Weeeeeeeek-END!

Oh, I'm so incredibly glad it's Friday night, finally.

I'm so unbelievably tired. This week has been long. And stressful. And I'm less sick, but still not feeling awesome.

And tonight we had this soiree with the analytic people which was....stressful in it's own right, in several ways.

Whatever, I'm going to bed...

Brr

It's been a long ass day. But not a bad one.

Work was long. And chaotic. But I only have six more days on the crisis unit.

We went out for dinner after work - it was Mikaela's birthday today, so she and I and Scott and Wren (the small but motley crew we could cobble together at the last minute) went out, and Peng joined us later. It was lovely. There was a lot of laughing. Then I had class #2 of my mindfulness course, which was...I dunno. I'm finding it to be kind of disappointing, but I'm sure it will perk up soon. And one of my previous classmates has joined our group, which is pleasant. After class, though, in a remarkable joint display of poor judgment, I ended up standing in the parking lot talking with a classmate of mine for two hours in the 38 degree weather. At one point he looks down and says, "My toes are frozen." I said, "Yeah, we should go." So we walked ten feet down the parking lot and then talked for probably another 45 minutes.

Y'all, I'm cold.

And I need to go to bed. Because morning does come awfully early around these parts....

Slipping

What a long day.

I meant to go to bed at 8 last night. I tried to go to bed at 8 last night. Things kept happening, the phone kept ringing, and I got to sleep around 1am. I then promptly woke up at 4 with a completely evil migraine. And subsequently cancelled with my trainer so that I did not vomit on her shoes at 5:30am.

But, I got my ass to work. The pain had more or less subsided (after a handful of Motrin), but I was still having weird visual things and was right queasy. It was a rough day. Crazy people, lots of yelling. One of my clinic patients needed to be admitted. I still made it out roughly at 5(ish) and got a bit of reading done before my class tonight.

Class, however, was late, but very enjoyable. It's on Freud, right, and Freud's models of the mind. Tonight's topic was his three lectures on parapraxis - more commonly known now as "Freudian slips." We had a good academic discussion, but we also had a good bit of storytelling and anecdotal humor. Not the least of which was this:

Fatigue

It was such a long day. Crazy, lots of running around, lots of fighting with the neurology service, of all things. Actually made it out right around 5 and had a little time to do most of the reading for my class tonight. Class was a lot of fun; good discussions, rousing debate, wonderful collegiality, and a little bonus girl talk with Mikhela afterwards. My trainer kicked my ass this morning. My sunburn is blistering, and Peng has been kind enough to help me keep my back slathered in this fancy yogurt after-sun lotion that is essentially tzatziki sauce in a Korres bottle.

But I'm still not quite caught up with my sleep from the weekend. And I was sleep deprived before that. So, in the absence of any significant or substantive posting, I will instead give you another gratuitous beach photo. This one is from sunrise on Sunday.

Tomorrow's Wordless Wednesday? My very favorite picture of the whole set.

G'night.

Not sure where today went...

...but it was nice. Went to a psychoanalytic lecture this morning on deconstructing current ideas of heterosexual masculinity, which was interesting. Went with Sparrow, bought the guy's book. Came home, Claudia and I went and had a nice lunch at a local cultural icon kind of place, then took a brief tour of the area, then decided we were tired and came home and napped a bunch. Dinner with Sparrow and Peng, which was lovely as always, then tea and dessert at this cute Asian place. And suddenly it's 1am, and I have to meet Gomer at 10, and I'm going to lose an hour of sleep between now and then. I sense another nap in my future tomorrow....

Migration...

So my day started nicely. I slept in, I was snuggled with my puppy, and then I noticed this little...thing on the dog. So I picked at it a little, and then its little feet started moving, and ew, ew, ew, it was a tick!

Dude, I'm a city girl. Born and bred. I don't know what the hell to do with a tick. This is why I put tick medicine on her, so I don't have to deal with this shit.

So I called the Banfield, and they told me to put a little alcohol on it and then pull it out with a tweezer. I ended up using a pliers (close enough - couldn't find the tweezers), and then looked at this thing...

I think it's Ichabod Tick.

Apparently I didn't get as close to the head as I thought...

