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Did You Mention the Dead African Babies?

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How It’s Done: Part Two

A Day in the Life of an Intern

Obstetrics Rotation. Week Two. An eternity ahead of me.

4:10 AM: Good God. It is early. Early by anybody’s standards. Even the dairy farmers must cringe from this early hour. And yet my eyes have been open for the last twenty minutes as I fight off sleep knowing that I’ll just have to get up in twenty minutes. Now fifteen. Now ten. Now five.

4:30 AM: Holy crap it’s early. Wasn’t I just awake? Didn’t I just do this yesterday? Of course I did. But I am only two weeks into this rotation with two more weeks staring me in the face. Now is the time to suck it up. No sense getting demoralized now. The funny thing is that no matter how bad you feel about a rotation in the beginning, towards the end and once you have gotten the hang of things it never really seems that bad. I’m counting on this but OB might be the exception to the rule.

On paper the rotation doesn’t look too bad. Four weeks of 12 hour days with two full two-day weekends at the end of the second and the fourth week. Not to mention only two call days on the two Saturdays when I do not have the weekends off. Let’s just call it Q14 call which is almost like not having call. Still, if there has been one rotation that has made me regret my burning desire six years ago to become a physician this is it. It is just so wrong to be up this early. Even Persephone my faithful Black Lab seems confused.

4:35 AM: Mouthwash is my total morning hygiene package. I shower, shave, and brush my teeth the night before to save the fifteen minutes that this usually takes me. I lay out my scrubs, shoes, pager, keys, pens and my PDA the night before as well because from the time my alarm rings I have thirty minutes to get to the hospital and every second counts. I guess I could get up at 4:15 AM but this would be wrong. So wrong. So very wrong. I fantasize about my old job when I worked for myself and set my own hours. Why, I sometimes didn’t get up until eight o’clock…and once I even slept until nine.

Have I mentioned anything about OB yet? No. Here is an important philosophical point. I know that our purpose as residents is to learn medicine and that this requires a certain level of enthusiasm. If we were perfect people we would look at the long hours as just another opportunity to live our dream, something we swore we were passionate about in our AMCAS personal statement. The reality is that medical training pretty much sucks and it is endured, at least in intern year, rather than enjoyed. Naturally you learn a lot but almost any intern would cheerfully sacrifice some of his training time for more sleep and a day off here or there especially since so much of residency training is ridiculously inefficient.

5:00 AM: Post-partum intern work rounds. An exercise in inefficiency if there ever was one. I am covering half of the floor, pre-rounding on the women who have given birth and seeing how they are doing. It is inefficient because I have to transcribe vitals, lab values, and anything else pertinent from the computer to my rounding sheet. This is 2006. You’d think gathering this information could be automated. Maybe you who are still dreaming of medical school will be the first to experience the truly paperless hospital. For now we scribble away like Mesopotamian scribes. At least we don’t have to wait for the clay to dry.

Welcome to the world of abbreviations. Even in the medical profession where abbreviating is a way of life OB/Gyn carries the practice to the very limit of practicality. Here’s my note on Mrs. Smith in room 5704:

29 y.o. G4P1122 POD 2 s/p PLTCS for pre-X @ 34/3 wks EGA c/b FGR, non-reas FHT A+/RI/RPR NEG/pap neg/M/no circ/bottle/IUD/DCHD No n/v/HA/SF/VB uo 1200 ml p/MN AVSS BP 130s/80s Tmax 36.9 HR 80s ABD: NT fundus firm incision c/d/I w/o s/s inf CV: RRR 2/6 ESEM RUSB RESP: CTAB EXT: no LE edema A/P: doing well. D/C tomorrow.

Which any fool knows means “Mrs. Smith is 29 years old, has been pregnant four times, has had one term birth, one pre-term birth, two abortions (either spontaneous or “therapeutic,” and two of the births produced live children. She had her current baby at an estimated gestational age of 34 weeks and three days and was delivered by primary low-transverse ceasarian section because of preeclampsia. The baby has fetal growth restriction and the delivery was expedited because of non-reassuring fetal heart rhythms. Mrs. Smith has a blood type of A pos, is rubella immune, has a negative syphilis screen, and her last pap smear was normal. She had a boy, does not desire circumcision, would like an IUD (six weeks post-partum) for birth control. She will bottle-feed her infant and will follow up at the Durham County Health Department for her post-natal care. Denies headache, nausea, vomiting, subjective fever, and vaginal bleeding. Her urine output was 1200 ml since midnight. All vital signs stable. Blood pressure was in the 130s/70s. She was afebrile and non-tachycardic. Her abdomen was non-tender and her fundus was firm. The incision was clean, dry, and intact without signs or symptoms of infection. Her heart rate was regular but she has a mild early systolic murmer hear best in the the right upper sternal border. Her lungs were clear to auscultation bilaterally and she had no lower extremity edema. She is doing well and we will discharge her tomorrow.

0545: Data gathered, rounding sheet organized I start seeing patients. “Habla usted English? No? Not even a poquito?” Goddamnit. At least half of the patients here at Duke are illegals. Probably one in five speaks English. I understand from my Spanish PA student (from Spain and therefore not Hispanic) that their Spanish isn’t that hot either and even she has trouble communicating. Cultural competency blah blah blah. It still wears me out because I am an American and was raised speaking English. (Although we once had a Greek patient. I speak Greek. The patient spoke English so it was a bust.). I could use the blue translation phones but that takes a lot of time to get set up.

“Dolore?” Blank look. I point. “Dolore?”

“Ah, Si! Jabber jabber jibber ga-jabber dipthong jabber jabber!”

“Uh, Okay. Feivre? Nausea? Vomito? Commida?”

“No.”

“Qualle anti-contepcivo quierres?” I ask. I’m trying to find out what birth control she wants but by the look I get I think I just asked her if she wanted cheese fries with her ferret. “Pastilla? Patch? Depo?”

“Ah! Si! Pastilla.” Pill, I think, and it will be micronor because God bless illegal immigrants they at least have the sense (or lack the money) to breast feed their babies.

Well. Preliminaries out of the way I motion that I’m going to feel her abdomen and listen to her heart. The husband looks on disinterestedly. I woke him up too. Sorry Amigo, this isn’t a hotel.

Everything fine. Answer of “No” to my question of “sangre?” with pointing to region of her vagina. No vaginal bleeding. Post-partum day two so we will discharge her today.

On to the next patient, Mrs. Walsh, cradling her dead baby which died early this morning in the NICU from a congenital heart defect except I don’t know this at the time. I have never seen Mrs. Walsh before and everything I know I learned from yesterday’s progress note by another intern. The ideal they teach you in medical school of following every patient from admit to discharge is just an ideal. On a large volume, high turnover service like OB as an intern you will follow many patients who you know nothing about until you round on them for the first time. Mrs. Walsh’s note said “G2P2002 s/p RLTCS @ 33/5 for pre-X c/b fetal CHD” but since the baby died only hours ago there is no mention of this in the note.

Still, something tells me not to make the usual polite comments about the baby. The mood is somber. The mother has a puzzled look on her face as I introduce myself. The baby is wrapped in a blanket and I think to myself that he doesn’t look very healthy. (No kidding.) I ask the usual questions, complete my exam, and before I go on to the next patient look through the pediatric notes (something we almost never do on OB) to see what is going on.

More patients. The interns are responsible for post-partum patients. The upper levels round on the ante-partum. The other intern is OB/Gyn and like me is at the end of her intern year. Unlike me she has been doing nothing but OB for the last eleven months so she knows a tad more about the field than I do this being my first OB experience since the beginning of third year in medical school. She seems exasperated both at my lack of knowledge and at my unfamiliarity with her department’s procedures. This highlights one of the drawbacks of training as a generalist, namely that you jump around a lot never really getting the hang of anything. She’s nice enough but tends to talk down to me, something I tolerate because as I mentioned earlier I am starting my Emergency Medicine residency in June and I just don’t care. I have two weeks left at Duke and as much as I dislike it I have been nothing but affable and polite the whole time and I’m not going to change this winning strategy now. Still, it’s easy to be an expert on a couple of pelvic organs. I’m sure I’d be pretty handy to have around if, oh I don’t know, somebody was having a heart attack or a stroke.

0710: Formal rounds. Basically a conference where the antepartum, intrapartum, and postpartum patients are reviewed. The interns review their patients last in as an efficient manner as possible. This procedes quickly as OB is a very busy service with a lot going on and they don’t have the luxury to debate the causes of a patients hyponatremia like they do on a medicine service. The upper levels leave to scrub in on their scheduled cases. The other intern goes to clinic. I go to triage where I will spend the rest of the day.

Triage is the point of entry to the OB floor. Although there are a few direct admits, most patients come through here to be assessed. As the emergency department sends up every pregnant patient who is not spurting arterial blood, it also functions as an obstetrical emergency department. They also answer phone calls and handle telephone triage. (“Hello, I think my water just broke.”)

During the week triage is supervised by nurse-midwives. For those of you who don’t know it, nurse-midwives are nurses who undergo approximately two years of intensive obstetrics training. They are pretty well trained and qualified to handle all but the most difficult of vaginal deliveries. It’s a pretty good arrangement if you are just rotating on OB because OB/Gyn residents are notoriously clique-ish and it is very easy to get ignored during your entire rotation. Not that this would be a bad thing you understand but we are here to learn how to deliver babies and manage common obstetric problems. The midwifes are a lot friendlier and more willing to teach than the residents if only because the residents work pretty hard and don’t have time for your incompetence especially if you are not an OB/Gyn intern.

0810: 25 y.o. G1P0 @ 38/4 wks for SROM. (Spontaneous rupture of membranes) Thinks her water broke but isn’t really sure. Has some leakage of fluid but not enough to soak her panties. (Yes, this is an important part of the review of systems.) A sterile speculum exam shows no pooling of fluid. The nitrazine paper does not turn blue (amniotic fluid is acidic) and there is no “ferning” on the slide. Her cervix is one centimeter dilated, slightly effaced (I say about 10 percent but hell, what do I know?) And anterior. She can go home.

0840: 17 y.o. G3P0020 @ 36/3 wks for EOL. (Evaluation of labor.) Said she has a “boogery” discharge two days ago which was probably her mucous plug (which seals the cervix) and is now has contractions every five minutes or so. Denies ROM (rupture of membranes.) Her cervix is 5/50/-3 or five centimeters dilated, fifty percent effaced (or thinned) and I just tack on the -3 station because while I feel her membranes in the os (or mouth) of the cervix I don’t feel any baby parts. The midwife assures me that the baby is cephalic. She shows me the Leopold maneuvers to verify this and I politely nod but admit that I can’t tell the difference. I get the ultrasound machine and correctly identify the head pointing down. The midwife laughs good-naturedly and I accuse her of being a witch (which many superstitious people still believe about midwives). Five centimeters is the definition of labor so we admit her. Nice contraction on the monitor and the baby’s heart rate is normally reactive.

0920: 29 y.o. G2P1 @ 22/3 wks EGA with placenta previa for vaginal bleeding. This is a potentially serious problem so I call the upper level resident after I get a quick history. It was not much bleeding. A little less than a light period. The patient is on strict bed-rest at home and apparently this is not an alarming finding. Under no circumstances does anything get get inserted in her vagina blindly. The resident does a careful speculum exam and sees no blood at the os so she is sent home with pelvic precautions. (No sex, among other things.)

0940: Called to a delivery. The usual cheerleading for the mother. The nurses labor the patient and only call the intern when they think the baby is ready to come. Nothing to it, really, from our point of view if everything goes well. A couple of pushes, one hand on the perineum to support it and help prevent tears and one hand on the baby’s head to prevent it from popping out, also to prevent tears. The usual gush of fluids as the head appears and restitutes (or turns). Gentle traction down on the head to clear the presenting shoulder and then up to clear the posterior shoulder and the baby is out. A little bit of suction and if the baby cries put it on the mother’s chest for a few seconds so she can see it. In a normal birth there is no need to rush to cut the cord. The OB/Gyn residents are more business-like and clamp and cut immediately. The midwives often let the mothers hold the baby for several minutes (if the baby is breathing and looks good) especially if pediatrics has not arrived yet at which time they will usually demand the baby. If there are any problems the resident is paged and takes over. No lacerations so after the placenta delivers I congratulate the mother and go back to triage.

