Let that teach me to regard the residents’ judgment, let alone my own, above the attendings’. My patient was not in the ICU, and indeed looked marginally better than when I left. I guess he probably will survive without surgery.

Tonight was extremely boring. It looked good at the beginning, as the most overloaded team ran through their list in signout and discovered a couple of consults that no one had bothered to tell them about (folks, if you think your patient may need surgery, that should be serious enough to warrant you calling the surgeons yourself, rather than waiting three to six hours for the nursing staff to notice the consult order, and get around to paging us). But things tapered off quickly after that. Amazingly, all of the post-op patients were doing well with their prescribed pain medication, no one had horrible blood pressure, and everyone’s urine output remained picture-perfect. Even the little old lady whom I was strictly warned to keep an eye on frequently, for fear of what the hospital at night might do to her, slept soundly all night, and gave no cause for concern.

Finally, when I got paged with a misdirected consult, I was so bored that I went to see the consult anyway, and managed to get involved with a trauma in the ER, and found another line to do. (My central line skills are so abysmal, I’m becoming quite hawkish in my hunt for opportunities to practice.)

I even had both a textbook and a novel in my bag, which ought to have been a surefire charm to ward off quiet moments, but instead I actually had to read both. I guess I should bring a second textbook tonight; maybe that will make something happen. (This doesn’t even need to mean something bad; we get so many simple transfers which for unknown reasons arrive at midnight or later that I could be quite busy at 2am without my patients being really sick. . .) The really bad result of a couple quiet nights in a row is that I’m having time to read the political news and blog sites – far too depressing.

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