Maggie was NOT pleased. And in fact wouldn't come back into the bedroom for the rest of the time I was home.

The handyman came as I was getting ready for work. I had one patient show up for clinic again today (hooray!), and then had a bunch of work to do this afternoon, which I decided I would do at Starbucks. So I came home to get my laptop, and found that the sink had migrated out to the front porch.

But, by the time I came home from class (last night of classes! I get my Tuesday nights back next week!), it had moved back into the bathroom...

Seriously. Are they kidding?? It's mounted to the wall with a friggin' piece of molding. That's hideous. What happened to the pedestal sink? What happened to the not putting the stupid sink back on the wall??

Uh, and I think there's something seriously missing, still....

I'm so not pleased. We're on day three, here.

Not to mention, he moved everything (for no apparent reason) and blocked off the door to the room with the dog door.

Oy.

Here's what Maggie thinks.

(You'll notice she got over her fear of the bedroom, though)

Cycles

Ohh, I'm so glad this week is over. Actually, the week itself wasn't so dramatic (I was home sick Wednesday and Thursday, after all), but, I'm just so glad it's the weekend.

I need some vacation time. Fortunately, I have a week coming up, but I'm not anticipating that to be very relaxing, since I'm going back to Chicago (the week of New Years, for those who might have a vested interest in that). Good, of course, just kind of frenetic.

The coming week is going to be...um, let's go with...interesting. I'm on Walk-Ins Monday through Thursday (there's a long involved story about why Ed and I switched Fridays...so I have four days this week and one day next week, and then I'm on call twice the week of Christmas...). Walk-Ins refers to the Walk-In clinic, which is just what it sounds like - ideally, an urgent care clinic (I need my meds today because I'm about to run out. I'm going to kill myself. I'm going to kill someone, possibly me, if we don't get this depression treated quickly. You get the idea). You also cover the ER during the day. So it's like daytime call. Or as I tend to refer to it, Day Float.

What's nice is that it's 8:30-5. You plan accordingly and you sign out to the incoming call team at 4:30. Done. What's...um, let's go with...interesting about it is that we have this group of social workers and psych NPs and such that's supposed to be doing all this with us. They're part of the "crisis team" and are salaried to do Day Float things. This sounds great in theory, right, because in theory it would free up the physician (there's only one) to do doctor-y kinds of things. You know, stuff clinical social workers can't do (meds) or aren't really trained to deal with (complicating/complicated medical issues, physicals, orders, etc). Problem is, our crisis team tends to be...um, let's go with...inefficient. They're nice people, just sort of...unmotivated. With a different work ethic than residents tend to have. And rather than firing their asses encouraging efficiency (it doesn't have to be the threat of unemployment that's used to motivate them. How about praise? Incentives? A higher standard and expectation?), they're coddled and stroked because we don't want them to leave.

The residents this year have all been like, so let them leave. They either need to get moving, or get out of the way. We...you know, we're a hard-working bunch. We'll get in there shoulder to shoulder and fight through the roughest of shifts. And, fine, so residents in general are more used to hard work and long hours, we're sort of a masochistic group anyway, etc, but, damn it, if we're in there hip-deep, we expect the people who are paid a heck of a lot more than us to do this very job to be in there with us.

We'll see how it goes. There's a new guy, Charlie, who seems promising. We hired him away from one of the community hospitals, and every time I've worked with him on call he seems to be busting his ass. He's been doing this for a number of years, so I don't think he's going to burn out, and he doesn't seem like the type to be lazy just because everyone else is and he can get away with it, so, maybe the rest of the crew will have to step up to keep from looking bad.

A girl can hope...

I went to this talk this morning for the PECC (more about that in a minute), and the speaker was talking about what he referred to as The Lead Rule - do unto others as others have done unto you. It's so simple and obvious (and sardonic), but damn if that doesn't sum up a lot of issues in medical education. We get into these ruts of "this is how it's been" and "if I had to do it, so do you." This is particularly rampant in the surgical disciplines, but, I think it's pervasive. And I think it occasionally translates into, if no one else has to do it, why should I?

Sometimes? Life kind of stinks. Sometimes you have to do things because it's the right thing to do, or they have to get done, or whatever, even if they're unpleasant or tedious or not what you'd rather be doing. But, if we ALL do this, then it tends to mean less unpleasantness for everyone.

