poured out before bed
The drive is long and a little dicey, and the neighborhood on the outskirts of the “never by yourself” zone, but I’m so excited for my second shift at the Inner City Health Center Pediatrics clinic. This type of clinic allows a student to dive in head-first and try her hand at diagnosis and management, to encourage important preventative health maintenance, and to take part in some simple office procedures (under the supervision of a real doctor, of course). And those real doctors she gets to work under are FANTASTIC at teaching and communicating with patients, students, and residents alike.
I bask in the early morning sun, whistling as I walk into the clinic and head back to the staff work room. But I stop dead in my tracks when I see the tips of a very familiar set of shoes peeking out from around the doorway.
Lord help me. Dr. Sunshine is here to warm my experience this morning, yet again….Well, this is a full clinic – 5-6 residents, 3-4 staff, 1-2 students. I should be able to avoid her horrid negativity if I simply try, right?
I opt to enter via the alternate door (read: avoid, avoid, avoid!), nab a chart, and head for the first roomed patient. It’s a cut and dry case of impetigo. I (legibly) scribble a note, formulate a plan, and search for an attending with which to staff. I come upon a physician sipping tarry coffee in one of the back offices who gifts me a brilliant “good morning” and listens attentively as I present the patient, my assessment, and my recommendations. She is so enthusiastic and helpful in her feedback she makes me feel like a superstar, and the patients feel well cared for, certain of the treatment plan. I finish charting and grab the next available case, a simple viral URI, and the next, an asthma exacerbation, and the next, a UTI, always coming upon this marvelous attending when it comes time to staff, feeling efficient, unafraid to offer my thought process, my ideas concerning therapy to this wonderful pediatrician. And I am so happy that I haven’t caught sight of my favorite Dr. Sunshine (I’ve shamelessly peered around every corner to avoid sinewy ambush and seen no sign of the frownemy).
Before I know it, it’s 12:15 – time for me to high-tail it to my car and zoom far across town to my next clinic of the day. As I stand with Dr. Wonderful hashing out the details of my last patient – an infant with candidal intertrigo – one of the residents cries, “Oh, Dr. W! I LOVE your shoes!”
“Oh, thank you,” Dr. Wonderful replies, blushing a little. “They are horribly hard to walk in, but I just love them!”
I look down to see upon her wonderful feet those same fabulous shoes I saw about the corner this morning. (A case of completely mistaken identity, anyone? Cue the humorous wah-waah, if you please.)
As I said before, I knew I LOVED those crazy shoes!