Existential Crisis

So, I've not been all that productive lately. And by 'not all that productive,' I do, in fact, mean that I have been spending the majority of my time knitting, watching TV and playing Minesweeper. Part of that goes along with the rotation that I'm on. And part if it is just my general Lack of Motivation.

I've decided that I'm having an existential crisis. Doesn't that sound romantic?!

Ah, but wherein lies the root if this crisis? And, more importantly, how do I get out of it so that I can do important things like Study for Step 3 of the Boards, or Exercise or Get Off My Butt and Make Some Friends Already?

There is this sense that I (and others - I do talk to people still) have in residency. The "I Deserve It Because I Work Hard" sense. It is really just an excuse to do whatever the hell I feel like doing. Because, heck. I work hard. Yet, even in these times when I'm not working hard (i.e. on an Advocacy rotation), I continue to do whatever the heck I feel like doing. Like I'm a Pleasure Camel. Hmm. That sounds kind of dirty. I just mean that it is as if I'm trying to build up a stock of Relaxed Time to get me through the more difficult months I know are coming.

But that ain't gonna work, sister. I may have a hump, and people may call be Sally. But I'm no camel.

Actually, I don't have a hump, and no one has ever called me Sally.

Still not a camel, though.

The flip side of the "I Deserve It Because I Work Hard" coin is the "I Deserve It Because I Do Good Things For People." And here is where I think I start to get into trouble. Because I don't honestly think I'm doing all that much Good right now. Big Good, I mean. Sure I do little good - getting a toddler through an exam without torturing them, calming parents down about antibiotics, etcetera. And I'm definitely doing more good than I was as a medical student, where the good was solely and completely theoretical, and sometimes consisted of doing bad so that the patient knew the difference.

But Good? In the big, life-changing, world-altering sense? Or even in the Being A Good Person Most of the Time sense? I don't know. I'm lazy. I watch too much TV. I don't study enough. Somehow the "I Deserve It" part of that coin has taken over, and I justify my deserving it without actually doing anything to earn it.

Granted I'm not out doing drugs, soliciting sex or knocking over kids' sand castles at the beach or anything.

But I'm not out... I don't know... finding the cure for AIDS, either. Or the cure for the common cold, which would help my patients even more at this point.

I think on some level, I'm starting to resent the patients - or at least the practice of medicine. It takes away so much of my life. Think of what I'd be doing if I hadn't spent the last 10 years of my life figuring out how to get into medical school, studying, volunteering, making myself a better candidate for residency, etcetera, etcetera. I could be married! I could have kids! I could have been on a reality TV show!!

And my way of retaliating is to waste time. Time that could - and, as a resident, really should - be used to make myself a better doctor.

Sigh. I don't know what the answer is. It is a crisis, after all, right? An existential crisis? I don't think crises are supposed to have easy answers.

I do know that most days, especially ones where I've worked really hard, I feel more fulfilled than I could possibly imagine in any other job. I know the thought of working in a field outside of medicine (and peds specifically) seems utterly ridiculous. I know that I'd rather work hard than watch TV all day long.

So, for now, I think I'll keep plodding along. Like a Pleasure Camel.

Watch out, though. I spit.



(Come on, you've gotta get that movie reference... which leads to a Theme Park Reference, and from there, to the more obsure 80's TV sitcom reference)

Geronimo!

My cat just fell off the window sill.

Here she is, looking all non-chalant, "Who me? Fall off a window sill? I don't think so."

Only I would have a cat that is a klutz.

(after this she jumped back up, hit her head, and fell down again)

To School Brenna Wore Her New Skirt vs. Homoscedasticity

One of the things that drew me towards pediatrics in general, and my particular program... particularly... is the general focus on advocacy. Kids are little and need someone to stand up for them, right? Well, I have two good legs and at least two good feet, so... go me!

