You know you're a doctor when...

1. You wake up at 6am on a weekend although you don't have work.
2. A sound of a van reversing with a beep makes you look for a phone number.
3. You feel there is something wrong if you don't have an exam coming up.
4. Can’t relax
5. Can wiz through a 300 page book in a day
6. Are sexually charged for no reason you can pinpoint!!
7. Watch scrubs and laugh at yourself.
8. Use the phrase "I am a doctor" to get away with something.
9. You are always tiered.
10. When you keep on asking for stuff that doesn't get done.
11. When you write more than a thousand words a day.
12. When you have no privacy.
13. When you look at a naked person on the beach and the first thing you notice is their appendectomy scar.
14. If you thought you have a disease you are studying about.
15. if you feel like your over worked and under paid.
16. If people call you doctor.
17. You find yourself always carrying a pen even if you're on a night out.
18. When you forget to have a haircut.
19. cannula please!!!!
20. Are expected to be in two places at the same time.
21. Are expected to know everything.
22. Are called in the middle of the night to sign a piece of paper.
23. Are dragged to the end of the world to talk to someone.
24. Are expected to smile everyday.
25. Don't understand what people mean when they talk about the "hospital smell".
26. When you can see someone's guts and think about food.
27. When you are not disgusted by the previous sentence.
28. If you can't remember what you ate they day before! but still manage to remember the blood results of every single patient you have.
29. You are always thinking about the next job.
30. Are reading this sentence!!!
31. You think green is a cool color to wear!!
32. You can sleep ( on command) on any surface, at any hour of the day!!
33. Can't spell.
34.when you find yourself dragged into a competition like a fly to a glowing light.
35.you are as mature about losing as a baby! although you hide it really well!!
36. are still reading this!! goddamn!!
37. you know how to make a very drunk person wake up in two moves or less.
38. have no sense of time, place, or matter!
39. are anal!
40. you always have something to complain about!!!

Coming out of my closet...

My Retrosexuality is defined by the following Retrosexual code:

A Retrosexual, no matter what the women insists, PAYS FOR THE GODDAMN DATE.

A Retrosexual opens doors for a lady. Even for the ones that fit that term only because they are female.

A Retrosexual DEALS with shit. Be it a flat tire, break-in into your home, or a natural disaster, you FUCKING DEAL WITH IT.

A Retrosexual not only eats red meat, he often kills it himself.

A Retrosexual doesn't worry about living to be 90. It's not how long you live, but how well. If you're 90 years old and still smoking cigars and drinking, I salute you.

A Retrosexual does not use more hair or skin products than a woman. Women have several supermarket aisles of stuff. Retrosexuals need an endcap (possibly 2 endcaps if you include shaving goods.)

A Retrosexual does not dress in clothes from Hot Topic when he's 30 years old

A Retrosexual should know how to properly kill stuff (or people) if need be. This falls under the "dealing with shit" portion of The Code.

A Retrosexual watches no TV show with "Queer" in the title.

A Retrosexual does not let neighbors fuck up rooms in his house on national TV.

A Retrosexual should not give up excessive amounts of manliness for poontang. Some is inevitable, but major re-invention of yourself will only lead to you becoming a froo-froo little puss, and in the long run, she ain't worth it.

A Retrosexual is allowed to seek professional help for major mental stress such as drug/alcohol addiction, death of your entire family in a freak woodchipper accident, favorite sports team being moved to a different city etc. You are NOT allowed to see a shrink because Daddy didn't pay you enough attention. Daddy was busy DEALING WITH SHIT. When you fucked up, he DEALT with you. Cowboy up, pussy.

A Retrosexual will have at least one outfit in his wardrobe designed to conceal himself from prey.

A Retrosexual knows how to tie a fucking Windsor knot when wearing a tie.

A Retrosexual does not strip naked, get into a sweat lodge, and bang on drums to bond with other guys. That shit is gay. However dressing in kilts, banging on drums around a campfire, and drinking heavily is just fine.

A Retrosexual should have at least one good wound he can brag about getting.

A Retrosexual knows how to use a basic set of tools. If you can't hammer a damn nail, or drill a straight hole, practice in secret until you can or be rightfully ridiculed for the wuss you be.

A Retrosexual's asshole is an exit ramp on the road of life. Ladies, contrary to what Cosmo says, spontaneously sticking a finger back there is a good way to be launched off the bed (or if Hooters hot wings have been recently consumed, lose a finger). Make you a deal, we won't mess with yours unless you want us to, and you won't mess with ours period.

A Retrosexual will buy feminine hygiene products if he has to, but only under protest. This falls under unpleasant things you have to fucking DEAL with. Get some Hagen-Daas while your at it.

A Retrosexual gives a lady his seat on the bus/subway/etc.

A Retrosexual does not order an apple martini at the bar. A Martini has fucking gin and vermouth in it dammit. And maybe an olive. In fact, why not just get a beer and a shot of scotch??

A Retrosexual doesn't get squeamish about having to DEAL with a pest animal, even if he has to kill it.

A Retrosexual does NOT use unisex perfume. The brand of after shave his dad used is good enough for him.

