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2009-2010
A Day in the Life of a CA-3 Resident
By: May Hua, MD
I am on the Milstein Senior rotation, and today I arrive at work to find that they have moved a hepatectomy, roux-en-y, hepatojejeunostomy into my previously closed room. I quickly set up my room with the help of Patricia, one of our techs and go to see the patient. I also have a 3rd year medical student with me so I spend some time discussing intubation and IV placement techniques while we wait for the pre-op nurse to finish interviewing the patient. After meeting the patient, we discuss the anesthetic plan which is to include a general endotracheal anesthesia, 2 large bore peripheral IVs, a radial arterial line and spinal duramorph for pain control. We bring the patient into the room, place our monitors and one IV, throw in our spinal quickly and then go off to sleep. I quickly put in our arterial line and then prepare for a whole different challenge: helping the medical student get an IV in. She does exactly what we discussed earlier in the day and... success! The pt. now has 2 16g IVs. The case proceeds along and the medical student and I begin discussing topics of anesthesia including spinals and epidurals (since this was the first that she had seen), induction and maintenance of anesthesia, anesthetic concerns for patients with hypertension, asthma, renal insufficiency, and on it goes. Her presence adds to an already interesting day and it's actually nice for me to know that I can ramble on and on about these topics off the top of my head. Around noon, I have a meeting with the new CA-1s to discuss the end of their one-on-one time and my attending comes in to give me a prolonged break. I eat and go to my meeting and when I return, the surgeons are putting the finishing touches on their anastamosis. I start a dexmedetomidine infusion because the patient reported waking up a little crazy and trying to extubate himself in his last surgery. We emerge smoothly (success again!), extubate and bring the patient to the recovery room.
Now my fun really begins because I'm on short call 1, which means that I will be the last of the short call team to leave. I get ready to start a trans-spheoidal resection of a growth-hormone secreting pituitary adenoma for a patient with acromegaly. After we intubate, place 2 IVs and an arterial line, I get settled and my attending tells me to write down all the anesthetic concerns for patients with acromegaly. I find a paper in Anesthesia and Analgesia about anesthesia for trans-sphenoidal resections and quickly read about the concerns, of which our patient has obstructive sleep apnea, increased facial soft tissue and hypertension. The case goes well, although her blood pressure is very labile and a little tricky to treat. We extubate without event and now it's time to take a quick break and start a right inguinal hernia repair for incarcerated bowel. Because the patient has been vomiting, we decide to do a rapid sequence induction which goes uneventfully. As they are putting the mesh in, my relief arrives! I sign my patient out to the overnight resident and go home for what I feel is a well-deserved sleep.
A Day in the Life of a CA-2 Resident
By: Sean Cheng, MD
Today's a big day. I'm working with Dr. Jonassen, one of my one-to-one attendings from July of my CA-1 year, and we've got a pair of big neurosurgery cases to get through today. You see, I began my residency at Columbia rotating in pediatrics; back on peds a year later, I'm determined to show my one-to-one that I've picked up a thing or two over the past twelve months, that her teachings haven't been wasted on me. No more esophageal intubations today Sean, please.
The alarm goes off, and instead of slamming the snooze button as I usually do, I'm prompt to get out of bed. I mix up a quick protein shake and grab a Fiber-One bar for the drive to work. I live in Flushing, Queens, home to the US Open, the Unisphere, and one of the largest enclaves of Chinese and Koreans in New York. The drive only takes about 25 minutes in the morning; there's nobody on the Grand Central Parkway at 5:45am. As one of the few residents not living in Manhattan, it can be hard sometimes to socialize with the colleagues, but I try my best. It's easiest to see your classmates get silly during interview season, November through February roughly, when there are fabulous twice-weekly all-expenses-paid dinners at nice restaurants in the Upper West Side compliments of the department. I love those – you even see the “married's” there sometimes.
I park in the employee garage, walk up the hill to Milstein, change into my scrubs, and cross the bridge to CHONY. When I step into the OR, I enter my OCD mode – everything must be in its right place. Wholly unlike my at-home persona, the workplace-me is anal retentive when it comes to my physical space. Blue towels are folded neatly, endotracheal tubes are styletted just-so, and all of the syringes on my cart are lined up sharply like soldiers on parade. On a broad piece of tape that I put front and center across my station, I write “Sean's House.” This is my refuge, my headquarters, my fortress of solitude. Amazing things are gonna happen here.
