I love my job, and I’ve said it over and over in my entries.
There are downsides to it, though.
After a bit of a crazy/busy/rollercoaster-y week, I therefore conclude that life as a Psychiatry resident is not all peaches and cream.
Case in point (or should I say, cases), during the past week:
1. One of my patients decided to go somewhere far far away, and not take his meds because there was nothing wrong with him (and this was after I did major major maneuvers).
2. A mother of one of my patients asked me to revert her son’s medications back to the first generation antipsychotics (which have more side-effects, and are more neurotoxic) because she just simply couldn’t afford to keep her son on the medications because of her meager salary.
3. A borderline patient has been incessantly calling the Call room and outpatient department, threatening not to take her meds and just go home to the province.
4. A coresident’s patient has asked me to call up my patient because he’s convinced that my patient, R., stole his beloved grey and black jersey, and he thinks this is so because his bag looked like it had been dropped hastily (as if someone ruffled through it), and because when he had last seen him, my patient had looked “suspicious” to him.
and lastly,
5. I just don’t feel peppy enough to care very much these past few days. I admit to have shed a few tears in frustration, but right now, i’m kind of spent. To be perfectly honest.
(Which is probably why I’ve decided to hole up here in the department library to sort out my thoughts.)
There have been other good points as well…but right now, I just really want to wallow in this self-realized misery.
Sonia
