First Call

Every morning as the M3s walk into a darkened surgery lounge with residents, interns, and students sprawled across the couches catching precious moments of sleep, we dread the day it will be us. The first question we ask our fellow M3s is "how was it?" quickly followed by "did you get any sleep?" Well...Tuesday night I took my first night of Trauma Call.

I picked up my pager at 4:30, sat down to look at the surgery consult sheet sheets that I'd be expected to fill out. This was the only time I sat all night. The pager started beeping, and it didn't stop all night long. We had two kidney transplants, a GSW/knife wounds, an assaulted prostitute, a ligated ulnar artery, lots of bloody vomit, a scrotum the size of a canteloupe, and a little boy that swallowed a nickel. I didn't even have time to look at one of the couches longingly.

So, 31 hours later, I got to sleep. I put my swollen feet up and slept through the Loo barking up a storm at the mailman, the UPS man, and whoever dropped off the phonebook. It was probably the hardest I've ever slept. Then, entirely too short of time later, I got up, and went back to the hospital. Yep. Welcome to medical school.