Summer is definitely gone, as has Labor Day, Halloween, and Veteran's Day, and now we're gearing up for Thanksgiving. By 'we' I mean everyone else: my class has three exams next week, plus I have a presentation and two patient consults to do. Yikes. But interesting things have happened since my last post, which I'll briefly summarize before getting back to work:
-- Brother, dad, and I all moved home so all 4 of us are living under one roof. Definitely a full house, but fun!
-- B had an emergent appendectomy & pulmonary edema + ICU stay -- in Holland. I went out there for a bit until he was better.
-- Went to B's high school friend's wedding in NY for Halloween. Was brief but awesome.
-- The Giants (LET'S GO GIANTS!) won the World Series. For the first time in 54 years. All is happy chaos here.
-- I delivered lots of babies on my inpatient OB/GYN week. Again, awesome.
-- I won a free wedding photo album & design session for after we get hitched!
-- Got 2nd evaluation, nothing too scary. Yay.
-- Started freaking out about aforementioned exams
K, back to work. Bye for now!
P.S. If you have called or emailed and I haven't replied, thank you. I still care about you.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Summer is Slipping Away...
Hello! Gosh, it's been two months since my last post. There has been a lot going on, so I'd better start at the beginning. Last time I checked in, I had just started my third year of medical school. Now, it's been three months, not three days!!
In May, I was just getting started, going to clinics, and meeting my preceptors. I had only a few patients. Now, I have done 2 weeks of inpatient surgery, during which I got to suture a huge abdominal wound closed using subcuticular stitches, I got to drive the camera during a laparoscopic surgery, I got to ablate (laser out) part of a liver, and I got to talk about poop a lot with some amazing and wonderful patients (it was a colorectal surgery service). There is something convenient and reassuring about being able to be frank about people's bodily functions without them running out the door. It's scary to talk about, but it's so important. I know it can be hard to trust a perfect stranger with information about your body, but it makes a huge, huge difference. And I did find that patients were, for the most part, totally blase about their symptoms.
Then there was my first delivery ever, in mid-July. As in, I helped catch. I was following Mom as one of my patients, and I got paged to the hospital. I stayed up all night while we induced labor due to a liver condition, but still no baby. She came in on Friday, and at the stroke of midnight on Sunday, I helped catch a beautiful baby girl. The mom was so brave and working so hard. And she did it! Normal vaginal delivery. Mom and baby had some trouble at first, but I am happy to report that they are now doing well. The baby is over a month old now! They named her after a Roman goddess. And I got to do her first newborn exam as well, and do mom's postnatal exam (with supervision, of course, don't be scared). Awesome. One of the most awesome experiences ever.
My patient list has grown from six to thirty over the past three months, and I hope to acquire about sixty by December. I am surprised that people do, in fact, contact me with questions. The silly medical center voicemail system is NOT user-friendly, however. Grrrr. I missed a call from a lady who had had a stroke the other day, and I was very displeased. So I have to fix that. But patients email me, too. Especially the pregnant ones! I am supposed to deliver 10 ladies of their babies by the end of the year. Here's hoping!
Speaking of strokes, I was allowed to do a neurology consultation to the ER alone. The ER doc said, "Are you from neuro?" and I realized the answer was yes. I diagnosed and admitted a lady with a stroke! It was somewhat harrowing. My supervising resident was very careful and thorough and checked everything I did, but I was able to do it and that was a huge high. It was a sad story, though -- the lady didn't trust the hospital, and so didn't come in until more than 24 hrs after her stroke. By which time it is too late to stop the symptoms from becoming permanent. It was a small stroke, though, and she will be fine with some care and therapy. She will have a permanent slur to her voice, and a facial droop. But she's alive. And she's such an amazing, brave person. She raised an entire family of children and grandchildren by herself. She is so inspiring.
I love, love, love my life. It is hard, it's stressful, it can make you want to cry. It's scary; it can be daunting every single day, but I wouldn't do anything else for the world.
In other news, B was here all summer. That was very cool, even though we were both working the whole time. We stayed at E's place for two months, which was fun. It was a shame that we couldn't hang out with E & R more, but it was a somewhat family-focused time (my dad is moving back to the US from Japan at long, long last). Now B has gone to The Hague. He will be helping to prosecute international criminals! How incredible. Wedding plans are starting to take shape, and I'm getting excited. We are hoping for next spring. It will be a small wedding (very, very small by Indian standards), but it will be our loved ones watching us start our lives together, and therefore excellent. We are going to have a multicultural ceremony, which I hope will not offend anyone belonging to the respective cultures involved! Hopefully we can have a reception for our friends later on. I have to say that I am very lucky to have such amazing parents, such an amazing brother, and such amazing in-laws-to-be. And then there's B. Who makes me happier than I can write on such a blog.