Retrosexuals build and fix stuff. If you can't change a light switch, install a ceiling fan, fix a broken toilet or build a tree house, learn how.

A Retrosexual teaches his children how to deal with bullies in a way that doesn't involve "examining the other child's motivation for aggressiveness".

A Retrosexual does not wear designer clothing (unless it is a really nice suit to impress a potential mate).

A Retrosexual knows what sex is and doesn't need a Democrat to define it for him.

A Retrosexual meets the young men his daughter she dates at the door and lets them know that Dad is the barrier method that will prevent the young man from attempting to get into his daughter's pants.

A Retrosexual man owns an adequate variety of tools to accomplish whatever his next task might be. He has command over all he owns and can readily describe his next likely tool purchase. A rolling toolbox of at least his own height is a manly minimum.

A Retrosexual man owns at least 10 saws, of which a minimum of three of them are capable of immediate and permanent bodily harm. He is comfortable with chainsaws and can readily disassemble, clean, tune and reassemble them in an efficient manner.

A Retrosexual man owns at least 6 hammers and can clearly define the weight and purposes of each. He understands clearly the phrase “use the right tool for the job”.

A Retrosexual man is not to be reckoned with lightly. He possesses the ability to deal with it and if you happen to be “it” then you should watch your tone or be dealt with accordingly.

A Retrosexual man does not take advantage of lesser individuals simply because he can, but should he witness another attempting the same he’ll have little mercy on said bully.

A Retrosexual man has complete disgust for the entirety of our liberal media who’s weak minded ploy to “protect” all of the world’s minorities leaves them no one they are allowed to castigate as a group except the white males of the world. Screw the media and all of the fay actors getting rich portraying weak, shallow, dimwitted and effeminate roles that ruin our children’s standards of what real Americans should be.

A Retrosexual man doesn’t care if you agree with him or not. His opinion his not changed to suit the ears of the local audience.

A Retrosexual man does not care to be bothered with the annoying nuances of being politically correct. Fuck them if they don’t like what I’m saying.

A Retrosexual man is not ashamed of his body nor of the sounds and smells the might emanate from it. He doesn’t mind cleaning up or dressing nice as the occasion may warrant but also understands the therapeutic value in a well rendered belch. In public or not.

A Retrosexual man not only knows about guns and ammunition but also is a skilled marksman. Do not take him lightly, dying slowly is a lot more painful and he knows it.

A Retrosexual man understands the vapid emasculating power of the city and spends significant effort to remove himself to the fresh air of the hills as frequently as possible.

A Retrosexual man can master any vehicle that he happens across, be it on land, snow, water or air, 2 wheels, 3 wheels, 4 wheels, 18 wheels, or no wheels.

A Retrosexual man does not add fancy chrome where it is not needed for essential metal protection. His vehicles are purpose driven and rarely show signs of “dressing up”. If he drives a 4WD truck or jeep then it is dirty on a routine basis. It also shows scars from being used for its built purpose. And he does not care about these scars except as a show of pride that the vehicle has earned its stripes.

A Retrosexual man does not mind being alone. The company of others is pleasant but not required. He has no use for meaningless banter for the simple sake of conversation. Take your idle prattle elsewhere.

A Retrosexual man can start a fire with or without any assistance from matches, lighters or fuel. And he can do so with a minimum of effort using a wide variety of locally available resources.

A Retrosexual man can tie knots. Steadfast knots. Different ones as required to suit his purpose. He also knows about the different properties of ropes and which are best suited for different applications.

A Retrosexual man can use a knife. Any knife. And his knives are always sharp. His preferred pocket knife is the Swiss army knife but not the fancy ass version that contains 47 blades, a magnifying glass and two shades of lip gloss. One with a main blade, a saw blade, a can opener, a beer opener and a corkscrew will suffice. He can routinely use his knife to create things or to destroy things, all with equal aplomb.

A Retrosexual man can open his beer with a wide variety of tools, including his belt, and do so in less than 10 seconds.

A Retrosexual man understands sports. Not all sports but all essential sports. Who gives a shit about jai alai or women’s badminton or even the esoteric aspects of cricket and don’t get me started on that crap called rhythmic gymnastics. He can explain the strategies of the 2 minute drill, why pitch count should affect pitch location or why fuel stop timing can affect winning. He is at least marginally capable of playing virtually any sport or game that involves the use of a ball.

A Retrosexual man doesn’t mind getting dirty. A little dirt never hurt anyone. Only girls and whiny metrosexuals are paranoid about dirt. Antibacterial soap is highly overrated and he is not inclined to use it without a compelling reason. Men lived for thousands of years without washing their hands every fifteen minutes.

A Retrosexual man is personally responsible for all aspects of his life and doesn’t seek to blame others for the wrongs and injustices in his life. He deals with them.

A Retrosexual man is in touch with his feelings and he doesn’t feel obliged to share them with some nosy female who wants him as her emotional companion. That’s what her girlfriends are for. Leave him alone and he’ll tell you when it’s OK to interrupt.

A Retrosexual knows that owning a gun is not a sign that your are riddled with fear, or are trying to make up for a small penis. Massage and cunnilingus skills are the way to make up for a small penis, guns are fucking TOOLS and are often essential to DEAL with shit. Plus it's just damnned fun to shoot.

