What Attending Looks Like

I know I said back when I finished residency and shared my last bloopers post this summer that I wouldn't start a new series about attendinghood. However, every once in a while I would like to give you a window into my world.

Despite how incredibly over-busy I was this week, I made time to look up the tracking number for a parcel that the email that showed up in my work in-box claimed was from the American Board of Internal Medicine. I didn't end up reporting it as phishing, but it sure seemed fishy to get an unsolicited shipping announcement with a link. (Instead of clicking on it, I copied the purported tracking number and entered it into the USPS web tracker. It appeared legit.) Lo and behold, on Friday a big flat package arrived in the mail with my certificate in Internal Medicine. (Photo altered from my real name + MD to "Frau Doktor Doctor, MD PhD.")

The other package that arrived at the same time contained three Lyrica "surgical caps" from Etsy. I started my first two weeks as a ward attending in the hospital today, and I wanted to take extra precautions not to bring COVID home with me. In addition to wearing scrubs (which I don't do when I see patients in the clinic), I bought the caps to cover my hair. They say "one size fits most," but I am unfortunately in the minority: if I pull them all the way forward, the front edge reaches my eyebrows! (My child-sized head is the reason I failed all N95 mask fittings until Thursday, when a special set-up showed that there is exactly one model that fits my petite jaw. The nurse running the test told me I should have eaten more ice cream, because the masks fit better with a double chin.) Dear Husband even demonstrated his remarkable attachment to me by walking 4 miles round trip through Homewood Cemetery on an unseasonably warm Sunday afternoon to a locally owned shoe store so I could try on Dansko clogs to wear instead of my usual sneakers. The risk of me bringing COVID home on my shoes is honestly pretty low, but the risk of me bringing home a drug-resistant bacterium is actually pretty high. They didn't have the fancy punched-out leather ones from their website, so I went with a matte black, waterproof pair that were very comfortable for the 12 hours I wore them on my first shift.

I don't work directly with COVID patients, but I might take care of some while their tests are pending. And there are plenty of others with chest pain, back pain, cancer, asthma exacerbations, bloodstream infections, unexplained kidney failure, delirium after a prolonged hospitalization, and everything else I'll see between now and Thanksgiving. Low person on the totem pole again as junior faculty, I am working on Thanksgiving, just like intern year. I suppose it's just as well, because 2020 is not the year to travel across state lines to eat with other people, not matter how much we love and miss them. (I'm also working Christmas.) Please stay safe out there, wear your masks, and distance as much as you can. Yesterday we got a briefing from the Chair of Medicine about new bed spaces being opened up and asking for volunteers to staff them. We're seeing the aftermath of indiscretions on Halloween weekend, but also coworkers, church members, and households not taking as much as care as maybe they could have. Maybe scrubs, caps, and clogs are "hygiene theater" like having your temperature taken when you walk into the hospital building--today I was so cold after my hike from the far parking garage that the automated robot reader couldn't pick up my temperature at all--but maybe the fact that I'm willing to dress like the virus is serious will help someone else take it seriously too.