Think death by power point. Sitting still is not a skill commonly possessed by folks drawn to emergency medicine — it seems the first true test of our grit is upon us.
Pictures were taken. TB tests were placed in forearms. Benefits were explained. And in an unexpected and rather ceremonious fashion, we were prayed over and our hands were anointed with oil as a blessing to carry out the healing ministry of Jesus Christ. (I was taken aback, but not as much as the poor sweet atheist from the northwest, or the fasting Muslim guy who was trying hard not to pass out from hunger/boredom).
But, perhaps most importantly, I have now officially met my comrades — the fellow residents who will be with me in the trenches over the coming three years. And, to my great relief, they all seem to be perfectly likable human beings. I’m sure in the coming weeks and months, we’ll grow into a wonderfully fun, dysfunctional little family.
On a side note — I am, for the moment, without a place to live. My attempts to purchase a home have proven to be more difficult than delivering a breech calf in a rainstorm. As such, I’m crashing at the home of a very gracious co-intern. While I am excessively grateful for this unmerited hospitality, I do not recommend this arrangement. The importance of liberation from one’s bra at the end of a long day cannot be understated.
God, thank you for the kind people in this program. Help me to be a good friend to the other residents. Help me to be mindful of their needs and to be selflessly supportive and encouraging to them. Help me to be slow to speak and quick to listen. And please, help me secure a place to live.