The Retreat

This Sunday was the Department of Medicine’s annual retreat. Once each year, all the internal medicine residents, the program director, and a few assorted staff docs get together, take a bus ride out to Crystal Mountain Ski Resort, discuss issues related to the program, have a nice dinner, get unbelievably bombed, stay overnight and then ski/snowboard the next day. Then we come home.

The retreat is a blast for many reasons. One of which is that it’s the only time all year when every internal medicine resident can hang out together; every other day of the year entails at least a few people being on call somewhere for all parts of the day or night. (For the retreat, other departments, or other staff docs not going on the retreat take the workload for about 30 hours). Another reason it’s so fun is basically because it’s a bunch of stressed and overworked residents getting a chance to let off steam together. The “work hard, play hard” rule is in full effect. And everybody brings their A-game to the retreat.

Last year’s retreat was a really fun time. I expected this year to be even more fun because I was more in the mood to go nuts. Last year, for many reasons I’ve often discussed, was a difficult and depressing year. I managed to have a pretty good time when the retreat rolled around, if only because it’s an event that is so loaded with positive energy. This year, I was determined to bust out hyper-happy drunk Mick. (As an aside, I’ll mention that things are going pretty well right now, I’m content with my job, with my life, and it’s the first time I’ve felt like this in a long time. This will deserve its own post in the near future, but is worth bearing in mind now without getting into things too much). Sadly, I think that a lot of my co-workers have never experienced full exposure to the non-depressed me. Last year, for all its faults, did certainly have some good times, but though my resident colleagues had seen some flashes of the Mick that my good friends know and love, they hadn’t really seen the “total package”. This year, with things feeling good, and with me having just finished a grueling ward month a week prior, I was determined to go pretty big at the retreat. And that’s just what happened.

Its hard to describe the massive outpouring of energy and mania that accompanies a bunch of overworked people when the are told something along the lines of “Just this once, go as crazy as you want, because you’ve earned it.” There is a sense of guiltless, over-the-top partying associated with the retreat that harkens back to my med school days after heinous test blocks. It’s like a collective Vegas trip (but to a ski resort) for the entire residency. It certainly is a cool feeling.

So off we went. We met up at 14:00 on a big greyhound bus in the hospital parking lot. The drive is about 1.5 hours on said bus, and we use that time, with our program director, to argue and tackle administrative issues within the residency. This is also the time where we begin drinking heavily. Seated next to good buddy George, I came armed to the teeth with a cooler full of beer and my stainless steel flask (a gift for being in E-hurt’s wedding party) filled with pure Ketel One Vodka. So on the ride up, there was a lot of happy yelling, some thoughtful discussion (and voting on various residency issues), and a lot of drinking. And guaranteed every year there is a person who has trouble walking off the bus. (This year’s winner was my friend Jeff).

Upon arrival, we quickly went to our rooms. At that point about half the people went swimming and the other half kept drinking (I was in the latter category). I was pretty buzzed by then, and very happy and was certainly getting more hyper by the minute. Another resident, named Olsen (last name) and I decided that we would annoyingly yell “GNAP!” every 4 minutes (like someone with Tourette’s syndrome on speed) in a long overdue tribute to the famous purple fly episode of the Smurfs. And, not unlike the purple fly virus itself, this mannerism soon caught with most if not all other residents.

It was at this time, shortly after check in, where we busted out the infamous “Shot-ski”. The shot-ski is an old ski with 4 shot glass sized holes drilled and evenly spaced along the ski. It’s proper use entails 4 people standing shoulder to shoulder, each with a full shot glass before them (inserted into that glass’s respective hole), taking a big shot all together, putting the ski back down, and yelling “SHOT-SKI!” It didn’t take long for this activity to get events quickly out of control. By this time, I had finished 2 beers on the bus as well as my flask full of pure vodka. I think I did about 3 or 4 shot-skis in between drinking another can of beer (for down time). This is about when I stopped counting the number of drinks I had. This is also about the time when I officially qualified as drunk. But I was having an awesome time.

Following that madness, it was time to trot over to dinner at the main lodge and restaurant. Some drug reps from Pfizer (makers of Viagra!) sponsored our dinner. Not that I remember much of it. The whole dinner was probably the peak of my alcohol “burst” for the night, because it occurred about 45 minutes after I took down all those shots. A couple of the interns (called lovingly the “pledge class” by our chief resident) had fallen out by this point. (James and Julie in particular, were both too drunk to go on). Its sort of fun and embarrassing looking back, as my memory is quite spotty over the dinner events. There was a joke telling contest, and I remember getting up and telling this horrible joke, but forgetting about half of it, and basically bombing big time. Apparently about 5 other residents did the exact same thing, though. [modified] There was a lot of “I love you man” type stuff flowing out by the end of dinner and conveniently, of course, the nearby bar kept pumping out drinks.

