I haven't published here in forever. I could pretend that I've been busy, but mostly I've forgotten about it. I didn't think I had that much to say, either.
However, I found a bunch of medical blogs, and that's inspired me. Our C/L attending sent me the URL of a resident psychiatrist in Seattle. She writes the way I wish I could, a "literary blog," one might say. I have many nights during which I lie in bed, waiting to fall asleep, and imagine the things I'd like to write. There's so many patient stories to tell. In the past six months, I've seen and done things that have made me cry, made me laugh, made me hate everyone, everywhere--and sometimes, it's made me feel like a doctor.
And then I screw up again and can't believe anyone lets me even talk to patients.
I presented a journal club today on the treatment of depression in teenagers. It was an actual controlled, randomized clinical trial, which is hard to find in child psychiatry. It also had real statistics, which was difficult, I am sure, for some of our residents. We seem to be somewhat split between the biologicall-minded, science-background folks and the therapy and psychosocial understanding and treatment kind of folks.
Therapy people don't like statistics.
I like statistics. Or, at least, the kind of studies that you need statistics for. I like the idea that there's some evidence to support what I'm about to do. Otherwise, why did I go to medical school? I can say things to people because "it seemed like the right thing to do," but who knows if I'm helping them? Of course, I know very little about therapy, so I'm not familiar with the literature and the supports for doing certain things. I'll learn.
I've been knitting some. I got spoiled with a bunch of knitting books for Christmas, so I'm trying to rush and finish the current projects so I can start on some new ones. I also got a bag of yarn odd-balls from my grandmother. Maybe I'll knit a stethoscope cozy. Or I'll get some tinfoil and knit my patients some protective hats.
The possibilites are endless.