It was ultimately decided that Mike Miller would have a talk with Amy and explain the concerns that had been raised at the meeting. It wasn’t thought that anything needed to be done, that her work was certainly good enough to justify being offered a position for the following year. I don’t know how Amy is going to respond to this criticism, especially since I’m sure she won’t think it’s warranted. After all, I don’t think it’s warranted either; I think she should be commended for doing as good a job as she’s done, considering all the pressure on her. And I’m going to tell her that.
Andy
NOVEMBER 1985
Tuesday, November 5, 1985
I’ve pretty much decided that I’d like to go back to Boston for next year, but things still are up in the air. It looks like Karen might get accepted into Columbia’s psych program, and that’s going to be pretty hard to turn down.
This past week has been really, really hard, with this decision hanging over our heads, and we’ve both been incredibly stressed out. I’m in OPD [the Outpatient Department] now on the Jonas Bronck side, although I spend two days a week here at Mount Scopus for clinic. I’ve been on call it seems like an inordinate number of times already in the past week; I’ve already done two every-other-nights and I’m on call again tonight. I’m finding the Jonas Bronck ER a real drag to work in. The nurses are extremely hostile and critical and cold. They’re very good nurses, very efficient, and they obviously know what they’re doing. They’re much better than the nurses in the West Bronx ER, but they all seem to have a chip on their shoulder. I’ve been told that there’s some kind of war going on among them but, hey, you know, that’s no excuse. That just makes it a drag for everybody else to work there.
The place is unbelievably busy. I end up getting out at four-thirty in the morning on nights when I’m on call. It’s just fucked. You come home, you sleep for three hours, and you’re supposed to be back at the hospital for the eight-o’clock teaching conference the next morning. Forget it! It’s really unfortunate. I really was looking forward to the Jonas Bronck ER, and I do enjoy the work I do there. The pathology that walks through the door, the patient population, the mix, it’s unbelievable; it’s fantastic. I’d love it except dealing with all these angry nurses is a real drag!
So far I’ve been thrown into that fucking asthma room a lot more than I think I should’ve been. Some of the other interns are going to have to help pitch in with that. [In the Jonas Bronck ER, all patients with asthma attacks are placed in the asthma room. When things get busy, one house officer, usually an intern, winds up doing nothing but working in the room. That person may see nothing but asthmatics for four or five hours at a stretch.] It gets really boring in there, seeing the same thing over and over again without a rest. I’ve already complained about it but I don’t think anybody really cares. That’s all; I’ve got to go back to clinic now.
Thursday, November 7, 1985
I’m in the P2C2 [Pediatric Primary Care Center, the pediatric clinic at Jonas Bronck] conference room waiting for the conference to start. I have to talk quietly or they’ll think I’m talking to myself. Nobody else is here yet.
Last night I was so tired, I slept eleven and a half hours straight. I could have slept another five easily. Can’t work every-others, they just wear the shit out of you. And on both of those every-others, I worked in the ER till about 5:00 A.M. Then yesterday I had to work in the ER all day, from nine to five. Jesus Christ, this place is a goddamn zoo!
Karen’s been here for the past few days. We’re still trying to decide whether to go back to Boston or stay in New York. It’s tough, there are a lot of things to consider, but so far it looks like we’re both leaning toward going home. They’ve been really good about it here. Miller knows what’s going on, and he’s giving me the time I need to decide. He says he wants me to stay. It’s nice of him to say it, but does he really mean it?
I’ve got to stop now; someone just came in.
Friday, November 8, 1985
I’m here in the thirteenth-floor conference room of West Bronx, where the pediatric OPD conference is supposed to be. I got here at eight, and I just found out it doesn’t start until eight-thirty, so I’m about twenty minutes early now.
Today’s an important day because after long and tedious deliberation, Karen and I have definitely decided to go back to Boston for the remainder of my residency. Karen’s been getting internship offers from everybody. Every single place she’s applied to is offering her a position. It’s hard to turn opportunities like that down, but we’ve decided to go back. Karen feels she’ll be happy at Boston University, the program where she’ll wind up going, even though it’s not in the same league as Cornell and Columbia.