Some Stories, Not My Own

Grandma Trauma on Graduation Day
This morning, I picked up a "Nose Lac" patient (lac = chance to suture). It was an older woman, and I expected a nursing home patients, of which we see quite a few. Generally the demented/unstable on their feet/not agile with a cane patients that we patch up and send on their merry little way (have I mentioned that I want to be crazy when I'm old?).

Anyway (obviously I don't have what it takes to be a true reporter - get the story all within the first five sentences? Yeah, right), this older lady was very spry - seemed much, much younger than I expected. She'd been at church, had tripped and face-planted a brick column. I was about halfway through my work-up when she asked me if I knew one of the fourth year students. Turns out, she was (is, actually) his grandmother. And today was graduation day! She was in town specifically to see her little baby become a doctor (they're doctors now! SCARY) I promised her we'd get her through as quickly as possible.

Being at the biggest hospital in the area, we get a lot of patients. We also get relatives of attendings as patients - especially kids. They get the royal treatment, usually. They basically just walk right into a room - no waiting - and get everything done very quickly and nicely. It makes sense - they're attendings. They've put in a lot of hard work, and are generally well respected (or feared). I've also seen residents and nurses (especially nurses) get golden glove care. I didn't really know what to expect for relatives of med students... Turns out, they're just as special! Or, at least they are on graduation day. The ENT doc actually came right in when we called him. (Usually it takes...hours)

The point of that whole rambling was that I was happy to see that we med students get some benefit of our time in the trenches. Or, at least our grandmothers do.

Psych Patient Takes Pills, Calls Student
This morning, when I first got to work, I heard a psych resident telling an attending about a suicide attempt patient she had just talked to.

Psych Resident: She kept saying that [name] didn't care because he wasn't here.

This perked up my ears, because we have a [name] in our class, and it isn't the most common of [name]s.

Psych Resident: She said that [name] worked here, but the only one I know of was a medical student that rotated through psych.

Brenna (to herself): Hmmm. Maybe it IS [name]. Fantastic! Mystery time.

[Name]'s good friend was on the day shift with me today, so I told him about it, and he called [name] to find out. (Okay, so it wasn't a hard mystery to solve... I never claimed to be Encyclopedia Brown. Or Harriet the Spy. Or Nancy Drew....)

Apparently, [name] got a call at 3:30 in the morning:

Crazy Patient: [Name], it's me. I'm going to kill myself.

[Name]: {dumbfounded silence}

[Name] got their fiance to call the police, and in an hour long process, the police managed to track Crazy Patient down and brought them into the ED.

Good. God. Can you believe that? Right there is why you should not be nice to crazy people. Especially if you have a name tag on! Crazy Patient looked [name]'s name up in the phone book.

I was not nice to the crazy people. I scowled a lot and sometimes glared. I do not expect to be getting any middle of the night calls.

Student Gets Engaged, E-mails Friends
That's really all there is to that story, but I felt like I should have three stories. It is a nice, complete-feeling number, you know?

Five days left of my ED rotation. Thank goodness.

State of Mind

Saturday morning in the ED is slow. There are only 8 or so patients. I have nothing to say, but I had wanted to blog while in the ED. Just to say that I had. So here I go! Blog blog blog blog.

Ahhh... Satisfaction. (A state of mind, or a Justine Bateman movie?)

I'm going to go read the required article on Dog, Cat and Human bites. For some odd reason, it makes me think of Susan. Why, oh, why could that be?

To Forgive, Divine...

It appears that after all my venting about the ED over the weekend (to anyone and literally everyone who would listen), I don't hate it so bad! Maybe it was an abscess in my mind that I needed to drain... The attendings that are on for the night make a BIG difference. Big. Huge. (I have to go shopping...)

Tonight, in one shift, I tripled the number of rectal exams I've done, managed to not laugh hysterically when one of those patients started yelling "Mama! That lady had her hand in my BUTT!" (this was a full grown woman, not a child), saw the coolest dislocated ankle fracture EVER (the attending whipped out his camera for it) AND I got to do a central line!!!

It was like the heavens opened up and smiled down upon me. Perhaps my cosmic reward for crossing the rectal exam hurdle (it would appear I'm fixating on the rectal exam... Freud would have a field day)

Many a time have I watched a resident place a central line, after which they say some variation of "You should do the next one." Of course, I am never with the same resident twice, so all year, I just kept waiting and waiting. I know the landmarks. I know the technique. I know how to flush the ports, and that we need to get the fancy blue caps. And today I got to do it! So excited was I. AND I got the vein (an IJ) on my first stick. Like butter baby. Awe. Some.

Still not going to go into Emergency Medicine as a field, but at least I'm not getting hives before each shift any more...

You're Going to Feel a Little Pressure in Your Bottom

It's time for me to admit something. It is something that I've kept secret for... well, about a year now. I didn't tell because I was embarassed...ashamed...and secretly quite happy about it. Ready? Until about 2:00 this afternoon, I had never performed a rectal exam. I know, right? A medical student making it ALL the way through third year of medical school (read: The Year of the Scut without uttering the dreaded phrase "Relax, you're going to feel some pressure..." I even did Trauma! Every trauma patient gets a rectal, and all the surgery residents get to do their evil little laughs when they say "Student! Rectal!"