My school program had a light schedule this past week, so I have been getting chores done. I cut my hair, cleaned my room, played with my cat, and talked with B on the phone a lot. I also did do a little schoolwork, because, as always, there are things to catch up on. Speaking of which, I have to e-mail a patient.
TTYS!
Love,
Niya
In May, I was just getting started, going to clinics, and meeting my preceptors. I had only a few patients. Now, I have done 2 weeks of inpatient surgery, during which I got to suture a huge abdominal wound closed using subcuticular stitches, I got to drive the camera during a laparoscopic surgery, I got to ablate (laser out) part of a liver, and I got to talk about poop a lot with some amazing and wonderful patients (it was a colorectal surgery service). There is something convenient and reassuring about being able to be frank about people's bodily functions without them running out the door. It's scary to talk about, but it's so important. I know it can be hard to trust a perfect stranger with information about your body, but it makes a huge, huge difference. And I did find that patients were, for the most part, totally blase about their symptoms.
Then there was my first delivery ever, in mid-July. As in, I helped catch. I was following Mom as one of my patients, and I got paged to the hospital. I stayed up all night while we induced labor due to a liver condition, but still no baby. She came in on Friday, and at the stroke of midnight on Sunday, I helped catch a beautiful baby girl. The mom was so brave and working so hard. And she did it! Normal vaginal delivery. Mom and baby had some trouble at first, but I am happy to report that they are now doing well. The baby is over a month old now! They named her after a Roman goddess. And I got to do her first newborn exam as well, and do mom's postnatal exam (with supervision, of course, don't be scared). Awesome. One of the most awesome experiences ever.
My patient list has grown from six to thirty over the past three months, and I hope to acquire about sixty by December. I am surprised that people do, in fact, contact me with questions. The silly medical center voicemail system is NOT user-friendly, however. Grrrr. I missed a call from a lady who had had a stroke the other day, and I was very displeased. So I have to fix that. But patients email me, too. Especially the pregnant ones! I am supposed to deliver 10 ladies of their babies by the end of the year. Here's hoping!
Speaking of strokes, I was allowed to do a neurology consultation to the ER alone. The ER doc said, "Are you from neuro?" and I realized the answer was yes. I diagnosed and admitted a lady with a stroke! It was somewhat harrowing. My supervising resident was very careful and thorough and checked everything I did, but I was able to do it and that was a huge high. It was a sad story, though -- the lady didn't trust the hospital, and so didn't come in until more than 24 hrs after her stroke. By which time it is too late to stop the symptoms from becoming permanent. It was a small stroke, though, and she will be fine with some care and therapy. She will have a permanent slur to her voice, and a facial droop. But she's alive. And she's such an amazing, brave person. She raised an entire family of children and grandchildren by herself. She is so inspiring.
I love, love, love my life. It is hard, it's stressful, it can make you want to cry. It's scary; it can be daunting every single day, but I wouldn't do anything else for the world.
In other news, B was here all summer. That was very cool, even though we were both working the whole time. We stayed at E's place for two months, which was fun. It was a shame that we couldn't hang out with E & R more, but it was a somewhat family-focused time (my dad is moving back to the US from Japan at long, long last). Now B has gone to The Hague. He will be helping to prosecute international criminals! How incredible. Wedding plans are starting to take shape, and I'm getting excited. We are hoping for next spring. It will be a small wedding (very, very small by Indian standards), but it will be our loved ones watching us start our lives together, and therefore excellent. We are going to have a multicultural ceremony, which I hope will not offend anyone belonging to the respective cultures involved! Hopefully we can have a reception for our friends later on. I have to say that I am very lucky to have such amazing parents, such an amazing brother, and such amazing in-laws-to-be. And then there's B. Who makes me happier than I can write on such a blog.
My school program had a light schedule this past week, so I have been getting chores done. I cut my hair, cleaned my room, played with my cat, and talked with B on the phone a lot. I also did do a little schoolwork, because, as always, there are things to catch up on. Speaking of which, I have to e-mail a patient.
