Gericatrics!

I have moved out of my little psychiatry nest and am currently doing a rotation in geriatric medicine. If you ever have to do a medicine rotation, geriatrics is a good one. Why? Let me tell you. The patient population is unbeatable. With the exception of the totally insane, there is no one I think I’d rather work with. These elderly gaffers are (for the most part) extremely cute and totally respectful. Many of them have some degree of dementia, but this just renders them ever more adorable to me.

The other thing is that they all have a lot of stuff wrong with them and, on average, I think they take about 45 medications each (okay maybe 12 or so, but you get the point). This means that you can actually learn some stuff about medicine while working with the extremely cute patients, and their extremely cute spouses and/or families.

Another plus is that physicians who choose geriatrics tend to be people who really welcome a challenge and love working with elderly people and their families. Let’s face it, it’s not all that glamourous, and the pay is not what it is in other subspecialties of medicine. So, the staff are wonderful role models of what comprehensive humane care should be.

In particular, the doctor I am working with this week is totally amazing. She is so smart and kind, and loves to teach, which means we are working fairly hard, but learning a lot, and doing so in an environment that is conducive to feeling good about yourself. I couldn’t ask for more and will be sad to have to switch doctors next week. She said herself that we are “simpatico” and I think she hit the nail on the head. It’s so refreshing to work with like-minded people in a place where many people operate in a selfish bubble.

This morning I had to accompany a patient we were transferring to a mental health hospital in a taxi to make sure she got there okay. She is 92 years old and totally manic. It was an absolute circus and I loved every minute of it. Unfortunately, in all of the commotion, I accidentally left one of the patient’s bags in the back of the cab. It was a complete shit show trying to get it back. Apparently, taxi companies no longer use radios with their drivers. I find this a little hard to believe but whatever. The situation was also complicated because I think the cab driver was totally colour blind. He was insisting to the dispatcher that his cab was blue, while I would pretty much stake my life on the fact that it was gold. Regardless, he was none too pleased to have to come back with Mrs. SoandSo’s bag. I didn’t really care because I had given him a pretty good tip.

So, now I am going to read an article about mixed dementia, which I am pretty sure I have, and then go to sleep. There are not enough hours in the day, and moving is the bane of my existence.

xot