Amazing how many people look at that and say, well, too bad. You can take my share of the unpleasantness. I'm going to go over here...

Also at this talk this morning, I met up with one of my colleagues who told me some disappointing things about our current chief class and how unhelpful and minimally mediocre they've been for the intern class. This upsets me. Because, last year? Our chiefs rocked. They weren't always perfect, but, they always made an effort. And we were all interns once. And it sucked, but we got through it, and that support made it so much easier. This year? You know, I think the thing that bothers me most is that their attitude is contagious. Like, I've always jumped in when someone was sick. I took on May's work when she was ill when we were on together at State Hospital. I took calls for Cleo and Fang on less than 12 hours' notice (about three hours, in Fang's case). I dug in and took on some of Mike's work when he was overwhelmed or had a bad night on Family. I was q2 for a week when Peng had dental surgery. You get the idea. We help each other out, you know? Two weeks ago, when I had a 102 temp and needed my call covered? It was next to impossible to find someone to step up (Sparrow = goddess. Have I mentioned that? JD also rocks) and Ruthie said there was a lot of "fighting" about who was going to take it. I just sort of shook my head at this, because I think it's spilled over from the "I don't want to do more than I have to" attitude that's at the top of our pyramid right now. I think the next three chief classes look promising, though. And you know...as much as I rant about things sometimes....

Holy freakin' cow am I glad I'm here.

Yesterday was an interview day. We had I think seven candidates, all in their smart black suits, all on their best behavior. It's cute. They seemed like a nice bunch (one of them reads my blog! How cool is that?!! Hi, D!!). In general, this year, I've been so pleased with the candidates. Anyway, they'd assembled in Corrina's office and got escorted off to lunch, leaving Peng and me and a couple of the other residents to talk about them, er, discuss recruitment. And we were like, I hope they realize we're all pretty much as we seem, here. We get along. We're a quirky but genuine group of overall good people. The interns lost their tiny little office space? A bunch of us stepped up and procured for them what I now like to call the Intern Rec Room. The Child/Adolescent month was too scattered, we got it changed to being just Adolescent. The faculty supports us, the chair is very interested in how we think things are running, and overwhelmingly people are interested in teaching, learning, and being colleagues. We like each other. We respect each other. I can't even express how important that is.

This time of year always leaves me a little retraumatized nostalgic about life at the Emerald Palace. I remember talking to one of the candidates that would eventually become one of the interns in the class after mine, whom I liked a great deal. I remember thinking I should tell her to run screaming (RUN. RIGHT NOW. AS FAST AS YOU BLOODY CAN. RIGHT. NOW), but what I told her was, intern year is a hard year. The dynamics here are difficult sometimes, and you have to watch out for yourself, but if you know that coming in, I suppose it's easier to handle ("But, gosh, the program has so many positives, too." Like...uh...the way our labor deck is set up. And the cool robotic system in the OR. And, uh, the scrubs are free. And working at Student Health (not here). And the off service months (not here). And the ER attendings (not ours)...). Yesterday, I'm interviewing this guy (I got to interview! It was fun), and I was like, you know...intern year is a hard year. Harder here that most places, but gosh, you learn so much. You come out of it so much stronger in your professional sense of self. And the faculty is supportive, and the upper classes are supportive, and people are genuinely interested in you here. And we're social, and we have fun, and we work hard but we're encouraged to get the hell out of here and be well rounded people. And yeah, not everything works perfectly, or even as well as we'd like it to. But even when there's nothing that can be done about that, they hear us.

He asked me if I was happy. I said, without a second thought, "I love it here." And I meant it. And then he commented on what a good research program we are, and I thought about that for a little while, and he said, all nervous, "Well, you may not agree with that, I guess." And I said, no...actually, I do agree with that. But don't think we're just about research...and then we had a nice discussion of how we're very patient centered and we emphasize psychotherapy and how many opportunities we have here.

The Emerald Palace taught me a lot. In my time there, and in the subsequent cleanup, I've learned a lot about myself. I learned a lot about interpersonal dynamics and group psychopathology and systems errors. I learned a lot from them about what I don't want, and a little about what I do. I learned what it means to be "the doctor" - the program might have rarely let me be that person, but my patients did in spades. I even learned how to do a colposcopy and run the cool robotic system in the OR and do a wicked good circumcision. But the best thing they did for me? They got me here.

