Miller Christmas Season

Christmas morning is usually full of wide-eyed kids rushing downstairs to see what goodies Santa has left for them. After an hour or so of opening gifts, the only thing left is the wrapping paper carnage on the floor. After days of "family time," everyone rejoices in the chance to go their separate ways under the guise of playing with their new toys and gadgets. So, Christmas is over. Rinse and repeat for next year.

For me, however, this year the Millers have managed to accomplish the true Christmas season. Due to the resident hierarchy of UMC, my sister started a 24-hour shift at 7am Christmas morning. So, the Millers took it into our own hands to re-schedule Christmas to the 26th. In the long run, we didn't think the 7lb 8oz little baby Jesus would mind...

It began with a Candlelight Christmas Eve service that had my heart uplifted with the joy of Christmas. I was ready for the Christmas to finally arrive.

Christmas morning was not traditional. I woke up in my house, with the head of a Great Dane crushing the air out of my lungs. After a leisurely morning of playing "how much energy does this dog have" with Lanie, I loaded up to head to Tylertown for extended family Christmas. It was a quick visit, but it was full of the spirit of Christmas.

But, the moral of the story is, last night when most people around the world are finally exhaling that Christmas is over, I was just getting amped up. I had the grand finale, the Miller Christmas Extravaganza to look forward to!! So, today, is my Christmas! Today I spend the day with my family, prepared with a backseat full of gifts and an arsenal of witty comebacks if my dysfunctional love life becomes topic of conversation.

Merry Christmas... Again!!

News Flash

So, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I don't know what happened, but I did not get the memo!

But, now I know, and knowing is half the battle.

Merry Christmas!!!

It's Beginning to Feel A Lot Like Christmas...

According to the thermometer in the car, it was 36 degrees outside this morning at 8.

According to my WeatherMaster5000 it is currently 42 degrees at 4pm.

Finally... Christmas weather!!

Twelve Cases of Clinic

Another day at clinic has come and gone. Here is a recap-

On the last day of clinic, Jackson gave to me...
12 hypertensives
11 diabetics
10 BMIs over 30
9 lifetime smokers
8 dyslipidemias
7 illegal aliens
6 S4 gallops
5 cups of urine
4 inch hernia
3 lipid panels
2 CMPs

And a vaginal discharge with a pelvic exam....

It Begins..

Exam week has begun. I am experiencing nausea, dyspnea, and diaphoresis. Add in some chest pain and an elevated TroponinI, and you've got a good ol' timey MI.

17 Days..

Only 17 days until Christmas, but somehow I'm not really in the Christmas spirit. Don't get me wrong; I love Christmas. I love the music on the radio, the bustle of people at stores, the excitement on little kids faces. My lack of seasonal joy is probably because Christmastime is trumped by exam time. Instead of buying my first very own Christmas tree, I'm studying about Ascaris. Instead of decorating my first house for its first Christmas season, I'm trying to cram all the pemphigous vulgaris into my brain that it will hold. So hopefully on Friday, I will become the embodiment of the Christmas Spirit. If not, I'll blame it on the 72degree weather.

The Poser Coat

During the very first week of medical school, there is a ceremony where we are given our very first white coat. That day, you feel like the king of the world. Everyone, step aside, you are medical student! But, you quickly learn that this coat is not a gift, but a curse. A stigma.

The white coat of a physician is long (knee-lengthed) with your name, M.D., and your speciality monogrammed on the left chest. Your chest pocket is overflowing with free pens from pharmacuetical companies. Your other pockets are bulging with pocket books of pharmacology, lab values, and pertinent information to your speciality. You also carry in those pockets, your stethoscope, physical exam equipment, and countless scraps of paper with important phone numbers, notes on lab reports, and lists of things to do. You have places to go, patients to see. You own that hospital. You are doctor.

