Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Kevin learns amusing words

Rock
-noun
1. A currently admitted patient who no longer requires >$3000/day medical services but can not be discharged because of social/legal/financial reasons. He/she stays on service getting 3 hot meals a day and unnecessary daily CBC and chem7s.



Rock garden
-noun
1. A collection of rocks (see above) that demand increase your daily paperwork time for no educational gain.

"Hey, are you done with your daily notes yet?" "I've taken care of all the acute patients, just need to tend to my rock garden and I'll be done."

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Kevin deals with the Cross-Eyed Gunner

Medicine, much like golf, is often filled with oddball behavior that, while not being detrimental to patient care, can often raise the eyebrows of colleagues and patients alike. Medical students stumbling around in their 3rd year clerkships certainly aren't immune to this. So as a small case series, David and I would like to present a few of these "that-guy/girl" stereotypes

I'm sure most of you have all heard of "the gunner." The guy/girl that prerounds on your patients, asks questions during rounds to make you look bad and generally being an annoying dbag. I havent met one myself, but I'm sure they're out there... waiting to make me look bad. However, fewer people know of, or at least speak of, the cross-eyed gunner. This person has all the eagerness and moxie of a regular gunner but none of the competence and medical knowledge to match. This leads to a sad-parade of self-destruction that is pretty intriguing for an innocent bystander like myself.




The CEG is eager, very eager, to answer questions. Whenever the attending proposes a question, even if it's rhetorical, he/she will shout an answer as fast as possible. Unfortunately, the answers are usually wrong and only met by uncomfortable stares from the rest of the team. Often times CEGs have some self-awareness and realizes they've just given the wrong answer(once again) so they might backpedal and try to justify their answers in a really convoluted fashion that clearly has nothing to do with the actual patient. But luckily, this helps make me look good since I can step in and give the correct answer (although ultimately adding nothing to the overall care of the patient). Ah, the simple joys of medicine.