July 16: OB/GYN Residency Program
The destiny of Banner Good Samaritan Medical Center is to be an epicenter of a nationally recognized academic medical center. That journey starts with our 17 residency and fellowship programs. I’d like to begin to introduce all of you to our unique residency programs and their leaders.
Below you will be introduced to our outstanding Ob-Gyn Program and get to know its fearless leader, Dr. Mike Foley, as well as become introduced to one of our amazing residents, Dr. Anne Kennard. Anne has agreed to write an ongoing Resident Blog to help us get a glimpse of her unique experiences as a young developing physician at Banner Good Samaritan Medical Center.
Steve Narang, MD, is the chief executive officer at Banner Good Samaritan Medical Center.
The Obstetrics and Gynecology Residency Program at Banner Good Samaritan Medical Center
By Michael R. Foley, MD, chairman and program director
Our goal is to provide outstanding clinical training leading to board certification and preparation to function as a community leader and advocate of health care for women.
Banner Good Samaritan's OB/GYN Residency Program has had continuous accreditation since 1951, and the program is in compliance with all ACGME requirements. At the most recent RRC site visit, the program was fully accredited and approved for five years and was given no citations.
The residency program in obstetrics and gynecology is fundamentally a four-year program for those individuals who start immediately following successful completion of medical school. The program accepts eight categorical residents each year for a total of 32 residents.
Our Residency Program exists to inspire and empower residents to be the providers of the highest quality of patient care, humanistic physicians, and altruistic leaders and teachers for the comprehensive continuum of women’s health, by fostering a nurturing environment that emphasizes the following initiatives:
- Inquisitive scholarship and life-long learning
- Comprehensive education
- Professional behavior (professionalism, respectful collegiality, humility)
- Fair, inclusive and transparent leadership
- Whole life harmony
A month on Labor and Delivery (written in my first part of residency)
By Anne Kennard, DO
Anne received her B.S. in Nutritional Science from California Polytechnic State University and her Doctorate of Osteopathic Medicine from A.T. Still-School of Osteopathic Medicine- Arizona. She is extremely passionate about women’s health and nutrition. She loves spending time with her husband, Ryan, and her dog, as well as reading and playing the violin.
Day 1: I feel great. Excited for labor and delivery, have my lunch packed and my latte in hand. Hair is brushed, lipstick-ed mouth is smiling. Bring on the month.
Day 4: Kinda tired. Thirty-two people are now in the world that were not only a few days ago, and since it was my hands that guided them out, I am now responsible for seeing their mothers every day starting at 4:30 a.m.
Day 5: Hair brushing now seems like superfluous vanity. Give up in favor of extra 30 seconds of sleep.
Day 5, later: Am primary surgeon on a cesearean section for the first time. Realize that nurses do a "count" of all surgical instruments/sponges before I close the patient, to make sure nothing is left inside. Nurse reports to me, "Counts are correct, Doctor." I smile. Thank you.
Day 6: How did my fridge get empty? I seriously don't remember eating all that.
Days 7&8: Don't have time to go to the grocery store.
Day 9: I am now grocery shopping in the hospital cafeteria. What do we need? Milk? Cereal? Fruit? Dinner? A recent trip to the cafeteria yielded 6 milk pints, 5 pieces of loose fruit, a box full of salad, three tins of Cheerios, and a takeout box filled with cooked chicken breasts and potatoes. The cafeteria worker laughed at me, then realized I was serious and rang it all up. Swipe ... and done.
Day 10: Baby count continues to climb, as does the length of my postpartum rounding list.
Day 11: Find time to go to Fresh and Easy. Please bear in mind that F&E is about 500 feet from my house. Someone with a good arm could throw a ball into their window from my front yard. Nevertheless, I feel a great sense of accomplishment and provision for my home as I drive over. Get there and realize that the coupon I have been carrying around in my scrub pocket for five days has expired yesterday. Frick. My smugness evaporates, and deflated, I buy the groceries anyway.
Day 11, later that evening: Realize I have forgotten to buy dog food. Rather than make the journey across the street again, opt to serve the dog a chicken breast mashed with potatoes, left over from aforementioned cafeteria shopping. He loves it.
Day 13: Thinking of the raw pork loin waiting for me in the fridge (it seemed like a good idea sitting there all pretty and healthy in the grocery store case), I opt to bring home dinner from the cafeteria. Chicken enchiladas - a favorite of my husband's - were being served, and I bought a plate and took it home. I slid it onto my own china, reheated it, and served it. About halfway through, he squints at me, and asked if asked if I had made these? I just laughed and asked ... what do you think? He laughed too.
Day 15: I didn't have time to do my laundry, and ran out of underwear. Opted to buy a new pack from Target instead of devote time to mountain of dirty clothes. Must remember to maintain efficiency and get all other shopping done as well while I am there. Cat sand? Check. New mop? Check. Dog food! Yes! What else? I just can't remember.
Morning of Day 16: What is that smell? I turn my head. It's stronger now. I surreptitiously sniff my armpit. Oh God. That's what I forgot at Target. Deodorant.
Day 18: Deodorant still not purchased. Just when I'm about to give up and start changing my scrub tops thrice daily, I pick up a prescription for the hospital pharmacy and notice they carry deodorant. Hallelujah.
Days 20 and 21: Working both weekend days. Miss husband. He comes to hospital for lunch. I feel bad that he's driven 45 minutes each way to see me, but he insists that the Banner Bistro makes the best chicken sandwich in town, and he was hungry for a good chicken sandwich, so it's really not my fault. He also brings me and my fellow intern our favorite frozen yogurt treats, which I know is an additional 20 minutes out of his way.
Day 23: So, so tired. Realize that between the drive home and needing to come back at 4, I will spend only eight hours at home. Decide to sleep at the hospital, which allows me to sleep in until 5:30, and roll out of bed and into my patients room. Don't care that my hair isn't brushed, but realize the deodorant I've worked so hard to procure is at home. Dammit.
Day 23, later that morning: Purchase another deodorant from pharmacy. Pharmacist grins at me. "Didn't you just buy one of these?" I glare at him, and add a toothpaste to my purchase. He laughs at me.
Day 24: Baby count: 97. How is it possible that there is anyone still pregnant left in Phoenix? I must have delivered everyone by now.
Day 25: My first needlestick, while suturing a difficult vaginal laceration. Must figure out how to get to occupational health.
Day 26: Buy second pack of underwear and larger laundry basket.
Day 30: Had a slow day today. Only delivered one baby. Is it true? Did I really deliver everyone? I was kinda joking before. Hmmm...
Day 31: Never mind. Pregnancies, if not in Phoenix, have now appeared from surrounding areas. None of these places are within two hours drive of the hospital. Appreciate, really for the first time, that this is a true tertiary care center. Humbled by the fact that I am part of a program/medical center that people travel hundreds of miles to get to, because of what we can provide in terms of high-level care.
Final Count: Babies: 106. Husbands: 1. Supportive family members: more than I deserve. Lost hours of sleep: countless. Pairs of scrubs: 44. Hospital Meals: 61. New pairs of underwear: 17. Exhausted and humbled residents: 1.
Counts are correct, Doctor.