Are millennials cut out to be surgical residents?

When you hear this story, you may wonder.

Recently in a surgical residency program somewhere in the United States, the residents requested a meeting with their program director and surgical department chairman to discuss a concern they had.

A few of them were upset because during a 31-day month, one resident on a three-person rotation ended up working an extra night of call.

6/28/13 ADDENDUM#1: The residents who complained included some non-designated PGY-1s who were hoping to be converted into categorical residents if any such positions became available. This would not be perceived as favorable by those in charge.

I know that old guys like me aren't supposed to say things like this, but if residents had approached my chairman with a complaint like this, he would have thrown them all out of his office immediately.

Residents were summarily fired for lesser offenses than that too.

Despite my previous post about a Harvard Symposium that suggested we should train residents like Navy SEALs, I know we can't turn back the clock.

But people, there is something really wrong when residents start haggling about the number of days worked.

What's next? Requesting an extra hour off because you worked the Saturday to Sunday overnight when Daylight Savings Time ended?

I didn't see anyone volunteering to work an extra hour to compensate for the night the DST begins.

OK, tell me I don't understand this generation of residents. Tell me I'm out of touch.

But you won't convince me that there isn't something wrong with complaining about an extra day of call.

6/28/13 ADDENDUM#2 As pointed out to me in comments on Twitter, my post does not pertain to all millennials. I acknowledge that such a generalization was unfair.

Instrument toss: I claim the Guinness record for distance

A recent exchange on Twitter reminded me of an incident that occurred when I was a resident.

There are many stories about surgeons throwing instruments. I was never a habitual instrument thrower but I had my moments.

I was doing a cutdown (a minor surgical procedure to gain intravenous access) on a newborn in the neonatal ICU. This was in the early 1970s, and the section of the hospital that contained the unit was not air-conditioned.

It was the middle of August. I was having some trouble finding a suitable vein. The instruments on the cutdown tray were all discards from the operating room. They were stiff and didn't work well.

At a critical point in the process, I put a clamp on a tie around a flimsy vein. Because the jaws of the instrument were not aligned, it slipped and the tie was lost.

My patience, still to this day not one of my strong points, was also lost.

I threw the clamp toward the open door of the unit. It skidded along the floor out the door across the hall and through the open doors of an elevator. The doors closed and the clamp was never seen again.

I somehow managed to finish the procedure.

Other than occasionally into a garbage can, I haven't thrown an instrument since.