Fruit and Character

Obesity, A Series

2011-04-04T15:51:00.008-04:00

Being a med student, I don't have a ton of time for T.V. watching. Even when I had time in a past life, I was more of a "go find something to do" girl. But after our exam today, I decided to catch up on Glee. I love Glee. I don't know why-- it has kind of a stupid story line-- but it makes me laugh. If you don't watch Glee: The main story line revolves around a show choir. The end.

Watching this week's episode however, a particular phrase stopped me in my tracks. (And by tracks, I mean couch.) The group was encouraged to write their own songs to perform. One of the heavier girls wrote a song called "Hell to the No". The song was actually rather cute until she said the following:

Tell me I should eat my wheaties
You know what? Hell to the no
Tell me I'd come down with diabetes
Hell to the no

Try to make me change my eats
But baby, that just isn't me

Now, don't get me wrong. I think it is imperative to provide good examples of positive body image to children young adults. I am a larger size girl myself, but that size is a healthy body weight for my height.

This song was not about body image. This song was blatantly saying "Screw you, Medical Evidence, I'll eat what I want.. F*** the consequences."

Unfortunately, I feel this is the opinion of the majority of our obese nation (and a message we should probably not be sending to children).

It's ok not to be a size 2 or a size 6, but it's not ok to eat without consideration to your health and be unprepared to reap the consequences.

To the left is a map from the CDC website depicting 2007 rates of diabetes and obesity in our country. There is at least a correlation here, people.

Shame on you, Glee.

CDC Map, Glee photo credit.

This is not a site for medical advice.

Dr.... Who?

2011-01-05T23:28:00.007-05:00

I have a weird last name. It's ethnic, and hard to pronounce. But not in a cute McSomething "Oh!-You-must-be-Irish!-Me-too!-And-my-four-kids-are-all-redheads!" or -stein or -sky way that denotes your particular heritage. My last name is Hungarian. Yea... no one ever guesses that. But they do look at me frequently and ask, "Dude.. where are you from?"

I'm as vanilla as can be, speak perfect and clear English, and my family has been here for 3-4 generations on any side you look. But my name is so hard to say. Honestly, there is debate in my family about how to say it. I say it differently than my parents, mostly because I try to enunciate so people understand what the frig I'm trying to say. I probably spell my last name 3-4 times per day on average. To further exacerbate this ridiculousness.. some of the letters are also hard to enunciate (at least for me). My lovely surname contains an S and an M and a D. So I usually get F? N? T? I just want to walk up to someone and say, "My name is Fizzle Smith." No repeating, no spelling, no explaining when my family immigrated to the U.S.

I suppose I should look at the bright side here, and admit I've gotten rather good at cranking out my NATO alphabet.. Just in case there is ever an emergency in which I need to spell every word over a walkie-talkie. But really, the hassle is frustrating.

I always thought there was an end in sight, because I was oh-so-certain that Prince Charming was going to pop out of the woodwork and marry my ass by age 20. I also realize that many people have names difficult to spell and pronounce. But I'm falling face-first into a profession in which I'm going to be introducing myself dozens of times per day.. and hundreds of patients will call me by my last name.

Alas, conundrum.

I want to legally change my last name. There, I said it. I know, I know, whip out the axes and grab your torches because this girl has renounced her family name and taken another without being wed! (At least that's how my mom reacted. She tried to tell me how "hurt" my father would be.) It is just as if I were getting married, except I'm not. Also, 1) the closest anyone in my family has been to Europe is Baltimore 2) neither my mother or father could locate Hungary on a map 3) I'm actually a smidge more German than Hungarian 4) We don't talk to my dad's side of the family anyway.

The downside I see is thus: It is going to cost a shitload of money. Seriusly-- Google "Legal Name Change". Go ahead... I'll wait. It's ridiculous: Court dates, car titles, insurance, voter registration, bank accounts, credit cards, student loans, passport, car registration, email addresses, postal service, hospital IDs... So. Much. Work.

However, I'm looking at it as it's going to be far cheaper to do it now, pre-medical licensure. Otherwise, we can probably tack on a few hundred dollars more.

I have vowed to make this decision on my own, weighing the pros and cons and thinking it through. I will not let my parents pressure me one way or the other, though I will likely account for their opinion in the cons.

I dunno. Thoughts?

Image credit.

Vitals

2010-12-08T14:09:00.004-05:00

There was a summer internship available at our hospital, to which I decided not to apply. Instead, I traveled and learned Spanish. However, I received some interesting information about the interns' experiences from their multitude of stories. One of the ones that stuck in my mind was a friend of mine who was doing peds:

Staff: Get her heart rate and BP for me.

K (M2): *Blank stare*...*Searches frantically for wall clock*...