TTYS!
Love,
Niya
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Surgery is not a spectator sport
Gosh, I have so much to write that I must think at least 10x a day, "Oh, I wish I could blog about that right now." But of course, nobody ever accused your third year of medical school of being boring and full of free time to blog. So I will have to satisfy myself with just one right now. I've been itching to write about my inpatient surgery rotation. I just finished two weeks on the colorectal surgery service. And -- it was fun! Actually fun! But -- I am exhausted! So exhausted!
I had the most incredible resident, Em, who gave me more responsibility and taught me more in two weeks than a textbook could have taught me in a year. She took me to lunch and had me practice my subcuticular stitches on a Starbucks banana. She stayed hours after she had to just to talk about patients and illnesses. She gave me rides to grand rounds. She let me do things in surgery and stepped out of the way. In short, she was amazing.
She understood that surgery is not a spectator sport. That once you are familiar with the excitement of being in the OR, it is supremely boring to stand at the back of the room and watch other people operate in a field you can't see, when they are speaking behind masks and it's difficult to decipher what they are saying. Knowing this, Em encouraged me to get my hands dirty. I got to see beautiful dissections of organs. I got to check a colon segment (removed) for cancer. I got to hold countless instruments for delicate procedures. I got to see the abdominal aorta pulsing and the shining dark brown lobes of the liver. How many people have held a pancreas? I am so lucky. Em advocated for me to the surgeons, getting them to let me scrub in, teaching me skills, and essentially pushing me to learn more about what it means to become a surgeon. It's tough. You wake up at 4:45 am if you are a resident. You rarely go to sleep before midnight. You do the math. But there they are, tireless and dedicated and liking their work, every day.
I don't know how I will ever thank her, but I know that when I am an intern (a first year doc post-MD), I will be kind to my medical students because of her. She made me think that you don't have to be a jerk to be a surgeon (and so did the rest of the team, who was pretty nice, in fact).
Oops, out of time. Drat.
I had the most incredible resident, Em, who gave me more responsibility and taught me more in two weeks than a textbook could have taught me in a year. She took me to lunch and had me practice my subcuticular stitches on a Starbucks banana. She stayed hours after she had to just to talk about patients and illnesses. She gave me rides to grand rounds. She let me do things in surgery and stepped out of the way. In short, she was amazing.
She understood that surgery is not a spectator sport. That once you are familiar with the excitement of being in the OR, it is supremely boring to stand at the back of the room and watch other people operate in a field you can't see, when they are speaking behind masks and it's difficult to decipher what they are saying. Knowing this, Em encouraged me to get my hands dirty. I got to see beautiful dissections of organs. I got to check a colon segment (removed) for cancer. I got to hold countless instruments for delicate procedures. I got to see the abdominal aorta pulsing and the shining dark brown lobes of the liver. How many people have held a pancreas? I am so lucky. Em advocated for me to the surgeons, getting them to let me scrub in, teaching me skills, and essentially pushing me to learn more about what it means to become a surgeon. It's tough. You wake up at 4:45 am if you are a resident. You rarely go to sleep before midnight. You do the math. But there they are, tireless and dedicated and liking their work, every day.
I don't know how I will ever thank her, but I know that when I am an intern (a first year doc post-MD), I will be kind to my medical students because of her. She made me think that you don't have to be a jerk to be a surgeon (and so did the rest of the team, who was pretty nice, in fact).
Oops, out of time. Drat.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Fatigue! Honestly come by.
Beginning your third year of medical school while moving out of your old apartment and changing your sleep cycle to an earlier one can be summarized by one word: exhausting. I am exhausted. But this has been one of the coolest things I've ever done, and I can honestly say for the first time I KNOW I made the right choice. I'm so glad I came to medical school.
I have seen patients by myself in a variety of clinics over the past few weeks, and B and I just moved 80% of what remained of my stuff out of my apartment this weekend and put much of it in storage. I have so much extra work to catch up on it's not even funny. And we won't be here next weekend because my cousin is getting married. But it's been amazing. B has sacrificed much of his vacation time in helping me, my mom, and my brother, who just had shoulder surgery. Let's just say there's a lot going on.
More after some sleep. But just wanted to write that I am still alive and kickin'. But not kickin' it.
