I woke up this morning to the smell of fresh coffee grounds from Mazagram combined with fresh laundry drying in my room... mhmmmm... cozy... a perfect companion for the rain.
Yesterday I spent most of the day starting and finishing (yes, Kirsty, I FINISHED a book) The Reader which I had borrowed from the university library a couple days ago. It was good, but not as good as I had expected. I just didn't seem to connect that well with the protagonist and therefore struggled to buy into the romance part of the story. On the other hand I thought the unveiling of Hanna's past and the whole idea of how a nation comes to grip with their past was fascinating. I've always wondered how the post-war generations of German people felt and dealt with all that happened in WWII, and this book was able to tease out some of those important questions and ideas. Although, again, the 'twist' I also found a bit disappointing.
Last night, after a day of reading in my pyjamas, I went out for movie and dinner with a friend of mine. We watched Changeling which was DISTURBINGLY GOOD. Clint Eastwood sure doesn't disappointment; he really is one of those all too rare creative... geniuses. And no, I don't think that's an overstatement. As I was leaving the theatre I found myself mourning the day the world is going to lose such an incredible storyteller. What was utterly surprising however was how brilliant Angelina Jolie was; I hate to admit it because of the ubiquitous "Brangelina," but that woman can act! For two and a half hours I completely forgot she was 'Angelina Jolie' and was just immersed in her character's plight. She was quite seriously mesmerizing. Actually, every single actor in that movie, from the biggest to the most minor of roles, was incredible. One of them was so disturbing I'm pretty sure I had nightmares last night (even though I can't remember) because apparently I was screaming around three in the morning. Not surprising. (The movie seemed to reaffirmed all those things I mentioned in my previous entry about the idea of having kids. Double Yikes.)
Movie and dinner was great fun. When I got home though I was wide awake and after finishing the last few pages of The Reader I found myself starting another book. While I was at the library I stumbled across a book called The Reluctant Fundamentalist; the title alone sounded so interesting (and the writer's style is the kind I love).
I don't know how I ended up reading so much this weekend but it's been the most lovely surprise. I think it's partly the rainy weather which always seems to make me want to cuddle up in bed and read, and partly a subconscious attempt to restore sanity after such an intense week at school. Regardless I'm going to enjoy it while I can because I know it most definitely can't last.
Plan today: Pack. Eat. Then three hour drive down to the whop-whops.
(Postscript: If you wondered, like me, how Changeling got it's title apparently it's based on this creepy West European folklore.)
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
just break my heart a thousand times over
I cannot believe that the first two weeks of fifth year is over already. I've been told this year was the most intense of med school and they really weren't kidding. Even though Introductory Week was physically tiring easing out of 'vacation' mode, starting my Paediatrics/ObGyn run this second week has been unbelievably full-on. I sat a tutorial room with sixteen other people everyday from 8.30am - 5pm with a new and different topic covered every hour; half the time I had no idea what the tutor was talking about, trying not to freak out about my mental list of "things to study" growing with every minute. What's worse, I've only been able to go for a run twice this week which compounds the general feeling of "yuckiness." I'd been planning to go on a couple really hefty runs this weekend to make up for the missed miles, but yesterday this torrential rain suddenly started. And with that I'm pretty sure I'm getting sick as I sit here typing because I can feel the classic prodromal discomfort in the back of my throat.
Oi vey.
But alas it's the weekend and tomorrow night I'm heading on placement for a couple weeks as part of ObGyn to a small rural hospital even more "bottom-of-the-world" than Dunedin. At least (a.) I'll get heaps of hands-on opportunities and theatre time(!), (b.) the Doctors' Residence I'll be staying at is constantly WARM++, and (c.) there's nothing to do there so I'll have plenty of time to study. Two weeks of all Women's Health all the time; should be interesting!
