The Finite

2% fuel economy bonus!
Can now refuel without spilling gasoline on self!
-20% chance of falling asleep at the wheel!

600 XP to next level

So what I heard about Fort Wayne: is that there’s nothing in Fort Wayne.

I made the trip at 8 this morning, luckily traffic was light since I largely ignored my suicidal GPS device that always wants me to take I-94 through Chicago to get to Indiana. Instead took I-290 to I-294 to I-80 to route 30 to cross the Hoosier state. I’m here for 4 weeks for an organ transplantation rotation that starts tomorrow at Lutheran Hospital.

This part of the state is weird. Especially when I crossed the line where all my radio station presets started changing and mashing up genres. Alternative becomes country, country becomes classical, and Spanish channels become christian rock. I actually went two hours without hearing Lady Gaga. It was awful.

Fort Wayne is (I really shouldn’t be surprised) heavily car-dependent. And there are so many subdivisions in this area. Fort Wayne on Google Maps looks like a capillary bed. Yeesh. Wouldn’t want to live here. Oh, well. As long as I have my trusty travel ironing board and PC Gimp suit, I should be pretty ready for this rotation.

But I should mention that when I got here, I realized I broke Douglas Adams’ one rule.

So apparently according to the college, I’m supposed to take advantage of the privacy settings on social media to maintain my semblance of professionalism. As if anything I’ve tweeted in any way brought question to my professionalism. *pauses, stares into space, bites lip nervously*

Really though, there is not much in the way of photographic evidence of my indiscretions. But there is some.

Oh, no, they’ll think. This guy has had a social life. Wouldn’t want him in our organization because he enjoyed a Galifinakis-esque evening of expensive drinks and facial hair in a culturally accepted expected, very common social activity.

However, I learned lately- that time I was on the dance floor with one of my preceptors, that time everybody was at the bar and our professors showed up, campfire wine box with some physicians- that professionalism is an act for the patient, but also a level of expectation for your colleagues. A basic at-minimum “Do your effin’ job.” It’s an obligation to both though. One you’ll take care of because they’re putting their well-being in your hands, the other because people are putting their well-being in your [collective] hands.

Your professional life is not your personal life and you don’t do anything that blurs the lines between the two. In other words, don’t do what Miley Cyrus did.

But the reason they warn us is those who may assume that we are not capable of separating those parts of our lives. I mean obviously you can’t make meth or anything. But it’s our right to assume that someone would be any less professional in the day time if at night they enjoy a drink or several? If they smoke? If they enjoy writing Harry Potter/Tom Clancy crossover fan fiction in their underwear?

A little bit presumptuous if you ask me. But of course that’s not something you let slip on the first date, is it?

The “professionalism” the school is requesting, it’s an illusion. An illusion we put on at the endorsement of the college, our peers, the industry. No one should be expected to be “professional” all the time. As long as we are when it counts and we do what is expected of us.

I’ve been told, in what I’ll have to assume is a purely metaphorical statement, “Don’t worry. The white coat covers all lower back tattoos and nipple piercings.”

Yeah, I (metaphorically) hope so.