Irun into Dr. Jonassen, and we agree on the plan that we had discussed last night. 2 IV's, an arterial line, prone positioning, TIVA. Outside of the patient's holding room in Phase II, I ask the pediatric neurosurgeons what to expect. Ancef, Decadron, Mannitol, 3 hours of operating, and '90s grunge rock on Pandora they say. Lovely. I say hello to the patient and her parents. She's a teenager, not a girl not yet a woman, and I try to address the three appropriately. I do my best Dr. Brown impression, i.e. explaining all risks and benefits while keeping things light and charming the hell out of the family, and it works for me, even though I don't have Dr. Brown's charisma nor his accent.
The case gets started, we reach a steady state, and the day falls into a regular rhythm. As a CA-2, I'm better able to anticipate the ebbs and flows of the day. Lines are placed faster, wakeups are smoother, and the little things I'd forget as a first-year e.g. ensuring I have a sample in the blood bank, giving report to the ICU early enough and making sure I have a transport monitor get done with a more facile deftness than before. The pulse ox has become an extension of my ear, and I can now hear tachycardias before I see them on screen. It's a cool, Neo-discovering-kungfu-in-the-Matrix feeling. But then I think of attendings like Dr. Sladen, with their bottomless pits of knowledge, and I feel like Luke all over again, pre-Dagobah.
The sounds of the OR go deep into the afternoon, and we finish our final case of the day at sunset. I finish giving report in the ICU, reconcile my meds, and return a few things to Carlos in the workroom. I take advantage of the fantastic free coffee in CHONY's Phase II area, and properly juiced up, I power through post-ops from yesterday and preops for tomorrow. After a nice chat with my attending for tomorrow, I head back to the locker, change into my workout clothes, and head over to the gym, the Free Weight Club in Bard Hall, to keep my body in an anabolic state. Because sometimes, even with the best of attendings and the most conscientious of OR staff, a day in the OR can feel a bit catabolic. Heavy iron, the smell of it, the feel of it in my hands, recharges me, physically and emotionally.
A nice conversation with the parents on the drive home. An even better dinner with the significant other in one of Flushing's precious holes-in-the-wall. At home, I shower, feed the fish and catch Conan's opening monologue before I hit the hay like a pile of bricks. Laundry litters the floor and unpaid bills decorate the coffee table. I dream of loss-of-resistance.
A Day in the Life of a CA-1 Resident
By: Meredith Wagner, MD
The last rays of a gorgeous setting sun bounce off the river as my colleagues, all dressed up out of their usual scrub attire, board for a relaxing evening cruise on the Hudson. It’s Saturday, July 25th, and our annual boat cruise on the Hudson is once again setting sail to welcome all the new anesthesia residents and fellows. I know we are all extremely happy to be part of such a great affair; however I know that the new CA-1’s may have a sense of trepidation. Today is a pivotal day because we all just finished our one to one attending month, and starting on Monday we will no longer have the safety net of our attending present throughout the entire case.
After a night of collegial fun and a Sunday of relaxation, 5 am Monday morning is here. I want to hit the snooze button because of the combination of sleepiness and the nervous anticipation of what’s going to happen today. However, as I get dressed and think about the past four weeks I find comfort in the practical knowledge that I have gained over the month. Barely making the local A train at 5:35, I take the long trek from Penn Station to 168th street and go over in my mind the cases that I will be doing today.
I’m doing my peds anesthesia rotation and today I will be in OR 1 doing tonsillectomies and adenoidectomies. I know from speaking with other residents and my attending that tomorrow will be a fast paced day with quick turnover between cases. I arrive at my locker at about 6:20am; change into my work clothes (scrubs), and hurry to set up my room by 6:30.
At 7:15 I meet with my attending and review the cases for the day and afterwards I go over to the holding area to meet my patient and discuss the anesthesia plan with the child and their family. After 15 min I am off to get meds for the patient and finish setting up the room.
By 8 am the patient along with mom and dad are in the OR. My attending and I start placing the standard ASA monitors and because our little guy was pre- medicated mask induction goes very smoothly. Having already had one month of supervised training I am actually more comfortable than I thought I would be. Once the patient is asleep I place a 22G IV into a very small hand and even smaller vein, almost only visible by a slight shadow. I intubate the patient and the T&A procedure is soon underway. My attending checks in intermittently to see how I’m doing. After what seems to be only a few minutes the surgical attending says we’ll be done in 5 min. I quickly hurry to finish the anesthesia record and titrate the sevo down. I call my attending who joins me for the extubation and we quickly whisk the patient off to the PACU, where report is given to the nurse.
