So how about the time I was a 1st year medical student in Histology class. Well I will tell you. The entire class of 97 students is studying the microscopic appearance of human blood cells. Sounds innocuous enough as it was only the 1st week of school and we are all just getting to begin to know each other. We have no clue what we are doing so each group of 4 students shares a microscope and the Professor roams around helping out the helpless.
This is where the story gets crazy because I was the one who volunteers to have my finger stuck and my blood was smeared onto my groups slide for examination. We have the ability to review slides on an overhead projector(I am dating myself) to see what normal blood cells look like. Well much to my dismay the cells under our scope look nothing like normal cells. As a matter of fact they look very sick indeed. They are super small and all fragmented looking and I immediately think I am dying. My classmates are all crowding around to see my sick looking blood. Well, I gotta tell you I am not feeling real good at about this point and decide to call over the professor to come see and tell me that I am going to survive-I hope.
He immediately,upon seeing my cells, asks if the name Caralis is of Greek or Italian decent. I tell him of my Greek ancestry and tells me that I have a blood trait called Thalessemia Minor. So he also tells me I am fine and am going to live. What a relief. He tells me it is only a problem if I marry another carrier or if someone tries to fix it by giving oral iron supplements. That night I called my Mom and told her that her internist should stop killing her with iron for her anemia that cannot be fixed with iron replacement. She did not believe me of course because I was no doctor yet. I still don't think she thinks I am a doctor to this day. So I married a non-greek with good looking blood and lived happily ever after.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
It is who you know that counts
It was after the VietNam War and just about everybody was applying to medical school. 64,000 applications in 1975 was the highest number of applicants ever--just my luck!! Oh well what the heck, I just applied anyway because I saw no other interest for me. I really always wanted to be a doctor--just like Dr. Kildare and Dr. Ben Casey from the TV shows of the same name in the 1960's. Afterall, I had never been rejected from anything in my previous 21 years so naturally I would certainly be a success in my quest to matriculate to one of this countries elite med schools. WRONG!!
Sixteen applications. Sixteen rejections. Oh my God say it isn't so. This cannot be happening to me. I am tops in my class in at least 80% of my classes at the UofM. My MCATS are very respectable in the 80-90th % across the country. I was a damn Evans Scholar for God's sake you cannot reject me. This time in my life was a true bummer and I mean I was really bummed!! Little did I know that my fortunes would soon change because I accepted an invitation from my best friends brother to go to a silly 16th birthday party one saturday night. We followed Kenny to Trenton Mich. to the birthday party and low and behold I met for the 1st time Dr. Wm. Athens.
That is Dr. Wm Athens DO. brother of the chairman of the board of trustees of the Chicago College of Osteopathic Medicine. The Athens brothers are full blooded Greeks--oh how sweet !!I still believe to this day that the good Dr. Athens envisioned from the moment he met me that I would make a great son-in-law for one of his daughters and that was why he went to asking me if I wouldn't consider going to osteopathic med school. He was gushing on and on that night all about his alma mater and how he could help me get in. Well you guessed it I did apply to his Chicago school and low and behold I got an interview and wow miraculously I was accepted almost like the good Doctor had snapped his fingers and he "made it so". The rest is as they say is history as this 17th application was my lucky one and I was off and running towards my dream again. Yes sir a lesson learned about this grown up world---it most certainly is not what you know but who you know that makes all the difference. All these years later and nothing has changed .
Sixteen applications. Sixteen rejections. Oh my God say it isn't so. This cannot be happening to me. I am tops in my class in at least 80% of my classes at the UofM. My MCATS are very respectable in the 80-90th % across the country. I was a damn Evans Scholar for God's sake you cannot reject me. This time in my life was a true bummer and I mean I was really bummed!! Little did I know that my fortunes would soon change because I accepted an invitation from my best friends brother to go to a silly 16th birthday party one saturday night. We followed Kenny to Trenton Mich. to the birthday party and low and behold I met for the 1st time Dr. Wm. Athens.
That is Dr. Wm Athens DO. brother of the chairman of the board of trustees of the Chicago College of Osteopathic Medicine. The Athens brothers are full blooded Greeks--oh how sweet !!I still believe to this day that the good Dr. Athens envisioned from the moment he met me that I would make a great son-in-law for one of his daughters and that was why he went to asking me if I wouldn't consider going to osteopathic med school. He was gushing on and on that night all about his alma mater and how he could help me get in. Well you guessed it I did apply to his Chicago school and low and behold I got an interview and wow miraculously I was accepted almost like the good Doctor had snapped his fingers and he "made it so". The rest is as they say is history as this 17th application was my lucky one and I was off and running towards my dream again. Yes sir a lesson learned about this grown up world---it most certainly is not what you know but who you know that makes all the difference. All these years later and nothing has changed .