It appears this week has been a week of babies and women... but mainly babies. Not only has 90% of my waking hours been spent talking/learning/studying about babies, but coincidentally I also babysat for friends of mine Tuesday evening AND the fiance of a classmate-friend gave birth Thursday night. I went from virtually no baby contact time in the entirety of my life, to a week of babies, babies all the time... and it's got me thinking. I went from not really knowing how I felt about the idea of "having kids" to being more and more sure that I'm not ready -- AT ALL -- to even begin thinking about it. Paradoxically, the idea of specialising in Neonatology-NICU/Neonatal Surgery is becoming more and more attractive, or in the very least, a definite possibility. Which in my mind only further suggests I'm not ready -- AT ALL -- to begin thinking about KIDS OF MY OWN and I'm not sure I ever will be. How do you raise a baby? How do you protect it from all the horrible-ness or potential horrible-ness of this world? How to do you take this tiny, precious, perfect, heart-wrenchingly adorable mini-human being and keep it safe and healthy in a world where nothing is guaranteed and nothing is certain except for the fact that You Are Responsible. Completely. Fully.
While we were on a tour of NICU I couldn't process a word the nurse was saying to us -- all I could do was watch the absolutely fragile preemie baby BREATHING in the incubator, falling utterly in love. And I felt this sudden, overwhelming, INSUPPRESSIBLE urge to do everything in my power to protect her. And that baby wasn't even mine... And I refuse to let myself imagine what it would be like if that baby were mine. Like I said, totally not ready.
Oi vey.
But alas it's the weekend and tomorrow night I'm heading on placement for a couple weeks as part of ObGyn to a small rural hospital even more "bottom-of-the-world" than Dunedin. At least (a.) I'll get heaps of hands-on opportunities and theatre time(!), (b.) the Doctors' Residence I'll be staying at is constantly WARM++, and (c.) there's nothing to do there so I'll have plenty of time to study. Two weeks of all Women's Health all the time; should be interesting!
It appears this week has been a week of babies and women... but mainly babies. Not only has 90% of my waking hours been spent talking/learning/studying about babies, but coincidentally I also babysat for friends of mine Tuesday evening AND the fiance of a classmate-friend gave birth Thursday night. I went from virtually no baby contact time in the entirety of my life, to a week of babies, babies all the time... and it's got me thinking. I went from not really knowing how I felt about the idea of "having kids" to being more and more sure that I'm not ready -- AT ALL -- to even begin thinking about it. Paradoxically, the idea of specialising in Neonatology-NICU/Neonatal Surgery is becoming more and more attractive, or in the very least, a definite possibility. Which in my mind only further suggests I'm not ready -- AT ALL -- to begin thinking about KIDS OF MY OWN and I'm not sure I ever will be. How do you raise a baby? How do you protect it from all the horrible-ness or potential horrible-ness of this world? How to do you take this tiny, precious, perfect, heart-wrenchingly adorable mini-human being and keep it safe and healthy in a world where nothing is guaranteed and nothing is certain except for the fact that You Are Responsible. Completely. Fully.
While we were on a tour of NICU I couldn't process a word the nurse was saying to us -- all I could do was watch the absolutely fragile preemie baby BREATHING in the incubator, falling utterly in love. And I felt this sudden, overwhelming, INSUPPRESSIBLE urge to do everything in my power to protect her. And that baby wasn't even mine... And I refuse to let myself imagine what it would be like if that baby were mine. Like I said, totally not ready.
Monday, February 16, 2009
(because I need to do something that's not in any way related to medicine after yet another 9hour day)
Some excerpts from a draft of my almost-completed book, entitled "For You (or, Sleep and the Middle Ground)":
"The flight to Boston was breath-taking, the incredible weather giving way to beautiful views of Southern California, Nevada, and Utah. Later that evening however the weather changed and as we got closer to Boston there was a storm brewing. And in the darkness of the night sky our plane circled over Massachusetts and I watched lightening strike from the air... and it was perfect.
By the time we landed at Logan Airport it was almost midnight. I collected my bags and called for the courtesy shuttle from the hotel I was booked at for the night. Because Opening Weekend didn't start until tomorrow I would have to spend what was left of this Friday night in a hotel in some arbitrary suburb in the outskirts of Boston. I wasn't even sure if it was legal for a 16 year old to stay in a hotel alone but when I had made the booking they hadn't asked and I hadn't brought it up..."
*******
"...But everyone lives for something. Every single human being -- regardless of gender, race, or profession -- each of us are broken and are looking for something that will mend the ineffable brokenness in the depths of our hearts; that which will fill the hole in the depths of our souls. Whether we are actively seeking or subconsciously trying to figure out, we are all looking for 'The Answer.' Some of us look for It in money, others respect, praise, success or achievement. A lot if not most of us are looking for It in LOVE, in that if-not-perfect-then-at-least-right-for-me-right-now man or woman. Others seek It in religion or spirituality, and some in the receiving of adoration from whichever group of people surrounds them at the time.
