It’s coming.
Can you feel it?
Don’t get sick.
Rants of a medicine resident born, raised, and trained in The South…
It’s coming.
Can you feel it?
Don’t get sick.
This just in: Medical school is reaaaalllly expensive.
Think about that before you apply.
That is all.
I’ve never read a single thing that Dr. Atul Gawande has written–and he’s written plenty. His resume includes two books, 30 columns for Slate, and numerous articles for the New Yorker. He’s also a Rhodes Scholar and a graduate of Harvard Medical School. Of course, he is a surgeon–so that’s at least one strike against him. But I digress.
The New York Times has a nice profile of Dr. Gawande this week which conveniently coincides with the release of his second book, Better: A Surgeon’s Notes on Perfomance. It is an interesting read and gives pretty good insight to the life of such an accomplished and respected surgeon.
It’s the final paragraph, though, that makes me wonder if I’ve missed out on something by never reading Dr. Gawande’s work:
Pulling out his Blackberry, he said, “It seems like there’s a story in every nook and cranny of medicine,†and scrolling down a list of 106 ideas he’d saved, he picked a few. “Itching,†he said. “Nobody really understands what it is. Chernobyl. Twenty years on, what really happened there? Why weren’t there as many cancer cases as we predicted? And here’s a good one: why, if we have so many health-policy experts in this country, do we have such bad health policy?â€
Maybe I’ll go and pick up his next book.
I’m done. Finished. Through.
As Dr. Basch would say, “they can’t hurt me anymore”.
At least until July 1st.
Man, this feels good.
The problem with medicine is the people.
Imagine the worst scum-of-the-earth man you’ve ever met with alcohol-laden breath that would make Jack Daniels cry. Now give him pancreatitis and excruciating abdominal pain. Next, ship him to the hospital so that I can take care of him.
The beauty of medicine is the people.
Imagine a wonderfully sweet 65-year-old woman with 6 grandchildren and baking skills that would make Betty Crocker smile. Now give her a massive heart attack and excruciating chest pain. Next, ship her to the hospital so that I can take care of her.
Interesting dynamic, I suppose.