Same morning routine, except I gave up on breakfast this morning in favor of trying to Skype with my husband, whom I haven't spoken to for longer than a few seconds since I left. Onto the Doctor Gone, and on to Xuanwu Hospital, a large internal medicine and TCM hospital. The first morning starts in "Stepping Classroom 2", where we are thoroughly oriented to the history of Xuanwu, and then split into various groups. I'm sent to Neurology, and I'm excited because I've heard there is an entire ward devoted to Wilson's Disease at this hospital.
Unfortunately, the neuro group was split again, and I was assigned to stroke. Dammit! I sat through a presentation on ischemic and hemorrhagic stroke, and then a case presentation of a patient with acute onset of left-sided numbness and weakness, extending to the lower half of the left face. We arrived at the diagnosis (made obvious by the glaring hemorrhage on the CT scan they showed us) and then went to see the patient. Sadly, numbness isn't a symptom that translates well through the interpretation of the resident from the patient, and her weakness has largely resolved (as she's been in the hospital for 2 weeks already). Then back to the conference room for another case presentation of TIA, and then to go see the patient. This was completely worthless, since by definition the symptoms of TIA are transient and were no longer present. So, one perfectly normal neuro exam and one nearly normal. Fascinating.
Back to the bus and home for lunch, and back to Xuanwu in the afternoon. This arrangement, though tedious, allows us to unwind a bit before returning, and allows siesta time for the residents, who are shocked that we don't all take naps in mid-day. I, too, am shocked that we don't get naps. We should seriously consider this as a culture.
The afternoon was far worse. Henry's old friend, Dr. H, treats us to an hour long lecture on how to properly perform a cardiac exam (we're fourth years, if we don't know this now it's too late), then gives us four patients to examine. I only hear murmurs in two, but they were fairly impressive mitral stenosis and regurgitation from rheumatic heart disease, as well as tricuspid regurgitation in one patient. I will always suck at hearing murmurs, but who cares, that's why I'm going into psych.
That night, after catching the Dr. Gone, a group of us went to Houhai to meet a friend of Anna's who is also studying here. We found her, and then we found a Hot Pot restaurant. Hot pot is a big pot of boiling water with herbs, into which you dip thin meats, vegetables, or noodles, allow them to cook, and then eat them with a peanut sauce. Aside from the noodles, it's not my favorite form of Chinese food, but it's fun. We then wandered around Houhai, an area around one of the large lakes which was an ancient water supply for Beijing, but is now full of bars and shops. I saw hookah bars, bars selling Budweiser, bars selling Coors Light (who knew?), and bars selling Carlsberg from Belgium. Bar workers will stand outside and call to people, inviting them inside, offering discounts on drinks. We tried to avoid them, as they often spit everywhere.
As a side note, I cannot take the spitting. Every Beijinger, it seems, loves to hawk huge loogies onto the sidewalk. While practical, as the air pollution here is unbelievable, this practice is thoroughly disgusting. I'm always hearing that terrible noise going off around me and I cringe every time, fearing the stray spitwad that might splatter me with phlegm. As paranoid as this sounds, a biker actually came very close to hitting me early in the trip, so it's justifiable paranoia. Also, I abhor phlegm.
Home again, home again, jiggety jog.
