Mykonos

This new experience of waking up early to a party island has been rewarding so far. First row breakfast seat just a couple of meters away from the bright, clear Mediterranean shore, as the temperature rises slowly introducing another beautiful, hot day while everybody else is still asleep. This place is called Paradise Beach for a reason.

We headed into town on a (suprisingly) very punctual, very dusty local bus. This constituted the only 20 minutes of my day with a mask covered face. Being here is like stepping into another dimension where Covid-19 is just distant dream or at least a watered down version of pandemic reality.

We quickly realized that wandering around through the charmingly narrow alleys of Mykonos town during midday is very much different than doing so in the evening. Only the omnipresent slim and multicolored island cats seem indifferent to human crowds regardless of the time of day. 

We admired the neatness and harmonious homogeneity of white walls, blue door and window frames and soft, curvy edges of the local architecture, the bright contrast offered by lush bright flowers and colorful, locally owned and run shops. It took us ages to pick our gelato flavors at a small ice cream place, which reminded me of how much I love those moments in life where these are the toughest decisions I have to make.
The windmills were as picturesque as one sunset ago, only much less crowded. And so were the bay and the ocean promenade.

A traditional gyros and a new Greek Pandora charm were both crossed off my list. And so was getting D’s new dress fixed by the very stubborn middle-aged Greek lady who’d sold it to her the day before.

“Can you get this for me , please? Ah, young eyes can see everything!” She said with a sweet, thick Greek accent, while asking me to fit her thread through the needle. She then proceeded to tell us stories about her youth in Miami, past lovers and heartbreak. I ended up buying the same dress myself, which lead to a fun “twinning” dinner and party session that evening (I’m learning new words every day, just not Greek ones).

We got lost in the intricate maze of alleys on our way back to the bus. D efficiently asked our way back —you gotta love a fellow asker like that.

“Excuse me, sir. How to we get to Plaka bus station?”
”Uhm, D, I think Plaka was back in Athens, you mean Fabrica square”.
“First one right, two more left. And then ask again”.

Walking off chuckling on the confusion his loud voice and thick accent reached us from behind “Don’t say anything else, otherwise they’ll send you to Hell!”. Big eyes, laughter. How ironic considering the name of our destination beach.

After getting back I couldn’t resist the strong pull of the inviting Cycladic waters. Comforting shower, brand new dark red dress on my newly tan skin. Traditional Greek dinner with everyone including incidental plate smashing followed by an OPAAA! roar and millions of bright stars on a cloudless night sky giving me permission to act just a little bit crazy while dancing yet another perfect, hot Greek summer night away.

First Week at the Emergency Department – A Memoire

First Week at the Emergency Department – A Memoire

Monday morning. 8 am. My ER phone rings for the first time. It’s loud around me, I can barely understand the soft female voice at the other end of the line. I manage to make out:

„ Hi, … from Neurology. I am calling about … patient is …dead … candidate for pancreatic transplant donation … pre-surgical CT-scan … what protocol should we order?

„Uhm… sorry, did you say you’d like a pancreas CT-study for transplant planning on a dead patient?“
(See, not that I’m an expert or anything after only 1,5 years, but isn’t a heart function necessary to, like, move the injected contrast agent through the body?)

„Oh no, just BRAINdead“.

I’m not in Kansas –a.k.a. the outpatient imaging center– anymore.

Two hours. Nothing happens. A couple of unremarkable X-ray studies. One finger over here, one knee over there… But I feel very tense. Must be the calm before the storm. I have no references. There’s no way for me to know what to expect. Everything seems just so… unpredictable.
How bad can it get? What could that imply for me? How often and likely is it that it will get to that level of severity on my very first day here? How critical is it that I see and understand everything right away?

