means disbanding. Three of my usual posse are rural bound. Cheers guys and gals. The sad reality though, is that things wont ever be the same. Realistically, the next time my cohort will all be in the same room again will be graduation in 2014.

Le posse: An academic tour de force, the likes of which will never be seen again.

Let's do this.

You're standing on my neck

Well officially we have all now passed (thanking the power of the rubber NGP stamp on my otherwise mediocre assessments.)

Went and spent a day in the ED for kicks. Apart from further appreciating my lack of knowledge, I had an interesting time. Got to watch my first proper resus. I was amazed and also strangely relieved at my emotional detachment. It was only a 20ish year old guy, who had managed to combine overdosing and drowning in to one serious misadventure. I watched them work on him for awhile, and as it was a slow day in the ED a plethora of doctors stood around and pointed things out to me with a vague disinterest.

An alarm went off, someone had collapsed in the waiting room, unconscious. They dragged her in to the room next door. A heroin overdose, nothing exciting. At least not to them. Once again the doctors stood around with vague interest that comes only through experience. A prolonged contemplation on whether to administer the antidote or just let her come good with time. She was still breathing, a fact that they made me make sure of. They asked me to reposition her head so her airway would be more open. I began tilting her head back only to have her eyes spring open and for her to begin grumbling.

Even I, a humble second year knows that a talking patient isn't having difficulty breathing. And that was the extent of my good deeds. I left the ED, walking past a tearful family, waiting for news on their son. Weird, but distant.

I could work in the ED I think. People are only your problems transiently, none of this forming a relationship business.

An interesting thought indeed.

Half-doc

Some times after the power goes out temporarily, and if I know I have no responsibilities. I like to leave my radio-clock unset. Just let it flash grumpily, the time incorrect. It sounds weird, and I really don't do it all that often.

Just some times though, it's nice to see what my body is really telling me in regards to sleep. If I have no idea what the time is, I can't feel guilt for staying in bed too long. Nor angst about getting out of bed so early that I'm missing the opportunity for more Z's.

Inevitably tough it winds up with a third situation where I start stressing myself out about the possibility that I've slept through lunch, and am forced to check the time on a second device.

I suppose this is really just a long-winded way of announcing that I passed my exams and have a bit of free time on my hands. I'm all set to enter third year. A year that is penultimate in number, but for all intents and purposes*, academically ultimate.

This time next year, I'll be a most-doc.

Stay tuned for updates about my upcoming year in the "country" :) I'm thinking of renaming the blog;

 "We're not in Netherby anymore."

*It may also be ultimate for intensive academic purposes.