After dinner, the whole gaggle (there are about 28 residents plus the assorted staff with us) cruised over to the “Snorting Elk”, a local bar at Crystal. The bartender was a tad surly and less than pleased to see about 30 drunks rolling his way at about 8:30 pm on a Sunday night. But we certainly helped his business out with vast amounts of continued drinking. There was an arm wrestling contest between two third year residents that was hilarious beyond words. Several of the married people continued to get increasingly inappropriate (no one’s spouse was there). Mostly this only happened in a verbal capacity (thankfully). One of the third year residents (a married male) asked the program director is she had tasted her own breast milk during her pregnancy and then added that he thought his own wife’s tasted “sweet”. There was way too much talk about vaginal hair trimming habits and other assorted mischief.

One intern got kicked out of the bar three times. He responded the last time by pressing his hams up to the window. This was followed by about 4 other residents, who simply happened to be outside, doing likewise. There are some good pictures of this somewhere.

By the end of the night, I remember (hazily) having one arm around my program director, one arm around a female intern and my friend George was across from us just laughing like a hyena. It was a very warm and friendly environment. As for me, I was clearly in rare form. Anyone who’s experienced hyper-happy drunk Mick will know what I’m talking about. I was laughing a ton and having a great time.

After the bar closed (and the surly bar tender said “good riddance”), we all slogged back to the cabins and one room quickly became the nightcap room. There was a lot singing (some by me). At some point, an intern got up on the table (a 4-foot high dining room table), declared he was into martial arts, and tried to front flip off the table. He landed squarely on his back on the rock hard, carpet covered cement. It was possibly the funniest thing I’ve ever seen (the guy was actually OK, though it looked like he had crushed his spine – I seriously don’t know how he’s not dead). Anyway, at the sight, sound, and vibration of this event, I lost my shit completely. What ensued was about 20 minutes of me simultaneously laughing and hyperventilating (some who read this will have seen me do this, as well). Then, someone threw beer and it was game over. My few vague memories after that include me with Jeff in a headlock and then I was wrestling my friend Rod (aka “Rowdy Roddy”) out in the snow. After that I vaguely remember getting to my room and passing out.

All in all, it was a great night. There are a lot more details buried in the night, but I’ll save them.

Then Monday morning came and with it a world class hangover. Somehow, I got out of bed. One of my roommates had thrown up in our bathroom garbage can the night before – NOT a good smell when waking up with an axe buried in your head. We all got cleaned up though and got checked out by 10 am. Then came the monumental decision to go snowboarding or not. The snow was crap (it hadn’t snowed in 2 weeks), but I was determined to try out my new boots.

After a big egg breakfast, and with my head still spinning, I decided to try and get out on the board. Not a great idea, as I fell on more stupid edge catches than I had the previous 2 years combined. Plus I was dizzy and lightheaded all day. (Imagine skiing or boarding after a bad Vegas hangover). Still, it was nice to get some fresh air and exercise (despite the pain). I called it a day after about 10-15 runs (the mountain was empty) and the rest of the afternoon consisted of us reconstructing the night’s events and laughing hysterically. Sadly, several of the drunkest people had to be on call Monday night and they basically spent the whole day sleeping. (I shudder at the thought of being on call Monday night).

Finally, we boarded the bus home again at about 16:00 Monday afternoon. After a quick goodbye, we all headed out for much needed rest. It had been a really fun time, despite the horrific hangovers possessed by many. My goal had been my A-game to the retreat. And I had pulled it off – mission accomplished. (Along with just about everyone else – I think about 8-10 residents actually threw up – I was surprisingly NOT one of them).

All in all, the whole ordeal was a blast (minus the hangover). It was a much needed break from work and those sorts of things help bring people together. At some point in the night I had my arm around my two previous ward interns and we were singing something – this is a far cry (and a welcome one) from those heinously stressful days we spent in the ER going nuts. Today at work there was even more story recanting and more laughter. Good stuff. (I should have some pictures from the event up soon).

I don’t drink like that too often any more (this is a good thing). But I think its fun, once in a long while, at the appropriate time, to go off the hook and get bombed with friends. It’s certainly not healthy physically, and it’s certainly harder to fit in these days than say - in college, but there really is something to it that is indescribably fun.

“To alcohol. The cause…and solution to….all of life’s problems.”