As people start getting out of bed an into the world, a whole new day full of accidents starts to unravel. And then, all of a sudden, helicopter sounds start to become louder and louder.
First polytrauma patient.
Traumatic brain injury. I step into the trauma room. An unconscious, intubated person is presented by the emergency service. An internist, a surgeon, a neurologist, and a group of nurses all start to move around the victim puncturing, placing catheters, drawing blood, attaching monitors, checking vital parameters. So quick. So efficient. All done. Emergency CT-scan is next. Unenhanced brain, middle face and cervical spine study. After hundreds of CT Thorax/Abdomen stagings, this must be my 4th or 5th time ever looking at a brain. With my more experienced ED partner and senior attending by my side, I feel reassured. Though there’s no way to miss the large subarachnoidal bleeding and parenchymal concussions. Someone shouts out the results of the ABG. Someone else arrives with information about the designated neurosurgery OR. „Are there any cranial or facial fractures?“ Our senior makes a quick assessment. Someone else shouts something else and soon after everyone has disappeared, taking the patient with them.

And so, in a flash, it’s all over. What did just happen? And how did everyone manage to remain that calm?
I’m in awe. It’s amazing what training, experience, motivation and well synchronized, well guided team work can do. I guess I will get used to this just the way everyone else does. But for now, I can’t help but feel deeply moved and impressed. There’s something undeniably beautiful about the whole process.

And just like that, I just know: this is going to be great.

The week passes by quickly. Many polytrauma patients, intensive care unit emergencies… a suicide attempt, an overdose, a small child struck by a car, bike accidents, many brain injuries and even a blunt ocular trauma with bulbar rupture. Seeing my old colleagues from the eye clinic show up with the portable slit lamp in hand and diagnose a corneal rupture with iris prolapse on the spot filled me with pride and reinforced respect. Just a couple of hours later, the eye has been saved at their OR.

„Wow. This week has been very intense. It is usually less hectic,“ says my partner as we meet on Friday morning. I’ve been assigned the TGIF task of bringing something sweet to snack on, so I place the muffins carefully on our table. „Not bad for a first week“.
At this point, I still feel a bit anxious and tense in the back of my mind. But the amount I have learned in just one week, all the support from our amazing supervisor and the excitement of what is to come cancels everything else out.

I admire my older colleagues for the way they master during their night shifts at the ER. After one week of routine day shifts the gap between me and them becomes more apparent to me. But according to our Dienstplan, I’m only three months of training away from becoming one of them myself.
Scary and exciting at the same time, I can't wait to achieve that level of diagnostic confidence, competency and skills, and to become really useful and reliable in the process of helping and saving lives in the acute setting.

Bring it on.

To Geiersnest (a.k.a. Best Ride Evah)

It all started with an innocent text.

Are we still on for that bike ride after work?

What is up with all those rhetorical questions of obvious answers? Because I'm not a quitter. But when I was met with a candid smile and his casual “It's a 800m climb”, a part of me kinda wished I were.
Oh look at the time. Oh, my legs hurt because of the 70 k I did yesterday. I think it will rain soon. I forgot to feed my hamster.
Instead, I nodded and went with it. Needless to say I couldn't really accurately appreciate what 800m actually looked like.

Half an hour later, we were dodging disseminated goat crap on the road just like playing bike Minecraft. It was not easy to focus on anything other than the 2m right ahead of us, my heaving breathing and my heart pumping like a Drum and Bass beat.
Racing heart and legs on fire, I was semi-oblivious to how the most gorgeous Schwarzwald landscape was slowly (as in 6 km/h slowly) but surely unfolding in front of us.

After a (very steep) wrong turn, two peanut protein bars and half a bottle of water we finally made it to the parking lot on top of Geiersnest.

Oh. My. Word.

Wide eyes. Jaw drop. Beaming smiles. Just as bright as the breathtaking sunset taking place right before our eyes ―behind luscious pine trees, golden hills, puffy clouds, a wide horizon to France and beyond.

It's always good to bring someone here for the first time and see their reaction.

Absolute bliss. Monday feeling instantly replaced by weekend ―no, holiday feeling.
Like stepping into a fantasy world, escaping reality, entering a dream where dim light, nature sounds and warm, scented summer breeze envelope everything.

And the way back down left nothing to be desired.
Speed. Alternating currents of cool and warm air against my skin. Crossing paths with the last brave cyclist still fighting against the mountains as we had been an hour before.

Freiburg greeted us back with the first artificial lights against a purple sky right after Blue Hour.

It wasn't my legs hurting this time. But my face from smiling.

A good friend, my favorite bike and a gorgeous landscape.
Perfect recipe to start feeling like myself again.

And goat poo stuck to my tires to prove it.