I wish I was the kind of person that could thank them for that. I'm still going to go with, "Fuck you."

Presents.

I came home tonight, and had a padded mailer in my mailbox, and a big Express Mail box on my doorstep. I was excited. The mailer, it turns out, was....odd. It was a book of "poetry" from the Center for the Advancement of Psychotherapy (sketch). They, of course, included a handy postcard telling me where I could mail a donation for the lovely gift they had just sent (even more sketch). The other, however, was from my aunt and uncle (the biological ones) in Chicago, and it was awesome. They sent me the 32-page Commemorative Edition of the Sun-Times Sunday magazine from November 9, entitled, "Obama: A Walk Through History."

Sometimes....my family makes me so proud....

It's funny, actually. My aunt and uncle (my mother's brother) have always been staunch Democrats. My cousins are both ardent Republicans (this makes no sense to me...my older cousin plays bass in a metal band....how can he possibly be a Republican? I think those two are mutually exclusive...). My parents are vehement Republicans (my daddy was not allowed to play with Democrats when he was little, because they were not nice people, according to my grandfather). And you ALL know what a flaming liberal tree-hugger I am. So I think my aunt and uncle are just glad one of us kids turned out to have some political sense.

They also sent me a Target gift card and a very nice card regarding the fellowship I was recently awarded through the PECC (it's a scholarship, really. They call it a fellowship because it sounds snootier). And you know how I always love me an excuse to go to Target.

The appearance of gifts made me slightly anxious, though, because I thought one of them might be from my Secret Santa - my knitting buddies back home are doing a holiday gift exchange, and I got to play along, too. Which was all well and good until this morning, when I realized that the socks I'm knitting for said exchange...um...don't match. And, okay, they're supposed to not match, but not in the way that they currently don't match. And apparently they're due next Friday, i.e., they have to be in Illinois by next Friday. Crap.

Also, a few days ago, my cousin (different cousin. Obama supporter) gave me the Aloha Award on her blog. Here are the rules:

"First, answer this question...If you were stuck on an island, what 5 things would you want to have with you? Then, spread the Aloha! Send this award to 5 other people and let them know they've been given The Aloha Award! That's it, easy peasy! Keep the chain going and spread the aloha all over the blogospshere! (be sure to link to the person that sent you the award...so we can keep the linky love going!)"

(Not Danielle's words, I'm guessing)

(PS - there will be no linky love allowed on my island of stuckness. Stop that! Stop that right now!)

Ahem.

Alright, if I were stuck on an island and given my choice of five things, I would take...

1. My dog. Not only would she be an wonderful companion, and enjoy running off leash (I'm assuming it's a relatively small island. Where's she gonna go?), but if I can learn to spin between now and the time I get stuck on this island, she could be an excellent source of yarn fiber.

2. A laptop with a solid satellite wireless connection (hey, it's my island, back off!)

3. Sunscreen. A lot of sunscreen. Don't make me tell you the story of the last sunburn I sustained in Hawaii.

4. A really good set of knives.

5. Phosphorus matches. Because, I am not patient enough to do the whole flint and steel crap.

And I tag....

Barb
Peng
Angie
Jenn
Allison

Pomaika`i, hoapili.
(Good luck, friends)
(I hope that's what it means...)

I...um...oy.

My Facebook status reads, currently:

Kate is concomitantly over-caffeinated and deliriously tired.

I'm so bloody tired right now. And a little bedraggled. Last night was not awful, and Mike was on night float and took good care of me overnight (he didn't even make me see anybody after 1am. I wandered in to the workroom sometime around 3:30, and he was sitting at the computer, piles of paper surrounding him on the floor, each referencing a patient that somebody or another wanted to send us. I was like, "You need help?" He sort of looks around, looks back at me, and says, "Nope." Who am I to argue? I went back to bed. Well, I went back to my office. I dictated two clinic notes, checked my email, putzed and fussed, and then finally went to sleep around 5. I actually slept pretty darn well from 5-8, but from 1:30-3:30, I tossed and turned in this restless, shallow, inexplicably anxious sort of sleep, which I find is almost worse than just staying up.

