I survived.

In fact, it wasn't that bad.  Of course, I am lucky enough to start on a pretty light service.  Oh, and I haven't had call yet.  You know, that time when you are the first line call for a full half of the surgical patients in the hospital.  That's Thursday.

Nope, not too bad at all.  I ran around the floors, a truly confused animal.  Part chicken-with-its-head-cut-off and part deer-in-the-headlights, I was both aimless and frozen with fear.  But people were nice.  They know we are new and don't have a clue. 

But I have to say, as I wrote notes, wrote discharge summaries and instructions, wrote orders and answered questions, I kept waiting for someone to run up to me, tear my white coat from my body and tell me to "Get the hell outta here!"

It didn't happen.  But I felt like it should.  I ain't no doctor.

Oh.  Wait.  I suppose I am.