La Multi Ani, copii!

nimic in lume nu-i mai sfant
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Pentru cine isi mai aminteste...

"Stimata si iubita chimista si savanta
Noi iti dorim otita si eczema galopanta"
Nina Cassian

Nopti albe, zile negre...

Emir Kusturica - Pisica alba pisica neagra
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Scrisoare catre generatia noastra

Nascuti la inceputul anilor 70-80, vedem acum in anul 2006 cum casa parintilor nostri este de 50 de ori mai scumpa decat atunci cand au cumparat-o si realizam ca noi o sa platim pentru casele noastre in jur de 50 de ani. Nu avem amintiri despre primii pasi pe luna, nici despre razboaie sangeroase, dar avem cultura generala, pentru ca asta insemna ceva odata.
Suntem ultima generatie care a jucat “Ascunselea”, “Castel”, “Ratele si vanatorii”, “Tara, tara! Vrem ostasi”, “Prinsea”, “Sticluta cu otrava”,”Pac Pac”, “Hotii si vardistii”, ultimii care au strigat “Un doi trei la perete stai”, ultimii care au folosit telefoanele cu fise, dar primii care am facut petreceri video (inchiriam un video si stateam sa ne uitam la filme 2 zile inchisi in casa) primii care am vazut desene animate color, primii care am renuntat la casete audio si le-am inlocuit cu cd-uri.
Noi am purtat jeansi elastici, pantaloni evazati, geci de blugi de la turci, iar cine avea firme gen Lee sau Puma era deja lider de gasca.
Noi nu am dat examene de Capacitate, nu am dat teste grile la admitere.
Noi am fost ultimii “Soimi ai Patriei” si ultimii “Pioneri”.
La gradinita am invatat poezii in romaneste, nu in engleza… Si am cantat MULTI ANI TRAIASCA nu HAPPY BIRTHDAY la aniversari. Am sorbit din ochi Sclava Isaura, Beverly Hills , Melrose Place , Twin Peaks, Dallas .. si cine zice ca nu s-a uitat ori minte ori nu avea inca televizor.
Reclamele de pe posturile straine ne innebuneau, si abia asteptam sa vina si la noi inghetata Magnum, sau pustile alea absolut superbe de apa.
Intre timp, ne consolam cu Tango cu vanilie si ciocolata si clasicele bidoane umplute cu apa de la robinet, care turnate in cap ne provocau pneumonii.
Si uite un motiv bun sa nu mergem la scoala.
Noi am ascultat si Metallica, si Ace of Base, si DJ Bobo, si Michael Jackson , si Backstreet Boys , si Take That, si inca nu auzisem de manele, singurele melodii de joc fiind horele la chefuri, la care nimeni nu stia pasii, dar toti dansam! Dar spre deosebire de copiii din ziua de azi, am auzit atat de Abba, si de Queen, cat si de noile nume gen 50 Cent si Britney Spears. Am citit “Licurici”, “Pif” Ciresarii, si am baut Cico si Zmeurata si ni s-a parut ceva extraordinar cand au aparut primele sucuri “de la TEC” fara sa ne fie teama ca “au prea multe E-uri”, iar la scoala beam toata clasa dintr-o sticla de suc fara teama de virusi.
Noi am baut prima Coca-Cola la sticla si am descoperit internetul.
Noi nu ne dadeam bip-uri, ne fluieram sa iesim afara, noi nu aveam dolby surround system, taceam toti ca sa auzim actiunea filmului, nu aveam Nintendo sau Playstation ci jocuri tetris de care ne plictiseam la o luna dupa ce le cumparam si le uitam pe dulap, pline de praf. Abia asteptam la chefuri sa jucam “Fantanita”, sau “Flori, fete sau baieti”, sau “Adevar sau Provocare”, sau orice ne dadea un pretext sa “pupam pe gura” pe cine “iubeam”.
Noi suntem cei care inca au mai “cerut prietenia”, care inca roseam la cuvantul “sex”, care dadeam cu banul care sa intre in farmacie sa cumpere prezervative, pe care apoi sa le umplem cu apa si sa le aruncam in capul colegilor, care am completat mii de oracole, sperand ca persoana iubita va citi acolo unde scrie “De cine iti place?” ca ne place de el/ea.
Este uimitor ca inca mai suntem in viata, pentru ca noi am mers cu bicicleta fara casca, genunchiere si cotiere, nu am avut scaune speciale in masini, nu am aruncat la gunoi bomboanele care ne cadeau din greseala pe jos, nu am avut pastile cu capac special sa nu fie desfacute de copii, nu ne-am spalat pe maini dupa ce ne-am jucat cu toti cainii si toate pisicile din cartier,nu am tinut cont de cate lipide si glucide mancam, parintii nostri nu au “child proof the house”, ne-au trimis sa cumparam bere si vin de la
alimentara, si cate un pachet de tigari de la tutungerie.
Noi am auzit cum s-a tras la Revolutie, noi am fost martorii a trei
schimbari de bancnote si monede, noi am ras la bancuri cu Bula, noi am fost primii care au auzit-o pe Andreea Esca la Pro TV, noi suntem cei care mai tinem minte emisiunea “Feriti-va de magarus”.
Suntem o generatie de invingatori, de visatori, de “first-timers”…
Daca citesti si ai cazut macar un pic pe ganduri, esti de-al nostru.

