When I was a kid, my dad was on call all the time. I am not exaggerating. He was in practice with my grandfather (his father-in-law.) Nat (my Popop) had been in solo practice for years and so when Dad joined him, Dad took over call. Nat was always willing to cover if my parents had plans; mostly Dad was just - on call. 24 hours a day. Seven days a week. My mother finally forced him to take an actual vacation after eight years.
Now, Dad would be the first person to remind me that this was in the 1960s. No ICU. No CCU. No tPA. No push to get patients out of the hospital - people with uncomplicated MIs (if they survived) stayed inpatient for at least ten days. You could admit people for evaluation of new diabetes. No urgent calls on abnormal labs in the middle of the night. And he genuinely loved his work and his patients, and he didn't need all that much sleep, and of course he had no responsibilities at home because my mother did everything. But still - on call EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. I can't even imagine it.
I'm thinking about it now because last night was One Of Those Nights. I was exhausted after a long and difficult week and I went to bed at 10:00 PM. The beeper went off at 11:00 PM, 1:00 AM, 2:30 AM, 4;00 AM and 5:30 AM. The 5:30 call was from the ED about a patient who needed urgent admission to the inpatient hospice unit, which meant three more phone calls, so I had to get out of bed. I tried to go back to sleep - and then my daughter's alarm went off at 6:10. She's away for the weekend. She didn't turn her alarm off before she went.
I think I'm too old for this. And then I think of Dad and feel like a wimp. And then I remember that he was 20 years younger than I am now, so perhaps I should let myself off the hook.
Am I the only one who has grown to loathe being on call overnight?