Third year for me was a love/hate relationship. I came into the year thinking that I was going to be a trauma surgeon. Fortunately, that didn't last long. The nail in the coffin was only seeing my boys awake two times in three months. What a joke. My youngest was seven month old when I finished surgery. He cried for a week everytime I tried to hold him, because he didn't have a freaking clue who I was. BRUTAL!
I enjoyed the MICU, but general medicine was PAINFUL! We had a lady with a laboratory positive porphyria exacerbation, who spent most of her time chatting on the phone and disappearing off the floor to go smoke. The only time she complained of any pain was when she reappeared on the floor for her q4 hour demerol. When we finally explained that we were not a demerol hotel she started dropping the f-bomb and said, "You know if you turn me out, I'm just going to get some heroin, at least you know that this stuff is clean!" Good reason, OK, next!
Peds was outstanding. I had a very hard time deciding between Peds and Path. Family Practice was a fun month not because I thought I wanted to do FP, but because my preceptor and his staff were incredibly cool people. Surprisingly, I loved Psych, but only because I did it in the Forensic ward of one the state medical hospitals. Nothing beats a 6'5" psychotic schizophrenic inmate intermixing random, fragmented passages of Hamlet, with the Book of Revelations, with made up combinations of curse words before jumping on the table in front of you only to dismount with a backflip worthy of a 6.0 from the Romanian judge. Perhaps the biggest shocker, I had a great time on OB/GYN in large part due to the quality of the residents at UVA.
I could be wrong, but it seems like there are a couple of diffent types of people who go into Path. 1) The hardcore research types. 2) Those who despise patient contact and all things clinical. 3) Those, who like me, liked clinical medicine, but found that they were more fascinated with the science of medicine than with its actual practice. 4) The antisocial, unibomber types who are even now digging themselves a small, dark hole in the basement near the morgue.

(The last one was sarcasm in case anyone waiting with a flamethrower missed it)