On the phone

I should have known that the day would be filled with the horror of the telephone when my cell abruptly went off at the very moment I began presenting a new patient at rounds this morning...


"Who could be calling?", thought I to myself, hurriedly reaching to silence the ringing. Finishing my monologue, I gave it no more thought until checking my voice mail hours later, to find that, alas, there was a problem with the way I'd been clocking in at the hospital.

"Not to worry," thought I, "I'll just do it a bit differently next time", and put the phone back in my pocket, convinced that my adventures with phones had come to a close for the day. But the ghost of Alexander Graham Bell had other plans, and my adventure had only begun.

No sooner had I begun to write progress notes for my patients than I was assailed with an assignment. I was to get on the phone and discuss with an out-of-town doctor just what we were doing for a patient. None of my higher-ups could do it, they had to leave for the day.

When I called the number I had been given, and said who I was, and why I was calling, what do you think was the reply, except, "We thought Dr. So-and-so would be calling today." My only rejoinder to such a remark was to quickly reply that all the residents had retreated home, and left me this responsibility.

When presented with the evidence, there was no choice but for my distant contact to listen to me, the (gasp) medical student. So I gave my message, and got a response. Much to my dismay, however, it was another assignment to (what else?) call "the lab", and inquire about services that I had never dreamed existed.

So I dialed the operator, and asked for this "lab", and waited on hold, only to be told that the people I looked for were "not at [that] number", and could only be found if I would dial again. This time, I asked for "the other lab", again to be told that my answers were not to be found and that I'd have to keep looking.

"Third time's a charm," I said in my head, and dialed one final time, the "other, other lab". An angry-toned lady with a smoker's cough greeted me there with "hello". I stated my business, and why I had called, and was met with some cryptic advice. But afterward, Mr. Bell must have smiled down at me, because finally I got the information I sought, and was able to hang up the phone before becoming distraught.

So... this is my salute to "amateur creative writing". If you couldn't tell, the above story is a narrative of my frustration at calling for a consult, which happened to be a few states over, and further frustration at attempting to find a laboratory in town to do a specific analysis for my patient. These events later caused my to ask, "What kind of doctor should I be if I don't like talking on the phone?", to which I was met by laughter from my intern and resident, and the assurance that "That's pretty much what we do all day."


Sto