surgical strike

Behold! This is pretty much the extent of my crafting over the past five weeks – putting gourds (grown by my parents!) in a basket on our coffee table. That shit looks so seasonal.


As you can tell from my drastically reduced crafting, this surgery clerkship is kinda killing me, but in a way that I kinda actually enjoy. Waking up every morning between 4:20-4:45 is a bit of a drag, but once I get those first few minutes out of the way the day is pretty good. The people with whom I work are overwhelmingly kind and encouraging (okay, with maybe one or two exceptions, but hey, not everyone can be  Glinda the Good Witch), everyone is very interested in education, and the relationships that surgeons have with their patients are both incredibly special and interesting to observe. I have also seen some strange, cool, and sad stuff. Laparoscopic surgery itself is just a very fascinating thing, then I have seen some very traditionally “surgical” things, like poop coming out of man-made or natural orifices from which no poop should ever pass, more anuses than I could shake a stick at (SERIOUSLY! that is one of those things where when you decide to go to medical school, you acknowledge that you’ll see some stuff that’s depressing and difficult to process, but you don’t really stop to take into account how many anuses you’ll be looking at and putting your fingers into for your education/job (pro tip for all future med students possibly reading this blog – you will be reaching into lots of butts)), and some stuff that has been really really depressing. Like lie awake at night and simultaneously think about the 21 year-old that died right in front of you and the elderly man in the ICU hooked up to eight million tubes depressing. Sigh.

Okay, now I just waxed poetic for an absurdly long time about surgery, which is just really weird. Sorry everyone who reads this blog and mostly likes knitting and hates being reminded about poop and anuses. But does this mean I am going to be a surgeon? Nope. I think I still want to do pediatrics, but I do have to say that this rotation is actually inserting a little doubt into my steely rejection of surgery.  And I’ll still be very grateful when I get some knitting time back (:



  1. Girl, I feel you. I work in an ICU, and my mom asked me what was the most difficult thing about my job (expecting something like the emotional trauma of people dying or something) and she was completely shocked when the answer was “All the penises. I’ve seen so many now.” >.<

    1. Oooh what do you do in the ICU? And I know – it’s so weird to think about how people in the medical profession emotionally distance themselves from super horrible things like dying/suffering, but we just can’t emotionally distance ourselves from touching other people’s poop. That being said, touching poop is definitely a day-ruiner.

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