Hey, it's Monday.
OY, today was so freakin' long. I discharged half my service today, though. Which, well, they're getting better, so that's nice. Including my guy who doesn't have TB (we're ruling him out over a bullshit call by a radiologist and my dumb ass getting the film in the first place. But...he had a cough...and a history of TB...and schmutz on his lung...honestly, we didn't have much of a choice. So the poor guy's been locked in the negative pressure room since last Tuesday).
Today was a taxing day. I have this bunch of really needy patients. Some of them, genuinely have needs. One of them may well be the most anti-social woman I've ever treated. And that? Says a lot. A lot.
I always have this desire to crack those big old personality disordered folks like an Easter egg, see what's inside of them.
But I think it's probably just a big void.
I had a nice, extraordinarily random conversation with my friend John this afternoon. Did you know that Bull Shannon's first name was Nostradamus? I did not. But then, I'm apparently not nearly as up on my Night Court trivia as he.
I had some really nice things happen today, though. My patient with the asshole husband? Wants me to see her and her husband in couples' therapy. And Dr. Jabba might actually let me. And then I checked my voicemail, and I had a message from this mother whose son I saw in the ER back at the end of April. I made a passing comment about my clinic starting in August when I saw them (I think as in, no, I'm sorry, you can't follow up with me, I won't have a clinic until August). But I also made a suggestion about a change in her son's medications. And so today, I got this message telling me that they'd made the medication change and he was doing so well and his academics were solidly on the right track (actually, above and beyond), and could they come see me in my clinic now that August was upon us?
I'm kind of excited. I think maybe I'm a good doctor.