By 9 am I start to see the next patient who will also undergo a T&A, as well as a bilateral myringotomy tube placement for recurrent otits media. After induction and a quick 15 minute break I’m back in the OR ready to discuss causes and treatment of laryngospasm while keeping a close eye on the patient.
The rest of the day seems to go by like a bolt of lightening and after lunch and a few more T&A cases it’s time to check tomorrow’s schedule and do some pre-op’s. It looks like I will be doing a bunch of eye cases (strabismus repair) tomorrow. I contact my attending who will be present for the cases and we plan to discuss the oculocardiac reflex during the cases. By 5:30 I am at the locker room changing and hurry to catch the express A train by 5:45pm.
The day is not exactly over though. After a quick workout at the gym and dinner I try to review the topic for discussion and break open baby miller for some nighttime reading. I feel my eyes getting heavy by 10:30 and before I know it the alarm clock is going off and a new day is just beginning.
2008-2009
A Day in the Life of a CA-3 Resident
By: Julia Sobol, MD
I’m currently on the Pain Medicine rotation. Today, I’m doing chronic outpatient pain, which basically means pain treatment center and pain procedures. I wake up at 6am (sleep in!), eat breakfast, and get to the hospital around 7:45am. The six residents on Pain and the two Pain Fellows all meet in the Anesthesia Library with one of the Pain attendings for morning lecture. Today, we discuss opioid use in chronic non-cancer pain management. After the session, everyone splits off to their various assignments. I check with the Fellows to see about the treatment center schedule. Two attendings are seeing patients in the morning, and one attending is doing procedures in the afternoon. I go with one of the Fellows to the treatment center.
The Fellow and I try to see the attendings’ new patients. This entails taking a thorough history about their pain and prior treatments for it, and a focused neurological exam. After talking with and seeing a new patient for about 20-30 minutes, I go present to the attending. We talk about the patient’s likely diagnosis, what noninvasive treatments we could try, and if they would benefit from any procedures. The first patient has low back pain and radiculopathy. The second new patient I see has intractable headaches. And the final new patient likely has bursitis of the hip. We discuss each patient, go see them together, make recommendations, and write up the notes. During downtime, we talk about other interesting cases we have seen recently, and about our plans for the weekend.
After getting lunch and eating it outside, I make my way over to the procedure area where the other Fellow is seeing patients with a different attending. I watch the attending help the Fellow perform a cervical epidural steroid injection. Then they walk me through a lumbar epidural steroid injection. Next, I observe an occipital nerve block and a transforaminal steroid injection. After the procedures are done, we all go to the Fellows’ office to finish up paperwork. At around 5pm, all the work is done, and the attending tells me I should go home. On the subway, I read over a review of chronic low back pain. Then I’m done for the day!
A Day in the Life of a CA-2 Resident
By: Minjae Kim, MD
My alarm goes off at 5am and I immediately hit the snooze button for a few more precious minutes of sleep. Five minutes later, I think about snoozing again but manage to get up to face the new day. I make some coffee and get ready to leave for work. I live in the Upper East Side and this morning I’ll be taking the Cornell-Columbia shuttle that operates between the two campuses. On the shuttle ride over, I briefly go over in my mind the day’s assigned cases and the preparations that need to be made.
I arrive at the hospital at 6:35 am and quickly change into scrubs. I check over the final schedule to make sure there have been no changes and head into my OR to check the machine and prepare the equipment that I will need. The first case is a laparoscopic banding procedure which means general anesthesia. I make sure the vaporizers are full and that all of the necessary induction agents are drawn up.
At 7:05, setup is finished at which point I head to the holding area of the PACU to locate my patient and review her chart. I introduce myself to her and her family and discuss the anesthetic plan and allay any fears that she may have. My attending has arrived in the holding area as well so we discuss how we will proceed with this case.
We’re in the OR at 7:30. The patient has an IV from the holding area so we place our monitors and soon the patient is off to sleep. Induction proceeds smoothly and the patient is intubated and ready for surgery. When I have finished charting on the electronic record, I am ready for my morning break. After I return, my attending leaves to see our next patient. Meanwhile, the procedure is almost finished so I prepare for extubation and soon we are on our way to the PACU.
