Guys! Today is my last day of studying! The psych final yesterday went great, and the endocrine final tomorrow is gonna… go.
To celebrate, I left my room to grab a smoothie from the hospital cart. There was a sullen looking Surgery resident standing in line next to me.
I knew he was from Surgery because his white coat said “Surgery” (yes indeed, they let me into med school with these sharp skills of deduction), and I knew he was a resident because he looked pretty pissed off about ordering 6 very specific smoothies from a crumpled up list in his pocket.
Resident: And uh, next is one blueberry pineapple with.. wait. You have strawberry protein powder, right?
Smoothie Man: *cold, dead stare* *pushes gallon-sized “Plain Whey Powder” bottle across counter*
Resident: Oh. No? Oh. *stares at list* … Is there another smoothie cart around here?
I felt bad for him, but I paid and left before I could feed my curiosity about how exactly he was going to carry those 6 smoothies back to the hospital. Although I guess that fetching smoothies probably doesn’t make the top 10 on the list of tragic residency problems.
Still, I have to admit: That’s the one residency problem I’d feel good about handling: As a former late-night-drunk-shift waitress at Bob’s Diner, I would be damned good at carrying 6 smoothies at once. (Also, damned good at telling customers we’re out of, say, Strawberry Protein Powder, dealing with angry bosses, and knowing exactly when to refill the coffee.)
Waitressing is on my mind today because while procrastinating last night, I found my high school xanga account. And let me tell you, there is no shame spiral like an “oh my god, my high school diary is still online?” shame spiral. But the one decent thing I did write about (in between all of the vague ‘artistic’ posts and months of updates consisting of nothing but Dashboard Confessional lyrics), were some awesome diner stories.
I might rerun some of them this summer. There’s a lot that remind me that medicine has a lot of similarities with menial labor.
Speaking of menial labor – I’ve got my sugar fix, so I guess it’s time to go back to the flashcards.
Good luck with your last final! Do med students get the summer off? I have neighbors who are residents (husband, anesthesiology, and wife, pediatrics) (holy shit I spelled anesthesiology right all by myself on the first try? I was totally waiting for that red dotted line! it never came! go me!) and I was talking to the wife the other day, and she was like, “Yeah, I’m in my last rotation as a second year. I’m not sure why I’m excited about the second year being over. Nothing really changes, and there’s only like a week between when this rotation ends and the next one begins.” Then she wandered off, and I haven’t seen her since.
Yep! This is my last summer off, though – then it’ll be like your neighbor describes. Eek!
Thats Hilarious. I’ve been reading your blog since it started and Its definitely one of my favorites! Your also the reason why my IRB paperwork isnt getting very far!! I was looking at my high school xanga last night so I felt compelled to comment. However, I hope you didnt find the horrible things I did like, ” OMG I hope (insert random hott guy name) asks me to the prom or ill just kill myself “….WHY did I feel the need to advertise this?
Thanks so much! Haha, see, I think coming right out and writing what you’re thinking is probably better than the passive-aggressive stuff I posted – like “Everything’s falling apart.” (<– probably meant I got a B on an english paper or tripped in the hallway or something. I'm so over-dramatic!)
Oh man, high school journals. I still have my Livejournal….because I can’t bring myself to part with it, but holy crap, the ANGST. Seriously, totally with you on the Dashboard Confessional lyrics. It’s sort of disgusting.
Dude, I will probably never get rid of my livejournal! (For one thing, then how would I read “ohnotheydidnt” or keep up with internet drama? I mean, not that I *do* or anything. Just.. hypothetically.)
I don’t think I have many journals from high school. It was so angst-y that if I actually sat down to write it out, I went to the “bad places”. Thank GOD I’m not a teen anymore. Being an adult (are you really an adult at 22?) is sooo much better.
haha, now that I think of it, I’ve seen that surgery resident around here too, ordering soy hazelnut latte’s, white chocolate mocha’s, and caramel macchiato’s. (we’re having a horribly cold summer ): )
Haha, good plan!