More Warm and Fuzzy's at Work

In the past two weeks, my attendings have started asking me more about my personal life. In fact, last week, three of my attendings, on three separate occasions, asked about my husband and children. One of my attendings even went so far as to try to re-construct a time line of my life: "Wait, wait, so you grew up in . . . then went to college where? Okay, then you lived in . . . when you first got married, then you moved to . . . , but why? Oh, okay, then you had your first child . . ." and so on and so on. At first, it was uncomfortable to talk about myself in this setting -patient on the table, his blood going through the heart-lung machine ("the pump"), surgeons and nurses eavesdropping, myself not used to talking about myself (to a live audience, rather than the blog world, that is). But the more I thought about it, the nicer I thought it was. I mean, for the past three years of residency, my attendings have never expressed any interest in my personal life, or that of any other resident. Just yesterday, I was speaking with one of the CA-1s whose wife just had a baby. He said that none of the attendings asked him how the baby was, not even a congratulations. This was one of the biggest moments in this guy's life, and not one of his supposed superiors gave a gob of goat shit. It is wrong, but it is the way it has been, and I guess I was getting used to it. But then the sudden interest in my life by my attendings. And I must say, it has been nice.

So this CA-1 said that he has thought about quitting the program lately, although he doesn't truly think he will do it. It's just that we are treated like total scutmonkeys rather than human beings, it's hard to get motivated. I told him that I had felt the same way my CA-1 year, and that once I rotated through the different ORs (pediatrics, cardiovascular, community hospital), I saw how much more respect I got once I left the Main OR. The people at the children's hospital and the cardiovascular hospital and even the community hospital were just so much nicer than the ones in the Main OR. For the most part, they had better manners. They worked hard. They communicated with me. They were team players. Sometimes, they even asked me about myself. In such an environment, I don't mind working hard, doing some scutwork, helping to get the job done. But back in the Main OR, I often wonder if they even know our names. We are just regarded as warm bodies to order around and do the work. And who wants to put in the extra mile to be treated like that?

I was on call for OB last night. It was relatively quiet- I did a few epidurals and a few little scutwork-like tasks. For each of the epidurals, the patients were primips (first baby). They were moaning in pain, writhing around the bed, cursing like sailors. As it usually is, I walk in and start talking to them about the epidural that they have requested, only to be ignored and not receive any answers to my questions. That's okay, I understand, I've gone through labor, too. Nonetheless, I worked quickly through the contractions, and got each of the epidurals in in less than 1 minute, and got them comfortable soon thereafter. My attending commented later that I was getting quicker with my procedures, then she said in her Auntie-like voice, "I was looking at you the other day, and thought 'I can't believe she is graduating next year. Time sure flies.'" It was a very "Sunrise, Sunset," moment. It wasn't much, but enough to make me want to be better at my job, and be willing to do the scutwork.

The patients with the epidurals were very grateful afterwards. They were like Dr. Jekyll, (after Mr. Hyde labored and delivered), thanking me profusely for relieving their pain. One time, I even got an, "I love you," from a laboring patient. This is why I do what I do.