I was no different. My hope -- what I was living for -- was Myself, my future, and the person I knew I could become. Everything I was, everything I did, was part of investing in the person I knew I wanted to become, the person I knew I could become if I worked hard enough and wanted it enough.
So who was this person?
She was intelligent... successful... respected, admired... independent... pioneering.
She came at the top of her class in high school and had the praise of every teacher. She got accepted by, studied at and graduated from Harvard University, and then studied International Law at a prestigious Law School (Yale? Harvard? Oxford?). Then she spent her entire career -- nay, her entire life -- dedicated to serving the underprivileged, the Lost Cause; that which was forgotten by the media and subsequently the World.
She was, above all, a history-maker.
For her, it wasn't about money or fame or prestige. She was living for a Greater Purpose which she set for herself, to live a 'selfless' life for the Underdogs of the world.
All of which sounded lovely and brilliant, and that's how I justified it to myself. That's how I reassured myself I was better than 'him' or 'her' or 'them' who were living such selfish, purposeless lives; that's how I felt better about myself when I was hurt by how I wasn't as pretty or athletic or popular or rich as 'him' or 'her' or 'them.' None of those things mattered, I told myself, because I, unlike most of these other people on earth, knew what I wanted to do with my life and I had confidence in my ability to do it. I knew I wanted to change the world, and what's more I knew I could do it if I worked hard enough.
I was ambitious. Monomaniacally so."
*******
"My love for Harvard had matured over the two months, from utter blind infatuation to a love rooted in a true appreciation and mutual understanding. Those moments we shared... in the stillness of the morning as the rays of sunlight broke through the tree branches in Harvard Yard tessellating in the air... in the quiet of the night as I sat staring up at the evening sky from the balcony of my dorm room wrapped in my flannel Harvard blanket... in the heat of Bostonian summer, sipping on an iced coffee from Au Bon Pain in between classes... in the air-conditioned coolness of upstairs Lamont Library, swimming in a pool of study note-cards... in the moment I stood in sheer awe, staring up to the top of Emerson Hall slowly reading aloud to myself the words engraved on its outer wall, 'What is man that Thou art mindful of him?'
The first time I read those words I had chuckled aloud thinking they were of one 'enlightened' man speaking satirically to another: 'Who do you think you are that you regard yourself so damn highly?'... and I was the oh-so enlightened man posing that question to every single person but myself. What I would later come to learn, however, is that those were the words of none other than King David crying out to God: What is man -- what am I? -- that You, God, Maker of Heaven and Earth, are mindful of him? That You are mindful of me? What am I, but dust, that You care about me? That You, Oh Lord, think of me?"
*******
"Harvard may have been my first love, but medicine will always be my true love. A love not based on mistaken dreams and adolescent fantasies but a love that has allowed me to GROW. It has pushed me, challenged me, hurt me, surprised me, romanced me. It has broken me, and then it has put me back together in a different but better way. It has put me back together as a better woman, better friend, better daughter, better student, better Christian... as a better person and human being.
...Med school changes the way you see the world and the people in it. It is its own micro-world and the further you progress the more removed you become from the 'real world' around you. It changes the way you speak, the way you listen, the way you touch, the way you think, and the way you perceive the world around you. And like Harvard, it is esoteric as hell."
*******
"That was almost five years ago now. So what is it that I think about love as a 21 year old?
I believe that before you are able to fully give of yourself to another you have to 'know thyself.' My sister once said to me growing up, 'Anna, before you can even start to think of being in a relationship you have to learn how to be an independent woman.' At the time I thought to myself, 'Oh, the talk of a future spinster! How silly!' But just a few years later I agree more with what she said to me back then than even she does now.
To love someone for the rest of your life, together, forever, isn't a given. Rather, it's a decision you make. And how can you make such a decision, how can you know who you make that decision with, unless you know yourself first? Unless you know the kind of person you are, your strengths and limitations, your hopes and dreams, your fears and flaws. Because it is only once you know yourself that you will have a surety, a certainty and a confidence in the decisions you make in life and in love. If you are uncertain of who you are it follows that you are uncertain of what you want. And if you are uncertain in what you want, how can you embark on such a life-defining adventure like falling in love? Isn't that the very reason why people break-up, get divorced or have affairs? What they think they want changes so often, or, they were never sure what they wanted to begin with so when something (or someone) seemingly better appears a new chase begins. But most likely that too will not last, and a vicious cycle ensues. People live their whole lives chasing what or who they think they want, what or who they think will fulfill them and satisfy them and fill that gaping hole in their hearts. But to no end."