1020: 37 y.o. G1P0 @ 38/6 wks for EOL. Large woman. My fingers are either not long enough or her cervix is in some weird position. I’m not that great at cervical exams. It does take practice. The first twenty or so you do all you can really tell is that it’s warmer in there than it is outside. I can usually find the cervix and I can tell you with confidence if it is closed, long and high (or normal) but after that we get into the realm of subjectivity. Some of the time I can say with confidence the degree of dilation or effacement but if I’m not sure I ask the midwife to check behind me (which she usually does anyways).

1130: 24 y.o. G2P1000 @ 27/6 weeks EGA c/b PIH (Pregnancy induced hypertension) with bilateral lower extremity swelling and pitting edema (a finger leaves an impression). Her history is troubling as she reports a two day history of headaches, seeing spots, and swelling. Naturally the concern is for preeclampsia. Her blood pressure at presentation is 160/100. She gets a stat preeclampsia work-up which shows protein in her urine, a high serum uric acid, and a protein to creatinine ration of 426. Her liver function labs (the LFTs) are normal as are her platlets so she doesn’t have Hemolysis, elevated liver-enzyme levels, and low platelet count (or HELLP) syndrome. She is admitted and placed on a magnesium sulfate drip for siezure prophylaxis and hydralazine for blood pressure control the goal being to avoid ecclampsia, fetal death, and end-organ damage. If everything goes well she will be delivered at 30 weeks.

1240: Phone triage. G1P0 @ 12 wks EGA with spotting after intercourse. A lot of spotting? No, much less than a usual period. I fight to keep a level expression as I ask if her husband is a large fellow. Yes. Sometimes it hurts. Use a good lubricant. I think you’ll be all right. No need to come in.

1300: G11P5328 @ 24/4 wks EGA with chest pain. Yes. That’s right. Eight live births none of which she ever cared for as she is a prostitute and not a very smart one at that. Extensive and varied social history as well including most of the major illegal drugs. Now chest pain I can handle and happily work through something I am familiar with for a change. Happily, none of the midwives or residents are very good at reading an EKG so I have a chance to show that I am not a total idiot. Eventually three sets of cardiac markers will come back negative. The EKG is also negative. It is just GERD which I knew two minutes after meeting her. Still, you can’t be too careful. She signs the papers for a BTL (Bilteral Tubal Ligation) after her delivery scheduled for 40 weeks and the nurses and midwives do the wave (silently).

And so it goes until 1800 when the night float intern shows up and we find the chief resident to do our checkout. During the entire day I have also been covering the post-partum patients. As most of them are pretty healthy (because pregnancy is not a disease) this doesn’t involve too much work. The standard orders on every patient cover almost everything and I probably only get five or ten calls from the floor in the entire day. I have to do all the discharge paperwork for our mother who are going home of course which I fir in while I handle triage.

Not much to it. Like I said, technically this should be an easy rotation. It’s busy but not crazy busy most of the time. The day does go by quickly. The residents are friendly (mostly) if a little distant and the I get along very well with the nurses and midwives. But I don’t like OB in the slightest and this makes all the difference. Not to mention that by a twist of fate I haven’t had a day off in nearly three weeks (I was post-call the day before I started and had call last Saturday) and I am kind of worn out in general. I usually get out around 1830. Trust me. Two weeks of 14-hour days will wear you down.

1845: Home, finally. Obligatory Frisbee with Persephone as my kids tell me about their day and my lovely and long-suffering wife updates me on the sale of our house which is not going well. I have to be up in the great frozen tundra in five weeks and it looks like I’m going to be living alone up there until the house sells. Like most residents with families, we are living on the brink of financial disaster and we can’t afford two mortgages. Still, we just had our fourteenth wedding anniversary, our children are healthy and happy, and we have prospects for the future.

Welcome Aboard

What to Expect Now that You’re Accepted

One of the greatest days of my life was when I was accepted to medical school. It ranks up there with my marriage to my lovely wife, the birth of our children, the day I graduated Marine Corps boot camp and the day I was honorably discharged.

I’m not ashamed to say it. It was one of those days where the future opens up. When I was discharged from the Marines, for example, it was a beautiful April day in North Carolina. I had money in my pocket, an absolutely beautiful girlfriend who I would marry a year later, and nothing much to do until classes started in June. You feel like you can do anything at a moment like that.

Same with getting into medical school. So it is my fondest hope that those of you who have gained acceptance relish this time because the road ahead is long and you will probably have some dark moments. I also hope that those of you who will not get in this year continue to persevere, especially if you are young. Maybe I wouldn’t advise an older applicant to keep beating his head against the admission process but if you are in your mid-twenties, why on earth would you even contemplate giving up so easily after only one or two tries?

So good luck. Stand by. And here is some more unsolicited advice from your Uncle Panda.

First of all, you really don’t need to do anything to prepare. As I have said earlier, there are really no pre-requisites for medical school. I suppose it’s good that we take all of that organic chemistry and biology but I can’t really identify any area in my undergraduate education that was of any use. If you’re the kind of person that remembers everything from your sophmore biochemistry course then you probably will remember everything from your medical school biochemistry course. If you don’t even remember taking biochemistry as an undergrad then why worry about it? You will be exposed to it soon enough, you will remember it long enough, and by the end of fourth year you won’t remember enough of it to matter.

The point is you need to relax and take it easy between now and the middle of August when most of you will start. You cannot possibly cram everything you need to know between now and then. You can try, of course, but it is equally likely that absent any structured guidance you are going beat your head against subjects which will be breezed over in one lecture and never seen again. There’s just no point to cramming. Better to finish your coursework without totally dropping the ball and then take a well-deserved vacation, maybe the last time in your life that you are completely free of responsibility.

Those of you who are non-traditional or have families, would it kill you to quit your job a little early to take it easy for a while? Four years from now when you are a quarter million dollars in debt the couple of thousand bucks you wrested from your crappy job by sticking with it to the bitter end will not seem like that much money.

I was fortunate that I worked for myself and could wrap up my affairs well before my start date.

Second, and I know I am repeating myself here, do not buy anything on your school’s list of required books and equipment unless you don’t care about money. If you show up on the first day of orientation with a pen and a little piece of scrap paper to take notes you will be all right. Heck, eschew the scrap paper as you wil get reams of handouts. Besides most of what you will learn at orientation is pleasant to listen to but of no value at all once the proverbial excrement hits the fan. No need to take notes.

You see, at orientation they will fill your heads with visions of sugerplums which will dance in your head until the first day of actual class when you find that all of the happy talk and kumbayah won’t help you one bit as first year is just a grind, a pathetic slog through trivia.

Ah, orientation. It was a week of emotional masturbation during which we were told six hundred times that we were special, we were going to be empathetic, and gosh darn it, people liked us! Then classes started and people went from feeling warm and fuzzy to stressed, tired, and wound to the breaking point. Oh the bullshit they fed us, everything from “if you don’t study in a group you’re going to fail” to “get the textbooks because there will be required reading.” Har har.

So don’t believe the hype. Smile, enjoy the week (or however long your school allots for orientation) but prepare to get on it once real classes start. If you study, you will pass. If you study all the time, you may get good grades but then again you may only do a few points better than your slacker friend who studies one fifth as much as you. (Sometimes there seems to be no correlations between the amount of time you put in studying and your grade.) Study hard, keep up with the material, listen to good advice from your upper-classmen and try not to get to caught up in the touchy-feely stuff. You’ve got a long road ahead. No sooner will you start feeling like you’re in command of medical school when you will start third year and feel like the biggest superfluous, ignorant, non-essential piece of baggage to ever break the plane of the pelvic outlet.

Let me repeat one piece of good advice that one of the fourth years gave us during orientation. Be macho. No matter what happens just shrug it off as just another day. Big test coming up? No big deal. First day of General Surgery? Just another day. Step 1? Nothing to it.

Good luck.

How It’s Done: Part One

A Day in the Life of an Intern.

Medicine Rotation. Two weeks down, three to go. Saturday morning. Today is “long call,” meaning that we will be here overnight as opposed to “short call” where we are the admitting team until two PM.

0530: I have the alarm set for 0545 but why bother? My eyes are open and if I go back to sleep I might sleep through the alarm and I’m not even sure if I turned it on last night. Had a dream that this was a day off and I could sleep in a little. Maybe until eight which I haven’t actually done since we had our first child almost nine years ago. Very disappointed when I realized that not only was this not the case but that this going to be a long day. Shower, shave, brush teeth. My black lab Persephone stumbles off the bed and lays down on the bath mat outside the shower as she does every morning.

0600: Check my email. My program is always sending threatening emails. I need to submit my duty hours for the last two months but the online software for this is pretty crappy and to enter my hours will take an hour or two which is why I haven’t done it. To hell with it. I’m certainly not going to do it now. Why are they bugging me about all the bureaucratic stuff anyways? I’m starting my new program in three months. What does it matter? Persephone has followed me downstairs and lays at my feet. My wife walked them (I have five dogs) at around four so I don’t really need to let her outside this morning. It’s raining anyways.

0610: Grab my pager, PDA, keys, straighten my tie, grab a couple of bagels and Cherry Diet Coke and head to work.

0630: Time to run the list. Only seven patients on the census this morning. we cap at seven admits. ICU admits, handled by the third year resident, count as two. Theoretically the list could get as high as fourteen but we have a few we can discharge today and a few rocks who are stable but immobile (with no expectation of discharge) and whose notes and plan should be easy to manage as it is essentially the same from day to day.

Mr. Smith, an incredibly emaciated man suffering from cancer who was admitted for pneumonia fell out of his bed ten minutes before I arrived I am informed by the on-call intern during a brief sign out for my team. Neurologically intact. Nasty knot on his forehead. He just bought himself a head CT. Do I need contrast? How is his renal function? Doesn’t matter. Non-contrast is indicated here. Renal function excellent but we have to supplement his mag and phos probably due to refeeding syndrome.

Mr. Jones liver function enzymes are normalizing. Liver biopsy tomorrow. Many nodules on his MRI suspicious for malignancy. Mental status at baseline which is not good. Still in restraints. Electrolytes OK. Renal function improving. Pneumonia, his presenting complaint buried among his competing co-morbidities is resolving. Still in respiratory isolation because once you start working somebody up for TB you have to carry on to the bitter end.

Ms. Green can go home. She has ruled out for an MI.

Ms. Black, still NPO. Fluids still running. Pain control. Treatment of choice for acute pancreatitis. Where does she get the money for her booze and heroin? We’ll start her on a clear diet today and advance to a regular, optimistically low fat, low salt diet if she tolerates it.

Mr. Good, you had us worried for PCP what with your HIV and an unknown CD4 count. It was nothing. Just Community Acquired Pneumonia. I’m not surprised you can’t afford your prescription for moxifloxacin. The remaining ten tablets will cost you close to thirty bucks which will seriously eat into your cocaine money. Don’t worry. We’ll hook you up. We always do. You have never, apparently, accepted responsibility for anything in life and it would be negligence on our part to expect this of you now.

0700: Meet with third year resident in charge of my team. The team consists of me, a medical student, a PA student, and the resident. Four teams, of course, as we are Q4 call. We run the list looking at everyone’s labs, vitals, and meds. On the computer, believe it or not, so I don’t have to run around collecting data. My resident is very thorough, very knowledgeable, and a pleasure to work for. Very efficient, too.

0720: Time to start seeing patients. There are two admits in the Emergency department already. This is goods news. Maybe we’ll cap early, like in the afternoon. This means that we might get some sleep. My resident goes to admit them, I start pre-rounding. The medical student and the PA student are each going to pick up one of the admits. I have five notes to write and one to co-sign. Not to mention new orders, as appropriate.

