Day 1: Swimming Pool Party

I have found a fail safe coping strategy for hospital life. Actually, I will throw modesty aside and tell you it's pretty fabulous.

My high school counselors used to ambush us and force us to learn to deal with stress, with hokey pokey 'happy place' mechanisms. Sitting on a beach, drinking a Pina Colada is not my happy place. In my South Asian family we don't do baking in the sun whilst scantily clad. Personally, when my mind is idle it is most vulnerable to spastic, stressful thinking.

This morning I woke up with 2 goals for my first day of work:

1. Do not throw up.
2. Do not pass out.

The underlying theme is survival and to avoid being labeled 'The pukey intern' on day 1. How did I accomplish this remarkable feat today? The most awesome youtube video I have seen this year. Two months later it still makes me laugh in a squirt milk through your nose kind of way.

No, I would not like to be at that disco swimming pool. Yes, it never fails to make me laugh. Hence, anytime I look like Bambi caught in headlights, frozen in a hospital hallway, rest assured - there is a swimming pool party in my head.

Things to Come - Addendum

At around 11.30 pm it became even hotter than it was in the afternoon. So I decided to try to improve my living conditions.

This time I stared down the radiator and discovered a hidden panel. Aha! What a happy surprise! My prayers have been answered and I had found the magical red button! So I skip-danced around the room for awhile.

Unfortunately, the panel had been painted over. So first I had to pry it open. I wish I had taken that as a hint, clearly some really wise person had painted it over to prevent someone like me from stumbling across the horrors within.

I wish I had never seen what was down there. It was like all of my nightmares in one small space. First of all I think I've now been exposed to asbestos, second of all I'm pretty sure I've discovered the breeding ground for the worst kind of mutant spiders, and third of all I feel certain I am slowly being suffocated by gas.

Sure there was a button down there; and after hopping around and making grossed out noises for awhile, I finally summoned up enough courage to stick my arm in there and turn the knob. Then I waited, thinking there was going to be some horrible spewing of that copper colored murky liquid at the bottom, and my face would become scarred like some Batman villain.

Nothing happened.

It's still damn hot. And now I must go to sleep and find reinforcements in the morning.

Things to Come

Not to brag, but I have a very high tolerance for heat. Sure, you can laugh - what do I know about heat, I grew up in Canada. But no friend, for a few months of the year our igloos do melt and we come out of hibernation.

There is suppose to be central AC in my apartment but I have not witnessed it yet. I have also had too much pride to ask anyone how it might work. I feel like there is some obvious red button around here that I have not been looking at which will turn on the mystical cool air and restore my sanity. Today I had what I will refer to as a 'low point' over the heat situation. Ironic, right?

I tried to avoid calling maintenance and thought I could figure it out, so in my feverish state I fiddled with the AC for 10 minutes turning it up and down to see if it would pick up on what I was asking of it. Then I tried to use a pen to push down the temperature indicator because clearly it doesn't understand THAT I WANT IT TO BE 60 degrees!!! I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT 60 FAHRENHEIT MEANS, BUT IT SOUNDS A LOT BETTER THAN WHAT I'M FEELING NOW!!!

In retrospect, this appears to be where the breakdown began. I subsequently investigated the radiator. I pulled some wires and even got on the floor and looked under it. At this point, I was lying on the ground, pretty much stuck to it with sweat. I'm sure my eyes were blood shot, my hair was on end and generally you could fry a proverbial egg on me.

I crawled back to the couch and called the front desk. The man was very nice. And I tried to sound very normal. His advice was to turn the knob.

I have some four letter words for this moment.

This year I anticipate many metaphorical thermostat failures. Come July 1st I'll be a medical intern. The bottom of the ladder, the scut monkey, the scared, knowledge-less, panicky little intern. And my plan is to be OPTIMISTIC. To be a happy little intern despite the fact that I may never get a full nights sleep again, for the rest of my life. AND as my brother pointed out I am already on the way there, because I am an idealist who thinks she can post 365 days of intern adventures.

I don't know if I am delirious at this point. But it almost feels like it’s a little bit cooler. Or, maybe it’s the venom from the spider bite I got at some point under the radiator.