Movin' on

Well, thanks be to the LORD that I'm done with Psychiatry. I guess that was harsh. I mean, it was fine, but it's just not my thing. I like to do things. I like to fix things. I just don't get these people. I wanted to roll my eyes and say things like "Please." or "Stop acting like that." I don't think that should be the kind of attitude a good Psychiatrist has. Thus, I think I've checked it off my list of future careers. 


Yesterday I started ENT, and after a morning of cleaning large amounts of earwax out of old men's ears, my love of medicine had been renewed. I was strangely satisfied by those clean ear canals. However, before I move on, I wanted to summarize my experience in Psychiatry because it was definitely interesting and largely entertaining at times. There were so many good stories, but in lieu of violating confidentiality and being targeted by the HIPAA Nazis, I'll just leave you with a few quotes:

"I have no empathy for this guy. In fact, I'd like to set him on fire. Don't you? Just a little bit?"

"The cold. It's in my mouth. The jaw keeps puttin' it there." (Repeat statement x15 days.)

Patient: "Please don't make me go through the obstacle course. Especially the haystacks. I can't go through the haystacks."

Doctor: "Yeah... we should really stop making people do that."

"Can somebody explain to me why I pay this institution $14,000 a year, and I can ONLY have 2 pairs of scrubs, but the borderline who overdosed for attention then vomited all over her clothes gets to have them? And the schizophrenic with syphilis who has his own pajama pants is sporting a pair? And this noncompliant, no-pay going to Whitfield gets some? Are you freakin kidding me?! We deserve two more pieces of $5 blue cloth!"

(Next day, in a patient's room) Attending: "Let's get out of here before Laura goes into a blind rage because the patient is wearing scrubs."

"Wouldn't you be upset if (the tech) gave you a bath every morning? I can see that. Tyler, tomorrow, let Andrew give you a bath and see if it makes you aggressive. Then we'll reasses."

"Does [the 60-something year old patient] really have breast implants?"

"I don't know."

"Find out. Physical exam."

"Oh, God.."

"I'm kidding."

"[Something about nitrous oxide.]"

"Did he just say to get the patient some socks and an erection??"

"Does anybody know what just happened??"

[I can't stop laughing while trying to present a patient case.]

"Are you going to be able to get it together?"

"I don't think so. There's a bit of an exhibition going on in the group room behind you."

"Was that Santa Claus? Did you see that guy? Wow. Christmas in July, huh?"

"Sir, I think Don King has filed a class-action lawsuit against you."

"I don't get it. I just don't understand why anybody would..."

"Stop. Do not try to understand. What floor are we on?"

"Oh. Right. 7th."

"Exactly."

"Cannibal. Butcher. That's really all you need to know."

"Bye-bye, Mr. Vampire."

"Do you want to be admitted to the inpatient psychiatric unit? We can give you some treatments to get these voices to go away."

"But I kinda like the voice. He seems nice. I'm comfortable with him."

"You don't want the voice to go away?"

"Not really. I might get lonely."

"Does anybody know how much you can buy Xanax for on the streets?"

"10 bucks?"

"Damn boy, you must be buying yo' Xanax in Eastover. Try again."

............and my favorite,

"Call Condoleezza Rice! Condoleezza knows the truth!"

It was quite an experience, to say the least, but it's time to move on.