My goal for the rest of today is to see exactly how far up an anesthesiologist's a.ss I can shove a copy machine.
Ready? GO!

I just have to share this little tidbit from a meeting I just had.
Background info: I implemented a screening process for projects that investigators bring to me to develop and submit to the IRB, because too many of the projects were poorly designed, were not measurable, or just plain stupid. Many of these interactions started with the investigator saying “Don’t bother with the IRB thing, this is a low-risk project”. So, I put together a departmental committee to screen these out with me, so I didn’t always have to be the one saying “ to do this the way you have it set up, we would need 600 subjects in each group, we don’t have the resources for that.” Or “ the results of this would be meaningless” (they love that one!), or “WTF??? Can I see your medical license please?”
So anyway, we had our meeting today and were discussing a project designed by Dr. S.
Once we convinced him of,
1. The IRB has to approve this before you can start.
2. You must get informed consent, because “because I said so,” only works with kids, not patients (and not even with kids anymore).
3. You cannot bill a patient for experimental treatment without telling them before hand!
We (3 well published MDs and myself) then argued with him about his design and bias etc. after many many different attempts were made to get through to him, and his response always being “but I am right! Collecting the data is a formality!” One of the docs finally had it and said, “You might as well be practicing fucking Voodoo! It’s all fucking Voodoo! “ He then left the room. You could here him all the way down the hall “It’s fucking Voodoo I tell you!” Everyone else just said, “He’s got a point.” And left. Good meeting.

My new response to just about everything? “It’s fucking Voodoo I tell you!”

I know I have vented before about the 'special kind of stupid' that medical residents possess, but here I go again. I hate them. They are the most lazy bunch of s.o.b.s I have ever met (3 of them are excluded from this because they are good). They lie. "I didn't get the e-mail" yes you did, I sent it return receipt req. "I couldn't open it" bullshit, I got that receipt also.
"I don't know how to (insert everything here)" bullshit, you can play computer games up to the 57th level but can't Google? Bite me. "oh, I didn't think that applied to me." Yes you did, you think everything applies to you, you arrogant slut. "I don't have time" you will if we kick your lazy ass out of the program. "I was on call last night" tough testicles, you've had a month to do it. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them.

I was just reminded how lucky I am to no longer be at my old job. I spent 4 years working with some of the most severely mentally ill women you can imagine. Those people you see with the tinfoil hats talking to themselves (or worse, talking to you!). Those were my gals, my 'ducklings'. We cleaned them up, put them in a nice big house with all of us to help them, and we got them the care and treatment they deserved - if they wanted to work at it. It sometimes would take 2 or 3 years to get someone stable and on the right meds, so that they were able to re-build their lives. I loved my gals. They tried so hard to keep it together. Well anyway, that job ate me alive. I couldn't go home and not worry about my charges. The job was all consuming. One gal was so debilitated when I got her that I caught heat for even accepting her into the program (they had to show a desire to get better). This gal could barely speak, but the pleading in her eyes was all I needed. By the time I burned-out and left the job, that gal had gone from spending 240 days a year on the psych units, to being hospital free for over a year. She had a full-time volunteer position where she was very well thought of, and she lived in an apartment with another of our program graduates. Enter Dr. Pain-in-my-ass. I used to fight continually with the shrinks to get the best treatment for my gals, and while it is nice to have people on the fewest meds possible, if the consequence of that is sending someone plummeting back to the depths of hell, I say leave the meds where they are! Dr. P.I.M.A. waited until I left and dropped this gal's meds. The patient didn't want the drop (she'd been through that before and the doc knew it), the staff asked her not to lower it, and the patient's family asked her not to lower it. She lowered it. I just got a call saying that the patient decompensated so much she is being sent away to a permanent psych unit. She can't even speak anymore. She's locked back in the hell of schizophrenia.
I want to kill that doctor. Everyone involved with that patient had seen what happens when her meds get messed with. We told the doc. we showed her all the medical records. She thought she knew better. I hope she rots in hell.
I am devistated to hear about my little friend being sick again. This happens every day in that field. It was killing me (not to mention my "ducklings"), I had to get out.

"if your heart bleeds for every sad song, then your life becomes an open wound" - Greg Greenway