Low Point...

I hit the low point on-call last night.

Things just didn't go right. I had an hour-long family meeting with hyper-attentive adult children of a 70 year old lady (I don't want to go into details, ask me in person why I NEVER WANT TO WORK WITH WHITE UPPER CLASS FUCKERS), and then got nickled-and-dimed all night long 3 pain-in-the-ass nurses (the other 7 nurses were awesome as usual) . Sorry, I usually don't speak un-highly of nurses, but last night the surgery ICU resident and myself were starting to plot revenge on a couple of nurses who were the cause of misery.

The good part: while this was the low point of the month, my initial response was not to consider quitting residency, not to throw anything, not to punch, hit, spit, nor kick, but rather to realize that I am FUCKING exhausted. Mental Fatigue. Physical Fatigue. Emotional Fatigue. And the best part is that there is this one-week mentality. When you're down to the final stretch, it's all manageable. Had I hit the low point a week ago, you can bet I would have resorted to some less than mature coping mechanisms...

Know what I can't figure out. I work "80" hours a week. I know how residents in past worked 100+ hours a week (I did work 96 hours one week last year), what kind of quality of life was there back then. What kind of lack of balance was there... Jesus, I'd be a miserable SOB if I had to work those hours for more than a month, shit more than a week or two..

So, it's almost midnight. I came home this afternoon, slept about 2 hours, then went to see the Bare Naked Ladies concert with Patrick. What a great show. We had a good time.

Ok, getting up in less than 6 hours...
Cheers,
Brian