Staff: YOU DON'T HAVE A WATCH?? *huffily takes pulse herself*

The moral of the story: Wear a watch. This summer in Guatemala, my friend stepped on my lovely Fossil watch and smashed the plastic band into a million pieces. Alas, I am in need of a new watch. I decided this time I would buy one with a leather band, and hopefully leather can withstand my rough and clumsy nature. I went to a Fossil store and found this watch, which I love dearly:

However, it took me about 2 days to notice (until I went to take vitals on my patient) that the damn thing didn't have a second hand.

"Who makes a watch without a second hand!?" grumbled the disgruntled med student (me).

"Apparently, Fossil," replied my mother. Thanks for the mocking, Mom.

Backtracking

2010-12-06T19:47:00.002-05:00

So awhile back, I came up with a great idea where I would start some type of system where I better myself and keep track of it on my blog... here with you people. Unfortunately, I'm an irresponsible blogger... Like most people.

Also, I really blew at not eating out. It turns out that in life, we have priorities. It also turns out that the $50K I spend per year on medical school causes passing medical school to trump making dinner to save $100/month.

So, it turns out I'm irresponsible and lame. And I think I'd much rather keep this blog to be my place to bitch about life and my own personal drama. I can keep you updated on my better-person-ism.. but making it a project is not something I have the time or endurance to accomplish.

Speaking of endurance, I ran a second 5K on Thanksgiving Day. Unfortunately, I think my time was actually slower. In my defense, it was biting cold. Also, I ran with the fast healthy people for the first mile, and so my second and third miles were significantly slower... since... you know, I'm chubby and slow.

I'm currently on the third day of Christmas tree decorating. It took me 2 of those days just to put it together. Now it has lights and about 3 feet of garland around it. At this rate, I imagine it will be decorated completely by around Christmas Eve. I think I should pay some teenager with good taste to come and finish this sucker... or maybe just stay here and drink wine and continue hoping some jolly Christmas gnome will finish it for me. Until then, I will continue using House episodes to augment my medical education.

Dx: Extravagant Spender

2010-10-19T09:00:00.000-04:00

Description of Disease: Just about every week, I get an envelope from Uncle Sam, updating me on the billion million dollars of student loan debt + interest I now owe. (This just in: med school is expensive).

I have a special place on my kitchen counter for a pile of these unopened envelopes. When the pile gets too high, I open them and shovel them into the nearest binder, as if somehow shoving the evidence out of my sight makes it cease to exist.

Now this debt is excusable to an extent, because I worked my way through undergrad, and all of it is a result of medical school. However, the part that is inexcusable is the following: Sushi, DVDs, shoes, running gear, bar tabs.

Prognosis: I will be significantly less poor. And you know, all budgeted and responsible and stuff.

Prescription: I will, for the next 30 days, adhere to the following spending restrictions:
1) Eat out no more than once per week.*
2) Order nothing online. Nothing.
3) One trip out for drinks.
4) No movie rentals. Stick to Netflix.
5) No shopping of any kind except for groceries and household necessities.
6) No shopping. Noooo shopping. No shopping.

*Starbucks is an exception with the following justification: Drinks at Starbucks run me about $5/day. Parking at the library is also $5/day with no coffee. Starbucks has free parking. Justification solidified. (I also don't go to Starbucks every day.)

Subjective: The most difficult part of this for me will be the whole not eating out thing. When I get busy, I like me some grocery store sushi and some take out sushi and some Chinese buffet sushi. So, I guess I'll have to smear the dust off those kitchen pans and get cracking.

In the end, this will be for the best, since I'm training for a half marathon. I'm super excited. I know you're excited to hear my fat ass is probably going to trip and fall and be run over by 5-10 thousand people.

Run, Chubby Girl, Run

2010-10-17T13:55:00.003-04:00

I have never been a runner. I fucking hate it. Sorry, but there is no other way to put it. But I need to get back into some semblance of shape after the amazing M&Ms stress-eating I did my first two semesters.

I have been doing some cross training and such, trying to get into shape, and I decided I would try to run a 5K to see how my workouts were progressing. In a smidge over 30 minutes, I completed it without dying. Alas, the ultimate goal.**

But now, I'm hooked. It's a freaky culture you have, you in-shape runner-people. And I like it.

So I have officially begun my training for a half marathon, somewhere abouts 1 year from today. Again, completing is the goal, not winning. Because, I mean, I'm not that crazy.

**I have never been so proud of an accomplishment, ever. My race bib is magnet-ed to my refrigerator.

Project Prognosis: Better Person, Better Doctor

2010-09-14T22:27:00.008-04:00

One year of med school down, three long years to go.

Medical school has taught me lots of things… mostly a multitude of lessons about how to balance a crap-ton of studying with life, friendships and remembering to eat.