I have seen patients by myself in a variety of clinics over the past few weeks, and B and I just moved 80% of what remained of my stuff out of my apartment this weekend and put much of it in storage. I have so much extra work to catch up on it's not even funny. And we won't be here next weekend because my cousin is getting married. But it's been amazing. B has sacrificed much of his vacation time in helping me, my mom, and my brother, who just had shoulder surgery. Let's just say there's a lot going on.
More after some sleep. But just wanted to write that I am still alive and kickin'. But not kickin' it.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
The Unwritten Rules
One thing I'm learning is that on the wards, many, many people will let you just put your foot in it. This is not just other medical students who think they're competing with you -- doctors, nurses, staff will let you just make a mistake and then see how you react. This morning was my morning. My attending asked me to check my schedule and tell the patient when I'd be back. Simple, right? Nope. I didn't have my schedule (for the year, not this week) printed out and with me. That was mistake #1. I couldn't log on to the server because I had forgotten which account and password out of five new account/password combinations I was supposed to use. So it locked me out. That was mistake #2. So far, so good.
But the compounding mistake was asking another doctor to log in for me. Apparently that is a big, BIG no-no. But she didn't tell me that. The few other people sitting there didn't say anything. She was just silent, then asked, "Do you have an ID?" and I said yes, but I was locked out. Then she said, "hold on," and left, so I thought maybe she would help me. Meanwhile, I looked up the help number. When she came back, she said, "Are you still locked out?" and made it absolutely clear she was not going to do anything about it. Let me note that she didn't say anything along the lines of, "You know I'm not allowed to do that. Call that number on the screen." She was just silent, as was everyone else.
So at this point, I finally caught on and said, "I'll just call the hotline here." And I picked up my cell phone, spent the next 10 minutes on the phone, and got my schedule off the computer o' doom (it is not a coincidence that the server login screen resembles the Blue Screen of Death). By which time, of course, my patient had departed. I offered a dejected apology to my attending and then swallowed it like a big girl and kept seeing people (who in this case, were very adorable well babies, so this was frankly not too hard). But I lost a patient for my cohort and a chance to look like I actually had my act together.
Lesson learned: Never, never, never, never ask for help if there's a chance you can solve it without putting someone out. Because you are at the bottom of the ladder. Oh, and carry your schedule for the entire year, in case someone asks you what you're doing next July when your patients need shots. Third, always keep an eye out for the Unwritten Rules. The nurses know, just copy them. And never ask a doctor who isn't responsible for you for help. No teaching credit, no time. Oops, I forgot one: learn how to blend invisibly into an overcrowded room without getting in anyone's way or, God forbid, taking a chair (that one I knew: they all 'belong' to someone).
But the compounding mistake was asking another doctor to log in for me. Apparently that is a big, BIG no-no. But she didn't tell me that. The few other people sitting there didn't say anything. She was just silent, then asked, "Do you have an ID?" and I said yes, but I was locked out. Then she said, "hold on," and left, so I thought maybe she would help me. Meanwhile, I looked up the help number. When she came back, she said, "Are you still locked out?" and made it absolutely clear she was not going to do anything about it. Let me note that she didn't say anything along the lines of, "You know I'm not allowed to do that. Call that number on the screen." She was just silent, as was everyone else.
So at this point, I finally caught on and said, "I'll just call the hotline here." And I picked up my cell phone, spent the next 10 minutes on the phone, and got my schedule off the computer o' doom (it is not a coincidence that the server login screen resembles the Blue Screen of Death). By which time, of course, my patient had departed. I offered a dejected apology to my attending and then swallowed it like a big girl and kept seeing people (who in this case, were very adorable well babies, so this was frankly not too hard). But I lost a patient for my cohort and a chance to look like I actually had my act together.
Lesson learned: Never, never, never, never ask for help if there's a chance you can solve it without putting someone out. Because you are at the bottom of the ladder. Oh, and carry your schedule for the entire year, in case someone asks you what you're doing next July when your patients need shots. Third, always keep an eye out for the Unwritten Rules. The nurses know, just copy them. And never ask a doctor who isn't responsible for you for help. No teaching credit, no time. Oops, I forgot one: learn how to blend invisibly into an overcrowded room without getting in anyone's way or, God forbid, taking a chair (that one I knew: they all 'belong' to someone).
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
There but for the grace of God go I...
...where on earth have I been for the last month? Oof. That is truly the million-dollar question, but the answer is pretty much what you'd expect from a medical student in her last two months of her second/third year of a joint MD/MS program: studying. And finishing things. And starting things. With a touch of freaking out underlying it all.