The next case is a distal pancreatectomy/splenectomy, another procedure requiring general anesthesia. While in the PACU, I say hello to the next patient and return to the OR to clean up and prepare for the second case. It is a little after 10am when we arrive in the room. Again, the patient has an IV so we place our monitors and induction proceeds smoothly. This time, however, we will require more invasive monitoring and venous access as there is the potential for a large amount of blood loss. The patient has a great radial pulse and the arterial line placement goes well. After discussing the merits of placing a central venous line, the attending suggests a 7 Fr rapid infusion catheter in the arm. I have never placed this line before and the attending walks me through the procedure. Now that our lines are in place, we are ready for the procedure to begin.
It is just past noon and my attending arrives to give me a lunch break. The day has progressed pretty smoothly so far without any major complications. I am on overnight call which means my day is just beginning. I try not to think about this too much and relax while having lunch and try to focus on the task at hand. My scheduled cases end at 2:30 pm which means I have a bit of a break before having to relieve the non-call residents at 4pm.
As the CA-2 on call, I am responsible for any liver transplants and there was one that started in the morning, so I know that will be my assignment for call. When I arrive to relieve the previous resident, I find that they are actually in the process of closing. The patient was relatively healthy for a liver recipient and the case appears to have gone well. When it ends, we transport the patient to the SICU. It is now about 6pm and I have no more assignments! It was an unusually light day and if it were any other day, there would be more residents to relieve.
Since it was a fairly light day, the short call team has gone home and only the overnight team remains (one CA-3, one CA-2, and two CA-1s). Generally, the CA-2 resident will be asked to cover cases with sicker patients (including liver transplants) but we try to do what we can to help out. As we are waiting for our dinner order, the OR desk books a D&C. The team captain (TC, the CA-3 resident) asks me to set up the OR and since the first year residents are in other rooms, I will cover this case, a quick procedure with an LMA.
Around midnight, I am tired and ready to head to the call room. On my way up, I grab the second arrest pager so that I can help out with any stat intubations in the hospital. I quickly fall asleep and the next thing I know, the arrest pager is going off. I look at the time--6am--and realize that I managed to sleep through most of the night! I quickly head down to the MICU and find the TC there as well. We evaluate the patient and determine that there is no need for an emergent intubation. After writing a brief note, we return to the anesthesia lounge.
Soon it is 7am and the next day’s call team has arrived. After spending the night in the hospital, I am eager to go home, take a shower, and recover from my night on call.
A Day in the Life of a CA-2 Resident
By: Rebecca Bauer, MD
I am on the regional anesthesia rotation this month, and we have three “bread and butter” cases scheduled for the day. I typically get up around 5am, perhaps a little earlier than some of my colleagues, so that I can have a civilized cup of joe and a good old-fashioned New York bagel (Absolute bagels are the best in the city, hands down). Anyway, I also get up on the earlier side to take our two goofy little beagles for a walk around the north end of Central Park. People-watching in Central Park is always interesting, even in the early morning. After all of the squirrels are satisfactorily chased up into trees, I drop off the dogs at our apartment and head to the A train. The A train is (usually) a refreshingly quiet morning respite, and I can get my thoughts straight for my cases for the day.
I get to work about 6:40a, change, and set up my room. Setting up the room in the morning is one of my favorite things…everything is quiet and calm, and I can get ready for my day in a systematic manner. Today is Thursday, which means that we have Departmental Grand Rounds. The talk this morning was by a pediatric attending from Loma Linda. She gave us an excellent lecture about research in anesthesia-related cardiac arrest in children. I enjoy our Grand RoundsI always learn at least a few new things. This morning, though, I had to miss my favorite part, which is questions from the audience (always entertaining), to go see our first patient. She is in the block area, IV in place, ready for us. She is having ankle surgery, and my attending and I had determined the night before that we would do a spinal anesthetic, but that she would benefit also from a preoperative popliteal nerve block for postoperative pain. Dr. Weller, my attending, has to start his other room with a CA-1, so Dr. Panzer offers to do the block with me. They are both German, so as they discuss our patient outside the block area, I smile when I hear the words “spinal” and “popliteal” before I explain to our lady what this entails. She is agreeable to the block. Dr. Panzer gives me tips on how to position the ultrasound probe and how to visualize my needle, and is very encouraging throughout the procedure. We are happy with our block, and soon thereafter head back to our OR. While Dr. Weller fills out his paperwork for the case, I place the spinal, and our case is underway.
Around 9am, Dr. Weller stops in our room to give me a breakfast break. Morning breaks are fun in that I can grab a granola bar and another cup of coffee, but also because I can go socialize in the Ikea lounge, say hi to the ladies in the office, and get caught up on gossip about interesting cases, celebrities, etc. The important things, of course. Our first case is finishing as I get back, so we wheel her out to the PACU and go see our next patient.
