As you can tell

from the lack of recent posts, I'm finding family medicine less than inspiring. 72% of the patients have what amounts to the sniffles or a pulled muscle but will not leave until prescribed entirely unnecessary painkillers and/or antibiotics. 3% are undertreated psychiatric patients. A good 21% are lonely or depressed and just come by to have someone to talk to/something to do. The remaining 4% that are actually in need of a doctor are immediately referred away to the emergency room or to a specialist.

By far the most interesting thing that happens at the clinic is that the receptionist's bra always, and I mean always, perfectly matches her shoes. And they're different colors every day. Impressive.


The one part I have enjoyed is the walk from my house to the clinic. It's about an hour walk, the clinic is located on the outskirts of the city almost in the desert, and on the way I pass through the Bedouin market, which is always a neat reminder that I am definitely not in Maryland anymore. Yesterday, I passed a boy grazing his cows in the community park, and this morning two old women rode by me, side-saddle, on mules. The patients sometimes stop by the market on the way to the clinic so we get gifts of herbs or tapestries or, occasionally, a chicken or two.

To make the culture shock as dramatic as humanly possible my first fourth-year elective is smack in the center of New York. I start one 12 hour flight and four days from now. I am beyond excited to be able to speak English with my patients, to use needles with safety caps, and to be back in the ER again.

It's going to be tough though to be back in NY and not be doing theater. I have a constant inner impulse telling me to tear off my gloves, walk out of the hospital, get some new headshots, and start going out to open calls.

Well, someone needs to save the world I guess. Are you ready for me New York?