and no Tyvek suits were worn:

Chief of Service: "Okay, let's go up to isolation."

(we are in the middle of doing our morning walk-around rounds, where we go check on all the patients as a group and see how they are doing)

Resident: "Oh, we don't have any patients in isolation this morning."

Chief: "We seriously don't have any patients in isolation?"

Resident: "Nope. Let's go to C barn."

Chief: "Wait, can we just take a moment to relish how we don't have any patients in isolation? How did this happen?"

to do list:

Oh hi everyone!

I've been on the Large Animal Medicine service for a couple of weeks now. We've had colicky horses, septic foals, some horses with cancer, and the occasional neonatal calf. It's been a party!

Our resident decided to start making a daily to-do list on the white board with all of our patients and their plan for the day. The plan can include tasks we need to do to the patient, or milestones we hope they accomplish. The list says things like,

"Buttercup - draw blood, take thoracic radiographs, collect fecal"

or:

"Daisy - start eating again"

Here's the Thursday plan from a very pregnant goat that has evidently decided not to give birth, ever:


 Another day spent waiting fruitlessly for tiny goatlings. Sigh. Perhaps tomorrow.

and exactly zero fucks were given:

Okay, so the medicine service called this ambulatory clinician bright and early on a Saturday to go see a lethargic pig with a VIP (read: big donor to the vet college) owner. Her response can be roughly paraphrased as:

"It's out of my fucking call radius. The pig needs to come to the hospital."

that's definitely a compliment:

 fellow student, about one of the wizened old ambulatory clinicians:

"She is basically boarded in the specialty of 'weird practical shit'. There is a small chance she will kill your animal. But she's really fucking brilliant.""

the pen is mightier than the (whatever):

Let's talk about pens.

Pens are obviously necessary, and I lose them all the time. So does everyone else. Mostly they fall out of my pockets, or I set them down somewhere and then forget them. Or a resident takes my pen and never gives it back*.

Occasionally, pens fall into the enterotomy bucket. And sometimes (apparently) this happens:


I'm not entirely sure how. Anyway! I've developed some rules about pens.

Alacrity's Six Rules of Pen Management and Lending:

1. Have multiple pens. The composition of a good pen-stable is outlined herein:

2. At least one should be your "good pen" - the one that always works, feels good in your hand, and never explodes in your pocket. Guard this pen closely. My good pen is a Pilot G2 Gel Ink Retractable Fine Point (0.7 mm) pen. NEVER LEND YOUR GOOD PEN TO ANYONE. Others should not know that you have a good pen. It is a mythical creature that only appears to write sympathy cards or take notes in rounds when you want them to be legible. This rule is nonnegotiable. Keep the good pen in a separate pocket if you need to. It does not leave your person.

3. Two (or more) should be "average pens" - these are acceptable, functional pens, but they are decidedly not in the league of awesome. Mine are free pens from the bank and the urgent care center. You can lend these pens to others, but only if they need it for a second and/or are highly trustworthy.

4. Lastly, have a truly shitty pen. This pen either feels really awkward in your hand or is otherwise irritating to use in some way. It should at least nominally work, because this is your first-in-line pen to lend to people who are likely to steal it. While you don't want to (in good faith) lend a high-risk candidate a totally non-functional pen, you should by all means lend out the pen that you'd most like to cull from the pen-herd.

5. When lending pens, do your best to supervise their use. Ask for them back (yes, even from the chief of service). If a repeat borrower has stolen pens in the past, they get the shitty pen (if they get lent a pen at all).

6. Do not set your pens down in public spaces. An unattended pen is a free pen!

*One of the ophtho residents is a renowned pen-stealer. My pen was gone within the first five minutes of seeing appointments on the first day of the rotation. The ophtho tech purchases a steady supply of pens particularly for this guy. 

the prepuce is not the umbilicus:

 student, after another student hurriedly clamped the wrong dangly structure on the newborn bull calf (wooo, he woke up fast):

"Yeah, I guess if you put a pair of Ochsners across my penis, I'd wake up fast, too."

that's unfortunate:

crossfit coach:

"Ah, medball cleans. I mindfuck myself every single time I do medball cleans."