Unui mare ROMAN...

10/01/08

You know you're Romanian when...

You grew up on liver sandwiches.... and thought that was normal.

You make your own noodles.

Everything you eat is savored in garlic and onions.

You try and reuse gift wrappers, gift boxes, and of course aluminum foil.

You are standing next to the two largest suitcases at the airport.

You arrive one or two hours late to a party - and think its normal.

All your children have nick names, which sound nowhere close to their real names.

You talk for an hour at the front door when leaving someone's house.

You can fit 10 people into a Dacia.

Your parents never throw anything away and if you by some chance manage to get something to make it to the garbage can... it mysteriously appears back where it was again.

You have lace curtains.

You have lace tablecloths.

You have rugs covering every inch of your house.

You have or had rugs on your walls.

Your mom tells you you're too skinny even though your 30 pounds overweight.

You ever heard of ciorba de burta'.

You have curtains hanging across every doorway.

You know someone that married his girlfriend of 2 months.

Your mom is a doctor and force feeds you medicine for anything ranging from a headache, stomach ache to a stubbed toe.

Your house is full of Romanian medicine that is probably illegal here.

You and your friends have ever been kicked out of a restaurant or recreational park for being too loud or rowdy.

Your mom recycles plastic cups and paper plates, and sandwich bags by washing them.

You don't know how to use a dishwasher.

You have a vinyl tablecloth on your kitchen table.

Your dad ever butchered a pig or lamb.

You keep leftover food in your fridge in as many numbers of bowls as possible.

Your kitchen shelf is full of jam jars, varieties of bowls and plastic utensils (Got free with some household items).

Your mom ever chased you with a rolling pin or a broom telling you to stop so that she could hit you.

Your dad ever told you to smack yourself over the mouth for being disrespectful.

Your mom washes your clothing at 40.

Asking if you can get a discount at a discount store on clearance items is normal and not embarrassing for your parents.

You don't use measuring cups when cooking.

You feel like you've gotten a good deal if you didn't pay tax.

You can only travel if there are 5 persons at least to see you off or receive you whether you are traveling by bus, train or plane.

You only make long distance calls after 11 p.m.

If you don't live at home, when your parents call, they ask if you've eaten, even if it's midnight.

When your parents meet strangers and talk for a few minutes, you discover you're talking to a distant cousin.

Your parents don't realize phone connections to foreign countries have improved in the last two decades, and still scream at the top of their lungs when making foreign calls.

It's "normal" if your wedding has 600 people.

You don't know half the people at your wedding because your parents invited them.

You have mastered the art of bargaining in grocery shopping.

You walk out of the grocery store with no less then two packed shopping carts weekly.

Your parents brew their own wine and ţuică

Despite being in Canada, your parents answer the phone saying "allo?"

Your parents love to shop at "Weinners"

You say "La Mulţi Ani" for every holiday.

You sat down to watch Borat and realized it was actually filmed in a ghetto Romanian village and were too embarrassed to tell your friends it wasn't really Kazakhstan

your parents return 98% of their purchases (and most of the time the stuff is definitely used)

You get in a fight with your parents and they threaten to kick you out numerous times but they never really do

09/12/07

Imi place viata mea de moment...clipa asta; nu mi se intampla adesea sa ma simt multumit cu mine insumi si nu stiu de ce tocmai azi ma simt asa. Poate fara nici un motiv anume, sau poate pluteste ceva in aer.
Nu stiu.

Partir c'est mourir un peu

03/12/07

Din pacate nu am reusit de ceva vreme sa mai scriu. Insa, un semnal ce l-am primit astazi m-a facut sa-mi reconsider atitudinea fata de blog si sa-l iau mai in serios. Nu mai promit ca o sa scriu, pur si simplu cand o sa am ocazia o sa o fac.
Am observat cu ceva regret ca harta care-mi arata cate "hit-uri" a avut blogul de la lansare a fost arhivata...asa ca trebuie sa ma laud singur: peste 400!!! (nu pare mult, asta fiindca nici nu este, insa, pentru mine e un motiv de mandrie...chiar daca unii au nimerit din greseala).
Daca se mai intampla insa careva sa se rataceasca p-aici si sa citeasca aceste randuri si, mai ales daca are vreo idee sau ceva de spus, il rog sa o faca (just add a comment please!)

