Ah Yes, Medical School

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55218712012-01-28T04:54:14.495-08:00Ah Yes, Medical SchoolJoin me as I half-ass my way through medical school, encountering all sorts of freaks (patients, classmates, myself, etc.) along the wayThe Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.comBlogger1531100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-9421508771444451572009-09-22T21:30:00.000-07:002009-09-22T21:32:36.624-07:00Consider My Enthusiasm Curbed

Apparently, I have a problem. Well, that’s not exactly a shocking revelation, because I have lots of problems: being awkward, lacking in social graces, excessive attractiveness. But I knew about those problems. It wasn’t until today that another problem dawned upon me while walking the halls of the hospital. See, I have a completely irrational fascination with people’s names and the jobs people

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com132tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-83559934008564710192009-09-01T21:29:00.001-07:002009-09-01T21:30:46.473-07:00My Anti-Buddy And Me

Walking to the gym today to tone my perfect body, I noticed I was missing something. Not my confident swagger, nor my boyish charm. Somehow, my right hip felt lighter than it had in some time. Did I forget my gun and holster, as I planned to attend a town hall after pumping some iron so I could pump some bullets into liberals hippie bastards and their "keeping people healthy" crap? Or maybe my

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com57tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-20873713519609595502009-08-20T22:02:00.000-07:002009-08-20T22:24:16.394-07:00The Gift That Keeps On Taking

Medicine has ruined many things in my life. My sleep, my social life, my pleasant and sunny demeanor. Hell, even my ability to be disgusted by all orifices of the human body. But there’s one thing I thought medicine could never ruin, something so sacred to my upbringing and heart that it has gone with me unscathed for 28 years. That is, until tonight. While on this heinous “jeopardy”

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-47044380069034780862009-08-11T21:24:00.001-07:002009-08-11T21:24:32.143-07:00Final Jeopardy

(Please note that identifying information about the case described here has been changed to respect the privacy of all involved)Let me just get this out in the beginning, because as much as it hurts to write this, it will hurt more the longer I wait: a patient I admitted broke a window in her hospital room and jumped out, plummeting five stories to her death.I’m going to let that sit there for a

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-26039124330838813952009-08-11T21:15:00.001-07:002009-08-11T21:15:34.334-07:00Double Vision

Just an FYI for the fascinated masses (all three of you!) - since I suspect there is a fair amount of confusion is posting to three separate blogs at the same time, I will be posting the same daily medicine-related stuff on both this and the Ah Yes, Residency site...just so I capture that fourth reader. Once I figure out a better way to do this, I'll let you know. Don't worry, the health care

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-41308190260465638372009-08-04T17:22:00.000-07:002009-08-04T17:43:53.352-07:00Two Years Later

Two years ago I wrote a post on this blog detailing my triumphant final rise and fall as a medical student before closing that chapter in my life. In the interim, I sporadically updated a residency blog and just started a blog to address health care reform with only the incompetence and lack of grace that I could provide. (As an aside, I strongly encourage anyone even remotely interested to

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-5404458087387616372007-05-17T16:02:00.000-07:002007-05-17T17:33:10.134-07:00A Step Down, A Step Up

As graduation rapidly approaches, I have felt this growing pressure to come up with some creative way to capture, summarize, and otherwise wrap-up my four years of medical school for you. After all the freaks encountered, bodily fluids sprayed with, and orifices probed, I figured it would be pretty easy to come up with something good for a grand finale. But then I realized that I haven’t

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com128tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1176333287138460662007-04-11T16:10:00.000-07:002007-04-11T16:14:47.190-07:00World Tour 2007

Greetings. I just wanted to pass along two quick things:1) I have been getting an inordinate amount of email asking me which speciality I have matched into. While I have previously discussed my interest in hematology/oncology, you can't match directly into that and have to do something else first. Rather than try to come up with another witty, hilarious romp through the medical profession as

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com70tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1175494355456719582007-04-01T23:09:00.000-07:002007-04-01T23:21:55.633-07:00Something Missing

A funny thing happened while my dad and I were moving my stuff out of my apartment this weekend. We loaded up a truck that, unlike a fine wine, has aged like Mick Jagger’s right testicle, to the brim with all sorts of big things that I own: a desk, a dresser, boxes and boxes (and boxes) of porn, and my virginal mattress and box spring. Since the mattress and box spring were the last things we

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com57tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1169601771373618292007-01-23T17:20:00.000-08:002007-01-24T14:48:56.223-08:00Ask The Fake Doctor 6

Breathing out…now. Having just returned last night from my last whirlwind trip around America doing interviews for residency, I admit to achieving something pretty remarkable. After all, I did not think it was possible to watch Futurama on the Cartoon Network for 4 straight hours, but thanks to the groundbreaking satellite technology available in today’s planes, such things are now possible and

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com103tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1167263891789167662006-12-27T15:50:00.000-08:002006-12-27T15:58:11.846-08:00Buy Me A Clue

Last month, I found myself among some of the elite young men this generation has to offer. All of us were there, at around 9:00 AM on a beautiful Sunday morning, with clear purpose and emboldened spirits. There were men of all ages, races, and religions present, standing together with a clarity of mind not seen since the glory years of our civilization (which, in case you are curious, began

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1166082194323477512006-12-13T23:18:00.000-08:002006-12-13T23:45:32.063-08:00Excuse Me While I Whip This Out

Apparently, rumors of my demise have not been as greatly exaggerated as they should have been. Sadly, I have been holed up in my apartment for the last few weeks cramming like no other for Step 2 of the medical board exams. Well, that, and jabbing a pen in my eye and pulling it back out through my nose. As a result, I have not had time to reach into the eternal grabbag of shame known as my

