Overprepared

There's hardly such a thing as over prepared in medicine. You can always double or triple check that prednisone dose. Do one more sponge count after a delivery. Hell, why not ask to make sure the patient doesn't have chest pain today?

Other places in life, though, may be a different situation.

This beautiful Thanksgiving weekend I went to Gros Morne National Park (!!!) with a few coresidents. We went in two groups: the competent hikers and the less-than-competent. Guess which group I was in. The others did Gros Morne Mountain in about half the time it's predicted to take. I did a bunch of smaller trails instead.

Not that I minded. Green Gardens was the place of fantasy. Lookout hill permitted a spectacular view of the Tablelands. Although Lookout was so muddy from maintenance construction that I sank about knee deep in bog/mud more times than can be counted. There were so many shoe-stealing bogs that I almost face planted half a dozen times. Came out with mud stains to my knees and soaked feet despite heavy duty hiking shoes. I have new sympathy for the soldiers at Passchendale.

I'm already dreaming of my next trip back to Gros Morne. A summertime visit, staying in Rocky Habour or Norris Point. Nothing but hiking, boat tours, and picnics in scenic ocean fronts.

For this particular visit though, I may have over prepared on food. I also made a detailed Google map with every hiking point, scenic area, information center and gas station, but that's beside the point. That's just my normal trip preparation. I also may have packed three pairs of pants for about 8 hours of hiking, but also my normal level of prep. I didn't even bring a nice dress and heels to change in case of dinner, thanks so much.

In the case of food, for only two, maybe up to four of us hiking (and other people all bringing their own food!), I brought 4 boxes of granola bars, 2 bags of chips, 1 box of cooked chicken strips, 1 package of cold cuts (proscuitto >> ham), 1 bag of pears, 1 box of cut fruits, 1 box of cut vegetables, 1 box of cherry tomatoes, two kits of tuna salad/crackers, 3 sandwiches, pallet of water, energy drinks, 2 bags of dried fruits and various other smaller snacks. For 2 people. Maybe a little much.

We did NOT end up needing to eat it all, as it transpired, despite walking so much my legs are still sore today. So now my fridge is full.

I think the need to over prep for trips come from some unfortunate mishaps in my younger years while travelling with parents. In no particular order they've forgotten to pack cold weather clothing, started a 3 hour drive (not including Toronto traffic) for a day trip at about 2PM, didn't know there's more to a national park than the visitor's center, forgotten to pack food other than candy for me (guess who got carsick?), thought they could book day of beachside cottages, figured to see salmon swimming upstream they just needed to drive in the general vicinity of water, and many more...

My parents no longer have any hand in planning trips out with me. I book everything. I plan everything. They show up where I tell them to, according to the destination I put in on their GPS. Works out well for everyone. Not once have we ended up without reservations for the night, or needing to find a restaurant on the fly, since I took over.

Western Brook Pond in sunset

Approaching Western Brook Pond

Trees and rocks and rocks and trees...Then, WATER

Walking on the Earth's mantle

Green Gardens

Green Gardens/Ireland

Autumn colours

Top of lookout hill, at Tablelands

Identity Crisis

Yesterday I lost my ID badge while on call. I searched under the beds of every room I saw a patient in. Dug through the bloodied linens and discarded gowns from the deliveries I attended. Checked what I thought was every crevice of the entire obstetrical floor. Had housekeeping, security, laundry services, front desk, and the entire nursing staff plus several helpful visitors looking for it.

As it turns out I had taken it off to do a speculum exam and left the damn thing on the windowsill beside me. I'm real smart some days. Unfortunately the amazing nurses that went on the hunt for me didn't find it until this morning, after I spent the night fretting about how to replace a badge from a university 5 hours away.

Without the badge I can't access the ER. If a patient codes, I can't get in there with any rapidity. I can't access the surgical floor. If a patient goes for immediate c section, I can't get in or even get the scrubs I need to do deliveries. I don't even have access to the local gym, with the access tied to my badge. Out of shape as I am, I do enjoy the 30mins of walking and sauna time I get.

Most importantly, maybe, I realized for the first time how much I tied my self view into the two little letters in front of my name. D. R.

Two letters I spent my life until now pursuing. Dreaming the day I enter university, get accepted into medical school, become a resident and finally paid (less than minimum wage by hourly, but still) to be a physician. The MD behind my name. The Dr in front of my name.

Residency can still be more challenging for me so far. I feel like I'm not being pushed to my limits daily, which I had masochistically hoped for. That said, it's still an immersive experience that, especially in my rural settings, takes over most if not all of my life.

I used to identify part of me as a dancer. A classically trained ballroom dancer with preference for the rumba. Since leaving my long term dance partner back in Ontario, that's faded out of my life. The only vestiges of it are my daily preference for high heels.

Cooking was an invested daily activity that even my residency application letters were based on. Yet constantly on the move across the island, limited groceries and with most of my favoured cooking tools (my fondue pot cries out at night for me I'm sure) back in Ontario, I've been subsiding on a diet of microwave and half-ready meals. My waistline and wallet is paying for it, believe me.

Going out with friends, even if it meant just dumping our laptops on the couch and pretending to study while we gossiped about the controversy du jour, is non existent. Very few people anywhere that I've been placed has had people my age. People around the same place in life as me, even less.

By that above statement I mean I've delivered too many second, third, fourth babies to parents many years younger than me. There are no groups of 20somethings looking to go out and hike together, but many mommy and me groups on the social media here. My bare few coresidents and I are scattered throughout the island, often on different rotations, and can barely meet up on a monthly basis.

All this to say, when I lost my badge at about 2AM in the morning after a rough call shift, I bawled like a baby in bed. Freaked out that I am nothing without a scrap of plastic identifying me as a doctor. No other labels in life, nothing to cling onto except those letters.