Anyway, today I've got my typewriting skills back, because today was the day I PASSED the USMLE Step 1! Now, I didn't pass 'with flying colors' or streaks of glory or smears of superiority or any such thing. Oh, no. I passed by the very skin of my teeth -- which is not cool nor is it characteristic of my attitude towards exams. I usually like exams and do well at them. But that is another blog for another day. Today, I simply sigh a big sigh of relief. I passed. I passed. Thank the Lord above, I passed.
Which means: I can move forward with rotations. I don't have to call the nice patients in my longitudinal patient panel to tell them that no, I won't be seeing them at their appointments this year after all. I don't have to take time off to retake the test. I can graduate on time, hopefully, and some day be an actual doctor. I can actually enjoy myself (or try to) this year. I can start looking forward to the next set of exams. I can actually make friends with my new classmates/teammates/preceptors/attending doctors. And -- and this is the big and -- I can focus on learning medicine in all its nitty-gritty, terrible beauty.
And: I can help plan a wedding (yay x 1000), find a summer sublet, hang out with friends and B more, and be a less grouchy sister to my younger brother, who has moved home! Good times. Plus, my adorable and slightly plump, middle-aged Siamese cat will get more attention, not to mention my long-suffering parents. Today is honestly one of the most beautiful days I have ever seen. Fluffy white clouds, blue skies, sunshine, eucalyptus trees -- and a passing score.
A passing score, by the skin of my teeth. When I saw it, I felt my heart racing, the same feeling you get when you're hiking and you almost step off a cliff by mistake. Phew. And now, finally, I can say my classroom years have come to a close. I can finally let them go. And I'm mourning them, because I can't remember a time when I wasn't a student in a classroom whose job was to learn. And now I'm a student in the real world, an apprentice-student-doctor, being given real responsibility (with supervision) for real people with real problems who need actual help. The classroom of life.
So far, I'm on my third day of clinical rotations. I have seen two patients entirely on my own, many with my preceptors, and I have six patients who are "mine" -- I will follow them throughout the year and be at any of their appointments I can make it to. My rotation is a longitudinal one, which means I do ALL the core disciplines at once: family, internal, OB/GYN, pediatrics, psychiatry, neurology, surgery, etc. It's been AMAZING. It's been like a dream come true. And my preceptors have been really great teachers so far. And the patients, of course, are the entire point. That's the reason you wake up early (very early!) in the morning. Eventually, the goal is for me to have roughly 60 patients of my "own" for the year -- which is nothing when you realize that the average clinician carries about 1000 patients on a regular basis. But of course, we're just starting out.
I will be blogging more now -- so much to write about, so little time!
But I will never, ever forget, in exams or in life: There but for the grace of God go I.
Anyway, today I've got my typewriting skills back, because today was the day I PASSED the USMLE Step 1! Now, I didn't pass 'with flying colors' or streaks of glory or smears of superiority or any such thing. Oh, no. I passed by the very skin of my teeth -- which is not cool nor is it characteristic of my attitude towards exams. I usually like exams and do well at them. But that is another blog for another day. Today, I simply sigh a big sigh of relief. I passed. I passed. Thank the Lord above, I passed.
Which means: I can move forward with rotations. I don't have to call the nice patients in my longitudinal patient panel to tell them that no, I won't be seeing them at their appointments this year after all. I don't have to take time off to retake the test. I can graduate on time, hopefully, and some day be an actual doctor. I can actually enjoy myself (or try to) this year. I can start looking forward to the next set of exams. I can actually make friends with my new classmates/teammates/preceptors/attending doctors. And -- and this is the big and -- I can focus on learning medicine in all its nitty-gritty, terrible beauty.
And: I can help plan a wedding (yay x 1000), find a summer sublet, hang out with friends and B more, and be a less grouchy sister to my younger brother, who has moved home! Good times. Plus, my adorable and slightly plump, middle-aged Siamese cat will get more attention, not to mention my long-suffering parents. Today is honestly one of the most beautiful days I have ever seen. Fluffy white clouds, blue skies, sunshine, eucalyptus trees -- and a passing score.
A passing score, by the skin of my teeth. When I saw it, I felt my heart racing, the same feeling you get when you're hiking and you almost step off a cliff by mistake. Phew. And now, finally, I can say my classroom years have come to a close. I can finally let them go. And I'm mourning them, because I can't remember a time when I wasn't a student in a classroom whose job was to learn. And now I'm a student in the real world, an apprentice-student-doctor, being given real responsibility (with supervision) for real people with real problems who need actual help. The classroom of life.