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Be careful you may live your dream
I guess it started a long time ago in my head but has never been put on paper. My wonderful Katie has inspired me to try to tell some stories about more than25 years in a hospital. I guess I will blog a little and see where it leads. I think most of my entries will begin-- how about the time I was---blank blank etc...... I certainly hope this doesn't gross too many out and I will not be overly graphic.
So... how about the time I was an intern rotating at Beaumont Hospital on Pediatrics at Christmas and I was called by the night nurse at 2 Am Christmas morning to the floor to see a sick 12 year old girl. This story has affected me enough that it needs to be my 1st entry into blogging even though it is not and will never be a heart warming story. It was clearly the 1st heart wrenching moment of my medical career that I still think about to this day.
The experienced nurse that Christmas rather matter-of-factly asked if I would please go into the room of this young girl's room and please pronounce her dead!! Well that sounded like a simple request of a physician of my training and experience. I mean I had completed 4 years of medical school all of 3 months ago. Oh well I guess you gotta be carefull about what you dream of--ie you wanted to be a doctor big guy so now you better step up to the plate. So I took a deep breath and walked into the little girls room.
To say that I was ill prepared for what lay before me that night in that room would be a huge under-statement, indeed. The patient was a 12 year old kid who lost her very short battle with acute myelogenous leukemia. Her Mom and Dad were on either side of the bed holding each of her hands. They had been there ,they informed me, the last 5 nights praying for a miracle. They had not left her bedside and she had slipped into a coma only a few hours ago. Five minutes ago she had stopped breathing. They had a look of loss that shook me to my core. I did not know how to speak to them. I new I did not have the training for this. Damn those medical schools that had put me here in this situation to just wing it on my own. Damn that nurse that called me and did not wake up the chief resident to come help me with this situation. That was the moment I pledged to never stick a young intern with this job.
I sucked it up and examined the young corpse and prononced her dead and then I did all that I knew to do instinctively and I hugged Mom and Dad and we all cried together. We cried long and hard and they consoled me after I honestly told them that was my 1st time in this situation.
I walked out and went back to my call room and cried more and never slept that night and then and there decided I would NOT be a pediatrician. Be careful doc it is only the beginning.
So... how about the time I was an intern rotating at Beaumont Hospital on Pediatrics at Christmas and I was called by the night nurse at 2 Am Christmas morning to the floor to see a sick 12 year old girl. This story has affected me enough that it needs to be my 1st entry into blogging even though it is not and will never be a heart warming story. It was clearly the 1st heart wrenching moment of my medical career that I still think about to this day.
The experienced nurse that Christmas rather matter-of-factly asked if I would please go into the room of this young girl's room and please pronounce her dead!! Well that sounded like a simple request of a physician of my training and experience. I mean I had completed 4 years of medical school all of 3 months ago. Oh well I guess you gotta be carefull about what you dream of--ie you wanted to be a doctor big guy so now you better step up to the plate. So I took a deep breath and walked into the little girls room.
To say that I was ill prepared for what lay before me that night in that room would be a huge under-statement, indeed. The patient was a 12 year old kid who lost her very short battle with acute myelogenous leukemia. Her Mom and Dad were on either side of the bed holding each of her hands. They had been there ,they informed me, the last 5 nights praying for a miracle. They had not left her bedside and she had slipped into a coma only a few hours ago. Five minutes ago she had stopped breathing. They had a look of loss that shook me to my core. I did not know how to speak to them. I new I did not have the training for this. Damn those medical schools that had put me here in this situation to just wing it on my own. Damn that nurse that called me and did not wake up the chief resident to come help me with this situation. That was the moment I pledged to never stick a young intern with this job.
I sucked it up and examined the young corpse and prononced her dead and then I did all that I knew to do instinctively and I hugged Mom and Dad and we all cried together. We cried long and hard and they consoled me after I honestly told them that was my 1st time in this situation.
I walked out and went back to my call room and cried more and never slept that night and then and there decided I would NOT be a pediatrician. Be careful doc it is only the beginning.
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