But, I woke up one day a few months ago and decided this: I need to teach myself some stuff.

Namely: I need to work on being a better person.

Now, I’m not your run-of-the-mill asshole. In fact, most people would probably say I’m relatively nice. I like to think I operate on a standard bell curve, with “nice” at the dead center... mean, and asshole about two standard deviations to the left (see below) ( What? I was bored).

However, I would like to make that asshole/insensitive section be essentially nil. I need to change a lot of things about myself, in addition to my relative niceness. But niceness is a start. That’s how Project Prognosis was born.

The Project:
It's pretty simple. I'm going to try to change the course of my life, and attempt to mold myself into a person I can be proud of. Better person, better friend, better physician.

Here is the HOW:
1) I will diagnose myself with a “disease" (problem, or what have you): social, ethical, physical, or otherwise.
2) I will come up with a “prognosis” (an expected result)
3) I will come up with a “prescription” (a game plan for how to cure the disease)
4) I will make regular “progress notes” to… document my progress. Ok that one was easy.

Ok, ok, it’s corny. But it’s a way for me to document my goals in real time (and be held accountable by you and certain privileged friends) and reflect on my life (and hopefully improve it)… before everything gets lost in the shuffle.

A list of current "diseases" will be created later this week.

Here goes nothing….

Edit: Typos. Argh.

Coccobacilli, or something...

2010-04-16T13:10:00.003-04:00

I have been studying so much lately, but I have begun to ask myself.. What am I really learning?

We are in Micro/Immuno right now, and the masses of information are being thrown faster than we can grasp. To remember things, we have adopted the age-old med student method of... (drumroll please).... MNEMONICS! (Or random-ass long stories to help me memorize heaps of information I don't truly understand-- whichever explanation you'd like to go with.)

For example:

Pseudimonas aeuruginosa:
Hageman and his gang originated a fire in the Quad.
(Hageman factor is involved, originated=aeuruginosa, causes ecthyma gangrenosum, involved in burn infections, uses Quorum sensing.)
He burnt his eye and jumped into the hot tub, still wearing his Burka, to cool it off.
(Causes keratitis, hot tub dermatitis, and is related to Burk-something-or-other)
He got Swimmer's ear from the hot tub.
(Causes swimmer's ear-- otitis externa)

And another:

Haemophilus influenza:
Hib is bleeding.
(Haemophilus influenza B= Hib, Hib also stands for Hib Is Bleeding; haemophilus=bleeding).
We give him CPR.
(CPR=PRP, the protein that makes up Hib's capsule? and is in the vaccine, Conjugated PRp)
He has a cut, so he squirts blood all over the people nearby.
(Causes community acquired pneumonia)
We need to put on latex gloves to protect ourselves.
(Latex agglutination positive)
A child sees and starts screaming.
(Hurts throat and ears-- causes epiglottitis and otitis media)
HIb's dog starts barking when he sees Hib on the ground.
(Epiglottitis causes a barking cough.)

I won't even begin to share the stories we made up to remember STDs.

So the question is this: at the end of the day, is all this studying amounting to an education? Or am I just remembering a bunch of junk long enough to pass a test? If it's the latter, I don't think this is how I'd like to spend my days.

Here's to remembering.

PiYo? Is that like GoGurt?

2010-02-13T00:33:00.004-05:00

The MedGirls and I started noticed a little pudge around the edges that may or may not have accumulated from many long, sobbing nights filled with Double Stuf Oreos and Grey's Anatomy reruns (and bitching about neuroanatomy). So we got this Grand Idea that we should buy fitness passes for the local university's exercise classes. We have free access to their regular workout facilities, but we didn't regularly go because "we're tired" and "we're ~~lazy~~ busy". We decided that a little peer pressure and some slightly-fun classes would encourage us to be healthier.

Round 1: Zumba
So, I'd seen signs around the Big City advertising Zumba, and I had an idea it was dance-y exercise, but I really had no clue what it was. No one wanted to go to kickboxing with me (I wanted to release my inner Chuck Norris), so I was coerced into trying Zumba. We walked into a humid, piping-hot room packed with women from sorority girls to grandmothers, all wearing some sort of brightly colored spandex.

A buxom, 18 year old perky-ass cheerleader bounced to the front of this tiny room and hit play on the boombox... and this is where things start to get cloudy. Suddenly, I was shaking my bum and "popping" my shoulders and shaking The Boobies like I've never done in front of another person ever. I felt like a stomping rhinoceros.

The class was physically challenging, in addition to the prancing around for heart rate's sake. I was pleasantly surprised at the mild amount of fun I had, but this class kicked my butt. And, holy shit, I felt like such a doofus. NEXT.

