Village Journals
Resonate your identity with Naseeb journals. Express your opinions, share your thoughts, post your writings and connect with like minded people through the power of expression.
Resonate your identity with Naseeb journals. Express your opinions, share your thoughts, post your writings and connect with like minded people through the power of expression.
reflection on urine dips
"Why on earth did I go into medicine?" is something I occasionally ask myself. Yesterday I asked myself that question several times. Why, you ask? It was a beautiful Torontian end-of-summer Saturday afternoon. Sunny and warm. What was I doing? Rather than hiking, biking or lazing around in the backyard, I was standing in the Family Medicine clinic at Sunnybrook Hospital dipping little old ladies' urine. Medicine, glamorous indeed.
It was my turn to do weekend call for the family medicine rotation. I was stuck with Friday, Saturday, and Sunday call. Thankfully it was "home call" meaning I could carry around my pager (along with my Palm pilot and reference books- which I never go without in case I end up getting called about some random condition I've never heard of, or a medication that only super-specialized physicians prescribe) and go about my "normal" life.
Friday wasn't too bad, a few phone calls here and there. I handled them over the phone. Come Saturday my pager went off non-stop. Back pain, headache, urinary tract infection (three different middle-aged ladies!), eye discharge, ear infection, rash, query pneumonia etc etc etc. I discussed the cases with my attending and we decided to hold a weekend clinic since we had to see some of the patients before Monday. We told all the urinary tract infection (UTI) ladies to come as well as some others. Since we didn't have a nurse, yours truly ended up collecting, dipping, and analyzing the urine specimens. After the 2nd urine dip, I got slightly exasperated. When I wrote my "Why I want to be a doctor" essay to get into med school, I had pictured reducing maternal mortality rates, resuscitating trauma victims and vaccinating babies thereby preventing thousands of deaths- NOT dipping foul-smelling cloudy urine! I wasn?t the idealistic medical student-wannabe thinking ER was real life, but I wanted my career to be meaningful. UTIs can be meaningful, I tried to convince myself.
All the ladies ended up with positive urine; we treated them. They were gushingly grateful so I felt a little better- at least I made 3 people happy that day. They can now go to the washroom in comfort!
My pager was silent for a short bit during the afternoon, allowing me to attend a BBQ at a friend's place. I then headed back home to change- I was planning on attending the Light Rhythms concert that night featuring 786, Ashiq-ur-Rasul and Shaam. As I was heading over to the Toronto Centre for Performing Arts, I was informed that one of my patients had gone into active labour and would probably deliver in the next few hours.
Wonderful.
"Go ahead to the concert- I'll page you when we're ready" my supervisor encouraged.
So here I am wearing a brand new cream-coloured skirt and high heels, ready to unwind and enjoy the night. Thankfully I had a pair of scrubs and grubby shoes in my trunk. I sped over to the concert, met up with my buds, and took my seat. As if on cue as soon as the first group was being introduced, I got paged out. I rushed over to the hospital, all the while asking myself "Why on earth am I doing this?" I would've much preferred chilling with my friends and enjoying the concert like the rest of the world.
Luckily the hospital was only minutes away so I didn't have too much time to think about my predicament. I changed into my scrubs and helped deliver the baby. Things got pretty complicated in the middle but in the end Alhamdulillah everything went well. Junior was a gorgeous 7lb 2oz baby with a mop of curly black hair, just like his dad?s. I kept watching the clock throughout the entire delivery- itching to go back but at the same time not wanting to leave because I knew the family well and wanted to be there for them.
At 10:40, exactly 2 hours and 10 minutes after I had left the concert, I slid back into my seat. The people around me raised their eyebrows, probably thinking I was running on desi standard time- approximately 2 hours behind everyone else! I looked around- everyone was still in their spots, some politely clapping, others yawning, others vigorously moving to the beat. While everyone around me was sitting around for the past few hours, I had not only witnessed the miracle of life, I had participated in it!
At that point, Shaam was performing. I had missed 786, one of the main reasons I had wanted to attend the concert. I saw them at the Naseeb concert at ISNA, but was hoping to hear some of their other stuff. Ashiq-ur-Rasul then came on. They were pretty good. The concert went on for another hour. I kept wondering how Junior was doing and whether his mother was doing okay. It?s a double life I lead.
