Prepare for Change

I remember clearly my first day as an intern. Every breath. Every sight. Every sound.

It's my first day as a resident ( medical officer for those of us here in the Commonwealth :) ) that has gotten a little hazy. Possibly due to the nightmarish events that followed :)

Totally oblivious, the laymen amongst us wouldn't be able to fully conceive the huge leap forward that an overworked, underpaid intern takes the day he finally graduates to a full-fledged resident. Like the staid military, we do love our hierarchy here in the hospital. Sure, a resident is still considered a relative single-celled amoeba in comparison to the rest of the respectable medical fraternity but it's certainly a small step closer to actual cognitive thinking.

Not that my primeval thought processes have progressed any. :)


Dammit. We have lives to save!
The first day as a resident, you feel like an utter failure as a physician. Almost as if the entire grueling year of internship has gone by without anything worth recalling actually sticking in the grey matter. Not even sure what happened to the facts we diligently hammered into our brains in medical school. Generally for an intern, there's always a reassuring safety net of residents and specialists around to lend a hand in times of desperate need.

But when you're the resident in charge, things are different. Sometimes there just isn't anyone to catch you when you fall. Started out as a surgical resident years back ( God, am I that old? ) and I can still remember. Somewhat. I think my mind has fortunately blocked out most of the scary parts.

Did I wear blue? Green?

Still it is with some trepidation that you take the pager that first time, staring at it like a live charge ready to erupt at the first beep. During the morning rounds ( the maiden voyage so to speak ), you find yourself staring shell-shocked as the nurses refer to you for orders, the interns turn to you for advice... and yes, the patients look to you for treatment.

Nurse : Doctor, what's the next plan?
Intern : Doctor, what do we do?
Patient : Help me, doctor.
Paul : Quick, someone page the resident!
Nurse : That's you.
Paul : Fuck. I know nothing dammit!

Trust me. It can be overwhelming. And it's all you can do not to run screaming at the top of the lungs tearing out your hair while desperately looking for help from the friendly neighbourhood resident. Unfortunately you're the only resident on-call. The time for childish hysterics is over, there is no room for nervous qualms and you have to maintain icy calm at all costs - otherwise the entire ward staff would similarly descend into chaos.

Yet it's the patient's impassioned plea that generally kickstarts that old memory drive, electrifying the nerves sending the panicked messages all over in search of the pertinent information ( and when in doubt there's always the handy mini guidebook in the pocket or for those technologically inclined, the ever-present PDA ). And that's when you realize. Hell, I'm actually a doctor.

But there's hardly any time to ponder over that sobering thought before the pager beeps.

We're adults. When did that happen? And how do we make it stop?

And that's what Meredith Grey and her colleagues have realized as they start their momentous first day in Seattle Grace as residents. Still a little unsure of their place at the moment but I'm sure they'll grow into their own feet in time.

Just wonder who's gonna morph into Resident Evil.