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1163142922715871452006-11-09T23:04:00.000-08:002006-11-10T11:24:48.496-08:00ERrrrrrrrrrrr

A Pirates Guide To The Emergency RoomEditor’s Note: Two posts in one day? He must be mad! Not really, but I got so depressed writing the first post of the day I had to cheer myself up, and since I’m all out of alcohol and I’ve seen Erotic Survivor 2 about 46 times already (thanks Patty!), I thought I’d put this together. I hope you don’t mind. But if you do, please send me some new porn so

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com50tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1163142290009541662006-11-09T23:00:00.000-08:002006-11-09T23:52:46.610-08:00Shande

Somewhere between Einstein and Gene Simmons in the list of Jewish contributions to mankind, Yiddish, a mutt language that is sadly fading away with each generation, is arguably one of the most fascinating and lasting because of its richness and knack for having just the right dour expression for any situation. I thought of Yiddish today, motoring around a packed county emergency room, because I

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com234tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1161797652419908962006-10-25T10:32:00.000-07:002006-10-29T16:30:04.953-08:00ID for ID

Among the multitude of aspects that is frustrating about medicine, one of the main areas of concern centers around an excruciatingly painful task requiring scores of mental aptitude, quick analysis, and the extremes of dedication to achieve and thrive in. You know, learning stuff. Since it has been well established that learning is boring, and since all I am really expected to do on my Infectious

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1160459221533891882006-10-09T22:46:00.000-07:002006-10-10T16:02:18.013-07:00Spiraling Out Of Control

Some time ago, I made a decision that went catastrophically bad. Those of you who know me on a personal level might be thinking that the decision I am referring to involves going to Supercuts today, having subsequently seen me sporting my new look that not only allows me to fulfill my dream of using my forehead as advertising space, but also allows me to look like a complete and utter douche bag

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com112tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1159401759181857542006-09-27T16:55:00.000-07:002006-09-27T17:02:39.236-07:00Haiku. Bless You.

Rather than exhaust my questionable literary abilities entertaining the masses (i.e. the three people reading this blog right now) during the last few weeks, I have been busy completing an away rotation and my application for residency. While I will not spoil what I have actually decided to pursue at this moment (since this decision is apt to change at least another 46 times in the next three

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1157513029011334582006-09-05T20:19:00.000-07:002006-09-05T20:26:03.710-07:00Bland Date

Going through my emails while on my away vacat-err…rotation*, I came across one email that provided so enticing, so tempting a question that I felt it was worthy of its own entry. The relevant part of the email, contributed by D. L., is as follows:I was wondering if you could please elaborate on…what it takes to date a medical school student. You see, i recently got myself involved with one of

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com118tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1156578433756271732006-08-26T00:39:00.000-07:002006-08-26T00:47:14.300-07:00On The Road Again

Ah, fourth year. When the evaluations by your superiors do not even matter. The stress reduces. The opportunities are as wide as the eye can see. And it is also the time you can shamelessly sign up for cake away rotations at desirable vacation cities to have a good time, party, see old friends...and maybe learn a little if you absolutely have to.Yes, I will be embarking to a different major

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1154925611616573442006-08-06T21:39:00.000-07:002006-08-06T21:40:11.633-07:00Failure

Amid the constant flashing lights, the shrill beeps, the moans, and the persistent alarms, there was one other event that I could always count on every single morning of my three weeks in the medical intensive care unit (MICU): that my first patient (we’ll call her O) would spike a fever, and that no one would have any clue as to why. I picked her up on my first day of the rotation, but O had

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com73tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1154320823198017172006-07-30T21:38:00.000-07:002006-07-30T21:40:23.210-07:00My Brains Are Going Into My Feet

OK, OK. I know. I’ve been bad. I haven’t written anything in the last two weeks. It’s not because I don’t want to, believe me. It's just that these last two weeks working as a sub-intern (the “sub” is for “substandard treatment”, in case you're curious) in the medical intensive care unit (ICU) have easily been the most frustrating, depressing, and challenging weeks of my medical school

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1152850091390610132006-07-13T21:05:00.000-07:002006-07-15T20:55:39.773-07:00Welcome To The Jungle

It’s that time of year again. The sun is blazing, the ocean air is steaming, and a new crop of third year medical students is being mercilessly thrown into the fiery pit of hell known as your average hospital. Having (finally finally FINALLY) completed my third year of medical school, and still recovering from the shock of making it through this year in one piece, I felt it was my duty to serve

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1152505665815961312006-07-09T21:24:00.000-07:002006-07-19T21:32:41.126-07:00Third Year: The Tale of the Tape

While I hope to have a more eloquent recap coming soon, I thought I’d start my reminiscing about the glory that was this past academic year by turning it into a series of useless numbers, much like I did at around this time last year. So please, enjoy these numbers, enjoy their meaning, and enjoy the fact that I am spending a solid 30 minutes of my two day summer vacation writing this up.

