It's a two-way street, though. I mean, I'll let you know when I get the labs back-- every time you ask me is time I can't use to do something about those results, if need be. (Trust me, your ED doc would love to discharge you-- really, no matter how cute you think you are, we'd rather you be home. But constantly checking to see if you can go home will in no way change the order of things we have to do in a shift such that you'll go home before I get that child over there breathing again. Just try to understand that, and I'll try to understand when you don't. One of the things ED providers always fantasize about is going to each of their patients' places of work (ok, big assumption there) and following them around asking questions implying they don't know how to do their jobs. :) One of my favorite responses that I think every time but have rarely said is to ask the insistent/entitled patient to get a note signed by all the other patients that they should be seen first, and I'd be happy to do so... Goes over better in my head than in real life.
Anyway, got called over to the hospital on a “day-off” by one of the Pas to help with a patient. So, I should never really get called to the hospital, and so when the call came I threw on some clothes (was about to take a shower) my flip flops and grabbed my stethoscope. I saw her, in the VIP room up on the floor, and made a few recommendations. Turns out, though, that she is a former head of the interim government of Liberia and close personal friend of Ellen Sirleaf. And it turns out the President wanted to visit that afternoon. So, t-shirt, flip-flops, jeans, bed-head and all, I met a woman whose historical significance (as the first elected female head of an African nation) is certainly in the same range as President Obama's. Yeah, I made a winning impression, I'm sure. ;)
So am I too understand that in your short time in Liberia, you have managed to let a small child kill a spider for you while you remained firmly in the fetal position in the corner, met a foreign dignitary in flip-flops, a drool-stained t-shirt and what must have been a lovely musk, raced off-road wheelchairs through the city of Monrovia (seriously where can I get one of those), and go around shoving needles into every kid you see in the streets. Nice... real nice...
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