Just One of Those Days

Ever have one of those days where absolutely everything goes wrong and not because of anything you did? I've had plenty of those and I'm sure there are plenty more to come. But today was one of those days.

Let's start at 7am in the morning, when I dropped my car off at the shop. I was getting a few things fixed and the guy on the phone quoted me that it would cost about $350. Painful, but acceptable. My buddy from work picked me up right on time, and off we went to the office.

After putzing around the office for an hour, the mechanic guy called me up and told me that the total cost would be $750! Woah! Twice the amount??? I guess. So he went ahead and started working on the car.

In the meantime, I was going to add up my patient tracking cards for the past 2 months. Every two months when we switch rotations, we're required to write down all the names and diagnoses of all patients whom we've seen, count them all up, and record them on a floppy that was provided to us by the program. So as a responsible chief resident and one who likes to set a good example for the junior residents, I've been diligent about keeping track of all my numbers. However, today as I tried to open up the disk and add in the numbers, the computer kept telling me the disk was blank and unformatted, i.e. all my data from the previous 4 years, including this year, was lost. No way am I going to count up all those cards, again. But it was very aggravating to realize all my work was for naught.

Next on the crap list, I had to work with someone whom I think is one of the nicest people I've ever met, however working with them drives me to the looney bin! And I was stuck working with them for 2 hours or so. Much more than my tolerance level could handle. But this person was teaching me some things, so I guess it wasn't all that bad. Needless to say, however, that by the end of our session I was seething.

As 5pm rolled around, I began to wonder how I would get back to the car shop. My buddies were all still in clinic or seeing consults. I decided to call another buddy up who actually lives near me. The plan was for him to pick me up on his way home and drop me off at the shop. He was supposed to call me when he was on his way back home. Well, as 6pm rolled around and I still hadn't received a call, I brainstormed the situation on how I would get my car. Aha! There was a train stop right by the shop; I'll take the train!

So off I went, walking as if I were in a walking race at the Olympics, blowing past the old geezer who was walking leisurely while smoking a cig. I got to the blue line and rode the train to Jackson St. where I got off and had to transfer to the red line. The thing is, at the Jackson St. stop, there are no signs to tell you which train is going south and which is going north. I looked at my watch; 6:30pm. I had 30 minutes.

Two trains finally thundered to a stop at the Jackson station at the same time. Unfortunately, both of the trains had a sign that said the final stop was "Howard St." so I couldn't tell which one was going North or South. So I chose the train that had fewer people boarding and prayed that the next stop was one north of Jackson. And as Murphy's Law would have it, I found out at the next stop that I chose the wrong train. Great.

So I got off and waited for the Northbound train, which came about 10 minutes later. I still had time, though it was slowly ticking away.

So there I was, finally on the correct train heading in the right direction with a few minutes to spare. At one of the stops, a hoard of people got on...and then just kept on getting on and on and on with each stop. There must have been a Cubs game, or something. In any case, I had to push and shove my way to the doors by the time my stop came.

Luckily, the car shop was just a couple of blocks from the train station. With 10 minutes to spare, I finally made it to the car shop. I paid my arm and leg for the car and drove home.

Murphy's Law would strike for a 6th time today, as my engine sounded like Luke's land speader from Star Wars. Don't get me wrong; that kinda sounds cool but it can't be too good for the engine. And I couldn't take it back because then, the garage was closed.

So the madness begins, again, tomorrow at 7am back at the shop. I can't wait.

Les Miserables 2005

First of all, why do most people refer to Les Miserables as "Les Mis"? Simple: Because they can't say "Les Miserables" in French. Which is funny, given the fact that people in the U.S. pride themselves for being in such a great melting pot of languages and cultures and people. I mean, for such a "melting pot" wouldn't you think there'd be more multi-lingual people? The majority of multi-lingual people in the U.S. are immigrants. As opposed to someone who's from...say, Switzerland. They can speak English, German, French, and Italian. Or in Hong Kong, where they speak Cantonese, Mandarin, and English. Or Japan, where people speak Japanese and English.

