...your brother initiates a dinner-rescue-plan whereby he spends twenty minutes convincing you he means it when he offers to drive an hour out and an hour back JUST to have dinner because he knows you're stressed out from studying and you refused to drive out anywhere.
...your mom hears of the plan and comes along, bringing soup for your freezer.
...and a jacket from your dad, who bought you one as a surprise (thanks! it's awesome!)
...you go out to dinner with them, and your mom and brother are charming, listen to your inane and nerdy stories, gently tell you about what's happening in the real world, and then your brother picks up the tab.
...the cat is so happy to see them that she bounces around like a kitten, even though she's 12.
...you have them to go home to once the boards are over.
Sigh. Warm. Fuzz.
...your friends buy you frozen yogurt and invite you to a party
...your fiance thinks you have every right to vent, even if you really don't
...your classmates share study resources with one another and truly wish each other well
...your cousin doesn't need stitches after all! :)
...your friends find romance and it makes them happy, thereby making you happy
...people come home from abroad and leave you a voice mail
I could go on for ages. This counting blessings thing gets addictive.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Running (out of excuses not to run)...
Wow, I'm prolific right now. I don't even know why. Today I went for my first run in a long time -- I think since I went running with B when I was visiting him. And it felt GOOD! I got a mild runner's high going in maybe the first five minutes, and then I kept it up for pretty much the whole half hour. And it was beautiful, the sun was slanting in over the bay, and people were out and about, and I just had fun. So many adorable dogs, it was an animal lover's paradise this afternoon. And perhaps the best part was that when I got home feeling all glowy and athletic, I saw the sun setting out of the window and that was spectacular, too.
Thanks for finding this place, Mom and Mashi!! You both rock big-time.
Um, so why don't I do this more often?
Thanks for finding this place, Mom and Mashi!! You both rock big-time.
Um, so why don't I do this more often?
Musings on V-Day
This Sunday was Valentine's day, and I didn't get to see B, but we had already celebrated the weekend before. I got him the first season of Chuck, which is apparently no longer online, and he took me out for a champagne brunch! Yum. It was right after symposium AND the medical school formal, so that was a wonderful chance to relax together before the boards/law school resumed control of our lives. I don't think it's cool that people kept bugging him about coming to see me specifically for V-day -- poor guy! We already celebrated together. Yeesh, leave him alone. My mom, however, flew out to see my dad in Tokyo for Valentine's Day! Aww, cute parents.
I don't think Valentine's Day should be a Hallmark (tm or whatever) holiday, with lots of commercial stuff, but I think it is a nice idea. I think it's nice that the we care enough about love to set aside one day out of the year, one day when you are allowed, even expected, to spend time with your partner. And if you're single, I think the point of Valentine's day is to enjoy yourself, just remembering who you are and the talents you bring to the world, maybe appreciating the gifts you've been given. Showing yourself some serious love!
My favorite single Valentine's Day has always been (surprise surprise) a cup of tea, a cat, and a good book. There was one time people made anti-Valentine's Day cards at my high school because they were single (and again in college), but somehow it seemed too -- unhappy to be making cards against love, or against yourself for being single, or against the world for not providing someone... I don't know. My mom is an optimist and it's a trait I greatly admire. Life is too short to be cynical and too long to stay angry, you know?
Eve Ensler did the V-day monologues to reclaim Valentine's Day, in part. I think they're very powerful for women who aren't aware of their sexuality, or don't feel they can own up to it properly. But on the other hand, I think our society is a little too obsessed with sexuality. Somehow, the content of your character gets lost by the wayside.
Anyway, so back to the cup of tea, cat, and good book (I wasn't single this year, but I was far from my valentine, and from my non-furry family members): One of my favorite series of all time is Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery. By the standards of the day, Anne was very liberated -- but she just did her own thing and lived by example. Kind of like my grandparents and my parents, come to think of it.
This is a V-day-appropriate verse from Locksley Hall by Lord Alfred Tennyson that LM Montgomery quotes from a lot:
Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands;
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might:
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring
And her whisper throng'd my pulses with the fulness of the Spring.
Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships,
And our spirits rush'd together at the touching of the lips.
I don't think Valentine's Day should be a Hallmark (tm or whatever) holiday, with lots of commercial stuff, but I think it is a nice idea. I think it's nice that the we care enough about love to set aside one day out of the year, one day when you are allowed, even expected, to spend time with your partner. And if you're single, I think the point of Valentine's day is to enjoy yourself, just remembering who you are and the talents you bring to the world, maybe appreciating the gifts you've been given. Showing yourself some serious love!
My favorite single Valentine's Day has always been (surprise surprise) a cup of tea, a cat, and a good book. There was one time people made anti-Valentine's Day cards at my high school because they were single (and again in college), but somehow it seemed too -- unhappy to be making cards against love, or against yourself for being single, or against the world for not providing someone... I don't know. My mom is an optimist and it's a trait I greatly admire. Life is too short to be cynical and too long to stay angry, you know?