Our next case is also another foot surgery, and the patient is a young, healthy guy. Because he’ll need a tourniquet on his upper leg, I get to do another spinal. Dr. Weller is very helpful and supportive, and I place the spinal without any problems. He springs me for a lunch break, and I come back to find the case close to finishing. We wheel another satisfied customer to the PACU.
Our third case is also a foot surgery with a thigh tourniquet, so another spinal for me! This surgery is slightly longer, but the surgeon prefers to do local anesthetic himself for postoperative pain control for this particular procedure. We get underway fairly easily. Dr. Weller gives me an afternoon break, which tends to be a little rare, mostly because the pace of the day picks up in the afternoons. But, his other room is proceeding just as smoothly as ours, and I am on short call tonight. "Short call" means that rather than be relieved at 4pm-ish, I help the call team finish up the days cases and start any remaining elective cases and/or emergencies, i.e. I relieve other residents around 4pm or so. The most fun part about being a CA-2 on short call is that we get to "step up to the plate" and take over some of the bigger cases. Tonight, there happens to be not much going on, so I help finish a room or two and I am sent home around 6pm.
Today was almost unusually smooth, especially for a day so early in the year. Yesterday, for instance, I was in the pre-anesthesia clinic, and in between cases, I helped one of my classmates with an emergent intubation. He got a call that a gentleman with a neck sarcoma and a previous history of difficult intubations (requiring fiberoptic intubation) was in respiratory distress, and they needed a fiberoptic intubation. Just as we were arriving with the fiberoptic cart and setting up, one of the critical care fellows showed up, perfectly timed. The fellow showed us how he likes to topicalize (numb) the airway, and then my classmate proceeded with the intubation, right there on the medicine floor. The critical care fellow gave him some very helpful tips, and he did a great job. The patient actually appeared to be much more comfortable after he was intubated.
Regardless of how smooth or crazy the day is, we all get home, preop our patients for the next day (luckily, I can do this from home....), and start it all over again!
A Day in the Life of a CA-1 Resident
By: Nitin K Sekhri, MD
5:30am rolls around so quickly, it seems to get earlier as the week goes on. I roll out of bed, fighting the urge to the hit the snooze button, and get ready to leave. By the time I’m done brushing my teeth, the excitement of the day is creeping up on me. However, it was not always excitement that I had in the morning. Instead, I was having a feeling of nervousness. But after spending four weeks “one to one” with an attending, my nervousness slowly turned into confidence and excitement.
Today we’re doing two radical robotic prostatectomies and I can’t wait to start. I leave my house in under 10 minutes and start my 5 minute walk to the bus stop. I cross the George Washington Bridge, then walk 10 blocks to Milstein. I arrive at my locker at around 6:15am, change quickly, and I’m in my room setting well before 6:30. I go over my set up over and over M..S..M..A..I..as the days go on my set up gets quicker and quicker, but I know it can still get better.
Finally, it’s about ten after 7 and I’m seeing my first patient. I place an IV in the holding area, get the meds I need, and check back in the room to see if they’re ready for me to bring the patient in. They say yes, it’s always yes, I don’t know how they do it, but it’s always yes. I touch base with my attending and we speak with the patient together and review our anesthetic plan.
7:30am--we’re in the room, we induce and intubate the patient using a Miller blade--not for any particular reason, just because my attending thought it would be good experience for me. I then place another larger IV, in case there‘s any bleeding even though it‘s not expected. Everything’s going very well, and at around 9:30, my attending comes and gives me a morning break. I race up to the lounge, grab a cup of coffee, check my email and converse a little bit. Around 9:45, I return back to the room, and we discuss what happened in the interim and a topic that we agreed upon the day before. This is not unusual. Most attendings spend time with the resident discussing specific topics or just topics that come up during the case. 11:30am or so, the surgeon is all finished with the case and my attending comes to extubate-which goes as plan. I take the patient to the recovery room and give the PACU nurse report. Then it’s off to see the next patient in the holding area. After a conversation with the patient and my attending, I give the OR a call, and they’re ready, of course unbelievable. I get my meds, bring the patient back to the room and the attending and I induce the patient, intubate using a MAC blade, and then he offers me a lunch break, which I gladly take. A half hour later I return to the case, we review and discuss. 4:30pm rolls around, and since I’m not on call, a fellow resident comes to relieve me. This is not an anomaly, but the norm.
