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I’ve blogged about ongoing threats to medical education (see for example: "Dr. Fred, You Are Not Alone") but I have to admit that there can still be some levity with teaching as well.
Every year, I surprise new third-year medical students and interns midway through morning rounds by stating that it’s time for cocktails.
I send one of them off to secure some Diet Coke and Cran-Apple juice, and then I take over and meticulously mix the two (no ice). The cups are distributed, I say "Salut!" and then we select a nonmedical subject to discuss for a few moments. I often learn that our trainees cannot list the Allies from World War II or name the year Richard Nixon resigned.
Still, the mixture of some sugar and a bit of caffeine gets us back on track. And there is an important and implicit message beyond hydration: It’s about team building and the need to have an occasional moment of good cheer. With all the pressures on rounds, to document and teach and care for sick patients, and document some more, our "salut" represents a temporary safe haven. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.
I’ve blogged about ongoing threats to medical education (see for example: "Dr. Fred, You Are Not Alone") but I have to admit that there can still be some levity with teaching as well.
Every year, I surprise new third-year medical students and interns midway through morning rounds by stating that it’s time for cocktails.
I send one of them off to secure some Diet Coke and Cran-Apple juice, and then I take over and meticulously mix the two (no ice). The cups are distributed, I say "Salut!" and then we select a nonmedical subject to discuss for a few moments. I often learn that our trainees cannot list the Allies from World War II or name the year Richard Nixon resigned.
Still, the mixture of some sugar and a bit of caffeine gets us back on track. And there is an important and implicit message beyond hydration: It’s about team building and the need to have an occasional moment of good cheer. With all the pressures on rounds, to document and teach and care for sick patients, and document some more, our "salut" represents a temporary safe haven. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.
I’ve blogged about ongoing threats to medical education (see for example: "Dr. Fred, You Are Not Alone") but I have to admit that there can still be some levity with teaching as well.
Every year, I surprise new third-year medical students and interns midway through morning rounds by stating that it’s time for cocktails.
I send one of them off to secure some Diet Coke and Cran-Apple juice, and then I take over and meticulously mix the two (no ice). The cups are distributed, I say "Salut!" and then we select a nonmedical subject to discuss for a few moments. I often learn that our trainees cannot list the Allies from World War II or name the year Richard Nixon resigned.
Still, the mixture of some sugar and a bit of caffeine gets us back on track. And there is an important and implicit message beyond hydration: It’s about team building and the need to have an occasional moment of good cheer. With all the pressures on rounds, to document and teach and care for sick patients, and document some more, our "salut" represents a temporary safe haven. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.