Eve Ensler did the V-day monologues to reclaim Valentine's Day, in part. I think they're very powerful for women who aren't aware of their sexuality, or don't feel they can own up to it properly. But on the other hand, I think our society is a little too obsessed with sexuality. Somehow, the content of your character gets lost by the wayside.
Anyway, so back to the cup of tea, cat, and good book (I wasn't single this year, but I was far from my valentine, and from my non-furry family members): One of my favorite series of all time is Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery. By the standards of the day, Anne was very liberated -- but she just did her own thing and lived by example. Kind of like my grandparents and my parents, come to think of it.
This is a V-day-appropriate verse from Locksley Hall by Lord Alfred Tennyson that LM Montgomery quotes from a lot:
Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands;
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might:
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring
And her whisper throng'd my pulses with the fulness of the Spring.
Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships,
And our spirits rush'd together at the touching of the lips.
I think the fourth line is especially powerful. Is losing yourself in the music a good thing? I hope so! I think if it's your ego, it must be :)
How can I help you?
I'm going to try to express what bugs me so much about our clinical preceptorships. It's not just visiting a new hospital every semester and getting taught by another new doctor whom you'll only meet three times. I like the patient visits a lot, and I like hearing people's stories and practicing physical exam and seeing how the whole hospital/clinic/ER works, but...still. I hesitate. Here's what happened this morning:
She was pretty stoic about her condition. After years of working as a health worker herself, she was hospitalized by sudden and severe back issues that left her in a wheelchair for life. In addition, she is obese and diabetic. She has fungal infections in the folds of her skin, which had opened the pathway for bacterial infection. She has had several severe cellulitis infections (skin infections that turn red, make you swell up, and spread rapidly). Luckily, her partner seems to be supportive but there are, as she pointed out, limits.
She agreed to speak with me, told me her health history, and then gave me her story. She knew all of her medications, trade name and generic, with dosages and also what they do -- which I think is an unmatched feat (among the patients I've seen). But as she spoke to me, I got this overwhelming sense of -- what are you going to do? Like she was testing me, and wanted me to 'practice' on her, but also that she was fed up.
So what did I do? Given that we didn't have to do the whole exam for our last two patient visits, and that my preceptor was waiting, I opted to do a focused H&P (meaning the problem at hand, any relevant history -- which is often extensive, and then pick one system to examine). With her, obviously, it was skin. I wanted to do the neuro exam, too, which is much more extensive and involves cranial nerves, motor, sensory, and mental status -- but I had a feeling she had had it. I asked if her feet hurt, and she said yes, but I could touch them. And I was thinking -- why am I here? To practice? I can't help you -- I don't have the knowledge. I can do a neuro exam, but you don't need one. You need to go home. I got this overwhelming sense of shame, making someone go through the paces -- and there was no interest from her about what they were teaching us, etc, which you often get if you examine healthcare workers. So I think she was humoring me, and I did the basics and ran -- well, not quite, but spent almost as much time on her labs (40 minutes) as with her (70 minutes).
Wimpy? Dumb? Good idea? Bad idea? I mean, obviously, I can't and won't when I'm on the wards -- but on the wards, I'll have a function that goes beyond putting people out for the sake of my own learning.
She said to me, "This is not how I envisioned living at 5X years old. It's not much fun having to show your boobies to everyone (common site of fungal infections). I don't want to visit the hospital again for another 7 years." My preceptor seemed to think that much of it stemmed from carrying extra weight -- probably around 100 lbs. But the fundamental question I wanted to ask this brave, somewhat fed-up, and talented historian was, "I'm not even on the wards yet. So how can I help you?"
And the painful answer is, I can't. I can just learn from you in order to help someone else. And none of my professors have given me a truly good justification for why one patient (who has 'volunteered,' but often is simply doing it as a favor to their doctor) should go through an hour or two of crap for me.
I mean, some patients really enjoy teaching. They enjoy interacting with a medical student, they like telling their stories, they don't mind someone spending an extra hour with them. But inevitably, as a student, you are called upon to examine and interview people who don't really get much out of it. And unlike when you're on the wards or when you're a physician, you can't say, "I know this is annoying/embarrassing/painful, but I'm really trying to help you." Because you're not trying to help them! You're just trying to get to the point where you could.
She was pretty stoic about her condition. After years of working as a health worker herself, she was hospitalized by sudden and severe back issues that left her in a wheelchair for life. In addition, she is obese and diabetic. She has fungal infections in the folds of her skin, which had opened the pathway for bacterial infection. She has had several severe cellulitis infections (skin infections that turn red, make you swell up, and spread rapidly). Luckily, her partner seems to be supportive but there are, as she pointed out, limits.
She agreed to speak with me, told me her health history, and then gave me her story. She knew all of her medications, trade name and generic, with dosages and also what they do -- which I think is an unmatched feat (among the patients I've seen). But as she spoke to me, I got this overwhelming sense of -- what are you going to do? Like she was testing me, and wanted me to 'practice' on her, but also that she was fed up.