I give signout to the relieving resident and head up to the office to get my assignment for the next day -two parathyroidectomies and a laparoscopic ventral hernia repair- all outpatients. I pre-op the patients gathering information from the computer systems, page my next day’s attending and we discuss the cases for 20 minutes or so. Two MAC’s with a-lines and a general anesthetic with an endotracheal tube.
I then go to the locker room, change, and I’m out to the door by 5:30pm-just in time to hit the gym! After a quick 45minute workout at the hospital gym with some fellow , I catch the bus home just in time for dinner at 6:45pm. 8pm or so, I try to review for the next day’s cases and then by 10pm, I’m in bed, ready to tackle the next day.
A Day in the Life of a PGY-1 By: Meredith Wagner, MD
“BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ . . .” Oh god, is it 5 am already. As I opened my eyes and my vision came into focus, the bright red numbers of my alarm clock confirmed it: 5AM. I stumbled out of bed in the dark, taking a look outside to see that it wasn’t even dawn yet and mulled over what the day would bring. I quickly got ready, drank my usual morning cup of coffee and was waiting for the uptown A to Columbia by 5:45. I remember that day like it was yesterday. There was nothing usual about it. I was starting my first rotation as an intern in the SICU
I put on my long white coat for the very first time and entered the SICU doors at 6:30AM. The silence and monotony of my early commute gave way to the hustle and bustle of nurses giving overnight signout and the loud beeps and alarms of the ventilators producing an almost melodic tune that would eventually become the music of the SICU.
The first couple of weeks had felt like I’d been caught in a tornado of foreign drips, unforgiving computer systems, and disease processes brought out of textbooks into living, chronically ill patients. However, feeling lost and unprepared soon developed into a sense of routine and familiarity.
As an intern in the SICU we have the responsibility of caring for 2-3 patients at a time depending on the number of interns rotating through the 16-bed unit. Generally, there are interns from general surgery, ENT, urology and even CA2’s who divvy up the patient load. Having so many helping hands, and interns willing to help each other; granted we were all in the same boat, was a true breath of fresh air and helped to make the days go much smoother.
There was a lot to accomplish every morning before 8:30 morning rounds with the attending anesthesiologist and critical care fellows. The 100m dash to the nearest available computer started as soon as we entered the SICU doors, and this definitely set the face pace for the rest of the day. After checking labs, vitals and I/O’s, we would line up next to the overnight intern, like a conveyer belt, eagerly waiting to take signout and find out how our patients fared overnight.
I had been assigned to 2 very chronically ill patients, one who was s/p liver transplant secondary to complications from alpha-1 anti-trypsin deficiency, the other patient who was waging a war against sepsis due to multi drug resistant klebsiella and complications from a bowel perf.
I take a sigh of relief. They did ok. One remained stable overnight, but the other required more attention to address the game of fluid balance; all night the intern was either giving lasix to pull out fluid from the patient’s lungs or giving fluid boluses from the resulting hypotension. Guess I’ll have to see that patient first.
The patient right now has stable vitals, lungs sound clear, maybe the slightest crackle at the bases. Good! Onto the next patient, the nurse informs me that he tolerated trach collar for one hour last night. Hopefully today he will tolerate 2 hours, possibly even stay on trach collar.
8:30 am rounds are about to begin and so I quickly take off my gown and gloves and join the group of interns gathering in-front of the new admission in bed 16. The overnight intern presents any new admissions that hit the ICU doors overnight first so they can be out the door by 10 am. For the rest of us, the attending leads us, like a shepherd leading his flock, through all the patients in the SICU for three to four hours, showing us various physical exam skills, discussing key principles of ICU care like antibiotics or vent settings, and finally modifying our plans for the patients.
A quick post-rounds lunch followed by some order entries and nursing updates on our patient’s status leads right into our afternoon lecture that promptly begins at 1:30 in the afternoon. Today the attending leads a discussion about ventilator settings, and I learn some key information that I could apply to my patients this afternoon.
With afternoon lecture completed, it’s time to finish placing order entries and continue taking care of my patients before sign out rounds. A phone call from the nurse informs me that my septic patient is ready for a CT of the head, chest, abdomen and pelvis. We are trying to find a possible source, such as an abdominal fluid collection, that may explain her spiking fevers and hypotension. The nurse and I wheel the patient to the 3rd floor CT, picking up emergency meds at the pharmacy on the way. In a flash we are on our way back to the SICU. Thankfully, the patient remained stable during transport. The fellow and I view the results. We soon find out that the CT is not going to give us an answer. The search will have to continue.