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com46tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1151640241511392282006-06-29T20:54:00.000-07:002006-06-29T21:08:15.576-07:00Apologies

I would just like to formally apologize to the devoted who have been faithfully refreshing my blog every minute for the past two weeks, those of you who have been desperately anticipating a new post with which to pass the time, all to remind yourself that at least someone out there is more miserable than you. Alas, I am currently being mercilessly beaten with reflex hammers by a set of

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1150433284843076362006-06-15T21:42:00.000-07:002006-06-15T21:49:59.493-07:00NSWTHAIGTDWML-O-Meter Update

It starts with the look in their eyes. Vacant, but still brimming with a mischievous and psychotic slant that makes the blood curl. Their eyes follow you around, tracking your every movement, scouting your every action, waiting to signal to their brains that your behavior has become unacceptable to them for no obvious reason. It then follows to the nose, perched, haughty, with a sense of

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1149800954052703032006-06-08T14:01:00.000-07:002006-06-08T14:09:14.066-07:00Serenity Now

Something remarkable has happened. Actually, I am writing this right after it happened. Let me explain. It's 2:00 PM, and I'm sitting at a computer in the schizophrenia ward of the local VA. I have had little sleep. I'm beaten down from almost one full year of all this. The 4:00 AM alarm clocks. The driving. The pain, humiliation, and frustration of being the most clueless person around

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1148965496831022722006-05-29T22:03:00.000-07:002006-05-29T23:11:11.516-07:00Project Run Away

(From This Job)Ah, summer time. The days are longer, the weather is beautiful, and a new batch of third year medical students are thrown mercilessly to the lions (and by lions I mean…lions – there’s some crazy shit that goes down at the hospitals these days, people –OK that made no sense at all…moving on). With that in mind, I thought I’d do a little public service and guide these new third

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1148350154403434372006-05-22T19:01:00.000-07:002006-05-22T19:13:24.790-07:00Go Crazy? Don't Mind If I Do!

They say that it is impossible to leave a patient encounter without some part of that patient rubbing off on you. After one week in a schizophrenia ward, I say they are a bunch of assholes. Let me explain.I started working on this ward last Tuesday, choosing it based on its strong reputation of being a great place to learn, to work with interesting people, and to consistently stroll in at 9:00

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1147674825317907412006-05-14T23:27:00.000-07:002006-05-17T21:51:24.386-07:00Medical Myth Busters: Penetrating Grey's Anatomy

Myth #47: There is at least a minute shred of truth to the drama depicted on Grey’s Anatomy.OK, everyone loves this show. The drama. The romance. The medical conflicts. The girl from Old School. I’m sure if I weren’t intimately reminded on a daily basis of how unrealistic this show is, I’d enjoy it too (well, let me rephrase that to read “I’d enjoy it as only a superbly masculine male could

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com111tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1147239873157849502006-05-09T22:36:00.000-07:002006-05-09T23:04:54.270-07:00Tragedy Of The Common Foot

There is an epidemic sweeping across our great country, one so vile and malicious that none dare speak its name, but all know its horrific face. Worse than SARS, deadlier than the avian flu, and more mind-numbingly disturbing than the sight of Tom Cruise at a psychiatry convention or even a straight bar. Yes, I am speaking of that scourge that is filling up outpatient clinics as far as the eye

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1147068787349861692006-05-07T23:06:00.000-07:002006-05-07T23:40:23.760-07:00Medical Myth Busters

Myth #291: Being a doctor is unlike any other job.After my freshman year of college, I took a job at a large aerospace firm because, well, it should be obvious to you by now that I am a slut for money, and this particular company offered to pay me ridiculous amounts of money to play Hollywood Stock Exchange and Snood with my cubicle-mate for an entire summer (in case you’re keeping score, that’

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1146961347439057702006-05-06T17:16:00.000-07:002006-05-07T00:18:36.796-07:00Close Encounters

When I received two separate emails from pre-meds asking for my advice on how to pick a medical school within a day of each other, I was flattered (albeit just a wee bit disappointed that they clearly had not been paying attention to anything I’ve been writing the last three [sigh] years about this whole doctor thing). When I found out that one of the schools they were both considering happened

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1146463426030200522006-04-30T23:00:00.000-07:002006-04-30T23:14:06.636-07:00Puss. (Boots Sold Separately)

First, let me put forward the fact that pain is always terrible and everyone has different thresholds for pain. I understand this, respect this, and have seen enough patients during the last nine months to truly appreciate that horrific state of being, where one is crippled with despair, shackled with grief, and weighed down with the diabolically powerful sharpness that rips through ones soul

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1145598210929232332006-04-20T22:38:00.000-07:002006-04-22T21:23:08.086-07:00Personally Revolting

After receiving some initial feedback on my most recent post regarding acing the MCAT, it has come to my attention that there are legions of premeds out there who not only enjoy living vicariously through me, but also wish to follow in my humble, eerily pathetic footsteps every step of the way. Whether it is preparation for the MCAT or choosing the appropriate premed courses, I am clearly the

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1145496551828898102006-04-19T18:20:00.000-07:002006-04-19T18:38:56.426-07:00Freak Out: An Insider’s Guide To The MCAT

Looking at my calendar this morning, I couldn’t help but notice that we are in the throes of April, when the sun is shining, the birds are singing, love is in the air (for everyone but me – cue the obligatory “awwwww”), and, most importantly, the matzah has so extensively constipated my intestines that I am confident my next bowel movement will be in September, 2010.However, after thinking back

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1144301188765510192006-04-05T22:24:00.000-07:002006-04-05T22:39:38.780-07:00NSWTHAMIGTDWML-O-Meter Update

At around this time, all third year medical students are supposed to seriously start thinking about their future careers because the preliminary fourth year schedules are due. The same fourth year schedules that you set up in the field(s) you are going to enter so that you can kiss enough ass in order to get good letters of recommendation. However, the fact that I have absolutely, positively no

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1144300775177262022006-04-05T22:08:00.000-07:002006-04-05T22:39:01.736-07:00No Snip For You

I receive a diverse set of emails, comments, and suggestions, some of which are good, some are bad, and most thoughtful in some way, shape, or form. But once in a blue moon I receive something so asinine, so irreparably foolish, that I must without hesitation (i.e. waiting for me to get off my lazy ass and writing another Ask The Fake Doctor segment) reply. The winner of my inaugural "Bitch,

