i really don’t need to be posting today, but due to my supreme desire to not study, this is now my second post.  i have worked hard this rotation, and hopefully i can honor a test, but it’s not the end of the world.  i rocked the boards and in the end, that’s the most important thing for residency. 

i walked onto 6400, looking ahead to my game of chess.  i went and saw my three patients – two of which are familiar to the people on this blog: the “mohawk indian” and the chess player, henceforth dubbed ‘the rook’.  they were all in the day hall eating breakfast, so rather than peruse the charts first, i just asked them the routine questions.  as i sat at one of the tables, which held two of my patients (sans mohawk), and spoke with the rook, he was like another person.  i was estatic to see him come so far.  he then proceeded to do an incredible dracula and igor impersonations.  he could even contort his face like igor might. 

i brought him back to the ‘music room’ and while we waited the 5 minutes for the psychiatrist, i asked him to play the piano for me.  he had mentioned before that he had been taught at a young age, and while he wasn’t gonna go out and be a concert pianist, he was certainly talented.  the psychiatrist had the opportunity to see the rook in this state and he showed the doc his igor impression. 

this side of the rook impressed the doc so much that he’ll probably get to go home tomorrow.  and i can’t lie, i feel like i helped him down that road by being there to talk with him, play chess, etc.   we played our chess game, too.  he quickly won the first, so quickly that we decided to play another, which i won.  our last game was all his, leaving him the reigning champion.  as we played, he asked me my name again.  after telling him, he asked my middle name.  “ashley.”  he then decided he liked this name better, and told me he would call me that.  and let me tell you, he did.  he gave me a picture he made during art and wrote “to ashley”. 

psych was a really unique experience.  on internal medicine, i remember walking away with around 4 patients that will really stick with me.

1.  the parkinson’s pt i wrote about

2.  a 78 yo dwarf with nf1 (neurofibromatosis)

3.  the alcoholic

4.  the elderly man in the icu who developed rhabomyolysis.  (when asked if he remembered me, when he was no longer intubated and sedated? “i could never forget those eyes”)

 leaving psych, i will have at least double that:

1.  the one who called me the cheap slut

2.  the rook

3.  the mohawk

4.  the patient who called me gorgeous (i’m so vain)

5.  the suicidal depressive

6.  the mlk defender (attacked people for standing in front of mlk’s pic)

7.  the geriatric theif

i could prob name more, but those were the big dogs.

it broke my heart saying good bye to the rook.  before i left, he told me he felt like he actually loved me more than he loved his wife, because i accepted him for who he was.  do i think he meant he was in love with me?  no, i don’t.  but i do understand what he means. 


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