The concert redeemed itself at the end of the night. I bought a 786 CD and got it autographed by the group? they?re so cute! Muslim Backstreet Boyz :o)
As I drove home that night, I realized I don?t have it all that bad. I managed several people?s medical troubles that day, helped deliver a baby, and attended half of the concert. And to top it all off, I had an autographed CD from the 786 Boys themselves :o) Not too bad at all!
It was my turn to do weekend call for the family medicine rotation. I was stuck with Friday, Saturday, and Sunday call. Thankfully it was "home call" meaning I could carry around my pager (along with my Palm pilot and reference books- which I never go without in case I end up getting called about some random condition I've never heard of, or a medication that only super-specialized physicians prescribe) and go about my "normal" life.
Friday wasn't too bad, a few phone calls here and there. I handled them over the phone. Come Saturday my pager went off non-stop. Back pain, headache, urinary tract infection (three different middle-aged ladies!), eye discharge, ear infection, rash, query pneumonia etc etc etc. I discussed the cases with my attending and we decided to hold a weekend clinic since we had to see some of the patients before Monday. We told all the urinary tract infection (UTI) ladies to come as well as some others. Since we didn't have a nurse, yours truly ended up collecting, dipping, and analyzing the urine specimens. After the 2nd urine dip, I got slightly exasperated. When I wrote my "Why I want to be a doctor" essay to get into med school, I had pictured reducing maternal mortality rates, resuscitating trauma victims and vaccinating babies thereby preventing thousands of deaths- NOT dipping foul-smelling cloudy urine! I wasn?t the idealistic medical student-wannabe thinking ER was real life, but I wanted my career to be meaningful. UTIs can be meaningful, I tried to convince myself.
All the ladies ended up with positive urine; we treated them. They were gushingly grateful so I felt a little better- at least I made 3 people happy that day. They can now go to the washroom in comfort!
My pager was silent for a short bit during the afternoon, allowing me to attend a BBQ at a friend's place. I then headed back home to change- I was planning on attending the Light Rhythms concert that night featuring 786, Ashiq-ur-Rasul and Shaam. As I was heading over to the Toronto Centre for Performing Arts, I was informed that one of my patients had gone into active labour and would probably deliver in the next few hours.
Wonderful.
"Go ahead to the concert- I'll page you when we're ready" my supervisor encouraged.
So here I am wearing a brand new cream-coloured skirt and high heels, ready to unwind and enjoy the night. Thankfully I had a pair of scrubs and grubby shoes in my trunk. I sped over to the concert, met up with my buds, and took my seat. As if on cue as soon as the first group was being introduced, I got paged out. I rushed over to the hospital, all the while asking myself "Why on earth am I doing this?" I would've much preferred chilling with my friends and enjoying the concert like the rest of the world.
Luckily the hospital was only minutes away so I didn't have too much time to think about my predicament. I changed into my scrubs and helped deliver the baby. Things got pretty complicated in the middle but in the end Alhamdulillah everything went well. Junior was a gorgeous 7lb 2oz baby with a mop of curly black hair, just like his dad?s. I kept watching the clock throughout the entire delivery- itching to go back but at the same time not wanting to leave because I knew the family well and wanted to be there for them.
At 10:40, exactly 2 hours and 10 minutes after I had left the concert, I slid back into my seat. The people around me raised their eyebrows, probably thinking I was running on desi standard time- approximately 2 hours behind everyone else! I looked around- everyone was still in their spots, some politely clapping, others yawning, others vigorously moving to the beat. While everyone around me was sitting around for the past few hours, I had not only witnessed the miracle of life, I had participated in it!
At that point, Shaam was performing. I had missed 786, one of the main reasons I had wanted to attend the concert. I saw them at the Naseeb concert at ISNA, but was hoping to hear some of their other stuff. Ashiq-ur-Rasul then came on. They were pretty good. The concert went on for another hour. I kept wondering how Junior was doing and whether his mother was doing okay. It?s a double life I lead.
The concert redeemed itself at the end of the night. I bought a 786 CD and got it autographed by the group? they?re so cute! Muslim Backstreet Boyz :o)
As I drove home that night, I realized I don?t have it all that bad. I managed several people?s medical troubles that day, helped deliver a baby, and attended half of the concert. And to top it all off, I had an autographed CD from the 786 Boys themselves :o) Not too bad at all!