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com107tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1143437000377885712006-03-26T21:17:00.000-08:002006-03-26T23:11:59.250-08:00Ask The Fake Doctor 5

Judging by the increasing hostility among the most recent batch of comments I have received, and drawing upon my skillful clinical acumen, I have concluded that the main reason for this newfound anger is that I have for too long neglected you, the reader, hogging this forum for my own ramblings, misgivings, and false pretenses without giving you the opportunity to sound off. It is with this

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com71tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1143004530486338932006-03-21T21:07:00.000-08:002006-03-21T21:56:03.423-08:00A Snip In Time

For one young man, this day was bound to be monumental. Born only hours earlier, we encountered this wily gentleman, wide-eyed and still full of the zest of life all newborns share, in the post-partum wards of the hospital this morning. We congratulated the mom for a moment, and then proceeded with the work of the day. Following my family medicine attending out of the room, we rolled Little

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com96tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1142055839173375342006-03-10T21:37:00.000-08:002006-03-10T21:45:46.813-08:00Standardize Me

This morning, after suffering through yet another standardized patient experience (where we are given clinical scenarios with actors mimicking symptoms and have to do a history and physical exam while being videotaped), I...umm...well actually I went to lunch and got completely drunk. Yes, it was 12:30 PM. I then staggered back to class and buzzed my way through another two hours of lecture,

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com67tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1141613503839427322006-03-05T18:49:00.000-08:002006-03-05T18:51:43.856-08:00Clothes That Make The Man

Watching the pre-Oscar runway shows with my roommate this afternoon (What's that? No, no...I don't have any testicles at all, silly!), I couldn't help but notice that people seem most fixated on what the stars were wearing and how they wore what they were wearing. I'm sure that makes sense to someone besides me. Unexpectedly (well, maybe just for me), I found myself playing close attention to

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com147tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1140500842114280302006-02-20T21:43:00.000-08:002006-02-20T21:53:47.446-08:00Bring It On

Laaaaadies and gentlemen, boys and girls, single attractive female Jews from all around the world, welcome to the one, the only, the greatest fight that the world will ever see. To my left, in this corner, standing five feet, two inches tall, weighing in at a reported one hundred and twenty pounds, the dominating, the powerful, the grotesquely disfigured Nurse Theresa!!! To my right, in that

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1139204384211401982006-02-05T21:30:00.000-08:002006-02-05T21:39:45.106-08:00Darwin, Reincarnated

Out of the bubbling protoplasm that first yielded that vast, horrific taxonomic family (c'mon everyone...remember King Philip Came Over For Good Sex? Finally something I learned in high school that doesn't involve cursing in Farsi is paying off.) known as as Studentis Medicalannoythefuckus has arisen a new family, with a new set of genuses and specieseses under its proverbial tree. Yes, it has

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1138167871539060762006-01-24T21:42:00.000-08:002006-01-25T07:32:58.610-08:00Scrotal Support: A True Journey In Existentialism

Sitting with my resident in the nurses station adjacent to my patient’s room yesterday, we made eye contact immediately after I hung up the phone.“Looks like we can discharge him,” I exclaimed with a joy understandable only to those unfortunate few who had the pleasure of regularly smelling this patient over the last five days.“Great, I’ll get started on the discharge summary and you finish up

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com48tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1137636170651955572006-01-18T17:54:00.000-08:002006-01-18T18:30:20.936-08:00Use Your Illusion

(Please note: while the pictures in this post are all medical in origin and detail the effects of an important medical and surgical condition, they are undoubtedly going to offend some people. So by putting this warning up here, I'm shifting any blame for your discomfort squarely on your shoulders. Nice job.)Yesterday was long call day, which means our internal medicine team was admitting every

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1137117447709011062006-01-12T17:53:00.000-08:002006-01-12T18:26:40.990-08:00Seeing Is Believing

One great thing about being a third year medical student (stop laughing) is that everything you see, hear, smell, etc. on the wards is so new to you that you really have no idea if what you are observing is important, relevant, or even present in the patients you are studying. This is another way of saying that you have absolutely no responsibility for being right about anything, as long as you

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1136675268638152432006-01-07T15:05:00.000-08:002006-01-07T15:09:38.173-08:00100,000

Marking perhaps the greatest understatement in internet publishing since the immortal "Hey, I think if we put porn on the internet a few people might buy it" thought posited by some wise pre-pubescent boy many years ago, I seriously cannot believe that I am approaching my 100,000th hit on this blog. Granted, much (OK, all) of the credit goes to the glorious folks at Blogger.com for making me a

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1135735097457425062005-12-27T17:55:00.000-08:002005-12-28T22:52:11.486-08:00Parenting 101

This being the season of giving (although I do not recall being given a Tivo just yet), I thought I'd give back to the general public in the only way I know how...by giving unsolicited advice in areas of medicine and/or life that I am wholly unqualified to give advice in. With that as a primer, I thought it'd be appropriate to delve into the tricky task of parenting, how to act, what to say,

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com56tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1134788240450384502005-12-16T18:45:00.000-08:002005-12-16T21:25:36.753-08:00The Fade

I met a girl on Sunday. In the ER. Only twelve years old, she came in with some nausea, some vomiting, and a sudden inability to remember the name of her own mother. She was going to have surgery the following day to remove the recurrent tumor that had been insidiously growing inside her brain ever since her first surgery failed to remove it all nine months ago, but her parents brought her to the

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com79tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1134370722258662032005-12-11T22:53:00.000-08:002005-12-13T17:37:39.773-08:00Discharge

Before you get your panties all up in a bunch (excuse me while I dip into my self-deprecating humor grab-bag-o-rama and say something like...oh here's a fun one: I should know, seeing as my favorite pair of satin pink panties are currently halfway up my colon) over the title of this post, fretting over the next time this delightfully charming young fake doctor will revel in a diatribe on

