Hey there everyone! As you may remember, I sold my car when I moved to this new town to begin this odd internship. Here are some things that are pretty awesome about car-free living:

1. Parking is always convenient (bike racks are plentiful and usually covered).

2. My transportation costs are absurdly low:

Car-share membership - $35/year
Bike maintenance - ~$50/year
Gas - $0
Car insurance - $0
Car payment - $0
Car maintenance - $0
Parking (home) - $0
Hospital parking pass - $0

3. I get fresh air and exercise commuting to and from work, complete with the daily challenge of dodge-the-texting-undergrads on the bike path.

4. Biking uses renewable energy - it's powered by me!

5. It's fun to meet other cycling commuters at the bike rack. The seasoned bike folks provide a large amount of useful information, tips, and encouragement for new bike commuters.

adventures in imaging:

Student: "What should I write in the box for 'history' on the radiology submission form?"

Technician: "Fucked."

Student: "...uhhhh."

Alacrity: "...or, you could write 'six week history of intermittent lethargy, collapsed this morning, suspect large splenic mass'."

oh is that it?

Oncologist: "Why aren't you going to the conference, Alacrity?"

Alacrity: "I'm saving for [this other thing], and my budget is pretty tight right now."

Oncologist: "It's really not that expensive. You just have to be clever about it."


oh no please no:

Oncologist: "I consider myself a pearl diver."

on securing a temporary tracheostomy tube:

Criticalist: "You're gonna want to wrap it like this and then reinforce the vetwrap with a piece of tape. Be sure you make an anti-buddy-fucker tab on the end of the tape."

so, reading the treatment sheet is good:

(Technician pokes her head into rounds)

Technician: "Hey Alacrity, can I have the fentanyl and lidocaine so I can start setting up your patient's CRIs while you finish rounds?"

Alacrity: "Oh thank you! That would be awesome. I would like the CRIs diluted in saline please, but I wrote recipes on the treatment sheet. If it's confusing, just leave it for me and I'll set them up in a few minutes."

Tech: "Okay, will do."

A few minutes later, in ICU:

Tech: "Why are you giving this dog so much fentanyl?"

Alacrity: "I'm not-wait, is that straight fentanyl in the syringe?"

Tech: "Yes, that's how we do fentanyl CRIs."

Alacrity: "It's supposed to be diluted in saline! Did you read the recipe that I told you about on the treatment sheet?"

Tech: "No."


veterinary households are weird:

 Here are some things that are true about my place of residence:

1. All the scissors in the apartment are bandage scissors.
2. There is a stethoscope hanging next to the door.
3. Some of my shoes have bloodstains on them.
4. There is a veritable herd of hemostats.
5. The number for the direct line to the ICU is hanging on the fridge.
6. Some of my pants have bleached cuffs.
7. Occasionally, blood tubes will turn up in random locations (such as the bottom of my tool bag).
8. There is an approximately three inch stack of oncology papers on my desk.
9. A fluid rate calculating wheel is peeking out from between books on the bookshelf.
10. You would not believe the number of highlighters.