06/10/07

O garda surprinzator de linistita (cel putin pana acum)...poate sa fie si din cauza ca Aglia a jucat azi cu Australia (cupa modiala la rugby). Insa, avand in vedere ca a si castigat, s-ar putea sa apara si bolnaviorii asa, mai pe inserate...
Pana atunci, insa, cate ceva despre ultimile evenimente...poate ca oi fi si eu de vina, insa saptamana trecuta mi s-a parut extrem de stersanta...devin foarte irascibil cand nu reusim sa terminam treaba pana la 5(mai ales avand in vedere ca week-end-ul asta si urmatorul voi fi de garda....adica farapauza pana la sfrasitul lui octombrie...). Inteleg ca bolnaviorii nu pot fi progamati conform orarului, insa pierderea inutila de vreme ma scoate din sarite.
Ieri, vineri, am avut prima mea prezentare de caz (impreuna cu colega). Din pacate am fost ingrozitor de stresat si nu stiu daca felicitarile de dupa ale colegilor nu cumva au avut mai degraba un rol incurajator. Oricum, cazul in sine a fostul unul destul de interesant, desi nici pana acum (dupa mai bine de 3 saptamani de investigatii) nu am ajuns la un diagnostic.

Bleeping etiquette

1. Bleeping is not a spinal reflex. Please take a few seconds to breath, think and organise your thoughts, and stop flapping about. Half the time you may realise you didn't even need to pick up the phone

2. Mention what ward you are on. I don't have the whole hospital directory of numbers memorised.

3. If you bleep someone, please wait by the phone. How can there be no-one picking up the phone at your end when I ring back?!

4. Have the notes, obs chart and drug chart in front of you. Chances are I need to know what the obs were without waiting for you to run over to the bed and look, then run back over to the trolley to get the notes when I ask the next question.

5. Please mention the name, age, and working diagnosis of the patient. The following is not acceptable: "Hello doctor, please see patient in 4, 6, she has chest pain".

6. All patients with chest pain need an ECG. Don't bleep me until one is being done or there in front of you.

7. If I'm in theatre (surgery), leave a clear message. The following is not acceptable: "Can you come to the ward afterwards, there are a few things to do".

8. Once in a while I will not respond to my bleep. This is because I am jumping on top of someone's chest trying to save their life. I am NOT 'on break'. Doctors don't have these.

9. Please check with the other nurses that you aren't asking the same question. Being bleeped by the same ward from two phones and two nurses for same patient is distinctly un-fun.

10. You spend twenty times as much time with each patient than we do. We appreciate your opinion and pertinent information. The following is not acceptable: "Well you're the doctor, you should know". Well actually I'm on call and have never met this patient who has spent 5 weeks with you.

11. Please be cheery on the phone and perhaps even flirt a little. I've just spent 12 hours running around the hospital doing mundane tasks, talking to angry relatives, putting my finger up bums, taking blood and ordering xrays. You will get your way far easier by making me smile.

12. When I answer the bleep please don't say 'Oops, sorry I had a question but not anymore". (See also point 1).

13. Please don't ask me to see virtually every patient on your ward. That's called a ward round.

14. If you do canulas on the ward regularly you will be my favourite nurse and I will do anything you say.

15. If I answer my bleep and the line is engaged because you are bleeping me from that phone again, I may well explode.

16. If a patient has died, he/she no longer cares how long it takes me to get to the ward. That's a medical fact. Chances are I can do a few other jobs on my way there. If you bleep me again for this patient it better be because they have miraculously come back to life.

17. The 'MEWS / EWS / EWSS / PARS' score is a trigger for you to call me and is useless after that. I don't give a crap what the score is. Tell me WHY the patient has scored it (e.g. respiratory rate? BP? heart rate?).

18. Please don't start a sentence "Just to let you know..." or "Just so you know..." I hear this 50 times per shift.

19. Please don't make the person who picks up the phone have find to you from the other end of the ward. (See also point 3)

20. Don't have someone else (e.g. a student) bleep for you. It's cruel to them, and they are not your secretary. (see also points 4, 5 and 19)

21. Dosing a patient's warfarin (whom you have never met and don't know their history) at 4am is horrible, tedious, legally dubious and just plain bad for the patient. Please slap the day team round their faces when they arrive the next morning and don't let it happen again.

22. Sit down! You may be surprised with how much this helps points 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 11, and 19

23a. If you happen to have a spare moment, eavesdrop when a doctor bleeps another doctor. The majority of the time you will see how it should be done.

23b. Sometimes point 23a doesn't work because the doctor is a week old and still learning the 'etiquette'. He/she will learn very quickly as their senior on the other end shouts them down!

Concediu sau vacanta?

De cand am inceput sa lucrez ( 15 Ian 2007), asta e prima saptamana cand nu voi merge la spital in fiecare zi; ezit insa sa-i zic concediu, deoarece inca mai am sentimentul "studentesc" al vacantei...din pacate, durata e de "concediu" (doar o saptamana)...
Oricum, sper sa fie macar 50% din cat imi doresc sa fie de reusit.
Asadar, intr-o saptamana, sper sa pot reveni cu detalii despre cum si ce a fost.

"Docomente" II

Asadar, pasul urmator ar fi sa te inscrii in Colegiul Medicilor pentru a putea obtine Certificatul de Coformitate Europeana (sau, "Certificate of Good Standing").
Ministerul Sanatatii e locul unde sperantele multora isi gasesc sfarsitul datorita nesimtirii si lentoarei iesite din comun a angajatilor de acolo...tot ceea ce fac acei oameni e parca sa-ti puna bete in roate...din pacate, ei sunt cei ce elibereaza o fitzuica prin care se dovedeste ca diploma de medic din Romania este in conformitate cu nu-stiu-ce norme europene (pentru balaria asta se poate astepta pana la 2 luni).
De asemenea, taote actele romanesti (diploma de medic, alte atestate sau adeverinte, trebuie traduse si legalizate).
Cam asta ar fi in mare...