And I now currently find myself on my Advocacy rotation (refer back to choosing this program particularly). Many residents (peds ones even!) find the advocacy rotation to be... less than useful. And I'll admit that it is no great strain on my intellectual capabilities (hee! see how smart I am with my big words?!), but despite - perhaps even because of that, I dig it. And I can talk myself into a big fiery ball when I start thinking about how kids in general are treated/dealt with in society. But I don't like to play with balls of fire (even great ones), so I won't go there today.

All this was to explain why I found myself sitting in with a sixth grade class this morning. I love sixth grade classes. I saw some Vocab, some Reading Comprehension, and then something about sentence structure. Maybe that was what it was called: Sentence Structure. Probably not. There's probably a more 'official' word for it.

Anyway, the teacher put up a projector sheet (I love projector sheets!) with some funky sentences on them for the students to correct. And one of them? One of them HAD MY NAME! In PRINT. On the OVERHEAD PROJECTOR. It was thrilling. And it was totally about me. This was the sentence:

To school Brenna wore her new skirt.

See? That was so obviously written by some stalker who has been following my life. And not studying sentence structure. Because I have totally worn a new skirt to school before. In fact, I would bet that I've done that at least once or twice a year!

That was fun.

And after Sentence Structure they had Math. They did fractions. I love fractions. I get fractions. I totally know how many pumpkins are ripe if you tell me that two thirds of the 60 pumpkins are ripe. I can even do it in my head.

Which is very exciting, but does not help me in my preparation for the Journal Club I get to help lead on Monday. For Journal Club, I am looking up words like homoscedasticity. Yeah.

I'm thinking to sixth grade maybe back I should go.

And I'll take my stalker with me.

My New Passion

Hey, guess what? I like yarn.

Okay, okay. No big surprise from the person who learned how to spin yarn, has been to two (two!) Animal Fiber Fairs, drove twenty miles out of her way to go to a Yarn/Antique shop in Kansas and hoardes yarn like she's saving up for a worldwide yarn shortage.

I have a new yarn-using hobby now, though! And it is TAKING OVER MY LIFE.

I'm making toys! With yarn!

Yes, I fully acknowledge that I am 28 years old, and well above the age where one should be playing with stuffed animals, and in fact, the mere act of admitting that I still know what a stuffed animal is brings me nigh on being one of THOSE people -- you know - the stuffed animal people -- but... but... it's fun! And you can make some really crazy creatures. That are cute! And make me smile! So shut up with all your "Oh, Brenna must be one of those people" nonsense. Because, well. Maybe I am.

But here is my latest work in progress:

It isn't really anything in particular. But it fills me with happiness and insufflation!

Well. Maybe not insufflation, as that really means something like 'the act of filling with air.' But it sounds like it should mean 'the act of filling with joy and a sense of accomplishment.'

But who expects one of those people to use words correctly?

Jelly Beans and Masochists

There is something unnatural about being awake at 4:36 in the morning. I understand staying up until four - and have often done so for various reasons including (but not limited to) enthralling books, last minute crafty gifts, and extended alcohol consumption/sobering up before letting myself go to sleep thereby decreasing hangover risk (the previous statement is hereby made invisible to anyone calling themselves "mom"). Alternately, I understand getting up at five - generally for things like plane flights and NICU shifts.

But it is this 4-5 hour that really strikes me as odd.

And exhausting.

Which brings me to my main topic: The Masochistic Tendencies displayed by People In Medicine.

Because, seriously? Who in their right minds would choose a career where you work pretty horrendous hours, are guaranteed to get yelled at by the people you're working for as well as the people you're working with, and are bound to spend many years (and many dollars) finding out that you - yes you! - are a bona fide idiot and will never be smart enough.

Not only do People In Medicine (PIM) do this voluntarily - and pay big bucks for it - they also BEG to get in!

Crazy, I tell you!

Not that I'd change any of it.

I guess you have to be one of the PIM to really understand.

....says the spiritual/emotional/intellectual masochist.

Sigh.

I really have nothing to say about jelly beans. I just liked the way it sounded paired up with "Masochists."

And I had some with my lunch.

Which I ate at 2. In the morning.