Now… my coat. My white coat is short, coming to the hip. There is nothing monogrammed on it, not my name, not the hospital’s name. And this barrenness extends to the pockets. I have one Community Bank pen in the chest pocket. I do have a stethoscope, but otherwise have stuck some incidental paper and small notebooks in the pockets to try to fake some credibility. It is also the warmest coat I own; for as soon as I put on that short white coat, I immediately begin to sweat with the overwhelming responsibility associated with it. Where is the Radiology Department? Ask the girl in the white coat. What is a normal BUN level? Ask the girl in the white coat. Unfortunately, I don’t know either of these things. I am just a kid playing dress up. And it scares the hell out of me.

Life Plan

You know the classic “globe” method of choosing a vacations spot? Close your eyes, spin a globe, and whereever your finger lands is where you’re spending a week of your life. Albeit, this method has its flaws (because you know you go for the re-spin if your finger lands in the Mariana Trench or Katmandu), but I have decided to adopt it for my own purposes.

As an M2, I have no clue what I want to do with my medical career, besides get out of the library. My experience is limited to a couple of botched histories, listening to a few hearts/lungs pretending to know what I’m hearing, and one successful venipuncture. None of these things lend themselves as a clear Road Sign of Life pointing me toward a certain speciality. This is where the globe method enters.

First, I’ve decided I would like to go somewhere fun for residency. Although I might not necessarily have time to enjoy the city, I would like to be somewhere that my friends would feel motivated to come stay with me so that they can enjoy the city. So far, I’m looking into:

Charleston, South Carolina
Chicago, Illinois
Charlotte, North Carolina
Denver, Colorado
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Once I settle on a city, I then will need to choose a specialty. Seeing as I would like to go to at least a decent program, this means that the field I go into will be limited by what is respectable in the city I choose. But, I’m not going to just pick a career because it has the best program. I want to have a specialty that has perks, such as prestige, monetary compensation, and the most important, good personalized license plate options. Here are some examples:

Orthopedics- BONESAW
Plastic Surgery- NEWU MD
Otolaryngology- SAY AHH
Obstetrics/Gynocology- VAG DOC
Radiology- ICTHRUU

With both of these criteria met (fun city, cool tag), I feel like I will have found my chosen path in life. I mean, how can this plan go wrong?

Jaundice

The method of medical school is to teach us about conditions we have never seen, give us the symptoms or a picture of the best possible example, and hope that we recognize it in the real world. So, a fear of mine is that I won't be able to recognize anything. Is that a physiologic S2 split or an S3 gallop? Is that splenomegaly or just intestines?

So, last week I walked into a patient's room, and this Seinfeld clip was the first thing I thought of. When the attending asked me, "What's wrong with this lady?" as he pointed to a patient as yellow as a banana, I thought, is this a trick question? But, correctly answered, "Jaundice...?"

For Giggles

Although more relevant to first year (I actually own the Embryology book shown), this will give you an insight on my week...

To Help Me Get Through This...

"I want what all men want. I just want it more."

--Achilles, Troy

One Small Prick for Man... A Giant Leap for an M2

Today was a great day in the life of Student-Dr. Miller. I went to the Jackson Free Clinic, to give back to the community, and to remind myself why in the world I signed up for this medical school thing.

At the clinic, the staff consists of:
M1s- They have no clue what they are doing and have no idea what idea is going on.
M2s- We know, in theory, what is going on, but we have no clue what we're doing.
M3s- They might be the grunts of the hospital, but they run the show at the JFC.
M4s- Who am I kidding... They're all either on vacation or giving their work to an M3..
Attending- They sign their name off on the charts, checking to make sure all of the above aren't trying to kill anyone.

Please notice. No nurses. No lab techs. No phlebotomists. Just us. We do it all.

And, today, I hit a milestone. I took blood for the very first time successfully. (Must admit, I tried last week, it didn't work out as planned, so I let someone else do it.) Yep. Tied that tourniquet on, coaxed a nice vein to the surface, and hit it on the first try. Oh, I was pumped. I tried to hide my excitement in front of the patient as not to freak him out that it was my first time... But as soon as he left the room...

I did a celebratory dance.