"The flight to Boston was breath-taking, the incredible weather giving way to beautiful views of Southern California, Nevada, and Utah. Later that evening however the weather changed and as we got closer to Boston there was a storm brewing. And in the darkness of the night sky our plane circled over Massachusetts and I watched lightening strike from the air... and it was perfect.
By the time we landed at Logan Airport it was almost midnight. I collected my bags and called for the courtesy shuttle from the hotel I was booked at for the night. Because Opening Weekend didn't start until tomorrow I would have to spend what was left of this Friday night in a hotel in some arbitrary suburb in the outskirts of Boston. I wasn't even sure if it was legal for a 16 year old to stay in a hotel alone but when I had made the booking they hadn't asked and I hadn't brought it up..."
*******
"...But everyone lives for something. Every single human being -- regardless of gender, race, or profession -- each of us are broken and are looking for something that will mend the ineffable brokenness in the depths of our hearts; that which will fill the hole in the depths of our souls. Whether we are actively seeking or subconsciously trying to figure out, we are all looking for 'The Answer.' Some of us look for It in money, others respect, praise, success or achievement. A lot if not most of us are looking for It in LOVE, in that if-not-perfect-then-at-least-right-for-me-right-now man or woman. Others seek It in religion or spirituality, and some in the receiving of adoration from whichever group of people surrounds them at the time.
I was no different. My hope -- what I was living for -- was Myself, my future, and the person I knew I could become. Everything I was, everything I did, was part of investing in the person I knew I wanted to become, the person I knew I could become if I worked hard enough and wanted it enough.
So who was this person?
She was intelligent... successful... respected, admired... independent... pioneering.
She came at the top of her class in high school and had the praise of every teacher. She got accepted by, studied at and graduated from Harvard University, and then studied International Law at a prestigious Law School (Yale? Harvard? Oxford?). Then she spent her entire career -- nay, her entire life -- dedicated to serving the underprivileged, the Lost Cause; that which was forgotten by the media and subsequently the World.
She was, above all, a history-maker.
For her, it wasn't about money or fame or prestige. She was living for a Greater Purpose which she set for herself, to live a 'selfless' life for the Underdogs of the world.
All of which sounded lovely and brilliant, and that's how I justified it to myself. That's how I reassured myself I was better than 'him' or 'her' or 'them' who were living such selfish, purposeless lives; that's how I felt better about myself when I was hurt by how I wasn't as pretty or athletic or popular or rich as 'him' or 'her' or 'them.' None of those things mattered, I told myself, because I, unlike most of these other people on earth, knew what I wanted to do with my life and I had confidence in my ability to do it. I knew I wanted to change the world, and what's more I knew I could do it if I worked hard enough.
I was ambitious. Monomaniacally so."
*******
"My love for Harvard had matured over the two months, from utter blind infatuation to a love rooted in a true appreciation and mutual understanding. Those moments we shared... in the stillness of the morning as the rays of sunlight broke through the tree branches in Harvard Yard tessellating in the air... in the quiet of the night as I sat staring up at the evening sky from the balcony of my dorm room wrapped in my flannel Harvard blanket... in the heat of Bostonian summer, sipping on an iced coffee from Au Bon Pain in between classes... in the air-conditioned coolness of upstairs Lamont Library, swimming in a pool of study note-cards... in the moment I stood in sheer awe, staring up to the top of Emerson Hall slowly reading aloud to myself the words engraved on its outer wall, 'What is man that Thou art mindful of him?'
The first time I read those words I had chuckled aloud thinking they were of one 'enlightened' man speaking satirically to another: 'Who do you think you are that you regard yourself so damn highly?'... and I was the oh-so enlightened man posing that question to every single person but myself. What I would later come to learn, however, is that those were the words of none other than King David crying out to God: What is man -- what am I? -- that You, God, Maker of Heaven and Earth, are mindful of him? That You are mindful of me? What am I, but dust, that You care about me? That You, Oh Lord, think of me?"