So what did I do? Given that we didn't have to do the whole exam for our last two patient visits, and that my preceptor was waiting, I opted to do a focused H&P (meaning the problem at hand, any relevant history -- which is often extensive, and then pick one system to examine). With her, obviously, it was skin. I wanted to do the neuro exam, too, which is much more extensive and involves cranial nerves, motor, sensory, and mental status -- but I had a feeling she had had it. I asked if her feet hurt, and she said yes, but I could touch them. And I was thinking -- why am I here? To practice? I can't help you -- I don't have the knowledge. I can do a neuro exam, but you don't need one. You need to go home. I got this overwhelming sense of shame, making someone go through the paces -- and there was no interest from her about what they were teaching us, etc, which you often get if you examine healthcare workers. So I think she was humoring me, and I did the basics and ran -- well, not quite, but spent almost as much time on her labs (40 minutes) as with her (70 minutes).
Wimpy? Dumb? Good idea? Bad idea? I mean, obviously, I can't and won't when I'm on the wards -- but on the wards, I'll have a function that goes beyond putting people out for the sake of my own learning.
She said to me, "This is not how I envisioned living at 5X years old. It's not much fun having to show your boobies to everyone (common site of fungal infections). I don't want to visit the hospital again for another 7 years." My preceptor seemed to think that much of it stemmed from carrying extra weight -- probably around 100 lbs. But the fundamental question I wanted to ask this brave, somewhat fed-up, and talented historian was, "I'm not even on the wards yet. So how can I help you?"
And the painful answer is, I can't. I can just learn from you in order to help someone else. And none of my professors have given me a truly good justification for why one patient (who has 'volunteered,' but often is simply doing it as a favor to their doctor) should go through an hour or two of crap for me.
I mean, some patients really enjoy teaching. They enjoy interacting with a medical student, they like telling their stories, they don't mind someone spending an extra hour with them. But inevitably, as a student, you are called upon to examine and interview people who don't really get much out of it. And unlike when you're on the wards or when you're a physician, you can't say, "I know this is annoying/embarrassing/painful, but I'm really trying to help you." Because you're not trying to help them! You're just trying to get to the point where you could.
Telefund DID kiss my ass
So I called the Telefund call center closest to me, in Santa Barbara. And explained the problem. And got a patient response. And the person offered to take me off the list and fix the problem without arguing.
I no longer think Telefund, the progressive call center company, can kiss my ass.
I'm just happy that they did.
Thank you, Telefund. My check is in the mail.
I no longer think Telefund, the progressive call center company, can kiss my ass.
I'm just happy that they did.
Thank you, Telefund. My check is in the mail.
Telefund can kiss my ass
Who calls at 5 am? And at 10 pm? And every two hours in between? Telefund.
Who, when I pick up the phone and tell them the problem and ask to be taken off the list, gets testy with me and gives me lip and demand that I stay on the line while asking for a $75 annual renewal for the DNC? Telefund.
Who do I hope will be written up my his supervisor when his call is "monitored for quality purposes?" The not-so-nice-man at Telefund.
And who makes me ashamed to be a member of the DNC who may perhaps NOT renew her membership, due to the DNC's poor taste in call company contractors? Telefund.
Telefund, kiss my ass. That's the only way you'll see a dime.
Who, when I pick up the phone and tell them the problem and ask to be taken off the list, gets testy with me and gives me lip and demand that I stay on the line while asking for a $75 annual renewal for the DNC? Telefund.
Who do I hope will be written up my his supervisor when his call is "monitored for quality purposes?" The not-so-nice-man at Telefund.
And who makes me ashamed to be a member of the DNC who may perhaps NOT renew her membership, due to the DNC's poor taste in call company contractors? Telefund.
Telefund, kiss my ass. That's the only way you'll see a dime.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Finally Figured it Out
Lately, my parents (who are dear, sweet people) have been less sympathetic about my overwhelming stress and less encouraging about my work than they used to be. I have finally figured out why.
They are sick of hearing me whine. It's been twenty-five years, and they're getting tired of it. They're happy to help with editing/money/food, but I think they may have reached the end of their respective venting tolerances. Their reactions now tend to be more along the lines of "so get off the phone and go do your work," than "oh, poor thing."
Wait -- what? You expect me to grow up and take responsibility for my life? I should acknowledge that I knew what I was getting myself into? Those that dance will pay the piper? Bed to lie in, etc? You want me to deal with stress without being cranky to those around me and acting like I'm at the center of the universe? You (gasp) want your own lives?
Oh. That's actually kind of reasonable. Darn.
I guess that's what cats are for.
They are sick of hearing me whine. It's been twenty-five years, and they're getting tired of it. They're happy to help with editing/money/food, but I think they may have reached the end of their respective venting tolerances. Their reactions now tend to be more along the lines of "so get off the phone and go do your work," than "oh, poor thing."
Wait -- what? You expect me to grow up and take responsibility for my life? I should acknowledge that I knew what I was getting myself into? Those that dance will pay the piper? Bed to lie in, etc? You want me to deal with stress without being cranky to those around me and acting like I'm at the center of the universe? You (gasp) want your own lives?
Oh. That's actually kind of reasonable. Darn.
I guess that's what cats are for.
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