Round 2: Abs/Cardio
How bad could this be? A little cardio something-or-another and some abs. WRONG. This was death. There was running (ew), sprinting, stretching, high-knees, butt-kicks, backwards runs, and the Holy Mother of all Sucky Exercise.... Indian Runs. It felt like high school two-a-days with an extra 20-pound vest on. Oh, the horror. I might go back next week, though, because the instructor-man was beautiful. Half my age (and Nazi-esque), but beautiful.

Round 3: PiYo
"Ok, what the hell is PiYo?" was all I had to say. The Girls started bouncing with excitement at the thought of combining both pilates and yoga. In all seriousness, I thought they were the same thing. Apparently not. Something or another came up, so I couldn't go to the guinea pig trial run of this class, but The Girls came back with rave reviews from their trial run. I heard a lot of "It's so RELAXING" and "I can't WAIT for next week!".. so I agreed to come along next time. Those girls are full of doodie.

They turned off the lights and had us stretching and turning and rolling back and forth in fetal position. Frankly, that all felt pretty awesome. Then she came up with some idea like chattarunga or something. My hands were sliding out from under me when my weak little arms couldn't support my weight, and I couldn't even fake like I was doing this. I just laid on my stomach until all the non-fat people were done, and I continued from there.

Maybe this is like the first time I tried Starbucks, where I was intimidated by the "culture" and jargon, but I just think this is wayyyy to new-age-y for moi. I'd rather suffer under the wrath of the sexy ab-master or shake my booty for the perky cheerleader than have to lie on the floor, unable to even pretend to be exercising.

Hopefully I can talk one of them into going with me to the kickboxing thing. I think punching and kicking would be a great outlet for stress. More so than that "chattarunga" garbage.

Puffy Eyes, But Open Ones

2010-02-09T11:13:00.004-05:00

I wrote earlier about being frustrated by my patient when she couldn't recall her medical history. Then, NTKOG commented on how difficult it was to spew back your entire medical history in explicit detail.

This is not something foreign to me. Every time I visit the doctor, I'm annoyed at how they want to know an entire history for my newest stiches-requiring injury. I usually pair it down to the 3 most important things, and my one surgery.

Lo, I should not be surprised when inpatients, especially eldery and extremely ill patients, cannot recall their bazillion past illnesses. If I can't recount 25 years of my history, how can I expect an elderly patient to remember hers? I guess I drew on the assumption that surgeries are pretty major, and she would remember them. (But, Folks, we all know what happens when one assumes.)

Thinking over this for the past few days -- I complain about all the terrible doctors in existence. I complain about the lack of humanity in medicine, and how patients sometimes get lost in the shuffle of Medicare and insurance coding.

Isn't this the same thing, in shorter form? My lack of empathy for the memory of an old lady? Am I already becoming an exhausted robot? I hope this is not the case. I hope I am just learning-- learning how to balance my life and education with patient care. I don't pretend to be great at it yet, but I hope via a little introspection, I can avoid becoming one of those doctors.

I know your brain better than you do.

2010-02-06T12:02:00.000-05:00

Well, that's done. Neuroanatomy, I mean. For four long weeks, I ~~suffered~~ struggled through Neuroanatomy. (We've actually already cranked out 3 physiology lectures and had a physiology exam, but that's block schedule for you.)

Preamble.

Don't get me wrong, I love neuroanatomy as a subject. If I had to get a Ph.D. instead of and M.D., I would probably go for neurophysiology. It's fascinating stuff, folks. You can study the cool stuff like hemineglect (you don't bathe or clothe half your body, and you only eat from one side of your plate). But the class was painful.

First off, the brain is the part of the body that we understand the least. We think we know what each section of the brain does, to an extent, but it is an overwhelming and somewhat impossible task to identify what every individual neuron does. Everyone's brain is different, and our brains have the ability to mold and change if we lose a leg or a sense (e.g. hearing).

So we take this little-understood part of the body, and we learn everything we do understand about it in excruciating detail. I think this is where neuro lost me.

I understand where in the cortex certain things project, and I understand where tracts cross over in the spinal cord and brainstem. I understand where each path individually exists in space, and I know the locations of cranial nerve nuclei. But when I have to integrate all those locations in my head.. and know all the things that will be affected if you have a lesion at the left lateral caudal medulla, MY brain shuts down.

I'm hoping this isn't something that will continue to plague me as I move through medical school, this inability to integrate. It is perhaps the most important part of neuroanatomy to be able to diagnose the location of a lesion based upon a patient's symptoms. However, it seems to be the one thing I cannot do.

Looking at cross sections of the brainstem will forever haunt me. I know where each thing is in theory, but by the time I figure out where everything is one at a time, my patients will die of old age before I locate the source of their ipsilateral hemianesthesia.

