I spent all night admitting patients, so much so that I started to feel like part of the hospitalist team – one admission after another. There was one point where I had more than 10% of the ER waiting to be admitted by me individually, plus people already on the floor. At least they were all genuinely sick and deserving admission, which always makes one feel better about it, except that all the attendings were angry at me, for one reason or another, and most declined to answer my pages anywhere near the time I called them. And then I paged them a couple more times, which no doubt didn’t make them any happier. But since I’m sure they were at home either getting ready for bed or in bed, I don’t see why it should take twenty or thirty minutes to call back. Yes. And so on all night. Every time I talk to anyone from this group, it always turns out that I did something wrong, no matter how hard I think about it, how careful and thorough I am – always something wrong, and usually not the thing I’m expecting. At least their patients are uniformly pleasant and polite (except for the one who was trying to leave AMA at 3am).

And the floor they admit to has – nice nurses, but not efficient. The kind who will call you two hours after the fact to tell you about something if it’s important, but immediately if it’s not important. All in all, I am quite ready to be done with this group. They ran through their “things come in threes,” twice by now, so hopefully I won’t have this much to do with them again in the last few days of the month.

(The rule of threes is true, you know. When I got the second call about small bowel obstruction from the ER, I said to myself, I know there’s a third one sitting in one of these corners, I wonder whether I ought to go looking for them? And five minutes later I got called about the third one.)