Going Back to Cali. Cali. Cali.

I just returned from a fabulous trip to Washington DC where I had the pleasure of attending the AAP National Conference and Exhibition. The fact that I was able to hang out with my closest friend from residency and see some colleagues I had lost touch with made it even better. The conference is an enormous conglomeration of pediatricians combining learning, networking, reconnecting, and socializing (with the aid of a drink or two) and it all runs like clockwork. At least it appears that way to my untrained eye! There is a welcome reception on the first night and I can only compare it to a wedding reception complete with a band, buffet, open bar and embarrassing numbers of uncoordinated doctors dancing. The next day is kicked off with talks beginning at 7am. No, I didn't go to any of those. There is a limit to my passion for learning... The next night the conference attendees were able to take over the Smithsonian American History museum and left to wander for 3 hours. An amazing opportunity to see the museum without hordes of tourists. So fun! And do you want to know my favorite part? Julia Child's kitchen. Oh I drooled over her pots and pans and the counter space! Holy heck! The Young Physician's reception the following night was another opportunity for free food and drinks and connecting with residency classmates from around the country. All in all a great time for everyone...except maybe the circumcision protesters hanging around outside for 4 days. They looked a little lonely. And cold.

Can I let you in on a little secret? I'm charged with planning the Young Physician Section programming for next year's conference. The topic is advocacy and so far i'm really pleased with our potential speakers. This is timely in the wake of health care reform and the legislative battles being waged. Don't you wish you knew more about how to get your voice heard? Or how to get the people around you excited enough to want their voice heard? It's hot. It's fresh. It's delivered right to your door and all you have to do is meet me in San Francisco next October. And don't forget to wear flowers in your hair. Or something to that effect.

Guilt is a 4 Letter Word

The strangest thing happened to me this week. I woke up one morning and literally could not move my neck to the right side without a searing pain shooting up into the back of my head. Sort of like someone surprising you by yanking on your hair as hard as they can. Or greeting you by whacking the back of your head with a baseball bat. Yep, some morning. Of course I cursed myself and my pillow for lack of a better etiology of said immobility and proceeded to take ibuprofen and get on with my day. I taught my PBL class as usual and the plan was to meet my husband for lunch and then head home to rest (and take more ibuprofen) before heading into work for the night. I got through class alright but while eating lunch discovered I could not lift my fork to my mouth without a spasm of pain. In fact, I couldn't use my right arm much at all without being reduced to a cringing mass of tears and yelping. I judiciously checked my self for nuchal rigidity and fevers. Nope, no meningitis or novel H1N1. Just a good old fashioned...neck pain? My dear husband put pathetic me into a cab for the ride home, sparing me the embarrassment of wailing on the bus. Once I got home I had a dilemma. If I couldn't use my right arm and neck pain was getting worse (I was just waiting for the fever, rash, and photophobia so that I could run across the street to the ER and cause a public health panic), could I really perform procedures and resuscitations and stay up all night while giving my job the focus it requires? Well, no. But does that mean I should stay home? I literally sat at my kitchen table (with a heat pack around my neck) for 30 minutes pondering this reality. I came to the conclusion that I couldn't do it. At that point I couldn't even undress myself. And I was scared. What the heck was going on?! So I called my boss and told him I couldn't work my shift that night and explained why. He completely understood and told me to let them know how I was feeling the next day. And do you know what I felt when I got off the phone? In equal amounts to the physical pain I was feeling (plenty, I'm no baby) I felt...guilt. Guilt because I was a physician who couldn't repair myself well enough to fulfill my obligations. Guilt because my boss was so generous even though he would have to scramble and find someone to cover for me in the next 3 hours. Guilt because that meant someone would have to spend the night unexpectedly in the hospital after a full day of work. Guilt because that someone would likely have to apologize to their families for not being able to come home because "someone called in sick". And it didn't end there. Back at work last night, everyone was gracious enough to ask how I was feeling and tell me that if I needed more time (I didn't) they would have covered more of my shifts. The attending who covered for me that night has a 3 month old breastfeeding baby at home AND was up all night performing an exchange tranfusion on an infant. Oy! If my thighs were as well toned as my guilt muscle I would be strutting on the beach til December.

I started to think about this. Why on earth did I feel so guilty about something over which I had little to no control?! I know plenty of people who will call in sick when they have the sniffles or a headache or just need to take a 'mental health day'. Some of you may identify with the feeling that as a physician, we are supposed to perform our duties unless we are patients in the hospital ourselves. Physicians who come to work come hell or high water are revered as being 'committed doctors'. I know a critical care attending who spent so much time in the hospital his wife would have to beg him to come home to spend time with the family. He was exalted as a model to which we should strive. But really? Does that make one a better physician? The novel H1N1 protocol for healthcare workers at our hospital states that anyone with a fever and influenza-like symptoms must stay home for 7 days from the last day of fever. Anyone. The nurses take this very seriously. The doctors? I bet you dollars to doughnuts they are laughing and wondering how they can evade the infection control officers. Unfortunately, I'm afraid in this culture taking an unscheduled week off work is tantamount to handing in your 'good doctor badge' and who really wants to deal with the guilt when there is work to be done?