0740: Mr. Smith’s G-tube was pulled out as he fell. Did they save it? No. It’s in the trash. Rats. They should have tried to reinsert it immediately. Now the fistula has closed and the not even a narrow feeding tube can be inserted. Oh well. He will have to wait until Monday to eat because today is Saturday and interventional radiology will not come in today to replace the tube. Now I have to switch all of his “VT” (via tube) medications to IV. And there are quite a few. It’s things like this that eat up time. Fifteen minutes here, fifteen minutes there. Pretty soon it’s time to round. Surprise. Interventional is in house for an emergency and they will take Mr. Smith after they are done.

0900: Rounds. Sit down rounds in the resident’s work room. The best kind. We quickly review the old patients updating the attending on changes n condition or plan. The team going off call presents their new admits.

1000: Rounds. Only the interesting patients. Nine of us in the patient’s room while the medical students present. Mr. Clark with alcoholic pancreatitis which is being conservatively managed. NPO (no food, no water), IV hydration, and pain control. Mr. Marks with altered mental status, two year history of dementia who was finally LP’d (lumbar puncture, that is, a spinal tap) on this visit to the ED and who’s spinal fluid was VDRL positive leading to the diagnosis of neurosyphilis. How often do you see that? Penicillin in huge quantities has almost cured him. It’s miraculous, really.

1200: Work Rounds: Time to make sure all of the new plans for all the patients are implemented as orders to the nurses. New lab values and imagining needs to be followed up. Some patients can be discharged. The case managers are worth their weight in gold and you find yourself shamelessly kissing their asses as they alone can arrange skilled nursing care without which a patient like Mrs. Doe who has been on the floor for 170 days will never leave. You try to be compassionate but some patients overstay their welcome. You get tired of writing the same note every day and doing the same physical exam with the same findings. Can we make a big rubber stamp with the entire daily note and I can just pencil in the date. “Plan: discharge pending placement in skilled nursing facility.”

1400: Does every patient have a note? All are the labs ordered for tomorrow. Have all the labs been checked from yesterday? Anybody’s ions low? High? If so, why? Supplement the usual electrolytes for the gentleman detoxing up on the seventh floor. Slightly shaky but no real tremors. We had him on the alcohol withdrawal protocol and I guess he doesn’t really need the ativan but he is kind of squirrelly so we put him on standing ativan orders anyways. We will wean him tomorrow, or rather he will wean himself after discharge if he follows the instructions on the prescription. Either that or he will sell the ativan to buy booze. He complains about the ten bucks per month his blood pressure medicine will cost him. Ten bucks? Come on. That’s two bottles of Mad Dog.

Miss Purple, I know you don’t feel like going home but this is not a hotel. Of course we won’t just throw you out. The social worker has a taxi voucher for you. I’m sorry your life is a mess but nobody holds a gun to your head and makes you smoke crack. You’ve been off it for a week here recovering from your mysterious CVA-like episode so you obviously can do without it.

1500: Two new admits in the emergency department. The first has an impressive GI bleed. Shall I check his stool for occult blood? Couldn’t hurt…but he has passed about a 400 ml of blood in the thirty minutes he’s been down in the ED. A hematocrit (percentage of red cells in the blood) is 12. 40 is normal. The technetium scan showed an upper-GI source. But this is wrong because a later arteriogram showed a diverticular bleed which will be embolized by interventional radiology shortly. Young guy, too, so while diverticular disease is a possibility he may also have AVMs and we will work him up for this as soon as he is stable.

The second patient is 95 years old. In surprisingly good health until recently. No real medical history except an appendectomy back in the Truman administration. Had a fall. The EMTs reported slurred speech but once he gets his dentures in he’s perfectly coherent. Swears he tripped over his bedside commode. The usual syncope work-up, of course, including a head CT but the real concern is that he lay on the floor for twelve hours before he was found by his daughter. His serum myoglobin and CK are sky-high from rhabdomyolysis. A big risk to his kidneys so we will gently hydrate him with IV fluid. Gently because he has some congestive heart failure, undiagnosed until now, but revealed by his distended jugular vein and “pitting” edema in his legs. His lungs are clear so we’re not that worried about giving him too much fluid. Dialysis will kill him even if he is a candidate so we elect to “risk” the fluids to preserve his renal function. His seventy-five-year-old-daughter can’t care for him any more and he knows he is getting weaker so we will place him in a nursing home on Monday.

A lot of paper work. History and physical. Orders. Eats up the time.

1600: The other three teams have given up their pagers so now I am cross-covering for everybody. They have signed out a few key things to watch for in their more unstable patients but nothing really serious anticipated. Still, for the next 16 hours one pager or another will go off every ten or fifteen minutes with some routine (hopefully) question about a patient who I have never seen. “Sleeping pill? Sure!” “Restraint order? Why not.” The patient in 7117 just spiked a fever. 38.3. Is that high? I have to convert to Fahrenheit. Yes. Okay. Blood cultures, urine culture, chest x-ray. Otherwise patient doing fine.

1900: Grab something to eat from the cafeteria just as it closes. Not much of a selection but the server gives me a couple of extra pork-chops for free because they are closing.

2000 to 0500: A couple more admits. Small bowel obstruction. Obvious on the KUB (Abdominal film) as large, dilated loops of bowel. This is really a surgical patient but we will admit and they will follow. A naso-gastric tube to wall suction brings almost instant relief. Her vitals and appearance improve drastically. But still dangerous.

Many, many more pages during the night. Just enough to preclude the possibility of any real sleep. Still, it’s a slow night and with the exception of some chest pain nothing really serious. Just annoying. Can so-and-so have a laxative? Can you come talk to the family of a patient you know nothing about. Nurse annoyed that I know nothing about the patient. I explain cross-cover to her. “Is that safe?” she asks.

“No.”

Speed read the chart so I can sound authoritative. “Doctor, we’re not happy with the care our 76-year-old (demented, quadriplegic who should have been allowed to die peacefully after his third stroke) father is getting and we’re thinking of taking him to UNC in the morning.” You’ll make somebody on team 3 very happy if you do. Of course I don’t say that.

Respiratory therapy does not provide routine trach care. Can you please put in an order for the nurses to clear the patient in 4113’s airway every four hours?

0600: Start pre-rounding on my patients. Everybody’s vitals stable. Nobody’s labs too far out of whack. Write a few notes before rounding with my upper level at seven.

0700: Round with the upper-level who has had to mange our MICU patients most of the night as well as supervise the admissions. I always seem to miss something. I’m family medicine so we don’t spend as much time on the wards as the internal medicine interns.

0900: Attending rounds. Rounding on the new admits. Present the interesting ones at bedside. Time drags on. Enthusiasm for the minutia at it’s lowest ebb. Important to stay focused and answer the attending’s questions intelligently. The student’s presentations are maddening in their thoroughness. Look, it was just exertional chest pain of sudden onset relieved by rest and nitro. Do we really need the detailed description of the patient’s home life? This is why I am going into Emergency Medicine. Thirty minutes is just too long to talk about one patient.

1100: Now the mad dash to finish up all the work and tweak the plans for the new patients before 1:00PM when we have to be out of the hospital. The day float helps. We have thirteen patients now and there is a surprising amount of work to do. The new admits need brief notes. All the labs have to be checked and the imaging reviewed to make sure that everyone is lined up for Monday. It is Sunday morning and nothing routine will get done. Just emergencies but don’t hold your breath. Don’t get sick on a Friday at a community hospital.

1315: Everything done. Signed out to the on call intern. Out the door into the blinding sunshine. Short drive home. Kids watching cartoons before church. Maybe I’ll skip today and take a nap. Persephone brings the Frisbee to me so I have to go throw it for her in the front yard. She’s a real Frisbee dog and can catch them in mid air. The kids think she is a wonder dog.

Yes, the Hours Still Suck

There is No Prize for Sucking it Up

Residency entails long hours. You may as well accept this and prepare for it. Up until very recently however the hours were much, much worse and it was not uncommon for residents to all but live in the hospital except for the polite fiction of being allowed to go home infrequently for sleep. These were the bad old day, only a few years ago, when you worked at the whim of your program with no recourse other than to quit if you didn’t like it.

These kind of hours were insane. Nobody can function on three or four hours of sleep every other day, at least not in something as complicated and intellectually demanding as medicine. As a young Marine I regularly went several days without sleep but while being a Marine requires considerable skill and intelligence, it’s nowhere near as demanding intellectually as medicine. You really do stop caring about things as you become sleep deprived. Everything requires more effort. Concentrating on routine (but important tasks) becomes impossible and it is only the occasional burst of adrenaline that makes functioning as a sleep deprived Marine or a physician possible.

In the old days when most of your older attending were residents, things were considerably different. It’s true that they spent long hours at the hospital but the pace was a good deal slower on the wards as there were both fewer interventions and a much slower turnover of patients. These were the days when the hospital course for someone with a heart attack was three weeks. Today it is usually two days, sometimes even one if the heart cath was done early in the morning and the patient is in otherwise good health.

It is one thing to be on call on a service with a census of patients most of whom are long term and stable boarders, it is another thing to be on call on a service with rapid patient turnover and a completely new census every few days. There is simply more work to do, especially when it comes to admitting patients.

“Admitting” is the process of working up the patient when he presents to the hospital and involves the history, physical exam, assessment, and plan which we discussed in a previous post. It is also as you can imagine a tedious paper-work grind at almost every hospital as previous records are tracked down, numerous forms are filled out (many of them redundant and mainly serving the purpose of lawyer-appeasement) and extensive notes are either written or dictated. It is not as tedious in private practice as the economics of paying a physician to waste time come into play but no such restriction apply at a typical academic hospital. Not only will you shoulder the burden of this work but you will also have to clear every decision through either your upper level resident or your attending.

This is the way it needs to be, of course (I mean except for the lawyer protection paperwork) but as a typical admission on a medicine service can take hours in the case of complicated patient you can see that with the rapid turnover in today’s teaching hospitals a few admissions a night will prevent you from getting any sleep when on call. In fact, most teaching services are “capped” or limited on the number of admissions they can take in recognition that learning is impossible if you are treated as cheap labor.

So I don’t want to hear the sanctimony from the old-timers about how much harder they had it back in the day. Fewer admissions and more stable patients lead to a more stable census and more time for rest. Sorry. The trouble was that as medicine became more complex and demanding, the treatment of residents lagged far behind almost as if it were in a different century. Residents working in modern, high-turnover hospitals were treated no differently than their more relaxed collegues from the fifties and sixties.

After several important papers were published detailing the risks to the safety of both patients and residents from sleep deprivation, the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education (AGCME) mandated that all residency program restrict the work hours of residents to eighty hours per week averaged over four weeks. This is a good start but it’s still only a start.

The fact that many in the medical community think it takes eighty hours per week to train you in a medical specialty reflects the general inefficiency and poor organization of medical training as well as a reluctance of some to let go of old, outmoded methods. Eighty hours is better than 120 of course, but it’s not a pleasant way to spend three to seven years of your life.

Let’s look at a typical Q4 call schedule. This means that every fourth night is overnight call. You will work three 12 hour days. On the fourth day you will work through the night until one in the afternoon (you must be released by this time according to the rules). Since you got no sleep on call your half-day is pretty much wasted as you sleep most of it. You must be allowed one 24-hour period per week free from all clinical duties but sometimes this entails being allowed to go home in the morning after call which means that your day off is abbreviated to 20 hours or so.

You will usually end up working 85 hours a week if not more because some people will not let go of the old ways and as they have no life outside the hospital have no incentive to be efficient or decisive. Your time is not valued in the slightest because anybody who cares is paying the same whether you work fifty hours or a hundred.

The worst thing is that most of your time will be spent wrestling the incredibly inefficient paperwork system which is endemic to every American hospital. You will spend most of your time as an intern filling out some sort of paperwork or another. That’s why they still call your intern year a “clerkship.” Trust me, you will spend the majority of your time wrestling with the paperwork. Important or not, there is a huge quantity of it.