*******
"Harvard may have been my first love, but medicine will always be my true love. A love not based on mistaken dreams and adolescent fantasies but a love that has allowed me to GROW. It has pushed me, challenged me, hurt me, surprised me, romanced me. It has broken me, and then it has put me back together in a different but better way. It has put me back together as a better woman, better friend, better daughter, better student, better Christian... as a better person and human being.
...Med school changes the way you see the world and the people in it. It is its own micro-world and the further you progress the more removed you become from the 'real world' around you. It changes the way you speak, the way you listen, the way you touch, the way you think, and the way you perceive the world around you. And like Harvard, it is esoteric as hell."
*******
"That was almost five years ago now. So what is it that I think about love as a 21 year old?
I believe that before you are able to fully give of yourself to another you have to 'know thyself.' My sister once said to me growing up, 'Anna, before you can even start to think of being in a relationship you have to learn how to be an independent woman.' At the time I thought to myself, 'Oh, the talk of a future spinster! How silly!' But just a few years later I agree more with what she said to me back then than even she does now.
To love someone for the rest of your life, together, forever, isn't a given. Rather, it's a decision you make. And how can you make such a decision, how can you know who you make that decision with, unless you know yourself first? Unless you know the kind of person you are, your strengths and limitations, your hopes and dreams, your fears and flaws. Because it is only once you know yourself that you will have a surety, a certainty and a confidence in the decisions you make in life and in love. If you are uncertain of who you are it follows that you are uncertain of what you want. And if you are uncertain in what you want, how can you embark on such a life-defining adventure like falling in love? Isn't that the very reason why people break-up, get divorced or have affairs? What they think they want changes so often, or, they were never sure what they wanted to begin with so when something (or someone) seemingly better appears a new chase begins. But most likely that too will not last, and a vicious cycle ensues. People live their whole lives chasing what or who they think they want, what or who they think will fulfill them and satisfy them and fill that gaping hole in their hearts. But to no end."
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
whoa nelly!
I've got so much I want/plan to write about -- four or five posts worth! -- but I just don't seem to have the time.
I cannot believe what a crazy three days it's been; how absolutely full-on, jam-packed and intense it's been...and I'm loving it. :)
So much stimuli, physically, mentally, emotionally, and every other --ally possible!
I cannot believe what a crazy three days it's been; how absolutely full-on, jam-packed and intense it's been...and I'm loving it. :)
So much stimuli, physically, mentally, emotionally, and every other --ally possible!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
those Swiss sure do know how to live
A friend of mine recently gave me a gift voucher for a Full Body Massage, something I've always wanted to try but could never justify spending my money on. So I've been waiting for the perfect chance to use this voucher and yesterday seemed like that day: it was what felt like one of the busiest days I've had in so long, during one of the busiest weeks, all of which was the culmination of three months of working non-stop, no one's fault but my overachieving self.
As described by our so very attentive class administrator in an email she recently sent out: "Hi All, Hopefully you will have had a relaxing break over the Christmas and New Year although I know some of you just haven't quite left the hospital..." Yup, that would be me.
Anyways, so I had been saving the gift voucher for the perfect time, and OH MY GOODNESS, yesterday evening was just that, perfect. It was an hour long, full-body Swedish massage, and holy moley, it was indescribably relaxing; pure and utter BLISS. When it was over and the masseuse left for me to get changed again, I just lay there in this bliss-coma; I knew theoretically that I had to leave, but my body blatantly refused... LoL.
I came home, took a quick shower, and literally collapsed into bed. Slept for 13hours straight. And for someone who's been having trouble sleeping lately, that's pretty freakin' awesome.
Now the question is, would I pay $65 of my own money for it?? Jury's still out on that, but man, what an awesome way to finish off the summer.
As described by our so very attentive class administrator in an email she recently sent out: "Hi All, Hopefully you will have had a relaxing break over the Christmas and New Year although I know some of you just haven't quite left the hospital..." Yup, that would be me.
Anyways, so I had been saving the gift voucher for the perfect time, and OH MY GOODNESS, yesterday evening was just that, perfect. It was an hour long, full-body Swedish massage, and holy moley, it was indescribably relaxing; pure and utter BLISS. When it was over and the masseuse left for me to get changed again, I just lay there in this bliss-coma; I knew theoretically that I had to leave, but my body blatantly refused... LoL.
