That was some pretty serious procrastinating. I just spent an hour reading medical blogs instead of polishing up my big presentation for tomorrow.

Actually, I was trying not to get too wrapped up in a thrilling book I have. If I get too deep in tonight, I won’t get to bed on time, and I’ll be miserable tomorrow, and won’t pay attention in church if I get there in the evening, wondering what’s happening in the book. Better to take longer finishing the powerpoint, and not have time to get tangled up in the book. That way I can dive in tomorrow evening with no worries.

You know you’re a bookworm when you schedule your bouts of getting lost in a book, because you know how badly disorganized you’ll get otherwise.

My roommate and I have just about meshed our morning and evening ritual schedules. Now we’re working on kitchen planning. Neither of us is very good at buying or cooking only enough for one or two people for one or two days. It doesn’t help that we’re both likely to be unexpectedly stuck at the hospital so late that we don’t eat dinner even when we do get home. My roommate has rather different preferences for foods than I do, and I’ve been trying not to tell her what I think of the taste and health value of her choices. She has a more hectic schedule than me. But this evening when she regretted not having bought cake mixes, I put my foot down. No cake mixes while I’m in the building. The only thing that’s kept me from making a cake this week has been caloric considerations, in light of my sister’s birthday party earlier in the week. But if my roommate would like to eat cake, that will give me an excuse to really have fun baking. No need to settle for that icky junk out of a cardboard box.

That’s what I daydream about at the hospital: when I’ll have time to get lost in a book, and what I could make for dinner or dessert if I had a few more food items and baking containers.

On-call tomorrow, and the fourth year student will be with me. One thing I’ve learned from her: I did do something useful last year. The interns really do benefit from the detailed notes that students write. Her enthusiasm is making the last whole year of medical school feel more worthwhile to me, and that’s quite a gift.

This morning after rounds, the attending told me two things to do. By the time I left the hospital, the assistant had twisted my arm into doing two quite different things instead. My only excuse is that if the attending had heard, he would probably have yielded to her arguments more quickly than I did. But I hate it when assistants or nurses talk me into doing things against my better judgment. Being a doctor means making an informed decision, and sticking to it. If only I were more sure that my decisions are truly informed.

Our team has somehow accumulated a couple of pediatric patients, and they’re making me very glad that I’m not in a truly pediatric field. They’re almost certain to get better and leave the hospital in good shape, and it’s still hard to see them cooped up in bed and in pain. I would hate to be doing this on a more regular basis.