Morning Report Nostalgia

It was 8:05 am and nursing a plastic cup of chocolate chai (a specialty of the Cattails Cafe in the lobby of the Marshfield Clinic) I was one of many bodies sitting in Conference Room G next to the cafetaria in St. Joe's.

The funny thing about the last year of residency is the nostalgia of some of our rituals. While I listened as the presenting senior resident teased up with the case of the day, I looked around the room...

I could see a 3rd year medical student reading out of his red Pocket Medicine -- the eager learner, probably overwhelmed. I remember those days... trying to drink all the water coming out of a fire hose and feeling the panic as gushes of the water of knowledge slipped past me.

Further down the line sat.. or rather snoozed a second year resident in scrubs... no doubt the resident on call the night before -- the night float. The post-call haze is still a familiar sedative to my mind and promises to meet me the day after my next call night and that comes soon enough.

Further down sit some of the third years: one of them is a good friend who is nearing the end of her pregnancy. Just looking at her face reminds me of all the experiences we have shared: nights of call, codes, inservice exams, morning reports, co-presenting at meetings. I shall miss her as she heads off to Nevada for the next year. She has taken a hospitalists job. She has a three year old at home, a second one on the way and a husband working in Vegas.

Around the corner of the horseshoe arrangement of the joined tables sits one of our attendings. He adds questions and reminds us of a couple more diagnoses we should add to our differential as we think through what our mystery patient might have. I remember how intimated I was by him my first year. Now, we joke around. I still admire him but he is more human to me now.

As my eyes round the table, fixing in turn upon each person present -- medical student, intern, second year, third year resident, attending, I cannot help but feel a comfortable sense of family. These are my comrades with whom I have served: nights on call, racing down steps toward a Dr. 6 code, standing in an ER bay examing a patient and sitting tired in the cafetaria wolfing down a quick meal as our pagers go off. A pager goes off. The CCU intern gets up and walks towards the phone at the back of the room, others making room for her.

This is my family and I am misty eyed as I think my days doing this are numbered...