I came home, took a quick shower, and literally collapsed into bed. Slept for 13hours straight. And for someone who's been having trouble sleeping lately, that's pretty freakin' awesome.
Now the question is, would I pay $65 of my own money for it?? Jury's still out on that, but man, what an awesome way to finish off the summer.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Top 10 Memorable Moments From 4th Year '08
On Monday a friend/fellow meddie and I gave a talk to the new 4th year med students about starting clinicals and the new experience that is life on the wards. It's got me thinking about the year that's passed, and all the random, crazy experiences I had on my first year in the hospital, so here's a Top 10 Memorable Moments From 4th Year:
10. Discussing my very first Case Write-Up with the Cardiology consultant who was my home tutor for Medicine run:
Dr W: "Anna, your case write-up wasn't very good at all, I almost had to fail you. We need to go through it together."
Me: "Really, Dr W?? Oh, okay..."
Dr W: "Well, first of all, you wrote here this patient had cellulitis -- why would you treat a skin infection with fluoxetine, an antidepressant?"
Ahhh... the utter humiliation of realising, in front of your consultant, that you didn't know what "cellulitis", "fluoxetine", or "fluoxcillin" were. I've come far, oh so very far...
9. Spending the day at the Methadone Clinic in Gore -- man, what an eye-opening experience.
8. Locking myself into an empty office on the subacute psych ward, freaked out of my wits after being followed around by a (theoretically harmless) schizophrenic woman with borderline personality (hence the following me around). Silliness, I know, but it was only my first week on psych!
7. The journey I got to share in with Mr and Mrs S while I was up in Timaru Hospital for my acute med run. Mr S came in with a long-standing cough and pleuritic chest pain, and it turned out he had this massive (2L+) pleural effusion, query lung cancer. I was with them right from the beginning, at the time of admission, and over the next four weeks got to know them as one of the loveliest couples I have ever met and will ever meet in my life. They opened their hearts to me in this incredible way, and they in turn will always have a place in mine.
6. Remember that one time I tried to take a blood sample with the Vacutainer from the forearm/wrist, thinking it was the antecubital fossa I had to avoid when really it was the other way around!?! [Despite the semi-vocal concerns of the patient who turned out to be a retired nurse? Rule #1: patients sometimes actually know what they're talking about.]
5. Helping a three-fingered midwife deliver a baby at four in the morning -- walking out of the hospital doors three hours later, I was on SUCH a high.
4. My first on-call night for Surgery -- I was at the hospital from 7.30am to 11.30pm, was home for ten minutes before being paged, drove back and scrubbed into surgery for the very first time. And not only did I scrub in, but I got to assist the surgical registra on the appendectomy! My first visual tour of the abdominal cavity of a live person -- by the time I left the hospital it was almost 2am, but it was so worth it.
3. Collapsing out in the empty foyer of the Acute Operating Theatre at 12.30am, pale, shaking, mouth completely dry... literally crawling in my scrubs across the 5th floor to the water cooler. Out of eagerness (?stupidity) I hadn't had dinner while on-call, then scrubbed in to the surgery at 11pm... for half an hour I was standing there – with cold sweats, nauseous, and dizzy -- before excusing myself as unobtrusively as possible and collapsing outside where there was no one around. Scary, but, dude, what an EPIC night! lol
2. Presenting a patient I had taken a history from and examined to the on-call surgical registra near the end of the year. How utterly satisfying to realise how far I'd come, from not even knowing how to start an oral presentation and then doing almost, almost, well. :) It took a year, but I got there.
10. Discussing my very first Case Write-Up with the Cardiology consultant who was my home tutor for Medicine run:
Dr W: "Anna, your case write-up wasn't very good at all, I almost had to fail you. We need to go through it together."
Me: "Really, Dr W?? Oh, okay..."
Dr W: "Well, first of all, you wrote here this patient had cellulitis -- why would you treat a skin infection with fluoxetine, an antidepressant?"
Ahhh... the utter humiliation of realising, in front of your consultant, that you didn't know what "cellulitis", "fluoxetine", or "fluoxcillin" were. I've come far, oh so very far...