I'm excited to hear how I did on the shelf exam. I really hope I did well enough to pass the class. I was borderline before the shelf, thanks to a "deer in the headlights" first exam that lost me quite a few points. (Pass is 70%.) In hindsight, I think I would have rocked this class without block scheduling. I think the immense detail just takes longer to absorb... at least for me. Despite the fact I spent 6-8 hours per day studying, I didn't do all that well, mostly because I felt I was always studying against a ticking clock. Not an excuse, just an observation.

In the long run, even if I didn't pass, I know I will pass the retake. Because... as much as I hate to admit it... I learned a SHITLOAD by having to struggle so hard in this class. Who knew? Drowning helps you swim.

Photo swiped from here.

Puffy Eyes and Early Mornings

2010-02-05T09:19:00.004-05:00

This was written in the fall, in the early days of ICM. (Intro to clinical medicine-- the one time that first year medical students actually get to see the inside of the hospital.) Unfortunately, it's at the ass-crack of dawn...
_____________________________________________

Every Monday, my alarm goes off at 5AM. Every Monday, I beat my phone silent until nearly 6, before dragging my behind into the shower. Every Monday, I ponder the awkward humiliation I will face that day.

Today was... invigorating. Today was the first day we saw patients on our own. Previously, we interviewed patients in pairs. That is fantastic, if you didn't know, because when you have a brain fart mid-conversation, the other student can step in and save your ass. But today, without warning, baptism by fire. Previously we were sent only to retrieve the chief complaint, but now they want complete medical histories. Which is nifty, except no one ever taught us how to do this.

Patients have no idea why they are in the hospital:
My patient, Miss Y. was in the hospital with pancreatitis, small bowel fistulas, and various heart complications. Taking a medical history is complicated when the patient considers him/herself to be healthy, despite 1100 medical problems.

Me: Have you had any other health problems other than these recent ones that put you in the hospital? Is there anything you see your doctor for?
Y: No, no. Well, I see a neurologist.
Me: Hm, what do you see him about?
Y: I fell down and fractured my skull.
Me: Oh? How did that happen?
Y: [Explains]
Me: Ok, is there anything else?
Y: Nope.

So we continue on with the interview, and I ask her if she has had any surgeries.

Y: Well they took my appendix out when it exploded.
Me: Oh? How did that happen?
Y: They were cutting out some small bowel because of the Crohn's.
Me: You have Crohn's disease?
Y: Yes, and they had to cut out the part with the Crohn's.
Me: I see, and have there been any other surgeries?
Y: Nope, I mean, except my tonsils.

I loved her. She was a great patient, and really sweet and fun to talk to. But I don't know if it's that medical personnel make them nervous, or what, but the inconsistent answers we sometimes get never cease to amaze me. Here's to a lifetime of wading through misunderstandings to find the most direct route to the truth.

Lesson of the day: If you are in a hurry and don't ask twice, you will miss a lot.

Edit: See here for how much I love bothering patients for their histories.
Edit 2: Changed patient details.

Secrets to Success-- Time Management or: Facebook Ruined my GPA

2010-01-17T03:40:00.005-05:00

Consider this Installment Numero Uno of
"HOW TO SUCCEED IN MED SCHOOL".
Ok, so maybe it won't be that grandiose, but here goes nothing:

Time Management is the single most difficult part of med school for me. Nothing we are learning is really difficult from a content perspective. But the truth is, the massive amount of material is fucking overwhelming.

"It's like dying from thirst, and trying to drink from a fire hose."

This phrase is used by many to describe the load of material in medical school: Even though you know how to drink, water from a fire hose is more likely to knock you on your ass than provide you with mouthfuls of water.

I find is particularly difficult because our school runs on a block scheduling system of sorts. Which essentially means we learn everything 3-4 times as fast as students at other schools, but we learn it one class at a time. This sounds like a grand plan at first glance (you only have one subject to study), but what it boils down to is this: Falling behind= fucked.

Here are some things to avoid while you are trying to study:
1) Facebook
2) Homestarrunner
3) Youtube
4) Facebook
5) Icanhascheeseburger
6) Failblog
7) xkcd
8) ThinkGeek
9) Stumble Upon
10) Sporcle
11) Facebook

I'm not kidding about the Facebook thing, either. I literally waste HOURS every day playing on Facebook. In college, I didn't even like Facebook, but I had an account just so I could keep up with people's phone numbers and look up the occasional *name of a person that I should know but I forgot their name because I was too drunk when I met them*. Also, when I was in college you had ONE Facebook picture, so there was significantly less to do, but I digress. I figure my scores would be about 12% higher* if I spent the Facebook-stalking time more wisely (namely: sleep and neuroanatomy).

I am seriously considering having a friend put a password-ed parental control system on my laptop to prevent me from blowing precious study time on Facebook. Heed my warning, younglings.

