Free The Intern Blues by Robert Marion Page A

be a good idea not to go back to that LMD anymore.
    Last night was pretty easy. I got four hours of sleep, and that’s been pretty much the pattern on Children’s. I guess I did kind of luck out when they switched me from 6A. Those guys have been getting killed. As far as I know, none of them have gotten any sleep on any night they’ve been on call.
    Wednesday, July 24, 1985
    I’m about ready to die. I thought I was bad that night earlier in the month when I was up all night, but this is ten times worse. I haven’t gotten any sleep for the past two nights, and I’m pretty worried about my grandmother.
    I haven’t mentioned my grandmother yet. She’s my mother’s mother. She’s over eighty and she lives in New Rochelle by herself. I try to get over to her apartment for dinner at least once a week, usually on Tuesdays, if I’m not on call or too tired. I went last night and I found out she was really sick.
    She’s got a bad cellulitis on her leg. She cut herself with a knife about a week ago. When I showed up yesterday, she was febrile and looked terrible; she could barely get out of bed. She showed me the cut; it was all red and swollen with lots of pus. Her temperature was 102.5, and I told her she had to go to the hospital for IV antibiotics. She said I was crazy. She’s a little on the stoic side. I argued with her for about an hour and finally convinced her to let me take her to the Mt. Scopus ER to at least get a third opinion. I got her seen without any wait. A medical intern looked at her and said, “You’ve got to come into the hospital for IV antibiotics.” She started to tell him he was crazy, but I guess maybe she really wasn’t feeling so well because she finally said, “All right.”
    She’s on one of the medical floors. They put in an IV and started her on megadoses of pen and naf [penicillin and nafcillin, two antibiotics] . They didn’t get her settled until after two in the morning. I stayed with her until six and then went home to change my clothes and take a shower. I might as well just move my stuff over to the hospital. As it is, at this point I’m only just occasionally visiting my apartment.
    Anyway, I don’t know how I got through work today. I’ve got seven patients, and I don’t remember what happened to any of them. I was like in outer space for most of the day. My mother showed up this afternoon to stay with my grandmother, and I came home. I’m going to sleep now. I remember sleep; I think it’s something that feels really good.
    Friday, July 26, 1985
    The past few days have been nothing but a blur. I was on last night and I managed to get some important sleep. My grandmother’s much better; they’re probably going to send her home over the weekend. And my time on Children’s is coming to an end. Of course, I’m on the last day of the month. You can almost set your calendar by my on-call schedule. And then on Monday, I start on Infants’. I have the feeling the shit’s about to hit the proverbial fan. Infants’ is a bitch!
    The only good thing about all this is that I know I’m not going to be on the first night. The chiefs may have decided they don’t like me for some reason, but they’re not crazy. They couldn’t make me work two nights in a row. But actually, since I’m on Tuesday, I get a weekend off next week. Weekends off, I remember those; that’s when you get to visit your apartment for two whole days.

Bob
    JULY 1985
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    You might wonder how these three interns wound up coming to our little corner of the world. It is not fate or destiny that brought them here, but rather the bizarre intern mating ritual known as “the Match.”
    All of medical school—in fact all of life—is nothing but preparation for the Match. It’s the first of many horrendous and inhuman experiences to which house officers are exposed. In