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1133835637975438372005-12-05T18:15:00.000-08:002005-12-06T17:34:30.746-08:00The Happiest Place On Earth

When you start spending the vast majority of your time in a place full of sick, miserable people who's sole purpose in life is to make your life as heart-wrenchingly painful as possible (and don't even get me started on the patients), you have to find some place where you can decompress, unwind, and clear your mind. A place where life is more simple, where you can daydream about beautiful women,

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com58tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1133049549543042222005-11-26T15:38:00.000-08:002005-11-26T20:08:33.900-08:00Ask The Fake Doctor 4

It's Thanksgiving, and by some freak occurrence I have been given a whopping four days off to ponder what I am thankful for. Since that moment coincided with the realization that I am still miserably alone, I thought I'd delve into my mailbag and answer some of the questions I have received by you, my glorious readers. As always, these are direct quotes from people who live, work, and breath

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com43tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1132637058682653612005-11-21T21:23:00.000-08:002005-11-21T21:24:18.700-08:00Did That Little Brat Just Take A Shit All Over My Hands?

Having spent the last five minutes trying to think of ways to top that title as a means of expressing the joy and wonder I have felt on my first full day working for the pediatric nursery team, I have realized that nothing really encapsulates the experience any better than the aforementioned title. Given that, I hope you enjoy this, my shortest posting. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1132190852219654392005-11-16T17:15:00.000-08:002005-11-16T17:40:36.573-08:00At Least I Thought I Liked Big Butts: An Introduction To Pediatrics

(Before you start dialing the sex-offender hotline, please read the whole thing. I'm really not that sick. And little kids don't even have big butts, silly!)Only three days into my pediatrics rotation, a rotation in a speciality I had long figured I would end up doing based on my initial motivations to go to medical school, and I can't help but liken these first three days to a memory near and

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1131826874192914682005-11-12T12:21:00.000-08:002005-11-12T19:51:11.200-08:00Lights!

I've struggled over the past few years to define what it is really like being a medical student. I've tried hard to express the frustrations, the futility, the flatulence inherent in being at the way bottom of a totem pole of totem poles, restlessly hoping that I can reach out to people in need and really let them know what they are getting themselves into (and by "people in need" I naturally am

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1131756517882984232005-11-11T16:46:00.000-08:002005-11-12T15:23:00.670-08:00NSWTHAIGTDWML-O-Meter Update

Having just completed my OB/Gyn rotation, I thought it'd be appropriate to update my NSWTHAIGTDWML-O-Meter to reflect my current thinking regarding what specialty to go into. It may come as little surprise, as evidenced here and there, that OB/Gyn has made it's way onto this list, conveniently tied with Urology at this point (since I don't really know how to choose between the two right now).

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1130707690509350982005-10-30T13:21:00.000-08:002005-10-30T13:28:10.533-08:00A Grand Entrance

It is perhaps the cruelest of ironies that while each and every person on Earth makes at least one grand entrance in their lifetime, an entrance so grand that they are truly the center of attention, they will without a doubt never be able to recall this moment for their entire lives. Now, the vast majority of us will never be able to follow through with subsequent grand entrances, achieved only

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com81tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1130042005906466972005-10-22T21:25:00.000-07:002005-10-22T21:39:17.093-07:00A Future

A few years ago, I wrote about the perks of being a medical student, as I was lavished with fancy dinners and hands that wandered where few women choose to go. As it turns out, last night I had the privilege to attend yet another of these grand dinner affairs, intended to wine, dine, and convince rich alumni and donors into giving more money by sitting them with ridiculously attractive medical

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com123tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1129529216899460902005-10-16T22:52:00.000-07:002005-10-16T23:18:14.020-07:00Ask The Fake Doctor 3

In my third installment (Can you believe I actually made it to three of these? Me neither.) of Ask The Fake Doctor, I will do my best to answer your questions and concerns, as well as respond to any appropriate comments. But first, a few general comments I feel like I should throw out there:1) I'd like to formally thank the kind folks at www.blogger.com for bestowing upon my blog the honor of "

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com114tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1129355837813034742005-10-14T22:40:00.000-07:002005-10-14T23:19:40.516-07:00A Tip Of The Cap

Proving that this site is not just here for me to vent about all that is difficult, frustrating, and utterly vomit-inducing about medical school, but also about educating the public on various medically related topics, I would like to submit the following entry inspired by my two call nights on the labor and delivery team. Since I got into a bit of trouble with my last post and kept hearing about

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com96tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1129008277537595572005-10-10T22:14:00.000-07:002005-10-13T22:39:50.130-07:00Cunning Linguist

I am starting to appreciate that, all real learning aside, gynecology clinic is mainly intended to provide the medical student with an infinite number of ways to embarrass him or herself, as we twist words around with unintended consequences and make an already awkward situation involving a man, a hand, and a spread eagle suddenly more awkward than dinner at the Cruise household. I had a hunch

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com109tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1128710016954140802005-10-07T11:29:00.000-07:002005-10-07T11:33:36.963-07:00I'm Every Woman

The scene: Labor and Delivery Night Call. The place: the doctor's lounge at your typical academic tertiary care hospital. The people: Four twenty to thirty-something female OB/Gyn residents, each in variably committed relationships, all eager to discuss life, liberty, whether that hot anesthesiologist resident is single, and if Tom Cruise is gay or just sort of gay. Lost in this crowd is one

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com83tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1128575105998542132005-10-05T22:01:00.000-07:002005-10-05T22:20:42.060-07:00For Sale: My Soul