9. Spending the day at the Methadone Clinic in Gore -- man, what an eye-opening experience.
8. Locking myself into an empty office on the subacute psych ward, freaked out of my wits after being followed around by a (theoretically harmless) schizophrenic woman with borderline personality (hence the following me around). Silliness, I know, but it was only my first week on psych!
7. The journey I got to share in with Mr and Mrs S while I was up in Timaru Hospital for my acute med run. Mr S came in with a long-standing cough and pleuritic chest pain, and it turned out he had this massive (2L+) pleural effusion, query lung cancer. I was with them right from the beginning, at the time of admission, and over the next four weeks got to know them as one of the loveliest couples I have ever met and will ever meet in my life. They opened their hearts to me in this incredible way, and they in turn will always have a place in mine.
6. Remember that one time I tried to take a blood sample with the Vacutainer from the forearm/wrist, thinking it was the antecubital fossa I had to avoid when really it was the other way around!?! [Despite the semi-vocal concerns of the patient who turned out to be a retired nurse? Rule #1: patients sometimes actually know what they're talking about.]
5. Helping a three-fingered midwife deliver a baby at four in the morning -- walking out of the hospital doors three hours later, I was on SUCH a high.
4. My first on-call night for Surgery -- I was at the hospital from 7.30am to 11.30pm, was home for ten minutes before being paged, drove back and scrubbed into surgery for the very first time. And not only did I scrub in, but I got to assist the surgical registra on the appendectomy! My first visual tour of the abdominal cavity of a live person -- by the time I left the hospital it was almost 2am, but it was so worth it.
3. Collapsing out in the empty foyer of the Acute Operating Theatre at 12.30am, pale, shaking, mouth completely dry... literally crawling in my scrubs across the 5th floor to the water cooler. Out of eagerness (?stupidity) I hadn't had dinner while on-call, then scrubbed in to the surgery at 11pm... for half an hour I was standing there – with cold sweats, nauseous, and dizzy -- before excusing myself as unobtrusively as possible and collapsing outside where there was no one around. Scary, but, dude, what an EPIC night! lol
2. Presenting a patient I had taken a history from and examined to the on-call surgical registra near the end of the year. How utterly satisfying to realise how far I'd come, from not even knowing how to start an oral presentation and then doing almost, almost, well. :) It took a year, but I got there.
1.) And my all-time favourite moment from my 4th year of med school?? Without a doubt, being called and requested by Mr M, the breast surgeon, to assist him on a bilateral mastectomy when he had no registra around... just me. And it was AWESOME. Oh, how many times I got sprayed by blood –- Quentin Tarantino style! -- during those three GLORIOUSLY MAGICAL hours. :)
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
tell me, when did I become Morgan Freeman?
It must be that when you hit 22years of age you suddenly realise everyone around you is pairing up.
My question is: have I just suddenly noticed what's been grumbling away for a while, OR is it that all of a sudden everyone is pairing up?
Was there some sort of psychological/biological/emotional Memo or Deadline I seemed to have missed completely, or is it all just coincidence?
I find myself increasingly feeling like that girl from a romantic comedy who wakes up one day to find she's the only single person left.
More than Miley Cyprus, travelling alone, or planning for life after med school, this is starting to make me feel really freakin' old.
My question is: have I just suddenly noticed what's been grumbling away for a while, OR is it that all of a sudden everyone is pairing up?
Was there some sort of psychological/biological/emotional Memo or Deadline I seemed to have missed completely, or is it all just coincidence?
I find myself increasingly feeling like that girl from a romantic comedy who wakes up one day to find she's the only single person left.
More than Miley Cyprus, travelling alone, or planning for life after med school, this is starting to make me feel really freakin' old.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
travel destination? Dunedin
With one week left of summer it's inevitable that I find myself thinking about the three months that have passed.
Do I regret staying in Dunedin and not spending my last student vacation to travel to an exotic faraway place?
... No. Not in the least. I have loved enjoying this city, and what's more, getting to know it in a completely new and different way: through my running. Rediscovery is, I think, what they call it. And it's like I've fallen in love with this stunning place all over again. I don't think you truly get to know a place unless you've run through its streets, its parks, its hills, its beaches... Even the beach at St Clair/St Kilda -- a place I have been to countless times over the past six years -- felt completely new to me as I found myself running along the water last week for the very first time. And what an incredible, truly incredible, experience it was.
Do I regret taking on such a relatively big clinical trial for my summer research project, not nearly close to being finished with only a week left?
