Wednesday, April 17,
2002.
Number of weeks until I'M A DADDY! ... Less than
FOUR WEEKS!!!
Latest K-pop ear candy: Koyote
4, FinKL 4.
How old is ... The LIGER! ? 12 in cat-years. That's 45 in people-years
per Mark the
BeastMaster .
Hell hath no fury like a pissed-off Catholic K-girl.
THE BLUE BLOOD SOCIETY
It was like a scene in a gangster movie, or even a modern vampire movie. .)
You know, when all the different gangs/clans are seated around a big table in posh surroundings to discuss their Ultimate Plan for World Dominatrixation (Oh wait, that's MY plan).Well, that was where I felt like I was at, this particular evening. I was seated on one end of a long table along with forty other physicians like myself.
Why I was even at this meeting was a bit of odd timing. A few months ago, I probably would not have even considered it. Even when The Kommandant (my boss) told us about this one and how it would be the very first Michigan branch of hospitalists like myself and asked me directly if I would go, I initially said no thanks.
But I thought about it later and discussed it with Amy. I've kind of felt like it's about time for me to give the "grown-up" stuff a try. To consciously be part of something bigger than I am. Something different. The organization was just starting up and I'd be on the ground floor. They were even going to elect officers tonight ….
I was class President in the fifth grade; I still don't know how that happened. I was always the last one to the meetings during lunch recess too, and I wasn't elected (nor ran) for a second 6-month term. I was usurped by a power-hungry girl who had much more political ambition than I did and much more brawn to back it up too. That's okay though, I got to play opposite my elementary school crush in the school play. Talk about exciting! (Then she would make me sad over the next six years, but whatever. Everyone has their own Winnie from The Wonder Years.)
The meeting was presided over by a grassroots middle-aged doc who stated that he would NOT be running for any positions. He stated he would simply moderate until we found our leader and our purpose.
Introductions came first. Name. Years as a hospitalist. Location. It was like the first day of school. I don't remember a single name. But it was neat to see all these people who actually did what I did.
There were seven different groups being represented that night. Some groups had one person there. Some had a dozen.
Apparently there were indeed political and financial rivalries between some of the groups as well. A large black man, Dr. Westside, beside me was the sole representative from the entire west half of Michigan.
"There is such rivalry between the west and the east groups in Michigan, that we (the west half) send all our transfer patients and referrals out of state," he said at one point.
I had no idea. But all this intrigue was kind of exciting.
The moderator had all forty of us go around the table again. Each of us had to come up with an idea of what we wanted to get from this organization. Thankfully, I was one of the last people this time around.
The thing that struck me was that so many of these hospital doctors were around my age. There weren't the old white-haired nose-snubbing better-than-thou academic types. These were all foot soldiers in the most stressful battlefield there is in medicine - the hospital setting.
To some extent, they all had that jaded darkness in them. The stressful moments, the mortal drama, the convoluted and contradictory decisions that have to be made, and of course, those difficult patients (attitudes not illnesses) and families who make you want to pack it all up at the end of the day and quit. Or get drunk (I don't drink). Or worse things.
The program director at The Empire, Dr. Joychat, told me recently, "The hardest thing about medicine is when you realize you will never be the good guy in some people's eyes. Most of us became internists because we wanted to be the good guy. But you soon realize you just can't make everyone happy."
Part of growing up I guess. Everyone won't like you. No matter how hard you try. Some people think they are the badguys when they can't do enough. And some think they are the good guys when they only help themselves.
Like the minute hand on a clock, the hot seat went around the room. All the important suggestions were made and being repeated already. Standards of care, fair representation, education, blah blah blah.
Oh man, what am I going to say when it's my turn, I wondered. I felt like I was in fifth grade again. Think. Don't be nervous. I actually thought to myself,
"Okay, imagine you're writing an entry about this. Say something like that. Only without all the Korean references. No porn or video games either. ... And definitely no Korean video game porn .... Where was I again?"
When it came to be my turn, I spoke up,
"Hi, I'm Scott. I probably can't add much to the excellent points that have been brought up alread -"
"Excuse me, could you speak up down there?" Someone from the far end of the table asked.
"Um, yeah, … as I was saying, I think having conferences dedicated to topics we deal with is a great idea. I'm getting tired of having to search through renal conferences and GI conferences to find something relevant to what I do as a hospitalist.
But another important point, has to do with our image.
In clinic last week, I heard a clinic doctor refer to us as a 'fad that was here to stay.' A fad? I was shocked. We are essential to the machinery of the modern hospital. We get things done efficiently and effectively. We see as many hospitalized patients in a day as some doctors see in a year. We all know this.
But to this day, there are patients and even doctors who have no idea what a hospitalist is.
I have to spend ten to fifteen minutes with every new patient just explaining
(nods in agreement then)
What I am,
Why their primary care doctor isn't going to be seeing them in the hospital this visit,
And why that is a G O O D thing for them -"
The room burst out into laughter at that point. Totally unexpected. Then I realized it sounded like I had just blatantly insulted primary care doctors everywhere. I honestly hadn't meant it like that at all. I simply meant that taking care of a dozen hospitalized patients a year was little comparison to the experience of taking care of a dozen hospitalized patients every single day.
That's the difference between a primary care doctor and a hospitalist. The former spends all day in the office. The latter spends all day (and occasionally night shifts) in the hospital.
But that was about the gist of it. I was nervous. I was happy. Some people thought I was funny. This meeting wasn't so bad after all.
Afterwards I was encouraged by The Kommandant and Dr. Goldenage to sign up for the preliminary committee to represent our group. To their shock, I agreed. It sounded kind of exciting. To be founding members. Medical history, in a tiny niche sort of way. Just temporary, six months to try to figure out what should happen next. Bylaws, or something or other.
Thirteen members, in our committee.
Myself and the charismatic Dr. Charge (leader of another hospitalist group, like The Kommandant) were representing our hospital region.
The twelve male doctors unanimously decided to have the capable femme Dr. Charge lead us, since she seemed to know what we should do next.
Shortly afterwards I heard her mutter to herself,
"How do I get myself into these things?"
The next meeting was to be on a weekend, two weeks before Baby Boy's due date. Yikes! What if Baby Boy's early? Or if I'm across the state when Amy goes into labor.
I hadn't thought about that. But Amy thought I should be here too.
How do I get myself into these things?
… Oh, and my initial gothic paranoia impressions were wrong. This late night meeting in a posh secret room in a fancy hotel was not a vampire meeting at all. I even took a picture of everyone to prove it to you all.
Hey, how come no one is showing up in this picture?
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