12 Septembrie 1981

Azi, acum 26 de ani, m-am nascut eu, in maternitatea Spitalului Municipal Tulcea.
Fix 26 de ani mai tarziu sunt de garda la Queen's Hospital, Burton-on-Trent, Staffordshire.
Intortocheate sunt caile Domnului...

UK

Din pacate nu am mai avut ocazia sa postez nimic de ceva vreme...o sa incerc sa ma revansez...
Asadar, de vreo luna, am dat ciorba de burta romaneasca pe fish and chips made in UK (nu-s la fel de buni, da' merg cu bere...). Mai precis, am avut posibilitatea sa-mi incep cariera de medic in Regatul Unit al Marii Britanii si Irlandei de Nord..
Acum, drumul pana aici e destul de complex si cunoaste mai multe aspecte; voi incerca sa pun aici, "for further notice" cam care ar fi pasii si "docomentele" de care ai nevoie. In primul rand, ai nevoie de o oferta de munca care se obtine fie aplicand in noiembrie (prin web-site-ul MTAS-ului...cel putin asa a fost in 2006; nu stiu cum va fi in continuare, deoarece aplicatiile de anul trecut au cam fost facute varza din varii motive) cu toti studentii britanici de an terminal, sau, incepand cu februarie-martie, aplici direct pentru un loc anume (de foundation house officer one-FY1)-pentru asta trebuie sa aplici la job-urile publicate in BMJ Careers (a se vedea site-ul cu acelas nume). Daca esti selectat, te cheama la interviu (unde e musai sa te duci de altfel); daca treci de interviu, iti ofera job-ul.
Bun. Daca iti ofera job-ul, ai dreptul sa-l accepti sau sa-l refuzi (asta daca ai altceva mai bun de ales); daca il accepti, e bine sa-l si onorezi (nu sunt apreciate comportamentele de tip "razgandit in ultimul moment ca s-a ivit ceva mai bun").
Acum incepe alergatul dupa "docomente"...mai intai, inainte sa te apuci sa aplici ar fi bine sa ai IELTS-ul dat (si promovat; nu mai putin de 7 overall band score); se poate sustine la Brittish Council in fiecare luna (in Bucuresti; informatii complete se obtin de pe site-ul British Council).
Deoarece Romania e membra UE de la 01 Ian. 2007, absolventilor de medicina din Romania nu le mai este cerut sa sustina PLAB-ul (examen de echivalare a diplomei de medic obtinuta in tara.........o idee proasta, zic eu...se va vedea de ce...).
Continuarea cat de curand.

Putina muzica

Mi-a placut la un moment dat

Azi

Mergeam pe strada azi pe la pranz cu un coleg; la o trecere mica de pietoni (pe undeva pe langa spitalul Tunari) nu am fost atent la culoarea semaforului nici unul din noi si am incercat sa trecem strada. Era rosu iar o masina venea in viteza; in clipa aceea o femeie de langa noi ne-a strigat, ca din senin "Masina!!".
Eu zic ca ne-a salvat viata.
Nu am avut pana acum sentimentul iminentei mortii ca pana in dupa-amaiaza asta, cand am vazut-o trecand pe lanaga mine cu vreo 80 km/h. Sau poate nu am constientizat-o pana azi.
Poate ca a insemnat ceva; sau poate ca nu. Nu stiu, dar m-a facut curios si dornic sa vad ce ma astepta dupa colt! Sper ca nu o alta masina...

Primul si singurul motiv de mandrie nationala pe care l-am avut de ceva vreme incoace

...ceea ce imi dovedeste ca si romanii pot reusi in viata

Raport de tura

Asadar, profitand de mini-vacanta cauzata de plecarea mai-marilor nostri medici la un congres de profil pe undeva prin Italia, am iesit pe munte. Iar in Bucegi. Am urcat pana la cabana Omu pe Valea Cerbului (unde am urcat timp de cca 1 ora fara sa mai dau de marcaj; sper sa fi fost din cauza zapezii, si nu doar a mea...).
La cabana Omu, nici urma de cabanier/a sau de oricine alticneva! Doar un semn pe usa care indemna drumetii sa nu sparga usa! La statia meteo, de asemenea nimeni!!
Asa ca am pornit spre Babele unde am avut surpriza neplacuta de a fi pe punctul de a fi aruncat pe drum, pe motiv ca nu ar avea caldura peste noapte!!!! Apoi, dupa ceva discutii aprofundate pe tema asta, aflai ca adevaratul motiv ar fi lipsa curateniei in camere!! (Alta "barba"...). Pana la urma si-au facut mila de mine si mi-au facut oneoarea sa le platesc un loc peste noapte...
Azi am urmat traseul pana la Cota 2000 apoi am coborat pana in Sinaia pe la 1400..Oribil drum!!!Plin de parf, gunoaie si defrisat cat se poate!!!
Una peste alta, sper sa avansez si catre alti munti...