So eighty hours does make for a long week and a long month. It is a violation of an unwritten rule of residency to complain, of course. The tradition is to suck it up and not look weak. Still, it is a lot easier to spend your life at the hospital if you have no life outside the hospital which is more the case than you imagine. I had a third year resident on a medicine rotation who regularly rounded in the evening on non-call nights after every other team had gone home sometimes until seven or eight with me and the medical students as her entourage. The on call team was also in the hospital handling all of the new admits so we weren’t really doing anything. She just was just very dedicated but more importantly had nothing better to do with her time.

Patient care is important. On the other hand if you can’t manage twelve patients on your service from six in the morning until six at night then you have a problem with efficiency. All your over-night orders should be written well before normal quitting time and the nurses are more than capable of following them. The labs will cook without you and all of the consultants have gone home and will only suffer to come for an Emergency, delegating their interns to cover things. The on call team, for its part, is there for Emergencies and to follow a few key items for you which you relate during sign-out.

You can go home already.

The best part was that at the start of the rotation the resident lectured me that medicine needed to be my first priority and family and personal life a distant second. This attitude is incredibly patronizing. It is just a job and like most men of my age and upbringing I take work very seriously. I’ll do what needs to be done but medicine is not the military and it should not be necessary to sacrifice one’s family life to its service. Spending time with the wife and children is not a privilege, a reward, or something for which we have to beg.

So you’re not supposed to complain but I think as more and more non-traditional students matriculate into medical school and then into residency training there will be more complaining as the older you are and the more experience you have outside of medicine the less tolerance you have for chicken shit…which is what a lot of the antiquated customs of residency are.

I think the first thing that needs to be done is to eliminate or greatly curtail call. Everybody deserves to get a good night’s (or day’s) sleep. It should also not be a privilege to get some rest. Some call is pretty benign of course. Urologists pull call but there are few real urological emergencies so they sleep pretty well. Specialties like medicine need to go to a shift system. Either that or have a night float system where one week out of the month you work at night and sleep during the day.

Another thing that can be done is to add to the length of residency training. Maybe sixty hours a week isn’t enough time to train a medicine resident. Medicine is inherently inefficient as it deals with inefficient human beings so a lot of the wasted time is hardwired into the system. Add a year. Increase the pay a little and pay overtime for anything over forty hours like anywhere else.

Research any residency program thoroughly. Talk to the residents when you interview. Get a good idea of the call schedule and the hours because some programs are more benign than others.

The Residency Match Part 4

Doing it the Hard Way

So I didn’t match last year and scrambled into a categorical position in Family Medicine. A categorical position as opposed to a preliminary position guarantees you a position for the total duration of the training for your specialty. It should be obvious that it is much more difficult to switch specialties out of a categorical position than out of a preliminary position. When you are in a preliminary position it is understood that you are either going to your primary specialty after your year is up or that you will be re-applying for the match. Your program director will not be shocked if you ask for time off to interview and you don’t have to explain yourself or apologize to anybody.

Not that you have to apologize or explain if you switch from a categorical position. You only sign a contract at any program for a year at a time so you are perfectly within your contractual rights to leave at the end of the year. However, since accepting such a position is a de facto acknowledgment that you intend to complete training your Program Director will naturally be surprised and not a little put out. From his point of view he will now have a hole in his roster which he may or may not be able to fill especially if it is a non-competitive specialty. Remember for all of the happy happy talk you may hear during orientation you are a low-paid and therefore extremely economical part of the health care team and your warm educated body is needed to by various hospital services to provide cheap medical labor. His program has service requirements which he must meet and you are kind of leaving him in a lurch.

Still, most big academic centers won’t grind to a halt if you leave. You can’t let your natural distaste for letting people down keep you from securing your own future. This sounds incredibly selfish but there it is. I just want you to see it from the program director’s point of view and add this to the reasons to let him know early when you decide to switch. Not only will this give him a longer lead time to re-work schedules but if you actually submit a letter of resignation he can start looking for someone to fill your empty second year spot.

I thought I was going to settle for Family Medicine and for the first couple of months of intern year I stuck to it even though I was becoming rapidly demoralized. I just didn’t like it that much. And if you must know I’m not crazy about Duke. Maybe once I get clear of the place and get some sea room I’ll tell you why. I decided to start filling out my ERAS application even though I hadn’t made a decision yet. In early September I asked my wife’s permission to switch specialties. I laid out my case and as certain things about the program and Family Medicine made her uneasy it was not a hard sell. Still, we had just moved three kids and five dogs along with all of our possessions across the country so she was not thrilled about potentially doing it twice in less than a year. Additionally, even though I was later of accused of never really intending to stay (using the Duke name as an “in” to other programs) we had bought a house and stood to take a bath on it when we moved.

My plan was to see if I got any interviews before telling my program. If I didn’t get any I would keep my mouth shut and suck it up as there is no point in needlessly rocking the boat. Unfortunately you do need a program directors letter so you have to tell your program eventually. By the middle of October, early in the process and before November 1st after which you can expect the bulk of your invitations to interview, I had already received four invitations which seemed to me an auspicious start. I told my program that week and then fought for the next three months to get time off to interview.

The interview season runs from roughly November to the first week in February. Unfortunately I had inpatient rotations during all those months. Inpatient rotations (or ward months) usually have call, rounding, and a lot of grunt work which needs to be done by the interns. Since your program has service requirements, basically an agreement with the hosting service to provide labor in exchange for training you, if you are absent someone from program has to cover for you. If you are sick they usually pull one of the interns off of an outpatient rotation where the presence of one intern is not so critical. I did two weeks of outpatient ENT, for example, and since all I really did was follow the attending around he was perfectly ambivalent to my presence.

One of the reason to tell your program early is to allow them time to switch the schedule around to give you at least one easy month, preferably January, in which to schedule your interviews. I was promised time off to interview, I dutifully scheduled most of my interviews as late as I could to give my program the lead time to switch the schedules, and then as January rolled around found that nothing had been done. Your program doesn’t have to do jack for you, you understand, as switching specialties is a personal problem. On the other hand you have got to interview or you will not match, simple as that.

This kind of left me in a quandary. As my abbreviated interview season rolled into view nothing had been done and no arrangements had been made. The assumption was that I wasn’t serious or that I would arrange my own time off with my fellow interns on the service switching call days here and there. This is possible but I’m not ready to stake my future on the generosity of people who are themselves overworked and whose schedules are so tight that they can’t possibly take a call day for you without seriously violating the duty hour rules. I think an attempt was made to shame me into not interviewing by threatening to make my colleagues who were on easy rotations suffer by doing my call.

This hit pretty hard because as a former Marine Infantryman if there’s one thing I never do is let somebody carry my pack. Everybody has their moral code and not burdening others is a big part of mine. Still, I had to interview so I was forced to go up the chain of command and ask for help above my program. This was not received very well.

Finally, I plainly told my program that if I didn’t interview, I wouldn’t match and if I didn’t match, there was no way I would stay in family medicine so under those circumstances I might as well just quit and go back to my original career. (Structural Engineering, as I have mentioned.) This is kind of a risky thing to do. I have been out of the engineering business now for almost five years, have an inactive Professional Engineering License, no contacts, and am five years out of practice. Getting back into business would take between six months to a year and in case you don’t know it interns are not paid that well and most of us live pretty much from hand to mouth. Besides, I left the engineering business to be a doctor. I wasn’t too keen on that option. So I was pretty leery about suggesting that I might quit. They might have said, “OK, there’s the door. Have a nice life,” at which point I could have either held my head high, shaken hands all around and said, “It’s been nice” or eaten a big helping of cold crow and groveled for my job back.

You have to understand that I really, really want to do Emergency Medicine. Ever since the end of third year I couldn’t picture myself doing anything else so it seemed worth the risk.

You do have some leverage, however, particularly at a small program with a lot of service requirements. My resignation, while not catastrophic to the program, would require the reshuffling of schedules to fill service requirements. Some services rely on the interns and there are very few spares floating around. This kind of hole in a roster has a pretty big ripple effect in the schedule for a few months. When I implied that I might quit, my program had to ask itself what it was worth to keep me. Fortunately it was worth a little schedule switching. My program director who is actually a decent guy working hard to solve (and succeeding at it) some of the structural problems he inherited squared the whole situation away.

The moral here is this: If you plan on leaving, tell your program early. They cannot fire you for wanting to switch specialties as your contract is for a year and binding on both parties. Also, think about when you will interview and if you don’t have a rotation during which you can miss a few days make sure to ask for and get a schedule change. I was not as aggressive at this as I should have been and I don’t think my program realized how serious I was about switching. I wasn’t just throwing out a couple of applications hoping for a few local interviews (I was skunked in North Carolina, if you must know, except for Duke which was a courtesy interview). I eventually went on six trips to cover nine Emergency Medicine interviews. I managed to get in one in November, under the wire as the planets aligned just right on that occasion, two at the end of December as one of my upper levels was kind enough to cover two days of night float, and the rest I did in January during a rotation where I was an “extra intern. I went on the last interview in early February when I finally got on an outpatient rotation and it was here that I eventually matched.

You just never know. I would also say that even though you are switching, you need to stay motivated for the specialty you are in and give good service for your pay. Don’t drop the ball and don’t get a short-timers attitude. I think every one who knows me will admit that I have been very gung ho and have shirked none of my responsibilities. I don’t hate Family Medicine. It is a perfectly decent specialty with it’s own complexities and focus. It’s just, as I found, not for me.

All’s well that ends well. This last six months has been quite an adventure full of red-eye flights and long road trips made in total darkness there and back. I confess that until I matched Durham has always made me uneasy. I came here, in my mind, a failure and I believed that maybe I had finally hit the wall.

Not today my friends.

The Residency Match Part 3

How Not To Match

Let me state the obvious. There are many kinds of doctors and depending on your specialty you will have vastly different experiences in your medical career. Ideally you want to select a specialty in which you are interested. It doesn’t need to be a passion or even a calling but you have to be able to see yourself getting up in the morning for the rest of your life and doing it.

The selection of a specialty is often made by exclusion. I found for example that I absolutely detested rounding so I wasn’t too keen on internal medicine. Some people dislike the OR so surgery is definitely out of the question. It is also difficult to get excited about pediatrics when children make your skin crawl.

You usually narrow down your choice of specialties to a short list of things you like and refine it from there. By “like” I don’t necessarily mean that you are crazy about it, just that the combination of the potential income, lifestyle, and character of the work exceeds some threshold. I can’t believe that most people go into dermatology because of a lifetime interest in rashes. I’m sure derm is not boring but the easy residency hours, good pay, and lack of call probably carry a lot of weight with the academic heavy hitters who match into it.

Or you can go through medical school and find that you really don’t like any of those things you swore in your AMCAS personal statement drove you to apply to medical school. Achieving sainthood seems like a good idea before you actually start working with real patient. You will pick your specialty accordingly maybe deciding that radiology besides being interesting and kind of cool limits the amount of time you will actually have to spend talking to patients not to mention managing their health problems.

Of course, you may have your specialty picked for you by default because you have not positioned yourself in medical school to match into anything other than the typical non-competitive specialties. Matching into some of them requires only a pulse and the desire. Everybody can and does match into something, just not necessarily what they really wanted to do.

A word about specialties and their competitiveness. Some specialties are notoriously hard to get into. Dermatology is one. Radiology is another. Urology, interestingly enough, is also super-competitive and they even have their own match. (Not the NRMP). I’m going to give you my limited opinion on various specialties in a later post but suffice to say that it is a combination of intellectual rigor, potential income, prestige, work hours, and the number of available programs which determine a specialty’s competitiveness. Family Medicine as an example enjoys low pay, little prestige in the medical community, and the easy availability of residency positions almost everywhere. Therefore, although there are some individual Family Medicine programs which are pretty competitive the specialty itself is not and you can always scramble into a spot if you don’t outright match into your first or second choice.

