2:50 PM
Had a good lunch. Foreman and Chase got into it over something, I don't even remember what, but it was just funny. But did I see Cameron giving some kind of knowing look to Wilson? I'm going to have to keep an eye on that.
After lunch, we headed on over to the auditorium for the conference: the weekly Department of Medicine Morbidity and Mortality Conference, otherwise known as M&M. Of all the array of time-sucking futile weekly meetings that Cuddy prods me to go to, this is probably the most worthwhile. The residents (newly fledged doctors) and fellows (like my ducklings) take turns presenting an unusual case -- the presentation, the labs and test results, the treatments and their results -- and then the attendings and faculty (like Wilson and me) discuss the diagnoses. If you're the kind of person who likes watching pro tennis but is secretly longing for the match where one of the players throws down his racquet, jumps the net, and cracks a folding chair over the other guy pro-wrestling style, you might like M&M. At best, you'll hear about a really interesting case with lots of gross pictures and hear a really good discussion about it. If you're really lucky, you'll get to see a distinguished physician with a silk tie and a dozen letters after his name talking trash to another distinguished physician with similar credentials. And at worst, you'll get a nice long Powerpoint presentation in a warm dark room with comfy chairs. They renovated the old auditorium a few years ago, and the old green Formica chairs gave way to padded blue cloth cradles of comfort.
Chase drops back as we get closer to the auditorium. White coats are crowded around the doors like a school of stain-resistant fish. Wilson looks at me, and then looks pointedly at my pocket. I obey: I fish in my pocket, retrieve a lollipop (cherry), and cork my mouth with it as we plunge into the throng.
Wilson, of course, knows everyone and I quickly lose him. Cameron and Foreman have dropped back too. I slip through the crowd and head off to my favorite spot in the back row. I don't have to worry about spreading out my jacket or anything like that. There's plenty of room in the auditorium, and seats next to Dr House are not much of a prize.
Chase appears from a side entrance and sits on my right. He's holding two hot unopened bags of microwave popcorn and shaking them by their top seam. "Extra butter, " he reports, and hands me a bag. He starts to open his. "Not till the movie starts," I tell him. If you open the popcorn before people sit down, the aroma attracts moochers and prissy self-appointed hall monitors who take themselves and those NO FOOD AND DRINK signs much too seriously. One of those latter appears in the person of Pruitt, a nephrologist. He starts looking down his nose at Chase. Chase leans back and I lean forward. Pruitt shakes his head and walks on. I used to be his boss. I also used to take him to school in this very auditorium. But that was a while ago.
Cameron and Foreman take seats directly behind me. The resident of the week is at the podium and straightening out his papers. Endocrine. I hope there are some cool slides. Maybe they'll have a pituitary! I love pituitary slides. As the presentation begins, Wilson slides into the seat on my left.
The lights go down for the first slide. Some of the residents get way too excited about PowerPoint. But as the list of complaints starts swooping up onto the slide, one flying bullet by one, I feel a strange sense of contentment. Part of it is Vicodin and the hot sandwich I had for lunch, with a cherry lollipop and the promise of popcorn to come; Chase has opened his bag already, and Cameron is leaning forward so he can pass it back to her. And part of it is just familiarity. I've been going to M&M since I was a lowly medical student; it's more familiar to me than the hoariest TV rerun.
I slouch down into my seat. Wilson is eyeing my popcorn. I shake the bag, open the seam, and pass him the bag.
After lunch, we headed on over to the auditorium for the conference: the weekly Department of Medicine Morbidity and Mortality Conference, otherwise known as M&M. Of all the array of time-sucking futile weekly meetings that Cuddy prods me to go to, this is probably the most worthwhile. The residents (newly fledged doctors) and fellows (like my ducklings) take turns presenting an unusual case -- the presentation, the labs and test results, the treatments and their results -- and then the attendings and faculty (like Wilson and me) discuss the diagnoses. If you're the kind of person who likes watching pro tennis but is secretly longing for the match where one of the players throws down his racquet, jumps the net, and cracks a folding chair over the other guy pro-wrestling style, you might like M&M. At best, you'll hear about a really interesting case with lots of gross pictures and hear a really good discussion about it. If you're really lucky, you'll get to see a distinguished physician with a silk tie and a dozen letters after his name talking trash to another distinguished physician with similar credentials. And at worst, you'll get a nice long Powerpoint presentation in a warm dark room with comfy chairs. They renovated the old auditorium a few years ago, and the old green Formica chairs gave way to padded blue cloth cradles of comfort.
Chase drops back as we get closer to the auditorium. White coats are crowded around the doors like a school of stain-resistant fish. Wilson looks at me, and then looks pointedly at my pocket. I obey: I fish in my pocket, retrieve a lollipop (cherry), and cork my mouth with it as we plunge into the throng.
Wilson, of course, knows everyone and I quickly lose him. Cameron and Foreman have dropped back too. I slip through the crowd and head off to my favorite spot in the back row. I don't have to worry about spreading out my jacket or anything like that. There's plenty of room in the auditorium, and seats next to Dr House are not much of a prize.
Chase appears from a side entrance and sits on my right. He's holding two hot unopened bags of microwave popcorn and shaking them by their top seam. "Extra butter, " he reports, and hands me a bag. He starts to open his. "Not till the movie starts," I tell him. If you open the popcorn before people sit down, the aroma attracts moochers and prissy self-appointed hall monitors who take themselves and those NO FOOD AND DRINK signs much too seriously. One of those latter appears in the person of Pruitt, a nephrologist. He starts looking down his nose at Chase. Chase leans back and I lean forward. Pruitt shakes his head and walks on. I used to be his boss. I also used to take him to school in this very auditorium. But that was a while ago.
Cameron and Foreman take seats directly behind me. The resident of the week is at the podium and straightening out his papers. Endocrine. I hope there are some cool slides. Maybe they'll have a pituitary! I love pituitary slides. As the presentation begins, Wilson slides into the seat on my left.
The lights go down for the first slide. Some of the residents get way too excited about PowerPoint. But as the list of complaints starts swooping up onto the slide, one flying bullet by one, I feel a strange sense of contentment. Part of it is Vicodin and the hot sandwich I had for lunch, with a cherry lollipop and the promise of popcorn to come; Chase has opened his bag already, and Cameron is leaning forward so he can pass it back to her. And part of it is just familiarity. I've been going to M&M since I was a lowly medical student; it's more familiar to me than the hoariest TV rerun.
I slouch down into my seat. Wilson is eyeing my popcorn. I shake the bag, open the seam, and pass him the bag.
1 Comments:
Really cool. Wished you've included on the fights... especially love to see House and his ducklings doing a presentation =)
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