Jonathan meets his attending

So today was the second day of anesthesia orientation; the third day of orientation counting the general hospital orientation on the 29th. Overall, the anesthesia department does a fairly good job of keeping the information brief yet informative.

I finally got my ID badge after multiple trips between the security office and the Graduate Medical Education office. It's funny, but something as simple as getting my official badge (so I don't have to sign in as a visitor every time I come to the hospital) makes me feel a lot more like I belong.

Other highlights of the day included getting my locker, getting my first set of light blue OR scrubs (not counting the toothpaste-green scrubs we got at orientation--see above picture), and meeting my attending, Dr J. Turns out that Dr J is post-call my first OR day on Wednesday, which means I don't technically have any patients for the day. We'll probably just make some informal visits to the OR's.

This would be a good time to describe the other night's dream. I was at the hospital, and I met my one-on-one attending fir the first time. (At this institution, the anesthesia residents work with only two attendings for the first month, so that we learn one or two people's way of doing things, and not 10 or 12.) My attending said to me, disgust dripping from his voice, "Oh, it's you. I told the admissions committee not to accept you, and yet you're here." I awoke stressed out, and with that distinct feeling that everyone else was far more qualified to be here!

My plans to go running today were foiled when I got home and my roommate Clay & his friend staying in town invited me out to dinner. We ate at a tiny restaurant called Max SoHa's (SOuth of HArlem) off the 125th Street station of the 1 train, meeting up with a friend of theirs named Emily. The other three all knew each other from music grad school in Louisiana. A couple glasses of wine certainly relaxed the evening, and I have to say I really admire these musicians who take a big leap of faith to come to the city to follow their dreams. I feel like I have it easy with a job waiting for me in New York.

The other thing I've noticed is that for all the interesting people in the city, it's relatively easy to avoid unwanted encounters. So long as one averts his eyes, he won't be hassled. This skill is especially useful when a nearby subway rider who reeks of alcohol stands and begins singing "Hit the Road, Jack," and bangs a tin for donations. "Eyes down, Jonathan, stay in your own world..."

The other funny thing, speaking of scrubs, is that one of my fellow anesthesia residents asked if we are allowed to wear the green scrubs into the operating rooms. The one fellow in my class who did his preliminary year here said, "No, that is absolutely forbidden. You must wear the blue scrubs." I smiled, thinking to myself how to slip in a funny comment to the effect of, "Oh, and here I had thought it was rather ambiguously discouraged." This fellow saw me smiling and said, "No, I'm being serious! You must not wear the green scrubs into the operating room!" I sensed that he felt a bit defensive, like my smile questioned his authority on the topic of garment color and That Which Is Permitted And That Which Is Forbidden. After all, he has been here at America's Number Seven Hospital for a full year longer than me. I tried my best to appear thoughtful and politely replied, "Oh, okay. Thanks."