Edited by Roxanne K. Young, Associate Editor.
There were no clues that this was to be a memorable rotation. It was
early in the academic year and my first ward rotation in the dim green halls
of a southern VA hospital. I felt equal but competing surges of anxiety and
anticipation. Armed for combat with a brand new "Washington manual" and blazing
bright lab coat, I listened attentively as my senior resident introduced me
to "our service." It seemed manageable. That is, until Mr W.
Even before I laid eyes on him, I knew Mr W was trouble. With the selfish
insecurity of a new intern, I listened to his problem list. One by one the
problems leapt from my resident's mouth onto my shoulders, dragging down my
spirit and any hope I had for leaving the hospital that century.
Kroop-Martin E. Paths. JAMA. 1998;279(10):734. doi:10.1001/jama.279.10.734