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    November in My Soul: The Last Time I Committed Suicide
    November in My Soul: The Last Time I Committed Suicide
    November in My Soul: The Last Time I Committed Suicide
    Ebook60 pages51 minutes

    November in My Soul: The Last Time I Committed Suicide

    By A.K. Fielding

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A roman à clef chronicling the nine symptoms of depression through the eyes of an emergency room physician in Seattle.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateApr 9, 2016
    ISBN9781483568126
    November in My Soul: The Last Time I Committed Suicide

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      Book preview

      November in My Soul - A.K. Fielding

      die.

      Chapter 1. Sleep

      The minimum amount of sleep needed is 4 hours. Of course, this is based on studies in rats who were allowed to sleep for less than 4 hours per day. If this were kept up indefinitely, the rat would die before the 3rd week of sleep deprivation. Medical residents are very similar to lab rats. They are young, eager, naive, and dressed in white. And, they frequently suffer from sleep deprivation. Ostensibly, residents are required to pull 48 hour calls to follow the evolution of a disease from admission to discharge. However, every attending knows that we really make our residents work obscene hours because we had to do it. Screw you and welcome to the fraternity.

      I chose Emergency medicine specifically to have a set shift.

      Schmidt. That lawyer is back in room 8.

      Which one? The one from Molly?

      No Schmidt. Not your divorce lawyer. It’s a patient. This is the Emergency Room, remember? It’s not all about you and your problems. See we actually take care of other people here just like the good Lord intended.

      Shit, Carol! Jesus been mean to you this morning?

      It’s 4 in the afternoon and-- no-- Jesus and I are just fine. Now watch your language and get that ‘knee’ off the board.

      I like Carol. She’s been in the ER longer than me and-- as charge nurse-- she knows how to run a tight ship. Her motto is There’s a reason they call this an Emergency Room and not an Emergency Hotel. She’s equally mean to medical student, resident, attending, and patient. The only person she is ever nice to is her Lord and Savior. But even He couldn’t stay in her ER past shift.

      Ok. I’ll push him out as quickly as I can. Room 666, right?

      The chart said Louis Thompson had been seen a few weeks back for a knee injury. Supposedly a successful 51 year old corporate lawyer, he made it known that he was used to getting his way. I had a hard time picturing his 5’ 7, 280 lb frame on skis, but he had apparently fallen on the slopes at a conference in Idaho or Victoria or somewhere middle-aged men got drunk and fell off of mountains. I was surprised Carol had remembered him. The beauty of the ER is that I rarely see the same patient twice. The Pope himself could have come in a few weeks ago and I probably wouldn’t have remembered him. To Carol and I, he should have just been The Knee in 8". In and out like a fast food restaurant. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.

      Mr. Thompson. The nurse tells me you hurt your knee again?

      Are you in charge here? I’ve been waiting in agony. You’re not some sort of student are you? I am not a ‘teaching case’!

      No. Mr. Thompson. I’m Dr. Schmidt. I’m the attending.

      Finally! Do you know how long I had to wait outside! What kind of a place are you people running?!

      Mr. Thompson. Can we talk about the knee?

      Slipped on the stairs. Damn thing hurts like a mother! I have definitely torn something.

      Well, let’s take a look at it and see.

      Testing a knee is like investigating a loose sock drawer. One hand above the knee and one hand below. Pull, push, left, right, twist. Too much give? Any pain? A trained orangutan could do it. That’s why so many high school linebackers become orthopedic surgeons.

      Ow! Idiot! I told you the fucking thing hurt. Give me something for the pain now!

      Of course, Mr. Thompson, but first I’ll need to get some XRays to confirm that nothing is broken.

      I don't dismiss pain. I don't glorify it. Nietzsche was an moron. It doesn't make you stronger or better, but it does pass. There was no sign of ligament damage and

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