You have to use a little common sense when looking at the competitiveness of a specialty. On paper you might say that Dermatology and Family Medicine are equally competitive because almost everyone who tries to match into either specialty is successful. This is true but self-selection plays a pretty big role in who applies to what specialty. The top students in you class will apply to Dermatology programs and get interviews. The bottom feeders can apply until their computer starts smoking but they will get few if any interviews and their chances of matching are slim to none. Although they’d like to have a cushy high-paying job as much as anybody else they usually save themselves the application fee and apply to less competitive specialties.

So you see while “P=MD”, you might develop a preference for one specialty in fourth year and spending your first three years in medical school just going for the pass might limit your options when it comes to matching. Grades do matter, as does class rank. All other things being equal it is the person with the higher class rank or the higher board score who will both get the interview and be ranked higher by the program. Most competitive residency programs even screen by grades, board scores, or class rank.

The number one way not to match is to get low grades and even worse, low USMLE scores. Many people enter medical school having bought into the premise that they should do something in primary care. Good grades and high class rank are not necessary to match into most of the primary care specialties so this is used as an emotional crutch during pre-clinical years. After all, I’m just going into Family Practice, I don’t need good grades. (But bear in mind that the best family medicine programs are pretty competitive in their own right.)

If you change you mind about your intended specialty you may find yourself in a new higher weight class where you are no longer very competitive. You may get some interviews but not enough to match as you will invariably drop off the end of your rank order list. Not every interview goes well. If you only interview at a few places if one or two places decide not to rank you all of a sudden you are pinning your hopes on the one place that liked you well enough to rank but not enough to rank at a spot likely to match.

A pass is not good enough. Get the best grades you can to keep your options open.

Now. Those of you who are at the top of your class go surf for some porn or something for the next few minutes. What you are doing reading my blog is a mystery as this is the home of the average, blue-collar medical student.

When it comes to applying to programs, don’t be squeamish. Apply to enough programs to get enough interviews to increase your chances of matching. And unless you absolutely despised a program and you are certain you would only last a week or two there before you killed somebody and ran screaming into the bayou, rank every program where you interview. Seriously. When you don’t rank a program what you are saying is that if it came down to it you’d rather try to scramble into a better program, sit out a year, or scramble into one of the unpopular specialties none of which are very good plans.

First of all, if you couldn’t match into your specialty, the scramble is not exactly going to be a cake walk. Most competitive specialties fill and if they don’t there are plenty of people better qualified than you who will probably get the few open spots. I’m sorry. I’m the biggest optimist in the world (I mean I did risk everything this year to match into Emergency Medicine) but you probably won’t get the open spot for the same reason you didn’t match.

Don’t count on the scramble.

As for sitting out a year, don’t do it unless it is for something that you can justify the next time you apply. “Took a year to set up a TB clinic in Moldavia sounds pretty good. Hung around the house playing video games not so good. Almost nobody outright sits out a year if they don’t match. What most people with any sense do is scramble into what is called a transitional or preliminary year. Most Medicine and General Surgery Programs have a number of one-year positions available every year in addition to their Categorical spots. The preliminary year is separate intern year with no guarantee of any further training at that institution. The advantage of doing a preliminary year is that some programs require one and even if you had matched you would have still had to have matched (or scrambled) into one. On your next attempt you would have this year under your belt which is not a bad thing. Your preliminary year is also a time to get new letters showing that despite your class rank, you are a real hard-charger. This is not a bad thing either.

Some programs do not require a preliminary year so if you match, you will have to repeat your intern year.

What not to do, and what I am sorry to say I did after not matching, is to throw in the towel and on the spur of the moment decide to lower your sights by scrambling into something safe which you either never considered or were ambivalent towards. I never really disliked family medicine but I never liked it enough to consider it as a career. I was pretty demoralized after not matching into Emergency Medicine and as I had just had my 40th birthday I was pretty sure I was finished. So it looked like the easiest thing to do, especially as the scramble was definitely not going my way.

What can I say? I didn’t have a plan. If I had stepped back and considered things for a second I would have walked upstairs to my school’s medicine department and taken one of their preliminary spots of which they always have a surplus. What I have learned since then is that I would rather quit medicine and go back to my previous career (structural engineering) than spend my life in a medical specialty to which I was always cool toward and of which my opinion did not improve by closer association. Still , I accepted a categorical position because I felt, and see if you can spot the irony here, a preliminary position would be a wasted year and I might as well get started on my lowered career goals today.

Folks, its only a year. 365 days. For all the trouble it took to apply and interview as a categorical intern not to mention the hurt feelings and the awkwardness of appearing indecisive when I told my program it wasn’t worth it. Not by a long shot.

Another thing to consider is that you are only fully-funded by Medicare for the length of the first program into which you match. Since I matched into Family Medicine which is three years and am now going to Emergency Medicine which is also three years, I am only fully funded for two years of the new residency and half-funded for the third year. Some programs, particularly large academic institutions don’t really care about this because losing a little money on their residents is not an issue. For some smaller programs it might be a deal-breaker. I was told by several programs that they would not consider applicants who weren’t fully funded.

I am unsure of the how this rule applies to preliminary positions so do your research.

Bottom line:

1. Keep your options open. You will change you mind about specialties. Better to have the grades and scores to match into Opthalmology but decide on family medicine than the other way around.

2. For God’s sake suck it up and do a preliminary year, especially if you are young. One year measured against your career is insignificant. Not to mention that you will be a pretty confident intern if you have to repeat your first year.

3. On the first day of medical school, with the usual allowances for the occasional dumb-ass who slipped through the cracks, anybody can do any specialty. You might have to apply yourself a little harder but you can do it.

Coming Soon: My totally biased, non-scientific, take-it-for-what-you-paid-for-it opinion on various specialties in which I try to debunk some of the hype surrounding primary care.

Caution: Not to be read by zealots or compassion fascists.

The Residency Match Part 2

The Nuts and Bolts

While nothing needs to be carved in stone, by the end of third year you should have a pretty good idea of what kind of residency you want to do. This is because matching is a long process that will occupy you in one way or another for most of fourth year. The process starts with scheduling your fourth year electives. While most people elect to take it easy during the last few months of fourth year (because nothing that you do after Christmas will have an impact on where you match) it is important to schedule rotations in your area of interest early to get good letters of recommendation submitted early enough to help you get interviews.

For most of the residency programs, applications are submitted through the Electronic Residency Application Service (or ERAS). ERAS is an on-line service which greatly simplifies the application process by providing a common application form which is used by every program. It also serves as a clearing house for all of your letters of recommendations, transcripts, USMLE or COMLEX scores, and other important documents which can be accessed by the programs t0 which you apply.

You can also enter any number of personal statements which you can customize and target to specific programs or specialties if you are doing a multi-specialty match. All of these things are confidential, by the way, and can only be looked at by programs to which you apply. Programs cannot “browse” through ERAS looking for likely candidates. Personal statements and letters in particular have to be explicitelty designated for each program so there is no way for a program to know to which other programs or specialties you have applied.

It shouldn’t matter but a Surgery program might not think you were serious about surgery if you are also applying to Emergency Medicine.

It is not my intent to describe how to fill out the application. Your school will give you an orientation on this early in fourth year and you should definitely go. I have done the match twice so I have a pretty good handle on the mechanics.

I will say that you need to stary early and shoot to have your application completed with at least a few letters of recommendation designated by the opening of the application period in early September. You really only need the CAF completed to apply and it is possible to get early interview offers with nothing but this. Still, you might as well get an early start especially if you are competing for a competitive specialty (and you are competing). You can always designate letters as they come in and the programs will download them as they become available.

The letters actually go to your registrars office or student affairs office where they are scanned in and downloaded to something called the ERAS post office. Except for designating them you can not access your letters through ERAS.

Your personal statement should also be finished by the time you apply.

I regret to inform you that the personal statement is a very important part of the application and just like for the AMCAS, you will be forced to write what is usually a cringe-inducing essay about you and your career goals. I read my AMCAS personal statement the other day and literally winced in shame that I could have produced such drivel.

ERAS will also afford you the opportunity of releasing your USMLE or COMLEX scores. You don’t actually have to but not releasing them is probably a big red flag to program directors. Some Emergency Medicine programs, as an example, receive close to a thousand applications from which only 75 or so will be selected for interviews. At this stage it is pretty easy for the program director to put you in the reject pile for any reason at all.

Most programs don’t actually start offering interviews until After November 1st when your Dean’s letter is released to the post-office. The Dean’s letter is a synopsis of your medical school career and is always positive and flattering. It is so positive and flattering that a whole code language of praise has been developed to help differentiate the good, the bad, and the ugly. It is here that a weak student may be damned with faint praise. It is also here that your class rank will be either explicitly given or hinted at in code phrases understood by every program director.

So there you are. Career path selected, application taking shape, and ready to apply to some programs. ERAS makes it easy to do this. Pretty much point and click from pull down menus. A click here, a click there, designate a few letters and your personal statement and you’re in business. Hell, it’s so easy you might as will apply to every General Surgery program just to see if you get any bites.

Right?

Not necessarily. ERAS is not free and you pay for each program to which you apply. The minimum fee is sixty bucks and this pays for up to ten programs. After this there is a sliding scale for fees. For up to 30 programs the application fee is pretty reasonable. After 30 it costs 25 dollars per program. I suppose the sliding scale was implemented to prevent the kind of spam-like application saturation that ERAS makes all too easy.

On the other hand you need to apply to enough programs to get the interviews you will need to position yourself for the match. How many? Well, like everything else it depends. If you want nothing better than to match into Family Medicine in a small unknown program in Cousincouple, Arkansas you probably only need to apply to that one program as Family Medicine is hugely noncompetitive with many more residency positions than applicants.

Conversely, some specialties are more competitive and require a different approach. I applied to 54 Emergency Medicine programs which cost me close to a thousand bucks and only got nine interviews. I matched number six on my rank list so you see that it was a near-run thing. Let your conscience be your guide. If you are a strong applicant you can probably apply to fewer programs. The weaker your application the more program to which you should apply because some programs may like your CV despite a bad grade here of there or a low class rank.

I won’t say too much about interviewing. Your CV, letters, and grades got you in the door and now you need to sell yourself. Wear a suit. Be polite. Don’t try to bullshit anybody and don’t be a tool. Not much more than that. Interviewing can be fun if you don’t let yourself get intimidated.

During the application process you will need to register with the NRMP. ERAS handles the application. The NRMP handles the match. The two are separate and while your school will send you reminders, there is always somebody who almost misses the NRMP registration deadline. If you don’t register you can’t match. Period.

Towards the end of the interview season which runs from around the end of October to the first week of February the NRMP will become available to submit your Rank Order List. Nothing magic here. You go on-line, select the programs where you interviewed and rank them in your order of preference. After you certify the list you are officially entered in the match. You can change your list, either adding or removing or changing the rank of programs, pretty much at will until the deadline for submitting your final ROL which is at the end of February. Once this deadline passes if you have not certified at least one list you are out of the match and will have to scramble.

Now you wait. And wait. And wait some more as the results aren’t released until the third week of March. On Monday of this week you will get an email from the NRMP telling you whether you matched. If you fail to match then you had better have a plan because the very next day at noon EST the list of unfilled programs is released on the NRMP website to all unmatched applicants and the scramble begins.

If you match then you have to wait until Thursday at One O’Clock EST to find out where you matched. Most medical schools have a Match Day Ceremony where you open an envelope in front of your whole class. I was an independent applicant so I just waited biting my fingernails for the email.

Programs mail out contracts on Friday and fourth year now becomes a competition to see who can do the least amount of work between match day and graduation.

Next: How Not to Match

The Residency Match Part 1

The Match Described Conceptually

By now you have probably heard the ancient medical school adage that “P=MD” meaning that grades are not important and everyone who passes will be a doctor. I want to refute this and caution you to never adopt this philosophy. Grades do matter as you will see later in this series of articles from my sorry tale which fortunately has a happy ending.