Afternoon labs are back and we quickly check to make sure all patients are stable before signout rounds that take place at 4:30 pm. Bedside rounds with the daytime attending the overnight attending and fellow takes us once again full circle around the SICU, however, this time with only a quick blurb of who are the sickest and what to look out for with the patients overnight. As we go through each of the patients, I can taste the closure of my day getting sweeter and sweeter.
After signing out to the overnight intern, I walk out of the SICU doors, feeling a great sense of accomplishment. I know that I gave a full effort in helping my patients on their long road to recovery. I’m exhausted, and because I will be the intern on call tomorrow, I need to get some quality rest tonight.
2007-2008
A Day in the Life of a CA-3 Resident
By: Michelle Au, MD
4:00pm: I arrive for work on the labor and delivery floor. Tonight I am the "night float" resident on OB, which means that I am the primary resident on call overnight on labor and delivery. There are two residents on call overnight for OB, though as the night float resident, arriving to work late and presumably rested, I wil be the first one called for any anesthetic issues on the floor. Though the nights over on labor and delivery can occasionally be grueling, I am happy to have had the morning off to spend with my two-year old son. This morning, we went to the playground and even got a chance to have lunch together before I had to leave for work. It's a rare treat to be able to spend time with him during the day, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Of course, chasing after a two-year old means that I am probably not as well-rested for the start of my shift as I might like to be, but overall, I'm ready to get to work!
4:10pm: I've just finished getting signout on the all the current laboring patients from the resident who had been running the floor during the day. Currently there are four epidurals running, two patients who have not yet requested epidurals, and four patients sitting in our "high risk" area, who are in various stages of pregnancy and being monitored closely for a variety of health issues. The OB service on Columbia has a significant percentage of high-risk parturients with a strong maternal-fetal medicine program and a busy NICU, and as anethesiologists, we have the benefit of learning from the anesthetic management of these patients as well. Currently sitting on high risk are patients in premature labor, one with severe pre-ecclampsia, and another with triplets gestation and vasa previa. After learning the pertinant information from my co-resident and making sure that the floor is in order, I head back to the ORs to relieve another resident, who has just started a scheduled C-section.
5:30pm: I am wheeling my patient from the OR to the PACU, having just finished up the C-section. There is another emergent C-section that has just been added to the schedule while we were in the other case, a patient that just got admitted to triage with decreased fetal movements and a non-reassuring fetal heart tracing. My co-resident has already pre-opped the patient and is in the process of bringing her into the OR as we're coming out with the other case. I check to make sure that he's doing OK and that the case is starting smoothly, and then check the other ORs to make sure that they are all set up and ready to go from an anesthetic point of view. There are three ORs on the labor and delivery floor, with at least one room always set up and for stat sections. After walking through the other two empty ORs, I make my rounds on the floor, to talk to any new patients that may have been admitted while I was in the OR, and (speaking of stat sections) to say hi to all our high-risk patients, some of whom may be likely candidates for our next emergency case. Luckily, everyone seems to stable and doing well for now.
7:00pm: I get called to Labor Room #7 do an epidural. My co-residents have already gotten the patient's history and consented her for the epidural earlier this afternoon, but I just pop my head in to make sure that there are no unexpected issues before I start to set up. I get my drugs, get the patient positioned and prepped, and call my attending in to supervise. Given that the patient is a young, healthy multip at 5 centimeters on her last exam, I decide to do a combined spinal-epidural, and my attending agrees. Happily, the procedure goes smoothly, and in ten minutes the patient is back in the bed with a smile on her face. "That was great. Thank you so much. It didn't even hurt." I make some jokes about the miracles of modern medicine and stay in her room for fifteen more minutes to set up the pump and make sure that her vitals are stable. The great thing about OB anesthesia is its one of the few fields where patients really understand what the role of the anesthesiologist is, and where patients actually thank us for our work!
8:00pm: Dinnertime! Our attending has treated both of us on call to a delicious meal from a local Chinese take-out. We take the moment of relative calm to sit and chat and watch some "Animal Planet" on the TV in the nurse's lounge.
10:00pm: A few more epidurals and one vacuum-assisted delivery later, things seemed to have calmed down. I tell the other resident, who has been here all day and who is taking 24-hour call, to go to the call room and get some rest. I head on back to the anesthesia workroom and try to get some studying done.
