The Ugh of March

I spent most of the last 48 hours lying around my house in a goopy puddle of depression. Not clinical depression, just everyday "what's the point?" anhedonia. Here's a few reasons why:

• In six days of hospitalist rounds, I transitioned three patients to comfort care. This is a personal record, although not one in which I'm particularly proud.
• Seven months after Xpress Hospitalists took over our program, we are still as short-staffed as we were when we ran the program ourselves.
• Daylight Savings Time began weeks ago, lettuce starts are for sale at the co-op, and yet my garden is completely overgrown from the garden I tried to launch in 2007, so things are not looking good for a fruitful garden this summer.
• I've been out of the OB call pool for so long, due to Noo's illness, that I find myself terrified at the prospect of going back. I've never been afraid to be on call before, so this feels like a set-back.
• Rural is going through a particularly nasty cycle of infighting in the medical community. These skirmishes happen all over the country, but now that I've been here for almost five years, I find them more and more disheartening.
• Like all my fellow citizens, I'm worried about the economy. My retirement accounts are down by 50%, and although I'm grateful to be continuously employed, I feel trapped by the need remain so.
• Gimbels--the back-to-the-wall community hospital where I do my work--seems to be sinking further into economic difficulty. The mood of the staff is grim, and I'm increasingly hampered by lack of services.

So today I dragged myself out of the house and took a walk on the beach. Did you know I live five minutes away from the most beautiful, wild, unspoiled stretch of California coastline? No? Why is that, I wonder? Oh yeah--because I never have time to go to the damn beach, that's why. Or, to be honest, I don't make time to go to the beach. I'm always picking up work shifts and covering for other people, or getting involved with intricate home projects, when I ought to be getting outdoors. After all, this was a big reason why Noo and I moved up to Rural: to enjoy nature at our doorstep.

After half an hour sitting blissfully on a rock on the beach, I felt much better. Even if I did get sand in my shoes.

Comments

[T.]

Hi, T -

Small consolation, I know, but what you're describing is happening in so many hospitals across the country, including my last one. Morale is at an all-time low. As for call-dread: I know just what you mean. Every time I go through something like that, whether it's because I've been on a long vacation or because I have to get back into something I haven't done in a while, it's awful; yet every time, too, the anticipation is worse than the actuality. So, breathe in that sea air, and take heart - I'm rootin' for ya over here in anesthesioboeland.

-T. :)

[Brea in Texas]

Hey Doc, I've been lurking here for a while, and I just had to comment on the 'even if I did get sand in my shoes' line. It made me smile. Thanks!

[Family doc]

Not a setback to be afraid of OB call. All of us get nervous when we've been away from OB for a while. You've had a TON of life stressors and until you get back to OB, it will feel stressful too. But OB is wonderfully distracting too which might feel good in itself.

[geena]

"In six days of hospitalist rounds, I transitioned three patients to comfort care. This is a personal record, although not one in which I'm particularly proud."

Can you explain that? Why would transitioning patients to comfort care be worthy of setting a personal record?

I guess it just confused me as to why doing such a thing would make you proud or unproud.