*I made this number up.

Unrealistic Christmas List 2009

2009-12-16T15:00:00.011-05:00

As promised, my list of unrealistic crap I want(ed) for Christmas. Yes, I know we're into the second week of JANUARY, don't judge me. I had stuff to do. (<--Lie.)

7. A new-model remote from Click. First, if you haven’t seen the movie Click, you’re missing out. I think I become just a smidge better of a person every time I watch this movie. It instills family values and all that crap. However, the remote in the movie is faulty, and causes all sorts of sucky, unwanted side effects. So I want the Remote 2.0. I’d like to fast forward waiting in airports, waiting in line, bathroom breaks, arguments, bus rides with smelly people, and other such un-enjoyable circumstances.

6. A Barbie PowerWheels. So, I’m not even sure if they make these anymore. This was the one thing I always wanted for Christmas growing up, and it was the thing that Santa never brought. Really, Santa was showing some logic, here, because we had a big house on a little bit of land in a subdivision full of busy streets. But kids have no such safety-injected logic, and I fricken wanted one. So this is an unrealistic wish because there’s no way I could cram my now adult-sized (read: oversized) ass into one of them, and because I now have the ability to drive a real big-girl car.
Edit: They DO still make these, and they even make Escalade ones.

5. A trip into outer space. I think every one of us lived through a phase where we truly believed we were going to be something awesome when we grew up: professional ballet dancer, race car driver, astronaut, etc. While I never really aspired to be an astronaut, I always believed that some day I would be able to orbit the Earth and be all floaty and such. I adore the perspective of the Earth as a blue marble, and would like to see it in person.

4. A fairy godmother. From lottery winnings to Tickle-Me-Elmos, we all want something. I think the Average Bear would wish for a magic lamp with a genie, but here’s the problem: genies have rules—and you usually only get 3 wishes. Plus, genies are boys, and men fuck everything up. You know it's true. Well 3 wishes is crap. I want the fairy godmother: First of all, she’d be awesome because she could grant me all the nifty stuff I want/need, but she could also serve as a motherly/conscience-like figure who can explain to me that I do need another flight home from Denver on Christmas Eve when I miss mine, but I do not need 20 pairs of Jimmy Choos. (Bitch.)

3. A lifetime supply of calorie-free Cinnabon. Other than cookies, Cinnabon is possibly the most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. (Shuddup with the “in my mouth” thoughts.) The damn things sell themselves—they smell like sugary orgasm. Unfortunately, I also get blocked arteries and fatter thighs just from the smell. So if we could go ahead and chemically remove all the calories, that’d be great.

2. An Aston Martin Vanquish. It’s a sweet car, in case you didn't know. And yes, I wanted one before James Bond and the Cullens made them trendy. They don’t make them any longer to my knowledge, but-- point is moot, I want one for Christmas. Fo’ FREE.

1. A Tiffany Diamond Ring. Yes, all of those are proper nouns. I don’t necessarily mean an engagement ring, because there is no Mr. Right attached. But I have a few cheapie silver things from Tiffany’s… and I LOVE them. They are timeless and elegant, and every girl loves DIAMONDS. (Again, capitals are necessary.)

What would you ask for, if you could have any unrealistic thing?

Why I suck at IPR

2009-12-16T14:26:00.005-05:00

When you bump into a friend on the street, or speak to the punk rock teenager at the checkout counter, or go to the dentist, the interaction is always the same. A quick "Hi" followed by a "How are you doing today?". But no matter the exchange, unless you truly know the person and haven't seen them in years, you probably don't give a crap how that person is doing. It's simply a nicety.

So when people follow "Hi" and "How are you" with "How's med school"... I never really know what to say. Odds are, 1) they don't give a shit how school is going 2) they haven't seen me in forever and 3) they thought I moved away last summer.

My choices are the following:
1) Be curt. Say, "Fine, how are you?" and hope they go away. This won't work if I actually know the person well and/or like them, because we science nerds bind together and it is likely they will continue to ask questions about school.

2) Lie. Say, "School is great! It's really interesting and I'm learning a ton." I think lies are self-explanatory.

3) Be painfully honest. "I'm drowning. I really need a vacation, and I don't fucking care what enzyme deficiency causes lens dislocation."

My choice is almost 100% #1, simply because I operate on the assumption that no one really cares; I don't want to sound like a whiner; and most importantly, I don't want to have to sit and hear about their problems.

The only negative result of this is that I end up not blowing off my steam about school to anyone but people who also have *school steam*, and we just kind of switch *steam*, and no one really ever loses *steam*. Ok, I'm retarded. Shut up.

Here is an allusion to future posts: 10 totally unrealistic things I want for Christmas, and world's best *First Semester of Med School* survival tips.