Lucruri pe care nu-ti doresti sa le auzi în sala de opertie ca pacient

01. Se fac o multime de bani din transplanturile de rinichi, si oricum tipul asta are doi.
02. Mai bine nu arunca bucata asta, s-ar putea sa ne trebuiasca la autopsie.
03. Cheama femeia de servici sa curete masa de operatie...
04. Accepta aceasta opera, acest sacrificiu! O tu stapân al întunericului.
05. Cutu-cutu! vino înapoi cu bucata aia! Tu catelus rau, rau!
06. Asteapta o secunda! Daca asta nu-i splina atunci ce e?
07. Tine-ma de mâna!... Ce chestie urâta!...Beeeahh...mi se face rau!...
08. Doamne iar se ia curentul!
09. Acum scoatem creierul subiectului si îl punem în corpul unei maimute.
10. Nu-ti fa griji cred ca e destul de ascutit.
11. Adresându-se unei asistente: Ce vrei sa zici ca divortezi?!
12. Uauuu ai vazut cât sânge curge din asta!
13. La dracu! Pagina 47 din compendiul asta lipseste!
14. O suprafata sterila! Podeaua e curata nu?
15. Pacientul asta are deja doi copii, nu-i asa?

one of our greatest

medic rezistent

Din pacate nu am mai gasit timpul sa-mi mai vars amarul on-line, insa s-au adunat cateva evenimente pe care nu as vrea sa le uit; de aceea jur in fata marii adunari nationale sa revin la bunele obiceiuri de dinainte de fatidicul an 2007!
O sa scriu balarii din nou!!!

Revin in forta

Your Birthdate: September 12

You're a dynamic, charismatic person who's possibly headed for fame. You tend to charm strangers easily. And you usually can get what you want from them. Verbally talented, you tend to persuade people with your speaking and writing. You are affectionate and loving, but it's hard for you to commit to any one relationship. Your strength: Your charm Your weakness: Your extreme manipulation tactics Your power color: Indigo Your power symbol: Four leaf clover Your power month: December

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

In asta m-am bagat

ORTOPEDIE SI TRAUMATOLOGIE
6 ANI
CHIRURGIE GENERALA 12 LUNI
CHIRURGIE VASCULARA 3 LUNI
NEUROCHIRURGIE 3 LUNI
CHIRURGIE PLASTICA SI REPARATORIE 3 LUNI
CHIRURGIE TORACICA 3 LUNI
ORTOPEDIE SI TRAUMATOLOGIE 3 ANI
OTROPEDIE SI TRAUMATOLOGIE PEDIATRICA 1 AN

Vin Sarbatorile

"Cand am fost ura am fost mare,
Dar astazi, cu desavarsire,
Sunt mare caci ma simt iubire,
Sunt mare caci ma simt uitare!
..............................................
Stiu: toate sunt o-ndurerare,
Prin viata trecem in nestire,
Dar mangaierea e-n iubire,
De-ar fi restristea cat de mare,
Si inaltarea e-n uitare."
(Alexandru Macedonski - "Rondelul meu")

Cateva precizari

Asa...mi-am ales ca spital platitor "Sf. Pantelimon" dupa criteriul "ce mai ramane si sa nu fie Sf. Ioan" (nu vreau sa zic de ce...mai degraba din motive personale).
Urmatorul pas a fost sa le duc dosarul de angajare, care, in cazul acestui spital, a trebuit sa contina:
- copie certificat de nastere;
- 2 copii carte de identitate;
- repartitia (in original);
- copie adeverinta de licenta (cu promisiunea ferma ca atunci cand imi voi face rost de diploma, sa le duc o copie);
- adeverinta de la medicul de familie ca sunt apt de munca (aici am avut o mica doza de bafta deoarece medicul meu de familie de la mine din "sat" are a doua specialitate in medicina muncii si mi-a dat direct o adeverinta-tip, parafata si stampilata, cum ca-s bun de munca asidua pe bani putini; astfel, m-a scutit de niste bani aruncati pe analize-care, la o adica, mi-ar fi prins bine sa vad si eu ce-i in neregula cu mine la varsta de 25 ani! Lasa, poate cu alta ocazie...)
- toate, varate intr-un dosar incopciat!!! (aici m-a bagat in ceata totala...asa ca i-am dus dosar-plic!!!)
Boooonnn...asa ca ajung la Pantelimon cu toate astea; doamna de la personal s-a dovedit a fi foarte de treaba si cooperanta (poate din cauza ca era vineri sau ca manca ceva bun?!?); mi-a pus in brate un vraf de "docomente" pe care a trebuit sa le completez si semnez, apoi mi-a cerut codul IBAN de la un card (am avut de ales intre BancPost, ING sau BRD) pe care sa-mi livreze spitalul salariul la sfarsitul fiecarei luni si cam asta a fost tot! A mers destul de repede si fara alte evenimente neprevazute, gen "ai uitat asta, asta nu e buna, mai ne trebuie asta"
Ceea ce ma deranjat ieri a fost o alta chestie: as fi vrut sa obtin de la CNPDS o curricula, pe fiecare an de pregatire, pentru specialitatea mea; insa, ieri a fost vineri, iar vineri ei nu lucreaza cu publicul! Chiar daca ar fi lucrat, se pare ca s-au modoficat recent (curriculele) si ca nu le-ar avea/nu le-ar da pe cele noi. Si chiar daca le-ar fi dat, nu as fi luat-o, pentru ca te costa 250.000 ROL!!! Nu inteleg de ce trebuie sa dau banii astia pe o chestie pe care ei sunt obligati sa ni le dea! Dar sa nu uit: traiesc in Romania!
Mdea.....

