So, the time has come to discuss my match. In short, I matched at my number one hospital, in Chicago. I'd prefer not to reveal where for a whole host of reasons. I got an email yesterday with a list of things to do as long as my arm. So there goes my Sunday off!! I'm hardly complaining, as I'm quite excited. Though it certainly did not factor anywhere near the top of my list, the fact that I do not have to move is an incredible bonus to the results of the match.
It has been a long, long, long, challenging, and at times frustrating journey. At this point, I'm elated, and content. Not sure what else to say about residency at this point.
On another note, I've started doing yoga again. I did it in order to improve my flexibility--I can barely touch my toes, though that's improving--and to mix up my workout routine. It's really challenging!!! I did it often on the island with an amazing teacher, but the reasons were more mental than physical. I guess that's just as important, because it would allow me to forget about that stupid pharmacology test for an hour, and focus more on not falling down during Warrior 3.
Work is...well work. I'm still not crazy about the job. The first half hour really takes some motivation to psych myself into a long day of answering questions from people...many of whom aren't that swift. (stop being judgmental luckyone).
One member had his daughter call in, asking for a Mandarin interpreter, only to inform me that we are actually needing to speak with his wife. Ok, cool...except OH YEAH, she doesn't speak Mandarin. She actually speaks Cantonese, which the interpreter (that took five minutes to get connected with) does not. Well no worries, I can just get a Cantonese interpreter. But he'd rather not, and would rather just translate (from the interpreter) into Cantonese. So we basically have an episode of both I Love Lucy and The West Wing occurring on my phone.
Later the same day I had a gentlemen, and after a few minutes it was obvious that something was just not right. This guy was not paddling with both oars in the water, the elevator did not go up to the top floor, or he wasn't firing on all cylinders. You decide which metaphor is appropriate. Among other things, he informed me that the numbers listed for his wife and son (his number, the primary's) weren't correct. Ok, no problem. BUT WAIT...he doesn't know there numbers. Well sir, my mind-reading crystal ball isn't working today, so I'll have to leave yours (the primary's) on the account. Later in the call he remembers the number...oh but wait, it gets better, at the end of the call he tells me that he can't remember which son's number he gave me. So the number might be for his OTHER son, who isn't listed on the policy. Well Hell's fire sir, what the flippin' [bleep] am I supposed to do with that?!?! Remember, my mind-reading crystal ball isn't working.
And if one more person asks me what their premium is for a plan that they (supposedly) selected, I may just scream. It blows my mind how someone picks an insurance plan without looking at the price. I myself would look at the price first, because it could offer vaccinations made from the saliva of Christ, and if I couldn't afford it then it's a no-go.