Interview. Suits/Dresses. Work. Appointments. Jokes.

Interview over.  It was fine.  (We watched a video that told us not to a) prescribe pain meds to drug-seekers b) confuse drug-seekers with people with chronic pain problems c) sleep with our patients d) fail to update our address with the Medical Board.)

I was the only person there not in a suit.  (I /had/ had a dress on in the early morning, but was freezing my toes off, so changed into khakis and a black sweater.)

It occurs to me that my style of dress is more casual than office casual, and it also occurs to me to wonder what sort of impression that makes on people. 

If your doctor comes in dressed in khakis and a sweater rather than a dress, do you even notice?  (I don't wear a white coat over everything unless I'm sure I'm going to get puked or bled on.)

I've never had a sense of style, or a good 'dress sense', so to speak.  I often wear black jeans and a long-sleeved ribbed top or sweater to work. 

I suppose maybe I should stop doing that.

I haven't been talking much about work lately.  Mostly because I'm fairly happy with what I'm doing.  I like Gillette.  Everything there works the way it's *supposed* to.  People pull together to make sure kids get the care they need. 

Plus, it's my favorite group of kids:  CP kids, with or without trachs, usually with G-tubes, mostly with seizure disorders.  Many with chromosomal abnormalities, and almost all with orthopedic problems. 

Love it.  *Love* them.

I took the day off work, because my presence is most needed today from 7:30 AM - 10:30 AM, and it's already 10, and I would have left work by 1:30 at the latest.

The day is already filling with appointments, in the good sense.  Interview at 9:20.  Going to go throw on exercise clothes and walk, shower really quickly and put my casual clothes back on, go for lunch with Mike, then run to North Memorial to get my picture taken for my future employers' website, then home again home again jiggety jig. ETA: And then out again, out again, for dinner with M'ris and T and Mark! See what I mean?

In unrelated news, I find my store of jokes an 8 year old would find funny to be severely depleted, and I am getting tired of the 'cow with no legs/cow with 2 legs/dog with no legs' set of jokes.

If you know any suitable ones, please share. :)

Steps. Bog Unicorn. Beads. Lab Coats.

Steps today:  8800

M'ris and Co entertained us for dinner; that is, as always, nice.

And now I can talk about my bog unicorn a little bit more.  :)  (Thanks, ursulav!) 

I have a bog unicorn lurking in the corner of my desk, looking beignly on while I type this.  It puts me in mind of a story...

In the other corner of my desk lives "Daily Rounds"  and its accompanying earring sets.  Why there?  Because "Drinking with Drowned Sailors" refuses to share space in the jewelry drawer upstairs.

Also, got my big Magpie Box today.  The contents are wondrous, and included a special-order hairthing-with-blowfishes.  Beads and hairthing were my Valentine's present. 

I'm very excited.  One might almost say gloating, in a Gollum-like way:  "Beads, my precious, yesss.  See the shinies?  MINE, precious."

And I notice a lot of people mention doctors wearing lab coats, which I think may be a bit more common in family practice and internal medicine.  (And boy-pediatricians.)

Here are the reasons why I don't wear a lab coat:

1.  The one I have is too big.

2.  Children, especially in the 3-to-6 age range, really *hate* the lab coat.

3.  If I put stuff in the pockets I get scapular strain, and every time I sit down, I get pocket emesis.

4.  If I don't put stuff in the pockets I inevitably get static cling in funny ways.

5.  I can't keep the white lab coat *white* for more than 5 minutes.

6.  It gets in my way when I'm trying to examine a child, which for me is a roll my sleeves up kind of proposition.  (Same reason I don't wear bulky rings, watches, or bracelets.)

7.  I don't like them.

With all that being said, I'm wondering if people feel more confident when a doctor enters the room wearing a white coat?  How about when said doctor is seeing your precious kiddo?  (And I say that in all seriousness:  my kiddo is precious to me.  If yours isn't precious to you, then something is wrong.)