Jetlag makes you look more stupid than you already do.
Had trouble speaking, let alone think, at work. Especially at 2pm.
Me: "Err, re... re... (dang it what's that word I'm looking for?).... (doop-de-doo)... refractory... no...(&^!&!!)..."
Me: "Ya, ya, YA! Reflex hypertension!!!"
I must have looked really dyslexic. Doesn't inspire a lot of confidence, does it? But hey, at least I didn't have to stick a 6-inch long needle into someone's belly while postcall and half asleep (the medical system's dirty little secret. Every resident has done that).
Read up on my old patients. As predicted, Mr. X passed away (peacefully, blessedly) soon after I left, on Valentine's day. Hard to imagine sometimes, or rather, easy for me to forget, that while I was half a world away, having a good time with friends, he slowly drifted away.
Mr. Y too. He went to a hospice and died while in the company of his beloved wife. I wish we could have done more.
Wherever they are, I'm sure they've found more peace than what they had in the ICU.