Sunday, December 31, 2006
Happy New Year!!
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Would you like to dance?
From the poor grammar on my blogs, it should be apparent that there is no editing done on the part of the university. In fact, they have really made just one request of me, at least, which is to post something about the residency process. At first I was quite hesitant because all of this information is in the public domain and, if anyone searches my name this is one of the first things that shows up: a not-so-little element of danger. As such, I have not posted much. But, now that things are about half over, I am a little more confident that there will be some level of anonymity and possibly more importantly, I have nothing negative to say. It is important to note that my views will not be shared by many of my peers, especially those working towards residencies in different fields.
One of the early steps in the process is deciding what area (or areas) for which you are going to apply. Although I tried to deny it (and all of my friends thought it was obvious), I am applying for residency in Radiology. Once that decision is made, one fills out an application to the field(s). Most of the programs utilize the same online application that goes by the name of ERAS. In a lot of ways, it is similar to medical school applications. I think the most challenging part is the personal statement. Here, you are supposed to highlight your life and describe what makes you a unique candidate over all of your peers. Within the character limit, you have a great deal of latitude as to how to make this thing appear, however, the general consensus is you do not want to be to much of a character when you compose it. You want to be interesting without being strange, dishonest or annoying. You want to write creatively enough that you can draw a reader in to the story because each interviewer has just a fraction of time to go through your application. The other rule of thumb is that the personal statement will rarely elevate the status of your application; however, it can severely lower it.
I'm not sure why I call it this, but it seems to fit. Often, the dance starts long before you arrive at the location. I suspect the dance actually starts when you accept the invitation and the interchanges that take place in making the arrangements, but things really heat up when you get to where you're going. Many programs will have a dinner the night before and it is clear that the dance is in full swing. You want to dress nicely, but casually. These dinners are presented as an opportunity to get to know the current residents and sometimes some of the faculty. I think that is true, in part. I wonder if it is more to see how well the current residents like you, which is important; however I wonder if you can make that type of judgment based on one evening. I liken it to speed dating and I think it is difficult to truly get a sense of someone from just one evening, but that is the current paradigm.
The tour of the facilities is often the most repetitive part from program to program at least for Radiology since a CT is a CT, an MRI is an MRI and an angio suite is an angio suite. Well, the latter is not entirely true. I have noticed some differences in the modernization of some of the interventional suites and it is nice to see a large, modernized room, but I don't think it will have that large of an impact on my decision making process. Not because of disinterest, but rather because all of the suites I have seen seem usable and I don't know enough about the interventional subspecialty to make too strong of a value judgment on the modernizations. Maybe that should be another question of mine to ask the interviewers. The two things I am most interested in seeing are the reading rooms and the conference room. Many of my fellow students would add the cafeteria in that list but I am trying to make food less important in my life. The reading room is where the radiologist views all of the data and produces the reports. This is where most of the radiologist's time is spent. The conference room is probably the next most utilized space. I suppose the residents' lounge should be high on that list also but it does not seem that radiology residents have a lot of down time. You are either busy or you are home. That is one of the perks of the field. On the down side, when you are on call you are constantly busy.
The dance requires grit, grace and gratitude. A little luck will likely to go a long way, too.
Aside from ML: (When ML edited the blog she had this to say in reference to my observation about not being allowed to take drinks into the interview with you…) "Of course this is rude! You are thinking about your own comfort over the fact that you were invited to spend time with the interviewer! You are also insinuating that they have not thought of your every need--they are being an unthoughtful host." (That last part was actually underlined three times. Can you tell we were brought up in two different environments?)
Monday, December 04, 2006
That is the official description of Forensic Psychiatric Center. Actually, that rotation ended several days ago, but I want to share a particular story and it was important that some nondescript time pass.
On my last day, I sat in on a competency and liability examination. This person (not a patient) had being charged with two counts of open murder. Open murder, by the way, means the prosecution is not sure to what level (murder 1 down to manslaughter) this person is responsible, but it will be some degree of murder charge. The person had a history of psychosis and the defense attorney wanted to have an official assessment to determine if the mental illness played a roll in this case.
Just the day before, I had learned how to read some of the tattoos such as the teardrop tattoos next to the eye is supposed to symbolize the number if murders that person has committed. Sad thing is I have seen a person that had teardrops that ran into a puddle on the cheek. (Not the person in this story.) Now I know what that meant. This person had a symbol of the gang on the inside bicep and the area code of the location of the gang on the forearm on the same side. On the other forearm was the person’s name in the gang. Well, it was more interesting at the time than it sounds right now. Oh, well.