11:30pm: I get called emergently for a stat section. I come running out to see a crying patient being wheeled down the hall towards the OR. "PPROM, footling breech!" the OBs tell me. I jog alongside the stretcher, get the pertinent medical information, do a quick airway exam, and consent her for anesthesia, all while calling my attending. We meet in the OR, and I manage to quickly put in a spinal and lay the patient back as the OBs descend on her in a flurry of Betadine and drapes. A quick skin test to assess the adequacy of our anesthesia, the C-section begins. Shortly thereafter, the baby is delivered, and whisked away to the transitional nursery by the NICU fellow for further support. The mom is doing fine, and finish and wheel out to the recovery room, the dad shows up, having rushing in from home. "You missed everything!" our patient yells.
1:00am: I place an early epidural on a new patient who has just been admitted with severe pre-ecclampsia for induction of labor, and pull a few catheters on patients who have already delivered. Room #8 is apparently requiring a foreceps delivery, so I grab my emergency drugs and stand by in case we have to move back to the OR, giving a small bolus of lidocaine through her epidural to help her along. It must be working well, because--well, have you seen the foreceps? Thankfully, the baby is delivered with a little help, and the mom is doing well. I head back to the work room to do some paperwork and to log the cases that I've done so far today in my resident care log.
3:00am: Things seem to be quieting down. I head back to the call room to lie down for a few minutes.
5:00am: Or a few hours. Wow, I can't believe I didn't get called up until now! I go to top up a patient's epidural, pull another epidural catheter, and start getting things ready for the day shift.
7:00am: The day team starts to arrive. We have rounded on all the patients on the floor and pre-opped the scheduled C-sections for this morning, so after a detailed sign-out, we have our daily didactic lecture. Today we are with Dr. Smiley, who leads us through an interesting case presentation on a case of regional anesthesia for labor in an achondroplastic dwarf. Some heated discussion follows, which is always fun. No fisticuffs ensue, however.
8:00am: And my night shift is done! I head out of the hospital towards the subway, tired but happy that I had a good night with some exciting cases, and even managed to get a little bit of rest. I have the rest of the day off (I'm taking my son to music class this morning, and hopefully he'll take his afternoon nap, so I can join him) and then I'm back the next day, this time on the day shift, to do it all again!
A Day in the Life of a CA-2 Resident By:Jonathan Hastie, MD
Rolling out of bed and silencing my alarm clock at 0500, I was both excited and nervous to start my cardiac anesthesia rotation. After spending the first couple of months of my second year doing pain management and surgical ICU rotations, it was good to be heading back to the operating rooms. After a quick shower and grabbing an English muffin for the road, I was out the door and trotting to the subway station by 0530.
The evening before I’d reviewed my two patients’ computer records and touched base with my attending to talk about the anesthetic plan. I had one thoracic case and a tricuspid valve replacement. As I quickly checked the anesthesia machine, set up the monitors and arranged the airway equipment I’d need for the day, I also mentally reviewed the plan my attending and I had discussed. A double lumen tube and a bronchoscope were available for the first case, and for the second case I drew up syringes and prepared infusions according to the helpful guidelines sent to me before the rotation started.
By 0700 I’d completed my first patient’s preoperative evaluation and my attending and I were standing behind her, clad in sterile gloves and preparing to lather her back with chlorhexadine. My attending walked me through my first thoracic epidural which went smoothly, and we transported the patient to OR 20.
With one-to-one attending coverage for the cardiac rotation, my attending had ample time to discuss details and guide me through placing the double lumen tube and confirmation of placement with the bronchoscope. We positioned the patient together, checked pressure point padding, and soon enough the case was underway.
A short morning break allowed me to grab a cup of coffee and check e-mail before returning to the case and transporting the patient to the recovery room. As I called the pain management service to notify them of the epidural, I was reminded how I’ve learned how important careful and clear communication between healthcare providers is.
I was able to do most of the set-up for the tricuspid valve case either first thing in the morning or during the second case, so pre-opping the second patient was my next priority. Things were as “routine” as can be for undergoing so unnatural a procedure as cardiopulmonary bypass! Importantly, my attending was present for all key parts of the case, and she walked me through what to expect and what to plan for. At the same time, she balanced this with giving me alone time in the OR, but she made sure I felt comfortable before taking off.
With the help of my attending and the surgical fellow, I transported the patient to the CT-ICU, printed my record, and gave report to the nurse and receiving resident. The day had gone smoothly, and, by 1730, I was ready to check the schedule for tomorrow and go to see any inpatients that might be coming my way.
Even on a busy rotation, I was still able to grab a bite of dinner with a friend and read a few pages before turning in for the night. I wanted to get some rest for whatever the next day would bring!
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