There's cable in the intern lounge now. And a recliner. I should've just gone in there and dozed...

Sparrow's always reminding me that it's perfectly reasonable to be useless on your post-call day. Maybe if I would just quit fussing and lay in bed and watch House on these days, I wouldn't end up doing that on the weekends. But, nooo, I'm always trying to be "productive." Pah.

(Sparrow, by the way, so totally rocks. It was, to quote Peng, "ass-bitingly cold" this morning. So Sparrow calls me up and is like, I don't have to be at work until 10, and it's way too cold for you to walk, do you want me to give you a ride home? I almost cried. She also picked up dinner for us last night - which, apparently, Little Maxine got to come along for the trip, and thought the food was for her, and couldn't understand why Sparrow wouldn't let her eat it. Tyler - who met her downstairs - was very amused by Little Maxine. They - Maxine and Sparrow - also took good care of Ms. Mags overnight. Sparrow's so totally my hero today.)

I caught a little nap today. I tried to read. I saw my shrink and waxed philosophic about work for an hour. And I joined the gym. I liked the gym. They were very friendly. I have my complementary assessment and workout (read: sales pitch) with this large, bald, black wall of muscle named Joe on Friday night (I'm on call Saturday. Here's hoping I can still walk). There were old people working out (apparently they have three members over 90) and I got high-fived by the staff a lot. I also got a wicked (WICKED) deal because the manager was in a good mood and thought I was cute.

(One thing I've noticed about North Carolina, both today at the gym and in the context of various people I've met thusfar, is that personal trainers tend to be large black walls of muscle. Who tend to think ass-ful white girls are hot. A girl could get used to that.)

So I sign all the papers and pay - cash, since I don't want to be paying credit card interest on it and specifically took this out of my bonus money. But they had to ask the manager if they accepted cash for membership payments. I thought that was hysterical - and as she's handing me my change she says, "oh, by the way, about our cancellation policy..." And it took a good deal of restraint in my shriveled-up post-call brain to keep from laughing at her and saying, "I want to quit the gym!"

(Which, if you missed the reference, is not actually the case. Rather, it reiterates that there is a Friends analogy for every situation in life. Exhibit A:

)

So then I went to Starbucks and pretended to read for a while, and then I went to class. My first class was good, as it always is, but the second...I'm discovering I don't especially enjoy it, although I find the material interesting. And tonight, right, we get to talking about attachment, and this concept, which I think is huge giganamous gargantuan - the infantile attachment bond determines what "safety" feels like for a given individual. So if you're a baby surrounded by chaos, or inconsistent reinforcement, or a detached and unresponsive parent, this becomes your view of "normal" and "safe."

It's a simple, very reasonable statement. But the implications of that are just HUUUUUUGE.

I've really been pondering that hard. What I found disheartening, though, is that my leader/teacher/whatever I'm supposed to call him eventually pointed out that this gets strongly internalized and likely doesn't change, you know, ever.

Which, well, made me want to curl up in a corner and rock a little. Because if that's true (which, it is, to a degree, I think, but that degree, and the factors that modulate it, are important), then what I do is futile. Which is daunting, particularly for someone who wants to work with people repeatedly traumatized at an early age.

Anyhow....I have to be slept and dressed and showered and in my supervisor's office in 10 hours to learn how to practice my futile craft better, so I guess I'd better get to bed....

Babbling the midnight oil

Night float, day 2...

I've seen exactly one patient, who was here when I got here, but you know what? I feel good about that patient. It was an adolescent that I took a long time with and I think I managed to get the situation to work in her best interest. It helped that there was a Pedes ER attending on who was just incredibly helpful and interested and invested in this kid.

You know...I have this soft little place in my heart for adolescents that I didn't have any sort of awareness of until this year. Previously, I mostly found them annoying and juvenile and always felt like they were making fun of me. I forget, though, what a complicated and tumultuous time adolescence is by its very nature. Add in screwy social circumstances or caretakers with limited parenting skills, and gosh, these kids just have so much trying to coalesce on them. And, you know, maybe it's the population of kids that I deal with, but I see so much...I don't know what it is. Energy, color, potential, intensity...so much raw possibility, this sort of effervescence of conflict and recombination, this complexity that's simultaneously developing and concluding... It's fascinating. And when you're underneath it, it's overwhelming.

