Starting at UCSF
02 August 2001
It's almost my second weekend here and apparently I'll be a lot busier next week with working in the "OR" (anaesthetists get to work at 6am here) and with Robert arriving, so I thought I'd better get a few more photos in while I have time.
I am finally acquiring an identity for US purposes, little by little. The number of stages which have to be completed before I can do clinical work (supposedly on Monday), seems ridiculous. I need to be authorized to practise in the hospital, the paperwork for which required my "2113" (temporary license) number from the Medical Board of California. The Medical Board needed a Social Security Number, and the Social Security people needed an "I-94" from the Immigration Service which is only issued on entering the country. I thought the visa process was cumbersome, but this is worse.
Getting a login for the hospital computers was one of my objectives for today, but I needed a Physician ID number first. The office where these are issued is inside the Anesthesia Library, but the door to the library has a passcode lock with a note next to it saying to ring a certain number to get a passcode. I rang the number and they said I needed to submit a written request for a passcode through personnel. The written request needs an employee ID number which won't be issued until I'm approved to practise here.... No wonder their health-care system costs a lot to run.
Fortunately it has meant that while I'm officially employed, I can't do any useful work for the time being, so this afternoon I went to Mission Dolores Park and made the most of having flown out of the Melbourne Winter into a rather tepid San Franciscan Summer. I left my pager on in the unlikely event that you want to page me.
From the park I caught the Muni (tram) back to the Castro and went looking for a kettle; the latest phase in my search for a cup of coffee "like at home".
They don't really do instant coffee here and they all have drip-filter coffee makers instead of kettles, but eventually I found something I recognized:
Though it's made in Venezuela instead of Italy. The coffee still isn't quite right, but it's getting closer.
Fortunately for Richard (whose house it is), I'm not much of a drinker. His wine collection is here on the lowest level of the house, underneath my bedroom:
I tried taking another picture of the living/dining area. That's me at the top of the stairs behind the flowers (a welcome present from Greg Phillips, a friend from Vancouver).
Maybe in a week or two I'll have some pictures from the OR.
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I am finally acquiring an identity for US purposes, little by little. The number of stages which have to be completed before I can do clinical work (supposedly on Monday), seems ridiculous. I need to be authorized to practise in the hospital, the paperwork for which required my "2113" (temporary license) number from the Medical Board of California. The Medical Board needed a Social Security Number, and the Social Security people needed an "I-94" from the Immigration Service which is only issued on entering the country. I thought the visa process was cumbersome, but this is worse.
Getting a login for the hospital computers was one of my objectives for today, but I needed a Physician ID number first. The office where these are issued is inside the Anesthesia Library, but the door to the library has a passcode lock with a note next to it saying to ring a certain number to get a passcode. I rang the number and they said I needed to submit a written request for a passcode through personnel. The written request needs an employee ID number which won't be issued until I'm approved to practise here.... No wonder their health-care system costs a lot to run.
Fortunately it has meant that while I'm officially employed, I can't do any useful work for the time being, so this afternoon I went to Mission Dolores Park and made the most of having flown out of the Melbourne Winter into a rather tepid San Franciscan Summer. I left my pager on in the unlikely event that you want to page me.
From the park I caught the Muni (tram) back to the Castro and went looking for a kettle; the latest phase in my search for a cup of coffee "like at home".
They don't really do instant coffee here and they all have drip-filter coffee makers instead of kettles, but eventually I found something I recognized:
Though it's made in Venezuela instead of Italy. The coffee still isn't quite right, but it's getting closer.
Fortunately for Richard (whose house it is), I'm not much of a drinker. His wine collection is here on the lowest level of the house, underneath my bedroom:
I tried taking another picture of the living/dining area. That's me at the top of the stairs behind the flowers (a welcome present from Greg Phillips, a friend from Vancouver).
Maybe in a week or two I'll have some pictures from the OR.
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