If you're reading this column, it's Thursday. The Duke-Carolina game happened last night.
Hopefully, the nameplate on the front of this issue of The Chronicle isn't printed in Carolina blue. Hopefully, the headline under that nameplate, in 1,017-point font, is "JUST ZOO GOOD," and the story is all about Brian Zoubek's 39 points and 27 rebounds. Hopefully, you're not sitting on a West Campus bench as you read this column.
But regardless of whether Duke or Carolina wins, I'll be in the hospital at 6:30 a.m. this morning, asking my AIDS patient how he feels.
The funny thing about working in a hospital is that no matter what else is happening in the world, the hospital is open. And when the hospital is open, someone has to be working.
When Barack Obama was inaugurated, I was checking up on my pneumonia patient. I had been running around all morning taking care of things, and I hadn't checked the time. As I was walking out of the room, I heard the announcer on my patient's TV say something like, "And now, Chief Justice of the United States, John G. Roberts..."
I walked back into the room and watched Obama take the oath of office, then walked back out again. Back to work. I recorded the day of coverage on my DVR, and promised myself I'd watch it later. Three weeks later, I still haven't seen all of Obama's speech.
(Yes, I've had time. But somehow the moment loses something when it's not live. I'm not sure why; it's not like there was a ton of suspense or anything.)
Saturday morning when Duke played basketball against Georgetown, I would've preferred to be in Cameron Indoor Stadium. Instead, I was working; I checked the score on ESPN.com every half hour.
Wednesday night when Duke played Wake Forest, I would've loved to watch the game with some friends. But again, I was working. For a while, it seemed like my every four nights call schedule perfectly coincided with Duke Basketball's every four nights game schedule.
The list goes on-grad student basketball campout, Art Monk and Darrell Green's Pro Football Hall of Fame induction, football games, club meetings, barbecues with friends-it seems like I'm in the hospital for every one of them.
Of course, it's not like it's going to get better in the near future. The residents that I work with are in the hospital more than I am, and they're actually responsible for patients' lives while they're there. People get sick 24 hours a day, 365 days a year; they don't care what's on television.
Don't get me wrong; I really like what I do. When I'm working, time moves quickly, and I don't even remember to miss the things I'm missing. And while Duke Basketball is obviously of tremendous importance to me, it pales in comparison to things of real significance. (Sorry, K-ville tenters-you would've figured that out eventually.)
But I wonder what it'll feel like when my first kid takes his first steps-and I'm at the hospital. Or when she says "Da-da" for the first time-and I'm at the hospital.
There's clearly a balance that needs to be struck. If I'm not at the hospital-now and when I'm a resident-I'm not learning to be a better doctor. But if I'm always at the hospital, everything else in my life starts to recede into the distance. Now it's college basketball and the Obama inauguration, maybe tomorrow it'll actually be something important.
I don't know where the line should be drawn; I haven't been doing this for long enough. But I do know that I'll be watching the Carolina game, on TV, with my friends, maybe even drinking a frat soda or two.
If only because I'm not on call until Friday.
Alex Fanaroff, Trinity '07, is a second-year medical student. His column runs every other Thursday.
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