The Match is a annual event during which medical students are placed into residency programs. Almost every specialty uses the NRMP match (National Residency Match Program) but some use their own match. The principles are the same whatever the case and from now on when I say “match” I’m referring to the NRMP match.

In the bad old days before the match, finding a residency program was very similar to the way that most of America finds work. You sent your resume to a program, they interviewed you, and you might be offered a job on the spot. This caused several problems. First, there was tremendous pressure for medical students to sign the first contract that they were offered because it was the proverbial “bird in the hand” even if the program wasn’t where they really hoped to go.

I just matched into Emergency Medicine (on my second attempt as you will see) and at any time this year or last if I had been offered a contract at any program I would have signed it. Sure I have preferences of where I would like to go but I would have rather had a secure spot in my specialty than risk going unmatched later.

Additionally, the programs had the similar problem of either signing an acceptable applicant immediately or holding out for a better one later and possibly not filling all of their spots. Apparently there was a lot of horse-trading and arm-twisting on both sides of the table.

The match is a system that removes the pressure from both the applicant and the program to make a quick decision or settle for something less than they could get if they held out. This, in a nutshell, is how it works. First, applicants apply to various residency programs in their desired specialty. The programs review the application and based on their own criteria (grades, for one) offer to interview the applicant.

After the interview period, the applicant submits to the NRMP a list of the programs where he interviewed and where he would accept a position. This list is sorted in
order of the applicant’s preference with his favorite program ranked number one and his least favorite last. Least favorite, that is, where he is willing to go because you do not have to rank every program where you interview. This is called the Rank Order List.

The residency program for their part submits to the NRMP a list sorted in order of their preference of all the applicants they interviewed and are willing to take. They don’t have to put every person they interview on the list (or “rank” them as we say) because while you might decide that you would never go to a certain program, they might also decide that they do not want you under any circumstances either.

The NRMP puts these lists into a computer which runs a simple algorithm that matches applicants to programs. The algorithm, which used to be cranked out by hand, draws a name from the top of the list and puts him into the program he ranked highest which also ranked him. The next name is drawn from the list and he is put into his highest ranked program which also ranked him. These people are tentatively matched and this goes on until eventually conflicts arise between who is sitting in what slot.

Try to follow me here. If you are tentatively matched at a certain program if another applicant to the same program is tentatively matched the algorithm compares how high he was ranked by the program to how high you were ranked. If he was ranked higher then you are bumped down a spot on that program’s roster. If you are ranked higher than he is put into a spot below yours. Since programs only have a set number of spots, eventually someone is going to drop off the bottom of the list onto the first spot in the list of the program in their next order of preference.

Look at it as one long roster consisting of all of the possible residency spots at all the programs into which you could match. You are initially placed as high up on this roster as you possibly can be. If you are the first in the stack of rank order lists then you will be sitting on the first spot of your favorite program until somebody knocks you down. If the algorithm gets to you later you will be placed as high as you can possibly be placed possibly knocking somebody less favorably ranked by the program down a notch.

So you can see that you can never move up the list once you are tentatively matched. There is no way but down. The strongly competitive candidate will just hold his place, fighting off challengers with his superior ranking mojo.

You can also see that the match favors the applicant as you will be paced as high up on your preference list as you can possibly be. The program might want somebody more than you but since that applicant might have ranked another program higher he’s going to sit there until he is knocked down. They may have to settle for little old you.

So what’s the worst thing that can happen? It should again be obvious. You apply to a competitive specialty with more applicants than open spots and after being forced down the roster by applicants who were ranked higher by every program which you ranked you are forced off of the list entirely.

You are unmatched and are now in a world of hurt especially if you really wanted a competitive specialty like Radiology or Emergency Medicine. Fortunately, you have one more chance at salvaging both your future career and your pride.

The funny thing is that even in a competitive specialty sometimes at the end of the match programs have spots which did not fill. They didn’t rank enough applicants either because they didn’t interview enough people or they decided for whatever reason to only rank some of the people they interviewed.

Now you have to go through something called the “Scramble” where you and every other unmatched person who wants a crack at one of the open spots compete furiously in real time waging war over the phone, the internet, and the fax machine. The match is sedate and rational. For competitive specialties, the scramble is a free-for-all and program directors quickly fill their program from the ultimate buyer’s market. The few unmatched spots in Emergency Medicine, for example, filled in a matter of hours with highly qualified candidates.

In a non-competitive specialty like Family Medicine there are usually plenty of open spots, often several in every single Family Medicine program so if you were lazy, didn’t want to interview, and didn’t really care where you went you could easily get a spot somewhere.

I know all about the scramble because I failed to match last year and as I had no chance of getting one of the only 11 (out of around 1200) open Emergency Medicine spots I threw in the towel and scrambled into family medicine. This turned out to be a costly mistake as I will describe later by telling you what I should have done.

So those are the basics. In the next posts I will describe the actual process of applying to programs and to the match. I’ll also give you some pointers on scrambling…well, not pointers so much as bone-headed things that I did from which you may draw you own conclusions.

USMLE Step 2 Clinical Skills

Highway Robbery

Might as well come out and say it. The Step 2 Clinical Skills test is a swindle foisted on medical students by bureaucrats with too much time on their hands and not enough to keep them occupied. It had its origin in the the clinical skills test administered to foreign medical graduates to ascertain their level of English proficiency and their comfort level with Western clinical skills under the theory that advocating consulting the entrails of a lizard in broken English would preclude you from practicing in the United States.

Since money could be made by making American medical graduates take the test, beauracrats hired other beauracrats to prove that we were not being taught how to interact with patients during our four years of medical school. Despite strong resistance from the medical community and medical students, money was spread around and the result was an expensive solution to a non-existent problem.

Step 2 CS is a day-long standardized patient exercise which tests your ability to take a history, do a physical exam, and write a note with an assessment and a plan. Nothing to it, right?

Right. The first time pass rate is in the mid 90 percent for American medical school graduates and very people study for it at all. So you see, and try to follow me here, if there really is a problem then people would be failing this thing left and right leading to the kind of studying we normally only see for the clinical knowledge portion of Step 2. Which does not happen. Medical schools do a good job of teaching you clinical skills. There is no problem.

Not to mention that Step 2 CS is pass/fail so it can’t even be used as a measure of anything other than your having at least the same skills as some guy from Bolivia who’s father paid the Minister of Health to get him into medical school.

But I digress. Step 2 CS is a done deal so you are going to have to take it. It was about a thousand bucks in 2005 not counting transportation and accommodation at one of the only twelve testing centers in the United States. (I took the test in Houston.)

As I mentioned, Step 2 CS is a day-long standardized patient exercise. For those of you who are not familiar with them, “standardized patients” are actors trained to pretend that they have various clinical conditions. Many medical schools use them to introduce students to the history and physical exam.

The Step 2 CS site is set up ostensibly like a real outpatient clinic. During the day you will see approximatley 12 standardized patients in a round-robin fashion moving from room to room rotating patients with your fellow examinees. Each clinical encounter consists of up to 15 minutes for a history and physical examination and then up to ten minutes to write your note. You can leave the patient’s room before your history and physical exam time is up and use this extra time for writing your note. Once you leave the room however you may not reenter.

Posted on the door of each room is a board with the chief complaint (as would be elicited by a nurse) the patient’s demographic information, and his vital signs. At a signal from the proctors, you knock on the door, enter, and begin the song and dance.

I will explain the history and physical exam in a later post (for those of you who are not in medical school yet, of course) but suffice to say that one enters the room, exchanges the usual pleasantries, elicits the Chief Complaint (CC), gets the History of Present Illness (HPI), and performs a physical exam.

To assist you the actor playing your patient may have moulage (makeup simulating an injury) as well as cards telling you the result of invasive exams like the digital rectal exam which you will not do on standardized patients.

(Some view the Step 2 CS as a digital rectal exam done on medical students.)

Now, here is the key to this portion of the test. Since this is a simulated real world clinic, you should do a focused HPI and physical exam. The patients will all have classic presentations of common clinical problems. I don’t think I will be violating the NBME’s non-disclosure agreement if I tell you that you might get a patient who’s chief complaint is chest pain and shortness of breath with exertion. In this case a complete neurological exam is not necessary, will gain you no extra points, and will eat into your time. There are no zebras on Step 2 CS.

Once you are done you exit the room and start writing your note which is essentially a SOAP note. You can write this on a form that is provided or enter it in a computer. The form has a space for the history, the results of the physical exam, your assessment and your plan. In the case of Step 2 CS your assessment is a differential diagnosis ( a list of the most likely causes for the patient’s symptoms) and your plan is the next step in the diagnostic work up.

Note that unlike on a real SOAP note your plan will not specify a treatment but only your next proposed steps in the diagnostic work-up.

In the case of chest pain with shortness of breath, your differential diagnosis might include Acute MI, Pulmonary embolus, GERD (heartburn), or PUD (peptic ulcer disease). Your plan for diagnostic work-up could be to draw cardiac enzymes, get an EKG, obtain a spiral CT scan, do a heart cath, or anything else you feel would be appropriate. You will not get any credit for suggesting treatment so save yourself the effort.

How long should your note be? Well, go look here: http://www.usmle.org/step2/Step2CS/Step2CS2005GI/appendixC.asp

Does that look like a long note? Of course not. It is not necessary to write the great American novel. I usually only needed ten minutes with the patient and five minutes for the note leaving me with ten minutes of thumb-twiddling time. Yet I saw most people leaving the room on the fifteen minute mark and scribbling furiously for the entire documentation time. They were obviously over-thinking it.

Focused history and physical. Concise note. That’s all there is too it.

The Step 2 CS exam is scored in three separate components each of which his pass/fail and all three of which must be passed. The first part is called the ICE or integrated Clinical Encounter which includes your history and physical exam skills as well as your documentation and assessment.

Communication and Interpersonal Skills (CIS) assesses your demeanor, your bearing, your use of empathy, your sensitivity, and even your appearance. Wear conservative clothes and a clean white coat.

The third tested area is English Proficiency.

All you will need for the test is your white coat and your Stethoscope. Every other piece of diagnostic equipment you need wll be in the room. PDAs and reference books are not allowed.

Do you need to study for the Clinical Skills test? I say no. I know there is a mini-industry of test prep material but your four years of medical school should be enough. Just act natural, do what you have been doing for your entire third and fourth year and don’t worry about it.

USMLE

Your First Big Hurdle in Medical School

I got a fairly decent but not spectacular score on both Step 1 and Step 2 of the USMLE (United State Medical Licensing Exam) so I am not claiming any revealed wisdom or special insight into the tests. You must take what follows as my opinion alone and I caution you to study for the test in a manner which feels right for you.

OK?

For the uninitiated, the USMLE is a three part test which you will take at various times in your medical education. Step 1 is typically taken at the end of your second year of medical school and covers what you should have learned during that time. Step 2 is typically taken during fourth year and emphasizes the clinical aspect of medicine. Step 2 includes the “Clinical Skills” test which is a day-long standardized patient exercise that will cost you a thousand bucks. The only difference between paying a thousand bucks for the clinical skills test and being mugged is that you can’t file a police report after the test. (But more on that in a future post.)

Step 3 is usually taken early in your second year of residency and is your last hurdle to becoming a licensed physician.

Let’s talk about Step 1. Although you have spent the previous two years in the intense study of medical knowledge you will have to study for this test. I am sure that the average medical student can take the exam “cold” and probably pass it three times out of four with a grade close to the minimum passing score. A pass is a pass of course but a low Step 1 score will adversely impact your ability to match into a competitive specialty or a generally non-competitive specialty at a competitive program. In fact, many residency programs screen applicants by Step 1 scores so a low score will automatically close many doors for you.

Additionally, at all American medical schools Step 1 is a “must pass” test and you cannot advance through third and fourth year until you do so. At most schools you will get three chances to pass it. Upon failing the first time you will probably be pulled out of the third year rotation schedule and during the block you sit out you will be expected to study for and pass the test (this time comes out of your vacation). If you fail it for a second time you will be dropped back a year. Fail it a third time and they stick the fork in you as you are done.