The end. (PS, I got pissed in the library the other day and drew some angry med student cartoons. As soon as I find a scanner that is both functional and Mac compatible, I will add them.)

The end. Fin. And stuff.

Online shopping.

2009-11-19T17:02:00.004-05:00

Overstock.com SUCKS. Here's why:

Welcome to Overstock.com Live Chat [Please note it says LIVE CHAT], you will be joined with a chat representative as quickly as possible.
Welcome to Overstock.com Customer Service, you are now chatting with Jefferson.

Jefferson: Thanks for visiting Overstock.com, this is Jefferson, how can I help you?

you: HI, Jefferson. I saw when I googled for a product that you offer a lowest price guarantee. Is this the case?

Jefferson: Hello, I'll be glad to help you with this information.
Jefferson: Overstock.com is an online retailer offering a wide variety of high-quality, brand-name merchandise at discount prices, including bedding, home decor, appliances, watches, jewelry, electronics, sporting goods, clothing and shoes.
Jefferson: We give customers an opportunity to shop for bargains conveniently, while offering manufacturers, distributors and other retailers an alternative sales channel for liquidating their inventory.
Jefferson: Overstock.com provides online shoppers the best value and a superior customer experience.
Jefferson: We are honest, helpful, efficient, accountable and trustworthy, and we are committed to profitability and service.
Jefferson: We want our colleagues and customers to feel At Home with the "O".

you: Thrilling. But if I find a cheaper price, do you match it?

Jefferson: Of course, let me explain this to you.
Jefferson: To Satisfy the Best Price Match:
Jefferson: 1. The product must be the exact same make, model, color and size as the item listed at Overstock.com.
Jefferson: 2. The online merchant offering the lower price must have the item currently available for purchase.
Jefferson: 3. The online merchant offering the lower price must be an established site, as determined by Overstock.com.
Jefferson: 4. The base price of the items must be a difference of at least $5.00.
Jefferson: Please note that if the competitor website has any sort discount, coupon, shipping promotions offers, your request for Online Best Price Match may not be approved.

you: FYI: A price difference of at least $5 is not the best price if the item is 9.99. That's over half the price.

Jefferson: Hope all the above information was helpful and resolves your concern to your satisfaction.

you: But thanks, I guess.

Image credit.

My, my

2009-11-15T21:28:00.008-05:00

So it's pretty obvious that I should be studying for my Cell/Molecular/Biochem exam on Tuesday.. but I have something randomly unimportant to share. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I have a match.com account. Med school is trying on my time and patience, and I don't have the time and resources to drive to a bar and attempt to find a single, straight, employed, intelligent, semi-nonunattractive biological male with whom to bond. Ok, I'm done making excuses, now to make fun of others:

The whole purpose of online dating sites is to meet people you know are single, and meet certain criteria for a "match". Basically, if you'd never date someone shorter than you, or without an education, you can narrow the search results to those taller than you and with a Bachelor's degree. But things go awry in the section where one is expected to write a little autobiographical prose. Unfortunately, some people feel that ebonics, talking about urself using all these abbreviations that u have heard all the kids r using 2day, and mispeling all kinds of werds is ok. Admittedly, things like that don't bother me in everyday life. Really, though... this is your ONLY impression on someone you've never met. Even if you don't know how to spell Casanova... fricken Google it.

According to someone's profile description (3 sentences long... here's 1/3):
I like to always thinking fo how to move up in life and have the final things in life.

Now, let's look at this, shall we? Move up in life? What are you talking about? As in... your job? School? Also, I am not looking forward to getting the "final" things in life (coffins, etc.) for a long time. Fine things, I could give or take... but final things, no thanks. Also, if you don't have a picture on your "profile", everyone assumes you're a toothless, obese nerd with no sense of style. Even if you're not thrilled with your appearance, give yourself the benefit of the doubt and post your picture. Because most of us don't want perfect, we just want to make sure you're not a cyclops.

Photo credit.

Edit: Tags added.

Holy Mother of....

2009-10-05T19:02:00.006-04:00

So religion and medicine-- hot topic? Meh. The world has more worries as of now. Every Monday we have 2 fun-filled hours of a clinical class. It's actually quite glorious, because 1) the class is pass/fail and 2) it's a reminder that we're actually shoving all this information into our brains for a legitimate purpose. We had several readings this week about the role of religion in medicine. This topic ~~freaks me out~~ is daunting.

First of all, I definitely agree with teaching medical students about various religions because, frankly, I think we're a little uncultured (ok, maybe just me). I think a lot of what we know about the world's religions comes from television and, like Wik.ip.edia, that is not an extraordinarily accurate source of information. Sad but true, I really don't know a whole lot about different religions. I have several friends who are Hin.du, Buddh.ist, etc., but we rarely talk about our religious beliefs. Religion has actually become somewhat taboo in daily conversation. Though I'm curious, it's not an eas

y thing to ask questions about. So, in short, I think education is a fabulous thing.