So far, I'm on my third day of clinical rotations. I have seen two patients entirely on my own, many with my preceptors, and I have six patients who are "mine" -- I will follow them throughout the year and be at any of their appointments I can make it to. My rotation is a longitudinal one, which means I do ALL the core disciplines at once: family, internal, OB/GYN, pediatrics, psychiatry, neurology, surgery, etc. It's been AMAZING. It's been like a dream come true. And my preceptors have been really great teachers so far. And the patients, of course, are the entire point. That's the reason you wake up early (very early!) in the morning. Eventually, the goal is for me to have roughly 60 patients of my "own" for the year -- which is nothing when you realize that the average clinician carries about 1000 patients on a regular basis. But of course, we're just starting out.
I will be blogging more now -- so much to write about, so little time!
But I will never, ever forget, in exams or in life: There but for the grace of God go I.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
It blows my mind.
It blows my mind that a healthy woman with NO prior health history, on NO medications, who had a baby 5 months ago, could spontaneously develop a dangerous liver abscess from a severe infection. This world is a crazy place.
Luckily, she will be okay. She was my last patient at the JMP! Which is another thing that blows my mind. I can't quite realize that three years have gone by. I am no longer that fresh-faced young person just starting anatomy. Three years older, and dubiously wiser, and slightly sadder, and definitely happier, all at the same time. I've learned a lot, and not all of it has been from a textbook.
1. It's good to be important, but it's more important to be good.
2. A sense of humor will preserve you.
3. Never scoff at love in any form.
4. Remember what it feels like to be sick. Everyone in the hospital feels like that times ten.
5. Be grateful. As often as possible.
That's all the sentimental nonsense I got for now. It's a mellow sunshiny afternoon here after days of rain, and our big clinical exam is tomorrow! I'm a little tired so I may take a quick nap before studying my physical exam stuff. We each get six patients: 20 min. for physical exam, 8 min. written exam, 7 min. feedback from each examiner. They grade you on above, at, or below competency, and there's some magical algorithm to tell them whether you've passed or not. Sigh.
Life is crazy right now. There is too much to remember. I miss B something fierce. I try not to dwell on the fact that I don't really get to see family, hang out with friends, catch up with old friends, or have lots of fun right now. But I'm probably contagious anyway, given this vague pro-dromal feeling, so perhaps it's a blessing in disguise.
I'm listening to The Great River from the LOTR soundtrack, which is beautiful. Wouldn't it be fun to be Howard Shore and compose all the music that went with that movie? Although maybe it would be more fun to be in the orchestra or the choir. Hmm. Either way, it's pretty fabulous stuff.
Luckily, she will be okay. She was my last patient at the JMP! Which is another thing that blows my mind. I can't quite realize that three years have gone by. I am no longer that fresh-faced young person just starting anatomy. Three years older, and dubiously wiser, and slightly sadder, and definitely happier, all at the same time. I've learned a lot, and not all of it has been from a textbook.
1. It's good to be important, but it's more important to be good.
2. A sense of humor will preserve you.
3. Never scoff at love in any form.
4. Remember what it feels like to be sick. Everyone in the hospital feels like that times ten.
5. Be grateful. As often as possible.
That's all the sentimental nonsense I got for now. It's a mellow sunshiny afternoon here after days of rain, and our big clinical exam is tomorrow! I'm a little tired so I may take a quick nap before studying my physical exam stuff. We each get six patients: 20 min. for physical exam, 8 min. written exam, 7 min. feedback from each examiner. They grade you on above, at, or below competency, and there's some magical algorithm to tell them whether you've passed or not. Sigh.
Life is crazy right now. There is too much to remember. I miss B something fierce. I try not to dwell on the fact that I don't really get to see family, hang out with friends, catch up with old friends, or have lots of fun right now. But I'm probably contagious anyway, given this vague pro-dromal feeling, so perhaps it's a blessing in disguise.
I'm listening to The Great River from the LOTR soundtrack, which is beautiful. Wouldn't it be fun to be Howard Shore and compose all the music that went with that movie? Although maybe it would be more fun to be in the orchestra or the choir. Hmm. Either way, it's pretty fabulous stuff.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