Anyway, enough social commentary. Back to Les Miserables. Today was the first day I ever saw Les Miserables in the theatre (the Cadillac Theatre in Chicago). It was pretty neat seeing it in person, even though I heard the CD's before a million times and knew every line by heart. Shoot, I could have sung along with the cast and not missed a note. Not bad for someone who has never seen the musical before, eh? And despite having listened to the musical for the past 10 years, I still found it quite moving and brilliant.

Listening to the singers and how the timbre of the voices and notes blended together, especially during the trios, was absolutely marvelous and genius. Some of the singers were sub-par, but most of the lead singers performed magnificently. Overall, though, it sounded like the performance was a bit rushed. But that's just compared to what I'm accustomed to; the CD version takes its time a little more (I have the International version).

I'm not even sure when Les Miserables first came out. I do know it was in the mid-80's some time, but was it '85 or '87 or what? Regardless of what year, it was still amazing to see that it was still a packed house at the theatre. I didn't see any open seats (unlike Jesus Christ Superstar). And there were many young people there in their early twenties and even early teens (mostly girls). Many of them had purchased the official program or picture book, or whatever it was. Again, it was amazing that this musical that was almost 20 years old, was still selling out all the performances and that it was appealing to a whole new generation of teens and young adults. I mean, most of those teens weren't even born yet when it first came out.

Anyway, I was seriously considering buying the CD's for my niece as a gift since she's very interested in music. But I'm not sure if they have it, already. Plus, I'm not sure if she shares her mother's interest in musicals. I have to admit, I was a huge music fan for years since a young child. I listened to everything from foreign or domestic pop to opera to new age to gregorian chant to chinese opera (not all of it is pots and pans - some of it is really good), but it took me a while to get in to musicals.

Afterwards, Richel and I were discussing certain scenes over dinner. I had to explain one scene to her; the scene when Marius sings about all his friends who have died. For all of you out there who didn't get this scene, this is a guy scene. The whole concept of Marius staying with his friends to fight instead of running off with his new love interest is a total guy concept. It's similar to why guys meet every week with their buddies for poker night, or bowling night, or whatever, and nothing is supposed to get in the way. It's male bonding stuff.

I'd have to say that the most amusing part of watching Les Miserables was the old man sitting next to me. He had to have been 70 years old, or something. Everytime the group sang about revolution, he would pat his lap along to the beat and sing along quietly. And I think he was crying at the sad scenes, too, because he was blowing his nose and sniffling at these times. After each solo performance while everyone was clapping, he'd always say, "oh, he's so good!".

I hope Les Miserables will still be around for my kids when they're old enough to appreciate it.

Academia vs. Private Practice

Ah, the age-old question of every graduating resident: Academics vs. Private Practice? What to do, what to do? For some, it's an easy decision: go in to private practice, make as much money as you can while you're young, practically killing yourself in the process and alienating your spouse, friends and family by hardly ever being around. And you'll finally be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor when you're old and.....all alone. Because your spouse has left you since you were never around, and your children have grown up and moved out and gone away to college. Or, you could go in to academics where all those years of sweat and tears and hardship and poverty...just....continue on and on.

What's a resident to do? Here's my take on things. Newly graduating residents are tempted to stay at their place of training, not only because it's convenient, but because people, doctors especially, are creatures of habit. We've been in school and striving to improve ourselves for ALL of our lives and that's all we know how to do. Breaking away in to private practice is something completely different; you don't have to study, you don't have to prepare lectures, you don't have to take tests or exams, you don't have to do anything. All you have to do is make money, period (well, AND not kill anybody). It's an entirely different animal. No grand round lectures, no journal clubs, no chapter reviews, no article presentations, no didactics. Your brain turns in to mush after a while because you're really not using it, anymore; you're operating at a Rancho VII level - appropriate and automatic behavior.

In essenece, there's no more strive for self improvement. Oh sure, some people in private practice continue to learn and grow and improve their skills and knowledge. But that's all a distant secondary goal.

Oh well. One day, in the distant future, there will come a day when the accumulation of wealth and materials will no longer be the driving force in our lives.