Sistemul

Prima abrambureala s-a si produs: pe foaia care am primit-o la numirea in rezidentiat se specificau niste pasi pe care trebuie sa-i facem, si anume: intre 11-22 decembrie tre' sa ne prezentam "la nivelul autoritatilor sanitare" din orasul ales....Booooon! Da' de ce?
Apoi, intre 10-12 Ian 2007 se face "repartitia pe stagii de pregatire si alegerea indrumatorului de stagiu"....Booooon.
Acuma, ma duc frumos ieri la CNPDS Bucuresti, pe str Bodesti nr. 1 (banuiesc ca o sa-mi cam devina familiar locul respectiv) ca sa ma lumineze cetatencele de acolo; dau peste o blonda ce ma "lamureste" : intre 11-22 Dec se alege spitalul platitor la care ulterior te duci sa-ti faci dosarul de incadrare; cu dovada de la spital, cum ca esti incadrat in campul muncii (voluntare), vii candva intre 10-12 Ian ("urmeaza a se anunta ulterior pe site") la ei la CNPDS si-ti alegi, functie de nota, spitalul la care vei face stagiul de baza. Booooooon.
Aseara insa aflu bomba: ca de fapt pe 30 NOV tre' sa fim prezenti in Aula de la Farmacie sa ne alegem spitalul platitor!!! Asa ca sun la DSP (nu la CNPDS, da?!) la care tanti de acolo, uimita foarte si plictisita peste masura imi confirma zvonul cum ca pe 30 suntem asteptati in Aula mai sus mentionata...
Acuma, intrebarea se pune, daca zvonul nu-mi ajungea pe la ureche, de unde sa fi stiut? Vacile de la DSP au o scuza: ele au afisat la avizierul din fata DSP-ului (pe str. Avrig, pentru necunoscatori) o fituica cu anuntul asta! Ceva insa nu se leaga: sunt 479 de rezidenti in Bucuresti; multi dintre ei nu-s bastinasi si nici nu au terminat facultatea in Bucuresti! Ei de unde afla chestia asta????!?!

Medic rezident

De departe cel mai dificil examen din viata mea...in primul rand datorita stress-ului cumulat; nu e foarte linistitor sa stii ca de un examen depinde viitorul tau! Desi multi zic ca e doar un examen, nu stau lucrurile chiar asa! Probabil ca cei ce zic asta au si altceva de facut sau nu pun medicina pe primul plan...sau e doar o scuza pentru un eventual esec...
La stress se adauga materia propriu-zisa; care e multa (nu exagerat de multa, insa suficienta incat sa te faca sa-ti prinzi urechile); senzatia care mi-au lasat-o multe capitole e ca nu au fost gandite de autorii lor, ci doar traduse din alte mai multe surse si sudate paragrafele intre ele incat sa incropeasca un capitol; cam jalnic.
M-a surprins totusi examenul propriu-zis. Sincer sa fiu, ma asteptam la intrebari ceva mai grele. Insa, in cazul meu, s-au pierdut cca 20-40 puncte datorita second-look-ului; sa ma explic: cand nu esti sigur pe raspunsul la o intrebare, lasa intodeauna raspunsul pe care l-ai pus initial; foarte probabil, daca revii asupra intrebarii, si vei alege un alt raspuns, posibil sa fie gresit! Asadar, asculta-ti instinctul initial.
Apoi, mai sunt genul de intrebari cu raspunsuri foarte evidente....atat de evidente incat ai senzatia ca tre' sa fie ceva dubios la mijloc! Ei bine, NU e nimic in neregula!!! Pur si simplu astea-s intrebarile alea cu-n coeficient mai scazut de dificultate (care fac diferenta la calcularea punctajului ponderat).
Marea prostie a acestui examen consta in IMBULINARE.....este inadmisibil ca jumatate din timpul de examen sa trebuiasca a fi acordat completarii acelor buline idioate!!!!!! Oricum, care e ideea: bulina aia nu trebuie sa fie perfect colorata, asa cum ni se induce ideea inainte de examen; softul de citire al "gogoloaielor" le citeste in momentul in care sunt colorate in procent de cca 70-75%. Asadar, accentul trebuie pus pe functionalitate, si nu pe estetica bulinelor! De asemenea, daca ai pus un punct in cerculet, nu e musai sa schimbi grila, ca oricum "gogoloiul" nu va fi citit la scanare...Ceea ce e mai rau e ca aceste lucruri NU sunt xplicate cum trebuie inainte de inceperea examenului, si ca nici unul dintre candidati nu vrea sa riste!
Mdea....