So, here we are, fourth week in. We had hospital orientation yesterday and all I can say is wow! Here's how it went down. I set my alarm for 4:45, allowing for a small 15-minute snooze button period. At five, I was up and out of bed, running mainly on fear and anxiety rather than the bowl of frosted flakes and glass of OJ. I donned my smurf-colored scrubs (don't even ask), and I was out the door at the earliest hour I remember ever being awake in my life.
There is an ethereal glow you can sense in those early morning hours. It might the mysterious glow of dawn about to come over the horizon, but I suspected it was from the bright moon shining through the clouds and the yellow street lights glancing off the swaying trees. As I got in my car I said a little prayer that went a little something like this: "God, don't let me fail. Please don't let me kill anyone (whether I'm doing something with the patient or not). Lord, don't let me cry in front of anyone. Give me strength. And, oh yeah, Jesus...don't let me look like an idiot. Amen."
I drove on the highway and made my exit no problem. After parking at the garage and hoping the fact that the ticket machine was out of order wouldn't stop me from getting out at the end of the day, I met two classmates and crossed the not-so-busy Harry Hines to the lobby where, miraculously, everyone made it on time. Our teacher asked us for our paperwork (which I had spent hours doing, quadruple-checking, and praying over so that I wouldn't forget anything), and I held my breath as I handed it to her. She scanned it, said "thank you"; I let out a quick whimper of thanksgiving, and that was the whole ordeal.
She gave us a quick tour of the hospital and told us we would be following around the PCAs for an hour and a half. Our group dropped off each pair one-by-one at our assigned floors and we said our goodbyes. We were dropped off second to last, and by that time the shift change was underway. Everyone was running around and, even though it looked like mass chaos, somehow everyone knew where they were going and what they had to do. My excuse and answer for the perpetual deer-in-the-headlights look these next two years is going to be, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm just a student." It sounds like a fool-proof plan to me...
After hours of conferences, a scarfed-down, yet completely savored, lunch, and 30 minutes of quick chart readings and assignments, we were done. As I left the hospital with a headache like I had never had before, blood-red eyes that I had to force to stay open due to lack of sleep, and a mind so crammed full of new information it was about to burst, I walked out with a look of triumph on my face. I smiled as I thought about how I survived my first day of many. But I'm not allowed to think of that right now. I told myself that if I wanted to survive...
...it would be one day at a time.
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