Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Mistakes Were Made (Mistakes Will Be Made)

Yesterday was one of those days that reminds you that humility is not always a graceful, humbling, educational experience. Sometimes it comes in the form of plain old red face embarrassment.

So I finally got to do my first pelvic exam. It was going ok (not great, not horrifically) until (you knew there was an until) the bimanual exam. Now, mind you I got an “Exceeds Expectations” on this part of my OSCE during medical school, so I was thinking, “yah, I got this one down.” Apparently doing a bimanual exam on a plastic model with no legs and no pubic hair is a bit different than doing a bimanual exam on a real live human being.

Without being too graphic, what happened involved some uncertain fingers, a misguided approach (but, thankfully no entry), and a rapid readjustment prompted by the patient’s, “Um. . .are you supposed to use the back door?” My attending looked at me horrified and asked “Did you just do a recto-vaginal exam???” I shook my head (somewhat frantically) and said “No,” in an incredulous voice (as if to say, “what do you think I am, an idiot?” Of course I am an idiot. That’s my job, and that’s all I am going to be for the next few years). This was the beautiful conclusion to a very long day of me being unable to answer basic questions like “what is pregnancy induced hypertension.” I perceived the aftermath to be a totally disappointed attending who thinks I am hopeless.

I left the clinic humiliated, beating up on myself. I had excuses: I’ve been sick, on cold meds, end of the day, first pelvic exam in almost a year, nervous, etc., etc., etc. But, that didn’t make me feel better. I was not a happy girl. And then I realized that I had damn well better laugh at myself for a botched pelvic exam, because if I don’t start lightening up on myself, I’m going to have a complete breakdown when I accidentally cut an artery in surgery or hit a nerve during a procedure. I say when because mistakes will be made (for good reasons and for no reasons) – it’s a matter of time, not a matter of if .

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