Shit, they hit you hard and they hit you fast.
It's yesterday. I got back from clinic around 6pm. Although I was pretty tired, I had just enough energy and time to go on a short run. I returned moderately refreshed from the run and prepared a nice dinner for myself ... fresh fish, fresh vegetables, the works. I was eating this dinner and watching a favorite DVD when my pager went off.
The page was from one of our chief residents requesting that I "help out" at the hospital for the night. I was still hoping for the best, but unfortunately upon calling her back I found out a fellow intern had an unexpected emergency. So "helping out" meant "taking overnight call in the hospital for the night."
Oh no you didn't.
Panic set in, as I my mind raced to figure out what to do, both at home (getting rid of my dinner, changing into scrubs, and trying to remember to turn off the stove [which I have a tendency to leave on]) and at the hospital ... after all, it had been 3 months since I'd dealt with patients and 7 months since I had done any inpatient hospital work. I was in no shape to admit new patients at 3am.
The night was demanding but luckily not at all as stressful and intense as it could have been. I managed about two hours of sleep, and since the team had capped (admitted the maximum number of patients) by the time I arrived, there were no new admissions for me. Thankfully.
This was, however, a rude awakening for my system, and quickly made it concrete in my mind that I was an intern. I suppose I should expect much more of this ... just please, not in the middle of dinner.