#hisgirlfriday

[thefreakunleashed]

I love this pic 😍 Pamela and Philip Quast in #HisGirlFriday 2012 #melbournetheatrecompany ••• #PamelaRabe #TeamRabe #QueenRabe #QueenOfMyHeart #MyReasonToBreathe #legend #TheFreakUnleashed #mtc

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"The last man who said that to me was Archie Leach" #CaryGrant #HisGirlFriday

[she-be-little-but-fierce]

Nathan Lane, John Goodman, John Slattery, Jefferson Mays, Sherie Renee Scott, and countless others. Not too shabby, Broadway #TheFrontPage #HisGirlFriday #Broadway (at Broadhurst Theatre)

[innoparticularorderblog]

His Girl Friday.

Intern year is a steep learning curve: part of it is spent acquiring the basic skills to work the EMR, hospital protocol, and rotation logistics and the other is spent fighting insecurities. The identity of a newly minted doctor, when one doesn’t feel anywhere close to competent, is a difficult role to fill. I liken it to a child playing dress up.

In October of my intern year, about four months into being a “real doctor,” I found myself on the Hematology/Oncology Service at the Veterans’ Affairs Hospital. I was following a patient that was particularly fascinating to me for several reasons. One being he had stage 4 pancreatic cancer. He was 87 years old. Looking at him, he seemed much younger. He was spry; his mind sharp as a dagger. There was a gastric mass now compressing his esophagus, and requiring him to have a PEG tube for his major source of nourishment. He was willing to try another round of radiation and chemotherapy, and I often wondered how patients younger, with more fortunate situations, were much less hopeful than this man. Despite his age, PEG tube, and a particularly grim prognosis, he was fighting each day. And he was filled with joy, humor, and fully aware of his circumstances, but peaceful about it.

He fascinated me too because of the way he treated me. I saw him every morning and asked him the same questions about his symptoms. It honestly felt like I was playing a role. Even when others would mistake me as a student, nurse, or CNA, he never did. He called me Dr. Lutchi. Despite my feelings of inadequacy, he insisted I was taking great care of him. When I felt like I was the most useless on the team and that my biggest role was making sure that his bowel regimen was up to par, and his nausea was under control with Zofran, he made me feel as if I was just as important as the physician planning his weekly chemotherapy and radiation schedule.

In our conversations, another fascinating fact was revealed: he was a retired financial planner and he was particularly expert in retirement funds. This was fascinating, because as an intern, this was my first “real job” with a paycheck. And being as excited as I was, I had begun storing away like a squirrel preparing for the winter, some tidbits into retirement. I mentioned it to Mr. D.  His response: give him a call when he gets discharged so he could help me with my future financial endeavors. He had written on a napkin his phone number and in his blue eyes reflected a man who had become my friend.

Mr. D did go home. On the day he was discharged, I remember our conversation: he told me that I was his girl Friday. It made me smile. I realized he was building me up. He was instilling in me confidence. He was pushing me to fulfill my role as a woman physician who had earned her degree, and her position. I was the only one who was keeping myself from truly accepting my role. We both left the service at that point in time, “graduating” from the Heme/Onc service together--him as the patient, and me as the physician.

A few days later, I was shuffling through my papers at my work desk, attempting to organize myself during my clinic week. I came across the napkin Mr. D had scrawled his phone number on. A pang of guilt hit me as I realized I had not called him like l promised. Would he even remember me if I did? Would he recall the insignificant intern who had visited him daily and talked to him about 401(k) and IRA accounts? Would he know how much I valued the way he made me feel like a real doctor, despite the little I felt I contributed medically to his care?

I called; the phone rang. My heart fluttered with apprehension. It went to voicemail.  I tried again. Voicemail. I was disappointed, but relieved too. I wanted to see how he was doing. But truthfully, I was more concerned that he would not remember me. Silly, of course, but these are the things an intern worries about.

Not long after, I ran into a co-intern who was currently on the Hematology/Oncology service, and who said he had read my notes on a patient that had returned: Mr. D. I felt compelled to call him but waited a few days before working up the courage to try again. In the mess at my work desk, I still had the napkin. I tried the number. Disconnected. My heart sank. I remember sitting and calling the number two more times, just to make sure. I somehow hoped for a different outcome—that it would go through. Mr. D would be on the other end, advising me on what stocks I should keep my eye on.

As time would have it, I came across my coresident a few days later. I asked him if he had any updates on Mr. D? He was a nervous one: jittery and quick. But at the name, his face quickly transformed, and he paused long enough for me to know something had changed. He shook his head. Mr. D had passed away. I felt the deep pressure that comes with loss. I thought about my attempts to call, his line disconnected. He had already passed away the day I called, but I had not known.

There’s some patients that leave me, only their faces, or a conversation, or a brief encounter. And there’s some that leave an impact far profound. Mr. D was that way; he fascinated me. And still does, to this day. For the way he pushed me to look past my own insecurities, embrace my role, and realize that it’s not just a costume—I am a physician. I am still thankful for his unwavering confirmation of this.

[naneara]

Palavra do dia: Dimple. Covinha. #wordoftheday #dimple #carygrant #rosalindrussell #hisgirlfriday https://www.instagram.com/p/CMPKO7zDkAY/?igshid=145yj95b6gnn4

[pbrstreetgang73]

More from the #dvd stack and be it called #TheFrontPage #HisGirlFriday or in this case #SwitchingChannels I like all three versions of this story I own #122 https://www.instagram.com/p/CLzlymalirM/?igshid=ca8xw1xwkk65

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His Girl Friday (1940)

[carygrantscreenshots]

His Girl Friday (1940)