... No. Not in the least. Catching up with all my study patients this past week (and week to come) has been a real joy and privilege, hearing their holiday stories and of their summer adventures. I sat in equal parts laughter and disbelief as a patient told me about her dog who got bitten on the arse by a cat from which her dog contracted... necrotizing fascitis! Yup, flesh-eating disease. And if the dog had been bitten anywhere else but the arse, he would have been put down, go figure. There's a scene from "You've Got Mail" when Meg Ryan's character is reflecting on the "quietness" of her life, and how so much of what she sees reminds her of what she's read in a book when, shouldn't it be the other way around...? Unlike Meg Ryan's character, I have loved the fact that so much of the randomness and utter hilarity of this summer are stuff books should be made of!
And...
... I have loved forming an addiction to running out of doors.
... I have loved learning how to deal with the complete bureaucracies of setting up a clinical trial in a big, public, tertiary hospital.
... I have loved all the patients I have met throughout my study and becoming a part of their lives, however small and short-lived it may have been.
... I have loved the writing I have done over this summer, and the progress I have made on my first book... and I still have one week to finish it completely.
... I have loved growing in friendship and becoming more connected to so many people who I knew of, but hardly knew. Much like my rediscovery of this city, I have been surprised, in a most simple and beautiful way... which proves you don't have to travel the world to meet fascinating, interesting, brilliant people; all you need is an open mind and an open heart.
... But most of all I have loved how, as I sit here reflecting on the time that has passed, I am not the same person I was three months ago. I have allowed myself to change and grow with the events, the circumstances, the relationships, the dramas of this summer, and I know I have adapted and become a better person for it... I think. :) I was afraid that by doing "the same old thing" with my very last summer vacation as a student I'd be wasting such a special gift... but now I realise I couldn't have spent this time better any other way.
Do I regret staying in Dunedin and not spending my last student vacation to travel to an exotic faraway place?
... No. Not in the least. I have loved enjoying this city, and what's more, getting to know it in a completely new and different way: through my running. Rediscovery is, I think, what they call it. And it's like I've fallen in love with this stunning place all over again. I don't think you truly get to know a place unless you've run through its streets, its parks, its hills, its beaches... Even the beach at St Clair/St Kilda -- a place I have been to countless times over the past six years -- felt completely new to me as I found myself running along the water last week for the very first time. And what an incredible, truly incredible, experience it was.
Do I regret taking on such a relatively big clinical trial for my summer research project, not nearly close to being finished with only a week left?
... No. Not in the least. Catching up with all my study patients this past week (and week to come) has been a real joy and privilege, hearing their holiday stories and of their summer adventures. I sat in equal parts laughter and disbelief as a patient told me about her dog who got bitten on the arse by a cat from which her dog contracted... necrotizing fascitis! Yup, flesh-eating disease. And if the dog had been bitten anywhere else but the arse, he would have been put down, go figure. There's a scene from "You've Got Mail" when Meg Ryan's character is reflecting on the "quietness" of her life, and how so much of what she sees reminds her of what she's read in a book when, shouldn't it be the other way around...? Unlike Meg Ryan's character, I have loved the fact that so much of the randomness and utter hilarity of this summer are stuff books should be made of!
And...
... I have loved forming an addiction to running out of doors.
... I have loved learning how to deal with the complete bureaucracies of setting up a clinical trial in a big, public, tertiary hospital.
... I have loved all the patients I have met throughout my study and becoming a part of their lives, however small and short-lived it may have been.
... I have loved the writing I have done over this summer, and the progress I have made on my first book... and I still have one week to finish it completely.
... I have loved growing in friendship and becoming more connected to so many people who I knew of, but hardly knew. Much like my rediscovery of this city, I have been surprised, in a most simple and beautiful way... which proves you don't have to travel the world to meet fascinating, interesting, brilliant people; all you need is an open mind and an open heart.
... But most of all I have loved how, as I sit here reflecting on the time that has passed, I am not the same person I was three months ago. I have allowed myself to change and grow with the events, the circumstances, the relationships, the dramas of this summer, and I know I have adapted and become a better person for it... I think. :) I was afraid that by doing "the same old thing" with my very last summer vacation as a student I'd be wasting such a special gift... but now I realise I couldn't have spent this time better any other way.
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