2023

I write this in a gap in the clinic. My patient, Ms. A, a recurrent non-attender, is running late.

The last time she came, Ms. A sat very still while I watched the tremor in her left hand. “Is it Parkinson’s?” she asked, before we had really begun.

Now, I wait for her return, for her test results, for her disease to reveal itself. In neurology it sometimes feels as though I am in apprenticeship to waiting, learning its rhythms from the patients I see.

It’s still dark, and I’ve already gotten everything ready. Backpacks are packed with snacks and books, clothing laid out, shoes located, a quick breakfast prepped. Sometimes I’ve even logged in remotely to review my clinic schedule. As the sun rises, my husband leaves just as the kids wake up. The stage is set, and the day begins.

This week, our resident clinic was decimated. The interns were out on a “personal week”-the week between first and second year of residency.  One of our senior residents was on maternity leave, and the three remaining residents were all taking a “personal day” here and there to a attend a funeral, visit a sick grandmother, etc. My co-preceptor, realizing we would not need two preceptors this week, had taken a few days of vacation. Which left me with two new interns, eager and enthusiastic to learn, and my senior resident on her last day of clinic.