According to the police report, the story of the person being prosecuted went something like this: there was a report of a big argument between a couple and they separated. One member of this couple went and gathered some friends (group A) and returned to the house to pick up some personal items. The person at the house had also gathered some friends (group B) and when they were all together, group B threatened group A and damaged group A’s vehicle as group A left. Shortly there after, group A returned in a different vehicle and shot at the house in classic drive-by shooting fashion. However, the intended party members were not in the house at the time. Rather, there was an underage minor and another adult who were both killed by one of the members of group A (which included the examinee).
Walking into the facility:
The hospital is only two years old. Photography is not allowed inside so I will try to describe it. (You can see the outside at this link and go to the Center for Forensic Psychiatry in Ypsilanti, Michigan.) You emerge from two sets of non-descript double-door into an expansive hall: Very wide, two stories high with large windows down the left and a loft of office cubicles on the second story on the right. A series of open electronic gates are positioned 5 yards ahead and to the right. A large, arching, information desk is positioned to the left. In between is a metal detector followed by an X-ray baggage machine. Beyond, breaking up the hallway, are two tall, sequential, sideways-arching planters with a series of chairs curving gently on the concave edge. After swiping your card at the electronic gate, causing your face to appear at the central security station, you can hear your footsteps echoing down the hall. Light shines on your left as you approach a wall of glass—bullet proof, thick, set into heavy duty metal. To the side the glass is mirrored—nothing but your darkened reflection—surrounding the security station. Moments pass, an odd smile on your face, the wall slowly starts to slide open. Passing through, it immediately changes direction to shut. As it quietly latches closed (not like the movies) you have that sense down your spine that you are in, but getting out is not entirely your decision. In front is another long hallway. Not as tall or wide, but longer and expansive none the less. You turn left and go around the mirrored guard station to a normal sized metal door with a small bullet proof window. The motorized dead bolt slowly pulls back. In front of you is an open guard station, which faces to the right, with several guards behind it—you enter from the side. To the left is small a coffee room followed by two larges seating areas. The first is usually empty. The second contains the accused who are awaiting psychological examination. Sprinkled among the examinees are uniformed prison and jail officers.
The Forensic Center guards are cynical with a splash of friendliness. They are curious about a fresh face passing through the side door. After quizzing you as to why on Earth you would volunteer for such a rotation they welcome you and inform you of the three punch warranty: no one will be able to land more than three punches on your before help arrives. (I immediately asked them what I get if they don’t make it in time?...A fourth hit. But that hasn’t happened…yet.)
Further down the hall is a series of small examination rooms. Everything still looks new, but there is a very slight acrid smell of smoke and stale air: a desk secured to the wall and floor with a chair on either side; a video camera is placed in the upper corner of each room. The chair closest to the door has a red panic button on the wall an knee level—if you think you’re getting into trouble you can just swing your knee out. The examinee is called into the room by the therapist and asked to sit on the inside seat. (As a rule, you never let the person come between you and the door.)
The examinee is informed that everything said in the room will be shared with the court and that there is no confidentiality. They are instructed to only answer questions they want to answer. Part of the exam is to determine if the person is able to assist in their own defense and if they understand what is taking place—competency to stand trial. The second part of the exam is to assess if the person was sane at the time of the event—criminal liability. The former is much easier to assess than the latter and the latter may not be testable at all if the person refuses to discuss the events around the alleged crime.
The exam starts similarly to any psychiatric exam except a bit more detailed. Medical history, surgical history, medications, hospitalizations, psychiatric history, social history extending back several years, housing status, job status, education, abuse history, drug usage history, family history, depression screening, mental status exam, etc. Then a discussion of the alleged crime is broached. The examinee is asked to describe the days and events leading up to the alleged crime: every detail. The event itself is often skipped by the examinee, as it was this day. Then the details of the time after the alleged crime are discussed. The stories (which can last well over an hour) are not usually linear, rather they overlap and gaps which need to be "filled in." When it is clear that the examinee no longer wants to discuss such details, the exam is concluded with a discussion on the basic events and people involved in a trial. At best, the entire exam is two hours. It is usually longer, especially for new examiners. Time passes quickly, but you are mentally and emotionally drained by the time it is over. At my stage in my career it is not possible to suppress the tidal waves of emotions brought out during the examination. For that, I am happy.