Last week, during another one of our Doctoring classes (that class that every medical school has where they try to teach us how to be sensitive, caring doctors informed on relevant medico-psychosocial issues - by the way, can you actually teach a grown adult to be sensitive? If you haven't developed any sensitivity by the time you're in your 20's, are you going to ever? I think you see where I'm

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1128203180800430632005-10-01T14:35:00.000-07:002005-10-04T19:42:44.006-07:00Ask The Fake Doctor 2

Proving once again that I will respond to your questions, I have decided to institute another installment of Ask The Fake Doctor. I should remind you that these questions are not made up and have not been altered from their original text (save a spelling correction here or there). I should also remind you that not one of these people sent me naked pictures of themselves, despite my constant pleas

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1128125904366284262005-09-30T17:17:00.000-07:002005-09-30T17:18:24.373-07:00Thanks For The Memories

Having just completed a painful series of written and practical exams that mark the end of my surgery rotation, I would like to take a moment and reflect on what these last three months have meant to me. The passionate learning. The racing heartbeats in the OR. The patients whos lives I have impacted forever. Curing afflictions with the stroke of a scalpal. Noting the look of joy, happiness,

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1127281101832409132005-09-20T21:57:00.002-07:002005-09-21T20:33:17.823-07:00Tits & Ass

Now that I have your attention, I'd like to discuss a side of surgery that often goes unnoticed, but as I have recently discovered, takes up a big chunk of time on a surgery rotation. (Don't worry, T&A will actually be discussed shortly. Pervert.) No, I don't mean OR time, hospital wards time, or even, dare I say it, Hammer Time. Sorry, that was terrible. I'm referring to clinic time, that

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1127080953115452462005-09-18T14:52:00.000-07:002005-09-18T15:11:40.710-07:00Where's The Love?

During the process of pre-rounding and recording vitals for sixteen (yes, sixteen) of our team's patients yesterday morning (what, you have something better to do between 5 AM and 6:30 AM on a Saturday after having been up the whole night?), I found myself incredibly frustrated trying to decipher what the nurses had written in the chart over the course of the last 24 hours. 300 cc urine at 4AM,

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1126586745536148682005-09-12T21:42:00.000-07:002005-09-12T21:45:45.540-07:00Not Quite That Stupid

It has become obvious to me over the past few weeks that you, the lay people, think doctors are complete idiots. That is the only explanation I have for some of lines I've been fed by various patients I have encountered over the last few weeks. Rather than fess up the actual reason(s) why they are in the hospital, many of these patients come up with extravagant lies that are so absurd, you'd

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1126586372447200832005-09-12T21:36:00.000-07:002005-09-12T21:39:32.453-07:00Welcome Back, Chandler!

Dating back to that fateful November morning in 10th grade, when a substitute teacher, so flabbergasted by my given name (which is admittedly pretty long, intimidating, and even contains a "Z"), looked up to see what freakshow could possibly have such a name and uttered what would be one of the defining characteristics of my adult life: "Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like Chandler

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1126330138504227122005-09-09T22:17:00.000-07:002005-09-09T22:42:47.646-07:00County Potential

Three patients. Three stories. One consistent path. All roads leading towards the same end-game, each in a different way, but each with a similar final tragedy that has already revealed itself, or will do so very soon more likely than not. As I reflect on my last three weeks on the vascular and trauma surgery teams at one of my school's county hospitals, I would like to set aside my usual mildly

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1125781184725494252005-09-03T13:56:00.000-07:002005-09-03T13:59:44.733-07:00Ouch

Before I plunge into a glorious sleep known as the post-call nap, I thought I'd share an anecdote from what I saw last night taking trauma call. Now, one of my goals during my surgery rotation was to take a night call shift during a weekend night (i.e. Friday or Saturday) to see what kind of crazy stuff goes down at an urban trauma center in a county hospital. I imagined all sorts of chaos,

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1125291960107257582005-08-28T22:01:00.000-07:002005-08-29T21:46:12.816-07:00Ask The Fake Doctor

Just to prove that I actually will respond to these things, and also to squeeze in one last morsel of catharsis before I enter yet another week of surgery at the shiningly beautiful hour of 4 AM, I thought I'd open up the mailbag I just recently formed and try to answer your questions. In spite of the (cough) overwhelming volume of emails, I regret that due to time constraints I can only choose

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1125207763887103612005-08-27T22:36:00.000-07:002005-08-28T18:28:35.256-07:00Eagle Eyes

The origin of my real last name (versus the one that I actually use...a long story for another time) comes from a European language and means "eagle" in English. In the spirit of this namesake, I have always prided myself on my eagle eyes when it comes to everything from observing the human condition to hitting a baseball (as long as the baseball was thrown by a puny Jewish kid – I should mention

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1125207135221232912005-08-27T22:28:00.000-07:002005-08-27T22:32:15.226-07:00Mailbag!