I just don't see it in a lot of my adults. I mean, sometimes I see vestiges of it. Sometimes I see outright mature correlates, these peculiar and disorganized qualities come to fruition. But honestly, a lot of adults seem to have just lost this ineffable, diaphanous quality. Sometimes it seems like it's been sublimated into the unconscious, sometimes it seems like it's been partitioned off and redirected...but sometimes...in others...it just seems like it's gone. Like they've gone flat.

I don't know what that is. I don't know what it means. I obviously can't even describe whatever this is that I'm talking about with any degree of significant eloquence, but, well, it's 3 in the morning.

Does this make sense to anyone who lives outside my head?

Anyhow.

So the other interesting thing about my night has been this - when I got here and read my email, I discovered that I'm being audited for inappropriately accessing a patient's confidential medical records without a release of information on file. Which, I wasn't too concerned about, because, I figured it was one I opened on accident who had the same name as my patient, or, a patient I treated a while ago whom I was checking up on for continuity of care and, you know, silly things like learning. Until...until I got to the patient's name.

It's my record.

From the email conversation that's ensued, apparently, I'm being brought up for disciplinary action for - wait for it - violating my own privacy. And when I explained why I went in, that I added my medications which are prescribed by an outside provider, she told me that was a grave misuse of my access to the system.

Oh, come on.

So...apparently...it's an abuse of power to "alter" my medical record in such a manner. Because, you know, if one day, whilst I'm walking home, I get run over by the Chapel Hill Transit system (God forbid), and I wind up in the ER, all unconscious and bleeding, it's really not important for those doctors to know what goes into my body on a daily basis. Because it won't affect my treatment at all. Thank heavens I was all "ethical" and didn't "alter" anything.

I'm really pissed off about this. I mean, forgetting the fact that my record contains exactly this: the medications I've entered and two test results (a rapid strep and a Flu A aspirate) from when I went to employee health with the flu last year. Oh, and now, it probably shows a pending appointment with a family doc next week (FINALLY I'm going to go get all of this exhaustion and falling down checked out). It has my address wrong. It doesn't have my insurance information. And until said employee health flu visit, it had my name spelled wrong. Forgetting that there's NOTHING THERE, it's my information. It can't tell me anything I don't already know!

So, one of the things I did tonight was fill out a release of information form - to release my own information to myself. For the love of Steve....

Disciplinary action, my fat white ass.

Again I say...anyway.

So, now, I'm hanging out. I finished some paperwork, I disinfected my desk (Ruthie seems to have the plague). I did some laps around the psych department. I read my newly-arrived copy of Franklin Habit's cute new book of knitting cartoons, "It Itches." (SO cute. So Franklin. I love it.) I'd pre-ordered it months ago, so I was excited when I found it on my stoop this evening when I left for work. Last night I watched House and 30 Rock and Doogie Howser reruns on Hulu.

I keep trying to read more important things (like my readings for class tonight), but damn if I can concentrate on anything like that. I concede that I slept well today and thus tonight hate night float a little less, but, considering it's taken me over two hours to write this blog (I keep wandering off to do other very random things and then suddenly thinking, oh! Was I done with my blog?), I don't know that I'm up for great feats of concentration...

Yeah, don't think I'm going to class tonight.

Oh, in related news, I had my last interview for the psychoanalytic society this morning. It was much more pleasant than the one with the intrusive old guy who lived in the country. And I'm relieved that it's all wrapped up and done with.

Alright, I think I'm going to go knit. If anyone's still reading at this point...wow, you're awfully tolerant...

On conversations, fantastic

Today was a long, long, long freakin' day.

We had one little girl scheduled in child clinic this morning. If I played my cards right, we'd be totally wrapped up with her by 10:30 and then I could spend the morning finishing my reading for tonight and doing stuff I needed to do, then I could get through my afternoon clinic well paced and all dictated, and then leave with plenty of time to get dinner and coffee before my psychoanalytic courses started tonight. Ahh, what a nice idea.

Ha.