At most schools you must attempt Step 2 before graduation but passing or even having the scores back is not required to graduate.

The question then becomes how long and what should study?

The answer depends on your school. My medical school had an eight-week break between the end of second year and the first day of third year. Most of my classmates elected to take Step 1 during this time either earlier or later depending on their comfort level and study habits. I believe that eight week is too long as you will invariably both lose your edge and also start to forget what you studied ealier. Three weeks is not enough time as you do have a lot of information to cover. Five to six weeks seemed to be the average in my class.

If your school doesn’t give you this kind of time then you need to make the best of it.

To study effectively you need to understand the format of the test. Step 1 and Step 2 are day long, computer-based, multiple choice tests. They are broken into hour long blocks of fifty questions selected more or less randomly from various subject areas of medicine. No two tests are exactly alike but an effort is made to keep the relative level of difficulty and mix of subjects more-or-less constant.

The tests are multiple choice but are not like the multiple choice tests which are probably the norm at your medical school. First of all, many of the questions have choices “a” through “k” rather then the standard “a,b,c,d.” You are consequently going to work a lot harder at eliminating wrong answers.

Additionally, the tests are concept-based, not fact-based, and feature many of what I like to call “double pump” questions. Rather than presenting you with a set of information and asking you to name the disease, for example, the typical Step question presents you with a brief case summary after which rather than asking you to name the disease the question might be, “What is the next step in the management of this patient?” Your excitement over knowing the disease was premature as this is not the answer they are looking for.

Heck, in many questions they tell you what is wrong with the patient. Consequently it pays to read the question at the end of a long paragraph first as the presentation is irrelevant once you know the diagnosis.

Another popular question style is to present you with a case followed by a selection of different lab results, your task being to pick the one which fits the presentation. You can usually eliminate most of the possible answers as obviously wrong (high pH in a set of lab values that you know should describe acidosis, for example) but invariably you will be left with a handful of reasonable looking results.

A variation on this is to present you with various simplified graphs and ask you to select the one which correctly represents the case.

Then there are the deceptively simple Behavioral Science questions which present you with a scenario and give you a list of choices only a few of which you can obviously rule out. The rule of thumb here is when in doubt go with the politically correct answer. Spanking is always wrong and it is never correct to advise a patient take responsibility for their actions.

I would say that of all the questions on Step 1 and Step 2, only a handful had a discrete, definite answer like “Sickle Cell” or “Guillan Barre Syndrome.”

So how should you study?

First, do not attempt to go back and review two years worth of class notes. The typical lecture curriculum probably has close to 4000 lectures in two years and you simply do not have the time. Not to mention that since the Step tests are standardized and your curriculum is not (despite the best efforts of your faculty) you might waste your time studying something taught at your school which is not emphasized at another and not likely to be included on the test.

Second, do not read text books because if your lecture notes are full of trivia the text is even more so. Again, you do not have time. This also goes for review books and I confess that I had a change of heart on this between Step 1 and Step 2. You simply do not have the time to review two years worth of material. The four weeks or so you will devote to study will dwindle quickly and your studying will bog down in a quagmire of detail.

Frankly, the best way to study for Step 1 is to do well and study hard during first and second year. You will retain more than you imagine and this is the best base for the most effective Step test study method which is to do practice questions and little or nothing else for your alloted preparation time.

The best practice questions, in my opinion, are those sold on-line by Kaplan or USMLEworld qbank. These are subscriptions to about 2000 questions each which are formatted exactly like the real questions, cover the same mix of subjects, and can be taken in Step-like blocks of questions exactly like the real test. The best part about the service is that you can read the explanations to the correct answer as well as to the wrong answers which in my book is just as important.

As I did the questions I made a point of reading or at least skimming all of the explanations to the right and wrong answers on all of the questions about which I had any doubts at all.

The advantage of these (and similar) on-line question banks are many. First, they are the exact same format and feel of the real test and will get you used to the “physics” of the computer test. That way there will be no nasty suprises on test day when you suddenly run out of time on several blocks or wrestle with the interface.

Second the questions focus on subjects which are actually tested. This means that you are going to get the typical standard presentations and basic medical knowledge with nothing coming out of left field. It was my sense that the questions are not written to trick you and it is only your lack of knowledge which can confuse you. The hoofbeats are always horses, never zebras.

Another advantage is that the questions are phrased and presented in a similar manner to the real test with the important distinction that the practice questions from Kaplan and USMLEworld seemed harder than the real questions. In fact, I scored considerably lower on the practice tests than on the real thing. The practice questions distributed by the USMLE are almost exactly like the real questions in difficulty.

Finally, doing practice questions will put you in the test-taking mode. If all you do is read review books you will have a store of rapidly disintegrating facts jumbled in your head. Doing practice questions narrows your focus to answering questions based on patterns which you have seen before.

Each of these services costs about 100 bucks for a one month subscription . A couple or three thousand quesitons should keep you busy for a month.

A word about “First Aid,” a popular USMLE review book which has an almost cult-like following.

Save your money. First Aid is a collection of “buzzwords” and supposedly high yield facts which are touted by some as all you need to study for the Step tests. I understand that in the old days the Step tests were twice as long but had shorter questions with discrete answers. First Aid might have been useful for a test like that but the nature of the test has changed making First Aid less useful.

Like I said, some people swear by it and claim to to make fantastic scores by studying nothing else. I am skeptical. I hit First Aid pretty hard for Step 1 (before I got smart and started doing practice questions) but I could remember only a few questions on the test where I thought First Aid had even remotely helped me.

Just a few random thoughts:

1. Avoid the temptation to cram the night before a Step test. How much are you really going to retain and more importantly, of the two years of knowledge required to take the test, how much of it can you cram into one sleepless night? Relax. I stopped studying a week before I took Step 1 because I literally could not stand doing another question or reading another page of review material. Remember what I said about peaking early. You just have to know when to say “no mas.” Let your conscience be your guide but it is better to go into the test relaxed (but alert and ready) than to panic and lose sleep over it.

2. It will be a long day. Bring a lunch, of course, and wear comfortable clothes. Paradoxically the day will seem to fly by once you get into the test. You are given plenty of break time but most people just plow through most of their breaks to just get the test over with.

3. I thought I had failed Step 1. I mean, looking back it seemed that every question was renal physiology and that there were only a handful of the 350 question on the test of which I was sure of the answer. It seemed that I could get most of the questions down to two or three choices but I was never really sure on most of my answers.

So I dreaded getting my score and anticipated failing even though the first time pass rate for American medical students is something like 93 percent, I am not stupid, and I studied pretty hard. I asked around and this seems to be a common perception after finishing the test. Almost everybody thinks they bomb it but most people don’t. Move on. Enjoy the rest of your vacation. Unfortunately it will take six weeks to get your results so you have a long wait.

4. Step one is divided into seven one hour blocks of fifty questions. I am a very fast reader so my strategy was to read the question, quickly select an answer, and if I wasn’t sure mark it for later and move on. (The software allows you to select questions within the block for review.) I found that I was able to get through the block in about half and hour leaving me with half an hour for review. Typically I had about half of the questions marked and spent the time wrestling with them. There were always a handful of questions for which I didn’t have a clue and these I marked “C” without wasting any more time trying to figure them out.

The key is to have a system that works for you and not to get hung up on one question. If you don’t know the answer mark it for review and move on. Don’t win the skirmish but lose the war.

I repeat: Take my advice as free advice and thus worth what you paid for it. I welcome your comments but please don’t flame me because we disagree. I am perfectly willing to be corrected, proven wrong, or convinced of your point of view.

Sensitivity Nazis

Dissent Will Not Be Tolerated

You are about to run the guantlet of the vast subculture in medical education devoted to sensitivity training. Your personal views, the values instilled by your parents, or your religious beliefs are about to be dismissed as detrimental to your functioning as a physician. All of these must be replaced by the latest politically correct memes fresh from the minds of pseudo-educated hacks with way, way too much time on their hands since they achieved tenure.

This training will come at you in various guises. It will be easy, of course, as reflects the shoddy academic credentials of its proponents and if you are hard to intimidate it can be a lot of fun once you get over the the fact that large chunks of your medical education are being wasted on this kind of thing.

You will be taught certain things which are to be internalized as articles of faith.

First, patients are not responsible for anything they do. After all, they didn’t have the advantages that you had growing up with that silver spoon in your lily-white gated community so they cannot possibly be held to the same standards. Therefore you are not allowed either to expect or, more importantly, to encourage your patients to be responsible for their own actions.

If Mr. Jones refuses to buy his blood pressure medications spending the money instead on cigarettes and beer then this is your fault for not motivating him properly. If you could just use the right combination of psycho-babble you might have a breakthrough where the patient slaps his head and says, “But of course! I’m having intercranial bleeds because a systolic pressure of 240 is a tad higher than normal!”

Eureka!

Of all the techiniques used to shut down debate, the assertion that the advantages we enjoyed as children negates our authority is the most spurious. I will grant you that many of my poor, uneducated patients will never amount to much because of poor upbringing or worse education. On the other hand we’re not asking them to work like dogs to get into medical school, work hard for four years, and struggle through from between three to seven years of residency training. We’re just asking them to take a couple of friggin’ pills every day and maybe keep a couple of clinic appointments.

My residency program gets all tied up in knots over how to make our patients more compliant. In fact, the term “non-compliant” is frowned upon and is instead replaced by the less-judgemental “pre-compliant.” Their current holy grail is a system where we essentially follow the patients home and plead with them to take their medicine. I subscribe to a different point of view, something I like to call the “French Hooker Rule” which postualtes that no matter how beautiful, no matter how accomplished the young lady is, she can only give you what she can give you.

You come to the clinic. I spend twenty or thirty minutes with you at every visit setting up your medication regimine, your smoking cessation strategy, and your weight loss goals. I’ll refer you to the appropriate specialist if indicated and I will neither belittle nor patronize you but in the end I can only give you what I can give you. When you walk out of the door you are on your own with nothing but your desire for good health to make you well.

I will certainly not treat any adult as a helpless child. Underneath all of the happy happy, joy joy, kumbayah talk about patient autonomy and respect is the patronizing and often-times racist assumption that certain patients are incapable of making decisions.

The point is that most adults make decisions about their health based on many complex factors the least important of which sometimes is your input as their physician. We might call them bad decisions but some patients enjoy smoking and eating fatty food more than they enjoy dieting and taking their blood pressure medications. Once you lead your horse to water through education it is up to them to drink.

So suggest that personal responsibilty needs to be stressed and watch the fireworks fly.

Let us discuss being non-judgemental. We mustn’t judge. After all, who are we to say what is right and wrong, good or bad? We sure are non-judgemental except of course when we are confronted with people who smoke, drink, eat Big Macs, own guns, spank their kids, watch TV, or don’t want the schools handing out condoms to their fifth grader. In that case we develop a superior attitude that would warm the heart of self-righteous puritans everywhere.

I want those of you who are now worked up to a fine lather of indignation (being highly judgemental, I might add) to step back a minute and ask themselves where it is written that non-judgementalism is the highest virtue of a physician?

Nowhere, my friends. It is merely the residue of the 1960s and all of the psycho-babble that resulted from it now manifested through the establishment who came of age during that idiotic, self-indulgent time.

Naturally your patients will expect and deserve a high level of tolerance from you. This does not mean that you need to subordinate your morality to theirs. If you don’t want to refer a woman for an abortion or put a fifteen-year-old on the pill then don’t do it. Likewise if you think that asking patients about guns in the house is an intrusive bit of politically correct idiocy then don’t do that either.

I don’t belong to the AMA because they are anti-gun and very intolerant of the anti-abortion position. I guess some judgementalism is hunky dory.

Sensitivity is a religion and the sociologists with their fuzzy degree are its priesthood. You will, in the course of your training run up against these happy people who hold nebulous positions in the institutional hierarchy but teach nothing, treat no one, and don’t even administer anything remotely related to patient care. They have fancy titles and speak in a strange language full of phrases like “brainstorming” and “intergroup dynamics” which they bring to bear on fabricated problems which are of no concern to anybody with a real job.

