I recently finished 2 weeks of inpatient hospital service, and the sense of relief was so palpable it felt like taking a breath after swimming the length of a pool underwater. At first, there is anxiety and a sense of excitement at the challenge, but soon you feel strong and assured that you’ve got this under control. The house staff team is sharp and the census manageable. Just over halfway you realize that you are already starting to suffer quite a bit and that you still have a long way to go.
Admissions come in on Wednesday for simple procedures that can’t be booked until the following week and insurance requests for placement authorization linger unanswered and, oh look it’s Friday afternoon so I guess we’ll check again Monday. The final stretch becomes exponentially harder as your body cries out for a return to its normal state, and you wonder if you’re going to make it. After the 5th page from the ED between midnight and 4 a.m., you are reminded of my favorite law of Samuel Shem’s immortal House of God: “They can always hurt you more.” However, the end is in sight and with a final effort you break through, take a deep breath, and reflect on your accomplishments and regrets.
It is easy to joke about inpatient service, which many oncologists dread as an unpleasant but necessary evil to keep their RVUs up, but personally, I enjoy my time attending on the wards and, this time, more than most. Yes, I didn’t see my wife and son much for 15 days, I had to move into the spare bedroom to preserve marital harmony, and my New Year’s resolution to eat better and exercise was quickly put on hold, but there were many positive aspects as well.
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