jumping the gun

i was at columbia presbyterian hospital in manhattan, looking on while one of my colleagues from the netherlands show a pediatric anesthesiologist how to use a hand-held stimulating device to monitor neuromuscular blockade.

there were six of us crammed into a rental car. it fit six people, technically, but i was all the way in the back and my head hit the ceiling. the girl next to me was on my deaf side, and she kept talking to me and being nice, but i was uncomfortable because i really couldn't hear her half the time. there was a lot of traffic.

when we got to the the hospital, valet parking took the car. we all just sort of filed in the building, no one really knew where we were headed, apparently. we all got on the first elevator we saw. i was last on, standing by the control panel. the door closed and i said "what floor?"... silence. one guy said "10th". i pushed the "10" button, and it lit up and we started moving. on the way up we decided that we really had no idea where we were going, and that we should go back down and ask at the desk, so i pushed "1". when the door opened, no one moved; but we saw the sign across the hall on the wall and someone said "hey, it's anesthesia!". i couldn't read the letters, i couldn't focus. i stuck my hand out and stopped the doors from closing. by a stroke of luck, we were in exactly the right place.

the young doctor met us in the hallway, and admitted that he was surprised to see us. "great. people usually call from downstairs, and i have to go down and get them". we all played along.

we met the sr. anesthesiologists right around the corner. a man and a woman. one was wearing a white coat and casual clothes; she was "academic" today. the guy was in scrubs, he was in and out of surgery. "i'm paired with a first-year this week, i've got to stick close to him- i'll see you guys after lunch". so we had to do the whole presentation twice, once for each doctor.

the young guy lead us to a moderately sized conference room. the walls on one side were lined with rows of medicals. some were old, bound, ugly colors, like 30-year old virgin reference books in the library; others were thick magazines.

there were three or four different kinds of chairs. some were leather swivel chairs, old but nice. others were cheap, upholstered, basic chairs- one of which was notably dirty. there was a water cooler, flanked by crates with big water jugs- some empty, some full. by the door was a mini-fridge, a microwave, and a coffee machine. i think the coffee machine was not in use, there was only instant coffee on the counter. the microwave was old, used, tired but faithfully functioning. the fridge was black, with a white sheet on the front that said "on friday july 9th this refrigerator will be emptied- please remove your belongings or they will be discarded." it's after july 9th. the thing was still filled with crap. i know this because 20 minutes into the meeting this guy came in and made tea. judging by the way he acted, he seemed to think that if he pretended that it wasn't a big deal that he was barging in on our meeting, and just mater-of-fact-ly went about his business, that it therefore would not interrupt or distract us. on his way out i caught the door behind him, and switched the sign on the front from "vacant" to "occupied". one of the research nurses looked at me briefly, nodding approvingly.

i pretty much didn't say anything, but just listened. one lady took out the kit and showed everyone how it worked. a power-point presentation. then another guy took over and hooked himself up to the monitor, and the monitor to his laptop. we got a live demonstration. he attached the electrodes to his arm and made his thumb twitch with little shocks to his ulnar nerve. once i chimed in during his presentation, because i thought he accidentally skipped something important- but a second after it came out of my mouth- i realized that maybe he was just about to say it. he politely followed up on my comment and continued. later, i apologized and told him i was sorry if i jumped the gun. he joked with me a bit but then assured me it was no big deal.

yeah, so my new job now involves traveling to research hospitals and clinics around the northeast, initiating/running/monitoring clinical research.

on the way out of the hospital another colleague of mine sat down on a bench to have a well-deserved cigarette after our long meeting upstairs on the 10th floor. she got to talking with a lady next to her. she learned the sad, sad story of this lady's son, who was tragically stricken ill while visiting new york on vacation. i'll spare you the details, but it would make you cry. my colleague relayed the story to me while we drove back to the office. as with any tragic story involving children, i immediately thought of my wife and son, and i wondered if they were OK. (sometimes, when i get this feeling i call my wife's cell phone to see if they are OK. hearing my son's voice instantly makes me feel better.) my colleague went on to say that she has a daughter the same age as the tragically ill boy, and it made her sad, but also gave her some perspective. she vowed to be more appreciative of what she has. i agreed. then i lamented that i will probably be prone to the same thing: finding myself on the receiving end of outrageous and tragic tales told by strangers in hospitals. i explained that i used to believe i had "tell me your problems" written across my forehead; because eve since high school i've always found that people are prone to opening up to me and telling me details about their lives. (after all, this is why i became a peer counselor in college, it came naturally.) she agreed, and said she feels like the same thing happens to her a lot. has been doing this job for a few years, so she's probably heard a lot of crazy things. but she must not spend a lot of time in big cities like new york; because while we were talking, she took notice of a street vendor in the middle of the road, selling hot dogs to people in cars who were inching along in traffic. she thought it was really weird.