Political correctness is an industry, my friends, which employes an army of bearacrats to try to put a happy, sanitized face on everything. Must be nice to have a job at the Office of Institutional Diversity or some such sinecure from which one may pretend to work at fictional problems for which no measurable results can ever be expected.

Things You May or May Not Need: Part 2

The Two Week Rule

Eventually you will fill all of the pockets of your white coat with various pocket reference books, tools, and pens the wieght of which will suprise you. These things will accumulate on you like barnacles on a whale and you will be reluctant to scrape them off against the possibility that you might need one of the items and not have it.

A good rule of thumb is that if you have not used something in two weeks you probably don’t need it and it is safe to leave it home.

The advent of the PDA has gone a long way towards reducing the load carried by interns and medical students. The contents of Harrison’s Textbook of Medicine, which in print weighs ten pounds, fits easily onto a small corner of my PDA’s memory so you can see that with a decent PDA you can carry around a complete library of reference books.

Which you’ll never use, of course. The best applications for the PDA are the electronic equivalents of the pocket reference books. The best, in my opinion, is Eprocrates.

Epocrates is the “killer app” for medical handheld computing and does for PDA what the spreadsheet did for the personal computer and what porn did for the internet. The current version includes a drug reference handbook, a concise medical texbook, a catalogue of lab tests and their interpretation, a medical calculator, and a few more goodies. All of them are cross-referenced and formatted to be read easily on the typical PDA screen.

Epocrates got it’s start as a drug reference and in this it is superior to any other product on the market. You can search its database by drug class or name. It gives you dosages for adults and children, contraindications, mechanism of action, and even price.

Epocrates also has a rapid clinical reference database which I mentioned earlier. Let’s suppose you are treating a Sickle Cell patient. With a couple of taps you can pull up everything you really need to know about the condition including its pathophysiology, treatment, prognosis, and even what labs and studies to order on your patient. Now, to be honest the detail isn’t quite as good as a medicine textbook but it is surely good enough for rounds and will keep you safe in case you are pimped.

On a similar note the “Five Minute Clinical Consult” series is pretty good. They are written for practically every specialty and now that you can load them into your PDA you don’t have to carry around a huge book.

A “Sanford Guide to Anti-Microbial Therapy” is another one of those essential little books (which you can also get for the PDA). It is a good place to look when starting an antibiotic regimine on a patient, especially if you are considering “empiric” therapy, that is, before cultures and sensitivities come back from the lab.

Most medical centers also publish their own small infectious disease manual which lists characteristics of the microbes specific to the medical center.

The trend now is to tie wireless devices into the hospital database. At Duke this works pretty well and you can easily access lab results and other improtant rounding data on your PDA. Some schools are years away from this. Wireless connectivity is a nice plus but not essential and sometimes more trouble than it’s worth unless your school has implemented the technology to make it seamless for the user.

I despise mucking around with computers. All I want is to turn them on and use them,

Good PDAs can be pretty expensive. Many schools make their purchase manatory (along with a laptop computer) and this just adds to your student loan debt. If I could, I’d hold off getting one until third year because you will not need it for first and second year and any PDA you buy as a first year will be pushing obselecnce by the time you start third year. Either that or the prices will come down.

It should go without saying that you will need comfortable shoes. Whether you are in the OR or rounding on a medicine service, you will spend much of the day on your feet. Your dogs will be barking for not the least of which reason as that during first and second year you spent most of your day sitting down. Clogs are very fashionable for men and women and you will see the surgeons wearing them. I think they look kind of silly but then I prefer a more conservative look.

Whatever your preference in fashion, a pair of shoes that are comfortable, cool, and easy to slip on and off will make your long hours on the wards more enjoyable. If you can slip them on and off this will let you really rest your feet if you have a moment to sit down as well as making it easier for you to get moving when you are on call and are startled awake by your beeper.

Would it kill you to buy more than one white coat? Presumably you should change the oil on your coat every three or four thousand miles. Still, you will see medical students and residents rounding with white coats which are almost gray from use. I know it is just me being superficial and that many of the folks I see skulking around in greasy, off-brown white coats are ten times the physician I will ever be but that’s no excuse to look like an ass-bag.

Buy three. Wear one for a few days then wash the the stupid thing. Hit it with an iron too, if you are to cheap to buy the polyester blend.

Oh, and get your wife, girlfriend, or same-sex spousal equivalent (as we say at Duke) to sew a few extra pockets on the inside to carry your gear. A pocket with a velcro or button closure is nice for your PDA. Most scrubs don’t have very good pockets and the minute you break into a trot when the code pager goes off your PDA will slide right out onto the floor.

Trust me.

Talking Turkey

I’m Not in it for My Health

Folks, there is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to make a good income at your chosen profession or with trying to get the best salary you possibly can on the basis of your skills. And I don’t really care if the door greeter at Wal-Mart thinks it’s unfair that a physician makes twenty times his salary.

Your typical Wal-Mart employee didn’t just spend the whole day changing dressings on the rotting feet of diabetic vascular surgery patients, nor does he get up at zero-dark thirty to write notes on patients to have ready for rounds at a time in the morning when most working people are hitting the snooze button.

The correct phrase is “investment in human capital.” By the time we finish our training we will have been at it for little or no pay for between seven and twelve years depending on specialty. If you don’t think there should be some salary distinction between that kind of commitment and a fast-food worker then, with respect, you place very little value on your time.

I don’t mean to bust down on regular working folks. Still, my neighbor comes home at five and generally sits out in his back yard drinking beer and listening to the radio except when he goes hunting or fishing. I sometimes say hello to him early in the morning as he backs his bass-boat into the street. He is a decent, stand-up guy but hunting, fishing, and a few “irregular pleasures” are the extent of his ambition and I’m not going to cry “crocadile tears” if, with luck, I make more in a month then he will make in a year.

On the same note, I don’t envy those people who either make or have more money then I could earn in fifty lifetimes. Their wealth has no effect on me in the same way that my salary has no effect on my neighbor.

The moral here is not to count other people’s chips. A hard lesson to internalize especially since it is so easy to be envious of others.

Things You May or May Not Need: Part 1

Save Your Money

As you can imagine, medical school is a fairly expensive undertaking. It will also consume huge quantities of your time. With this in mind I’d like to go over a few things that you do and do not need either because they are expensive or because they will complicate your life rather than simplify it.

Just my opinions, of course. Your mileage is going to vary considerably depending on your comfort level, your school, and your financial resources. I will endorse some products but I am not being paid to do so (not that I wouldn’t like to be, you understand). Please don’t post angry comments.

First and most important, you really don’t need textbooks. Good Lord. Why would you sacrifice huge quantities of your study time parsing closely packed text for the few important facts buried therein? Of course you need study materials but like everything in medical education, you want them to be “high yield.”

The typical Biochemistry textbook, for example, is an 8-pound 1200 page behemouth full of essentially useless trivia. Not only that but you could easily drop 150 bucks for it, barely open it, and then lug it around from residency to fellowship to your first job before you get the courage to throw it away.

The first thing you need to understand that in a lecture based-curriculum, the tests are based on the lectures. In other words, essentially all of the questions you will be asked on any test will come from either the material presented in the lectures or from the course syllabus (Oftentimes a packet of handouts and notes). Occasionally you will get a list of “required reading” from the approved textbook for the course but this is usually just wishful thinking on the part of the professor.

I suppose a professor could enforce the required reading by taking his questions from obscure details only to be found in the textbook. In two years of lecture, however, this never happened. Occasionally the professor would throw in a few trivia question from the textbook but, as medical school tests usually run into the hundreds of questions, the potential to miss a couple of questions is not much of an inducement to miss potentially forty or fifty questions through wasting time studying trivia.

The key is to have access to good notes. Notice I didn’t say “take good notes” because it is almost impossible to take notes during a medical school lecture. Unlike undergraduate education where the courses proceeded slowly, dwelling over the subject matter and allowing time to digest and annotate, medical school lectures are a study in information overload and there is just no time to take decent notes.

But don’t despair. Usually one of the first orders of business of your newly elected class officers will be to set up a note taking service. There are many variations of this service. Some classes divy up the lectures among the students who are each responsible for preparing the notes for the lectures they are assigned (usually by transcribing from a tape after the lecture) and then emailing them to the class.

Our class hired a professional note-taker who sat in on every lecture with her tape recorder and then emailed the finished product to the people who subscribed to the service. I never bought the notes because my school posted the lectures (Power-point presentations, mostly) on our class web site and I studied directly from these. I though the note-taking service was redundant as it usually just recapped the Powerpoint presentations.

So don’t sweat it. With a few exceptions, eschew the textbooks. Instead, judiciously acquire review books. High Yield and BRS are the most popular and they have them for every subject. You will probably pay 20 bucks for a good Biochem review book which will have only a small fraction of the information in it’s bloated cousin but since you will actually read it and only the relevant information is covered you are going to come out way ahead.

With all this being said, you probably need to get a good anatomic atlas. Netters is the gold standard and you cannot go wrong buying it. A photographic atlas is also pretty useful. I liked my Rohan’s Photographic Atlas and still use it. Avoid buying a big pathology or physiology book. First of all they have them in the library or on line and if you really need to read them you can find them their. Second the review books will cover the things you really need to know.

Remember. Medical school is all about time management. Use your time efficiently and effectively.

How about diagnostic equipment? What will you need and what can you avoid buying?

You will need a good stethoscope. Most people get the Littmann Cardio 3 or one of similar quality. Not only is auscultation of the heart an important diagnostic skill which should be an inducement for you to get a good quality stethoscope but your stethoscope is kind of de facto badge of authority. You will probably end up wearing it around your neck and your patients will recognize this as your license to stick your finger in their rectum pretty much at will.

In the old days a rolled up piece of paper sufficed as a stethoscope. There are still old-school cardiologists who insist that they can hear just as well with the el-cheapo Rite-Aide stethoscopes but for my part I like to be able to hear the heart and any technical advantage I can get I will take. I would unashamedly get one of those new electronic stethoscopes except I am a resident and can’t really justify the expense. By all means look on line for a good deal but don’t skimp here. You will probably use this thing every day for your entire medical school and residency career.

Otoscope? Opthalmoscope?

Save your money.

I know. I know. It is on the “required equipment list.” Maybe you can’t avoid buying them but buy the absolute cheapest models you can possibly find because you will probably only need them for standardized patient exercises where it doesn’t really matter if you see anything or not. The patients are pretending to be sick and you can pretend to look at their retinas and into their ears.

When you start seeing real patients in third and fourth year you will find that every clinic will have an otoscope and an opthalmoscope on the wall. You will never, ever bring yours to work with you for several reasons.

First, even if they are not lost or stolen if you bring them invariably somebody will want to borrow them and in a matter of days they will somehow wander away and become common property somewhere in the hospital. The only way to prevent this is to exercise constant vigilance which you will not have time to do. You may have paid 400 bucks for them but to a causual user they are just like a pen or other “freebie.”

Second, they are heavy and bulky and you will already invariably be carrying around a white coat “combat load” which would make a Marine wince.

Trust me. Nobody carries them around. If you must, look on line for the really, really small otoscopes which fit in your pocket like a pen. They run around 100 bucks and are all you will need for a pediatrics rotation.

Blood pressure cuff? Don’t make me laugh. I suppose you’re going to carry all of this stuff around in a little doctor’s bag. (Neurologists who need a lot of tools actually do carry around little bags.) Nurses usually take blood pressures and measure other vital signs. You may occasionally want to verify a blood pressure but the cuffs are on the wall in most clinic and hospital rooms.

Reflex hammer? Why not. You can use the bell of your stethoscope of course but a nice reflex hammer will only set you back a few bucks and it will fit in your pocket.

A penlight is indispensible for examining the eyes and for looking into the mouth and other body cavities. These also fit in your pocket and are cheap. Knock yourself out.

To Be Continued…