I would like to formally introduce the…uhh…introduction of my very own Ah Yes, Medical School email address, thefakedoctor@gmail.com. Feel free to ask me questions about medical school, medicine, why you shouldn’t be a pre-med anymore, and why medical school is what it is. Feel free to offer to pay me exorbitant amounts of money for the rights to publish my blog. Feel free to share pictures of

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1125088053663115312005-08-26T13:26:00.000-07:002005-08-26T13:27:33.670-07:00Call Me

I really can't think of any clean way to say it, so I'm just going to say it: My dreams for a peaceful and uneventful first call night ("taking call" refers to an overnight shift at the hospital, beginning at approximately 7 PM in the evening and ending at noon the next day) went quite literally down the toilet when I was overwhelmed by and eventually succumbed to an acute case of explosive

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1124690926866024842005-08-21T23:03:00.000-07:002005-08-21T23:08:46.876-07:00Putting the "Scared Shitless" in "Inpatient Surgery"

Tomorrow morning I begin the legendary six week rotation entitled Inpatient Surgery. This rotation separates the men from the boys, the strong from the weak, the circumscised from their foreskin-retaining but equally equipped bretheren. This is where the 4 AM - 11 PM day is standard, where taking call means actually staying functional for 36 hours straight, and where my (admittedly pathetic

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1124590827449802032005-08-20T19:19:00.000-07:002005-08-20T22:55:32.696-07:00NSWTHAIGTDWML-O-Meter

(No Seriously, What The Hell Am I Going To Do With My Life-O-Meter)Now that I've had a few (albeit brief) rotations under my belt, I thought it'd be fun to track my thought process and keep a ranking of the different types of doctors I might become, adding and subtracting things to the list as I am exposed to them or as I develop new epiphanies. To limit myself and keep this list contained, I'll

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1124322200835665712005-08-17T16:23:00.000-07:002005-08-17T16:54:40.763-07:00A Special Guide To Laryngoscopy

The summer after my freshman year of college, I had the privilege of working for Hughes Space & Communications (which became Boeing Satelite Systems, which has now basically become an empty parking lot after all of the layoffs) as an operations engineering intern. I still have no idea what that means. Regardless, I vividly recall collecting a serious wad of cash and getting the company to pay for

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1123552033065362382005-08-08T18:42:00.000-07:002005-08-13T21:16:52.570-07:00Glory

The mood this morning was undeniably stressful. Blood flying through the air. Beads of sweat rolling down the cheeks of the surgeons that filled the OR. The tension emanating across the operating table had reached a pinnacle, with six doctors hovering over the dilapidated patient as she struggled mightily to stay alive. Halfway through a ten hour procedure to resect a tumor in this elderly

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1123203524513610432005-08-04T17:56:00.000-07:002005-08-05T21:34:41.113-07:00Holding Pattern

A while back, I touched on the idea of relativism and how this philosophy permeated my life, and a few weeks ago I touched on a different area of philosophy and how it permeated the rectum. Well, I'd like to return to this original idea of relativism and how it relates to my current state of mind, or should I call it state of soreness, as a third year medical student rotating through outpatient

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1122956071525489022005-08-01T21:04:00.000-07:002005-08-01T21:46:21.946-07:00Uhh...That's Not Cool, Right?

Much of the mystique that revolves around surgery, surgeons, and the OR involves the intricate and time-honored tradition of "scrubbing in", the process whereby a person who will be invovled in the surgical procedure (whether that be the attending surgeon who makes the incisions or the peon medical student who cuts the ends of the stitches if he's lucky) meticulously lathers and scrubs his or her

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1122427332475383142005-07-26T18:15:00.000-07:002005-07-26T18:25:21.330-07:00Close Talker

When asked to describe my classmates by family and friends outside of medical school, I usually am quick to reply with a one word answer: freakshows. However, when pressed to give more specific examples, I am often at a loss to explain this phenomenon, only because it takes a certain amount of time spent with these people before one can really appreaciate the freakshow nature of a typical medical

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1122097655283730702005-07-22T22:46:00.000-07:002005-07-22T22:47:35.290-07:00Basic Training

Let me begin by stating that I have nothing but the utmost respect for our nation's veterans. In fact, despite most staff experiences at the VA, I really enjoyed talking to the veterans I met this week while working at the urology clinic in the VA near my medical school. However, I noticed something rather peculiar about a select few of these veterans that I think is worth addressing, because

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1121748136828785452005-07-18T21:37:00.000-07:002005-07-18T21:46:15.636-07:00Mind, Body, Anus: A Probing of Rectal Philosophy

When you think of grand explorations in human thought that test the boundaries of our cognitive limits as a species, you might imagine things like Newton sitting by the apple tree and gaining the insight to describe gravity, or Einstein thinking furiously about stars travelling through space while scribbling down equations.. Perhaps you conjure up images of Aristotle or Socrates expounding on

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com52tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1121390181959153132005-07-14T18:12:00.000-07:002005-07-15T16:14:13.756-07:00Well Played II

Perhaps it is something about me and three weeks worth of clinical orientation, but I've managed to set myself up for some pretty easy chances for friends to make me look like a moron (yes, this is what substitutes for supportive friendships among medical school classmates...and yes, I actually have friends). Case in point, Well Played. I thought I'd bring this topic up again because yesterday,

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1121128669451068602005-07-11T17:34:00.000-07:002005-07-11T17:37:49.456-07:00And Hello To You, Too

There are certain social graces that you do not really appreciate, or even notice, until they are obviously absent from normal social discourse. For example, imagine if you were talking to someone for a while, and at the conclusion of the conversation you did not say "bye" or any variation of that word, but instead just got up and left. The person left behind would undoubtedly feel a bit

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1120786421191969102005-07-07T18:32:00.000-07:002005-07-11T17:13:17.163-07:00Spike Collar Sold Separately

My medical school is big on ceremonies. The White Coat Ceremony, to mark our entrance into the medical profession, make us feel like we are real doctors from day one, and allow us to wander around town looking official and impressing women with our doctor garb when we, in fact, know nothing. The Cadaver Memorial Ceremony, to give us a chance to reflect on the year that was anatomy, how much we

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1120179526637550372005-06-30T17:55:00.000-07:002005-06-30T18:00:42.216-07:00Well Played

Last summer I had the opportunity to not only deliver a baby (incredible experience), but also perform an episiotomy. For the non-medical folk out there, an episiotomy is when the doctor makes a straight cut extending out from the woman's vagina in order to provide further space for the baby's head to emerge out of the vaginal canal, and to avoid uncontrolled tearing of the vaginal and perineal

