June 11, 2007
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Day 2007
Student Scene
Seasons of Change: Toasting and Roasting the Chief Residents
Graham Ramsay
Nicole Martin |
A time-honored tradition at Mass. General, the spring Change Show is an opportunity for us interns to honor—and parody—our outgoing chief residents. This year’s show was a little like an episode of House M.D.: chiefs Meghan Baker and David Barbie, along with our beloved program director Hasan Bazari, sought to understand why the interns were calling in sick so often, requiring them to activate the “Hit List” to find replacements. Theories ranged from poisoned cafeteria food to genetic disorders to tainted beer at Harvard Gardens, our local watering hole. When all was said and done, though, Hasan came out and said what the entire audience was thinking: “These interns are, how do you say it, weak?”
In a program like ours, which has a reputation for being intense (or, euphemisms aside, “hard core”), the underlings get a fair bit of ribbing. We’re often teased about the fact that on call days, we get to show up at noon instead of 7 a.m. as in the past. This change was made to comply with the new work hours requirements. When on call, each intern can admit a maximum of five patients. One of my attendings told us that when he was an intern, one of his colleagues (who is now an illustrious researcher and Harvard professor) admitted 11 patients and was drowning in charts. Back in the days of giants, apparently, anything was possible. Now, I certainly don’t mind sleeping in and admitting fewer patients. But it’s hard to argue against the fact that we have it easier than our elders did. When someone jokes that I’m a “lazy intern,” I just shake my head and laugh.
So after a year of taking it, we relished the opportunity to dish it out. In addition to the chiefs, the graduating senior residents—those wise, seasoned professionals who have bailed us out of countless overnight disasters—also took some flak.
In our Dating Game skit, the bachelorette “nurse” (played by Tanya Milosh Zinkus, administrator extraordinaire) had to choose among three seniors: the guy with the not-so-secret pornography collection, the tireless ladies’ man who is also a world traveler, and the flirt who’s engaged but not quite married. She wasn’t impressed by any of them. So who won? Bachelor number four: Dr. Mort Schwartz, the grandfather of MGH Internal Medicine, who graced us with a cameo appearance.
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Hasan came out and said what the entire audience was thinking: “These interns are, how do you say it, weak?” |
As for the chiefs, we were faced with a bit of a challenge. Both Meghan and David had been kind and fair throughout the year. I’ve rarely seen Meghan without a smile on her face, and whenever I’ve e-mailed David with a question or concern, he’s responded almost immediately. So when my classmates wrote the script, they avoided the unnecessarily mean. They went for the utterly ridiculous instead. Meghan and David, both of whom are happily married with children, were having an affair. Meghan, who is seemingly incapable of using profanity, became a heat-packing gangsta rapper. And who got to execute Meghan’s untoward antics? Yours truly.
We filmed most of the skits in our department conference room and in the chiefs’ office, working from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m. (seeing as we don’t have much free time). I happened to be on call that night, so one of my friends covered my pager while I was rapping in a pink do-rag. I bragged about my access to powerful antibiotics:
I’m just a drug dealer
In a white jacket
I sell restricted drugs
On the black market
And I cautioned the interns not to upset me:
I’m warnin’ you all, don’t get me pissed,
’Cuz while you knocked out cold … I’ll put you on the HIT
LIST!
The following night, we laid down the audio track separately. And after that, one of my classmates did the post-processing … complete with bleeps. I began to fear for my reputation.
The night of the show, I arrived late after an ER shift, so I took a seat in the back. I soon realized that I was sitting behind Meghan’s husband and her two-year-old son. Way to go, Nicole, I thought. When the rap video started, I wanted to hide under my seat. But with the first bleep, the room erupted in laughter. When “Hasan” (played by my classmate Davender Khera) began dancing in an outlandish pimp outfit, he really brought the house down.
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After a year of taking it, we relished the opportunity to dish it out. |
Afterwards, the real Hasan congratulated me: “That was awesome. At every Change Show, one person reveals her true identity. Tonight, it was Nicole Martin.” When I saw Meghan, I apologized profusely. As always, she was incredibly gracious: “The rap was fantastic! Thank you so much!”
I suppose imitation, or some twisted version of it, is the highest form of flattery. But the one giving the praise, such as it is, does not necessarily share the glow. I certainly hope none of my patients ever dig up that video. Not much chance of that, I guess. It’s a good thing I chose medicine as a career—I definitely wouldn’t be able to run for public office.
The opinions expressed in this column are not necessarily those of Harvard Medical School, its affiliated institutions, or Harvard University.
Copyright 2007 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College