So, instead of seeing the clinic girl, Dr. B sent me out on a consult. Which was cool, because usually the child fellows do the consults. So I put on my best authoritative fellow-like attitude and found my way over to the children's hospital. Where I saw this girl, and talked to her dad, and putzed and futzed as appropriate and finally left the floor after 11:30.

I spent the next hour, of course, and every other moment of free time I had this afternoon finishing that stupid consult note. Because I want to be thorough. Except that really, I want to keep Dr. B thinking I'd someday make a wonderful actual child fellow, and, I derive a fiendish little thrill from comparing the generalists' two-line social history to mine, which is, of course, like four paragraphs in a case like this. Plus, why collect the information if you're not going to put it somewhere?

My afternoon clinic was, blessedly, full of relatively stable patients. Well, sort of. I got through it. Didn't dictate a single note. I'll deal with that on the flip side. I bolted out of the building at quarter to 6, sat in traffic, dashed through a drive through, and made it to class with about 15 seconds to spare.

My first class, on Borderline Personality Disorder, which is co-taught by Dr. Jabba, was nice, actually. It was a nice group, a good topic, and a comfortable, conversational dynamic. The second class...well...two of my fellow students are one of the 1st year child fellows and my very favorite attending ever, Dr. Rosie. And I'm sure it'll be interesting. Maybe later. As for tonight...I...the distinguished 2008-2009 Raft Fellow of the PECC...was nodding off. In a class of four people. Not very distinguished. We would've been fine if either we got to play along or if the teacher hadn't kept rambling for an extra HALF HOUR beyond our designated finish time.

Oy.

Tomorrow should be better. Thursday will be long. Friday I'm on call. Ugh, this week.

Anyway.

It rained today. Which was lovely when I woke up...it was rainy, and dark, and cold in my room, and oh, just perfect for sleeping. But, no, I had to get up, damn it. And I looked at my dog, and I looked at the rain, and I thought....oh....I bet she's so not even going to use the doggie door today...

...so I get home, and...well, the following scene ensues:

Me (on the phone with my dad): blah, blah, bl-...oh, hell. It smells like dog shit in here. I knew this would happen today.
Maggie (in Dog): Ohmigosh! It's Kate! It's you! You're home! Ohmigosh! I thought you'd left me! I thought you'd left me foreeeeeeeever! FOREVER!! But you're back! And now you're here! And back! And ohmigosh...did you bring any food?? No, oh. Well, that's okay! because you're home! Wowie! Wowie!!!!
Me (in English): Yes, yes, hi, baby. Dad, I've got to go clean up the poop.
Mags: Wowiewowiewowiewowie! You're home! I'm so amazed! You came baaa-aaaaa-aaaaaack!
Me: Oh, yes, yes, yes, I love you too. Still have to go pick up the poop on my FLOOR.
Mags: Oh! But! See! I have the wiggles! I'm so wiggly I can't sit still! Because you came home! Look! It's the helicopter tail!! Aren't I so cute? Aren't I just so cute? How can you be mad at me?! Helicopter tail! Helicopter taaaaail!
Me: Okay, that is awfully cute. But, um, poop....
Mags: What? Who? I didn't do anything. Me? What?
Me: (grumbling about poop picking up)
Mags: Doot do do....think I'll go over, um, this way...
Me: What, have you been holding it in for the last three days or something?? And what's with all the pee? (Continues poop-related grumbling on way to washer) At least you managed to hit the towels that were on the floor from the roof leaking...uh, mostly...
Mags: Wow! The fan is on! Look at it go!
Me: Awww, man, I think I stepped in pee!
Mags: So comfy right now up here....ahhhh....oh! There you are again! Look! I'm on the bed! Aren't I just so cute!!!?
Me: You're in my spot.
Mags: I know!! It's so exciting! Isn't it?? Come on, say it!
Me: No.
Mags: Come on! Look at the cuteness! Look! I winked at you! I'm so cute!!
Me: No.
Mags: Come on!!!!
Me: Fine....(sigh) Look! Someone put a puppy in my bed!!
Mags: Awww! That's the ticket! Look, it's my belly!!!!
Me: Dude, I just scooped like eighteen pounds of poop off the FLOOR.
Mags: Belly! Belly! Belly!
Me: Fine..........

I'm such a sucker.