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1119911045876091472005-06-27T15:11:00.000-07:002005-06-27T16:55:20.710-07:00Oh, The Places You'll Go

After spending two years in the same place, for the same amount of time, with the same amount of people, in the same place (did I mention we were stuck in the same place?), I began to notice that something interesting developed in our lecture room. What was once a sickening collection of rundown seats and broken desks became…a sickening collection of rundown students and broken dreams. Coinciding

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1119657300457606192005-06-24T16:52:00.000-07:002005-06-24T21:10:21.030-07:00Tales From The Crypt VI: Yes, This Actually Happened*

In my final installment of TFTC before clinical rotations begin (crap crap crap crap), I would like to revisit a special time in my former life as a lecture-going medical student: the time I literally almost died trying to contain my laughter.Sometime during the end of the first year of medical school, first year lecture halls are commonly filled with admitted students who want to revisit the

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1119045239956377532005-06-17T14:37:00.000-07:002005-06-17T20:26:39.306-07:00Hmm...That Was Awkward

I'm not sure what it is about the white coat, but whenever I put it on and go to my preceptor (a doctor who lets first and second year medical students practice their skills), it somehow brings out the innermost thoughts, emotions, fears, and desires in the patients I see, who are suddenly willing to share all of these personal aspects of their lives with me, a complete stranger (amazingly

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1118690723023036342005-06-13T12:18:00.000-07:002005-06-13T19:01:46.446-07:00USMLE Step 1: The Tale of the Tape

Rather than go on and on (and on - lets face it, I have a wee bit of a whining problem) about how miserable I've been the last six weeks, I thought I'd just show you a collection of numbers and facts that I have not embellished at all (no seriously, I'm not joking) and let you come to your own conclusions:Number of days spent studying: 46Approximate number of hours per day: 9Approximate

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1118465307703778332005-06-10T21:43:00.000-07:002005-06-10T21:50:02.220-07:00It's Kinda Like That

Have you ever had to go to the bathroom so bad that it hurt? That you could feel the urge building up within you, but you had to hold it? That you could sense the firm wads of poo desperately trying to push their way out of you, only to be held back by your struggling sphincter? That you would give anything just to find a bathroom and let it all out? And when you do eventually go and get up to

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1117589149860222372005-05-31T18:24:00.000-07:002005-05-31T18:25:49.866-07:00Tales From The Crypt V: The All-Purpose Tool

Sitting with one of my friends in the movie theater prior to the midnight Star Wars III premiere a couple of weeks ago (what, you think I wouldn't be there?), I noticed that he had a quick moment of fear when he recognized someone who he called "the biggest tool in our entire department" walking up the aisle, eagerly looking for a place to sit. This led to a valiant, but ultimately unsuccessful,

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1116653523699228222005-05-20T21:54:00.000-07:002005-05-21T22:40:27.276-07:00Tales From The...Ah Fuck It

Something very interesting is happening to me. I have more stories to tell. I want to tell them. I think they will be at least mildly entertaining. Except...well...I'm so wiped out with all this USMLE boards studying that, for the past two weeks, I literally have not had the energy to write anything. Apparently, I was supposed to "learn" stuff and "understand" concepts about medicine over the

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1115617226292187132005-05-08T22:34:00.000-07:002005-05-11T13:00:58.056-07:00Tales From the Crypt IV: Can't Get It Out Of Her Head

Drifting in and out of consciousness one sweltering June day, I almost missed one of the most historic events of the first year of medical school. A stunning school scandal? Intra-class relationship drama played out in front of the entire class? Natalie Portman walking into class and taking me away with her (which, incidentally, very well may have been what I was dreaming about before I snapped

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1115186439178349272005-05-03T22:58:00.000-07:002005-05-03T23:00:39.193-07:00Tales From The Crypt III: ANGEL Wars

Towards the end of last year, after almost 11 straight months of questions, questions, and more questions interrputing every lecture day after day, intra-classroom tension was reaching it's boiling point. The increasing question frequency was increasingly being matched by a collection of moans, grunts, and monkey noises (yes, I actually participated in that, with a certain Mr. Patel) during

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1115183742591059902005-05-03T22:06:00.000-07:002006-05-08T22:24:40.250-07:00How To Become My Friend

I bet I know what you're thinking right now. No, not "Two posts in one evening, he's gone mad!" Not "How come all the doctors on 'Grey's Anatomy' are having sex with each other and the Fake Doctor can't get a second date?". I bet you're thinking "Damn, this guy is so cool, I wonder how I can be his friend."With the stunning popularity (cough) of this website, I am getting an inordinate amount of

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1114737193112756292005-04-28T18:01:00.000-07:002006-04-29T22:50:30.753-07:00Tales From The Crypt II: Bat Out of Hell

First year anatomy was many things. Painful. Long. Filled with a stench worse than death. Riddled with awkwardness, difficulty, and confusion. Did I mention the thing about the smell? But anatomy lab was never complete without the helpful guidance of our instructors, who consistently went the extra mile to make us realize how little we actually knew. Granted, most of them were nice about it, but

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521871.post-1114576429898282632005-04-26T21:25:00.000-07:002005-04-27T17:03:08.383-07:00Tales From the Crypt (And By Crypt I Mean Medical School)

In order to maintain some sense of sanity in the midst of hardcore USMLE studying, I thought it'd be nice to take a break every now and then to write down some of the classic stories from my first two years that, for whatever reason, did not yet make it onto this blog - not because they weren't quality material (and, lets face it, if they actually were quality it might preclude them from being

The Fake Doctorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01241440004418306058noreply@blogger.com13