Second, I understand that various religions have established opinions and beliefs about certain medical procedures (i.e. Jehov.ah's W.itnes.ses and blood transfusions). As much as I don't agree with these choices, I do respect the beliefs behind them.

Finally, on to the point I really wanted to address. In my class today, we addressed several real and hypothetical cases, the last of which was probably the most off-putting for me. Dr. A. told us of his elderly patient, M, who was in the hospital and going into surgery. He said that he touched her arm, and told her he would say a prayer for her. As an internist, he knew this woman very well, and he and she were both Christians. This situation was totally appropriate. Dr. A. proceeded to explain how well his voicing his concern for her and telling her he will pray for her affected M's mood. Further, it made the doctor-patient relationship stronger. This is where things went awry: He said it is important that we recognize our patients' beliefs, and that the statement of prayer was for her well-being more than his. I can't remember his exact words, but he implied that we should offer consoling prayers even if that is not what we believe.

Dun dun DUNNNN.... So, I'm agnostic. Notttttt a big pray-er. So, I really don't think I'm going to be lying to patients any time soon-- telling that I'm going to pray for them and then not. I mean, what the crap. Interwebz... what to do, what to do?

Fascinating side note: today I sliced my thumb open with a scalpel. Though there is a family practice clinic one floor above, I chose not to get stitches out of sheer laziness.

Pic from xkcd.

Renaissance

2009-09-29T00:07:00.004-04:00

It was quite traumatic, deleting all my old posts. As I deleted them, I took the time to re-read them, and relive some of the memories-- good and bad-- held within. I think what I will miss the most, though, are the comments left by loverly readers... the very few of you that exist (and have probably trotted off into the sunset, now that I don't frequently post).

I think I will paraphrase my favorite comment for memory's sake, since more and more brain cells go on strike as the amount of sleep I get decreases exponentially.

"You spend all this time trying to keep up and pretending to be a good student, then one day it hits you-- and you realize you actually are."

I don't know why this hit me as hard as it did, but I really think this frame of thought got me through the entire application process, through my senior finals, through my interview, orientation, etc. I think we (read: I) always feel like we are mediocre-- we look at everyone else and they seem to exude confidence. While they are exuding, we are internally jumping up and down and screaming, because we can't figure out how to catch up with the pack. Truly, though, it is simply a symptom of being an over-achieving, perfectionist nerdette. One day, you realize-- you made it, you did it, you caught up. Or maybe you always were just as qualified, just as smart, just as astute.... you just cared so much to do the best for yourself you felt as if you were falling behind.

I realize that was an extremely rambling train of thought, but I think the most important point is thus: I am the first to admit I need frequent reality checks.

Good morning, Reality. My name's Fizzle. Let's not lose track of one another.

Photo credit.

Medical School, The Beginning

2009-08-16T23:50:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow is my first official day of med school, but not necessarily classes (they start Tuesday). Tomorrow is (another) day of orientation-type activities. Looking back on everything I've had to do to get here... the studying, the sacrifices, the MCAT, the application process, interviews.... I know I have not yet even begun the battle. In the past few weeks, I have spent time reflecting on the reasons I want to be a physician, and even tried to talk myself out of it. I consider the fact I have been unable to do this a reinforcement of my commitment to my decision to pursue medicine.

Though I am certain I will delve significantly into my personal life here once again, many of my past personal posts have been removed. I will attempt to recount my travels through school here, both as a form of stress relief and personal release and also for others who wish to follow a similar course. The advice and friendships I gained from reading others' blogs and communicating with my peers has been invaluable.

A fresh start

2009-06-09T17:43:00.002-04:00

Soon, I will delete a vast majority of my past posts. It is not out of anger or shame, but of a desire for a new direction for my blog. More and more of my friends have uncovered my blog, and it is for the best that certain topics are removed from here. I will continue to be brutally honest, so if you must navigate elsewhere in order to cope, do so.

In short...

2008-06-15T14:10:00.000-04:00

Per neumed's request, my six word memoir and seven-song list:

Loves ice cream but lactose intolerant.

Seven actual songs from this week:

Hospital Beds-- Cold War Kids

Blessed-- Brett Dennen (<-- if you haven't heard this, listen.)

I Started a Joke-- Wallflowers

You Know I'm No Good-- Amy Winehouse

Independent-- Webbie (<--My theme song for life.)

Defying Gravity-- Orig. Broadway Cast of Wicked

Where Do You Go To My Lovely-- Peter Sarstedt

Picture by WxMom