I wouldn't say I'm missing it, Bob.

EMPIRE'S END

So, last Friday was my last day working at Empire Hospital. I've been there since 1996.

This marks the end of a huge chapter in my life. Perhaps enough chapters to equal a book, or at least two journal sites (my old geocities site and this one).

No elevator action for me.

I was born in that hospital, on December 19th, 1970.

When I was a child, my dad was hospitalized there for a vascular operation. I even read in his chart how my mom was kicked out of his room because she was upsetting him according to the nursing notes.

During high school, I worked two summers at The Empire with the “Environmental Services” division, i.e. I was a janitor.

After medical school, I did my medicine residency at The Empire. When those three years ended, I was hired into their newly created hospitalist group.

My wife Amy used to work there as a nurse, first in the MICU, then in the Clinical Trials department. Even my mom worked there for a while.

Now eight years later (three years as a resident + five years as an attending physician), that book has ended. Anticlimactically, but definitively.

Empty classroom. An apple keeps the doctors away ... because 4 out of 5 doctors prefer brownies.

I used to joke with residents and medstudents that I was just doing an “extended residency.” Maybe I was half-joking, but I learned a lot in my eight years in that hospital.

I learned humility and respect for my residents and colleagues and patients.

I learned what it feels like to have a patient who becomes a friend, and then have that friend die with you as her doctor.

A rare empty ICU bed.

I learned that a hospital is primarily a business and that “non-profit organization” can still mean $80,000 Christmas bonuses for the faceless higher-ups.

I learned that a lot of The Sick have a much better outlook on life than The Well.

I learned what it takes to go from regular physician to the administration track.

I learned that I will never run on that track.

My residents gave me these M&M toys over the years because I always brought M&Ms to rounds for them.

I learned that “fifty percent of what we know about medicine now will be wrong someday.” Maybe tomorrow.

I learned that some doctors really do want to do the right thing. And some just want to do the right thing as long as the right people hear about it.

I learned that doctors suffer miscarriages, have affairs, develop cancer, fall in love, fall in despair, behave like children, become parents, and become patients. Doctors are patients are people too.

It's not a tumah. No wait, it is.

I learned that it’s better to be lucky than good, but it’s even better to have a good lawyer.

I learned that paper work is more important than patient care, in the eyes of administration.

I learned that people can jump through “unbreakable” reinforced windows. You just have to be really crazy to try it.

Or maybe it’s crazier not to try it. All things considered.

A typical morning rush at the nursing station.

I’ll remember a great many people.

Dr. Joychat. He was like that uncle who dispenses wisdom with colorful anecdotes and a chuckle that almost makes you forget how powerful he really is. He helped me get in and he helped me get out. He gives a heart and a conscience to The Empire. I'm going to miss him.

Dr. Slick. The Prince Charming of ICU attendings with his snazzy ties, colorful expressions and involuntary whiplash whenever an attractive female walked by. He left The Empire a couple years ago after marrying one of the younger hotter nurses. He wasn’t nearly as superficial as the first ten impressions would have you believe.

The Kommandant. He was a good boss. But even bosses have bosses. Half the time he was just the bearer of bad news from his boss to the group. I still remember when he was a senior resident and diagnosed a pericardial tamponade (fluid constricting the heart) in a crashing patient in the ICU. I might be the last one who remembers that.

This used to be the storage room.

Dr. Goldenage. He was a hospitalist before the word was even invented. He practically grew up at The Empire too. He was an intern here, a trauma patient in the ICU, an office doctor at one point, and then a hospitalist. He’s been at The Empire so long that half the people don’t even think he really exists. They think his name is a code word like Dr. Firestone (fire alert). He is the last of the gentle and classic physicians.

Dr. Magdoll. She was one of my all-time favorite and funniest residents. I used to laugh at the number of times she would use swear words during rounds every day. Only later did she tell me that she had a bet to see how many swear words she could say in a day before I said something. I never interrupted. I just laughed.

Marty. Genuinely great guy. He's an excellent physician's assistant who'd make a better doctor than a lot of doctors. He really kicks ass in Soul Calibur 2 too (with that cheap ass Muramasa sword). If I had one real friend at the Empire, he was probably the one.

I will remember the others, just too many to name and no one I want to incriminate or embarrass.

I haven't stepped foot in The Doctor's Dining Room in four years. Looks the same. It's closed in this pic, btw.

On my last day, I said goodbye to some of my “frequent flier” patients.

The 524.9 pound lady with the cellulitis (skin infection).

The guy with chronic pancreatitis who refuses to be treated by any physician other than me.

I even stopped by the sarcastic paraplegic, Miss MOTU*’s room, even though I haven’t been her doctor in a couple of years. She's in the hospital 70% of the time. She looked healthy for once (aside from the paraplegia and colostomy).