Anyway. I've done one now. That's a relief...

For those of you who have seen me in person in the last few weeks and know how much I despise the Emergency Room (this coming from a girl who has at least kind of liked everything up to this point), I must say: it is MUCH more exciting when there are at least two demented patients, each trying to out-scream the other. (Pt 1: Ahhhh! Pt 2: AHHHHhhh! Pt 1: Uhh-AHHHHHH!) Throw in a third who won't stay in her bed (Pt 3: Hell, hell, hell-hell), and Brenna may just change her tune.

Except that I got some man's nasty trauma blood on my white coat.

Hmm. At least it wasn't nasty fecal matter.

Keep on Swinging...

This week, I'm all about working the swing shift in the ED. That's 'evening' shift to those less into the vernacular. (Heh. Vernacular.)

Last night was my first shift over in the adult ED. I felt totally hopeless. And just when I was starting to feel less than a complete and total idiot (as I usually do during my first day anywhere), the surgeons descended en masse into the ED and started raising a ruckus. It was really quite awful. There were only a couple surgery residents down there (around 10 pm), but my goodness were they rude. Another reason not to go into surgery. A third year surgery resident actually chewed out the ED attending for letting a trauma come to this ED. Uh-uh. Residents don't DO that to attendings. That would be like me telling the resident what to do.

I had to talk to one of the other nasty residents about a burn that had come in. All I did was ask him to go see the patient (his own attending was the one that had okayed the patient's transfer to us) and he about went ballistic.

Ugh. Let's just say that I had a bad taste in my mouth when I left work last night. I'm hoping that tonight will be better...

I did get to help shove a scope up some guy's nose because he'd tried to use a garden hose as a siphon and ended up sucking something into his throat... Another chapter in "Things Not to Stick in Your Mouth."

Faster, FASTER!!!

Today was DAY ONE of Fourth year. Can you feel the excitement in the air? Can you taste it? (forgive the mixed metaphors) It tastes like... chocolate. With cinnamon. And peanut butter... Mmm...doesn't a chocolate-peanut butter and cinnamon sandwich sound good?

My First Rotation as a Fourth Year is Emergency Medicine. I chose to do this rotation first because 1)It is the only rotation that has a test at the end, thus making it more appealing to get it out of the way early and 2)It is a rotation that you only do during fourth year, thus ensuring that I actually feel like a fourth year (instead of a confused third year, which is essentially what I really am)

Part of the ED rotation is the EMS Ride Along. Which I did today!! When I got there, I tried to remember what I'd heard other people in our class say about the EMS-RA day. Then I remembered: No one else from my class has done it!!! I was first! I got quite a thrill when I realized that. I am used to being last (or second-to-last) at everything, since most things are arranged alphabetically. But now, I have knowledge that NO ONE else in my class does. (Except for the former EMTs and people who have done ride-alongs before...but they don't count)

Here's how the day went:

1:00: Brenna arrives at the County EMS. Parks in one spot, gets out of car. Stands and looks at big scary garage, filled with ambulances (ambulanci?). Gets back in car, and follows signs to "EMS Administration Offices" Gets directed (through an indoor stairwell) down to the same scary garage area. Signs liability type waiver.

1:05-1:45: Brenna sits in Lounge, watching some violent movie (which she later - aka right now - finds out to be The 51st State) in which a large number of words were bleeped out.

1:45-3:00: Brenna jumps up and follows the team from Unit 29 when they get called to the aid of a woman with Chest Pain. I must admit, up to this point, I was pretty bored, and sleepy, and trying to figure out when I could gracefully make my escape. Then, we got in the ambulance, and they turned on the lights and sirens and we were OFF! We got to go so fast! It was the coolest thing EVER. Zipping past all these cars, blatantly running red lights. It was supremely cool. The getting the patient part and going to the hospital was also okay, but not as cool as the SPEED.

I stuck around for two and a half more calls (one was to a traffic accident, where they didn't end up needing any assistance - everyone was okay). At one point, we were going 85 miles an hour on Peter's Creek - a road where the speed limit is 45. SO COOL.

I actually would have stayed longer, except 1)I was starving, 2)I wanted to work out this evening, and 3)We were told to leave before dark - "There are bad parts of Winston-Salem, and I don't want you guys going there" said the attending, and I must heed those words of warning - I did see the kinds of trauma that would come in at night... like the man who'd been stabbed 20 times by 'some guy' that just broke into his house. (Turned out 'some guy' happened to be the other boyfriend of the stabbed man's girlfriend...)

Tomorrow is a random, big test day, so no Emergency stuff. Bummer... I want more fast rides!

Done!!!

It's over! Third year is over. I could cry. I probably will.

I did just totally fail the radiology test - you'd think that would be impossible with questions whose options include a. hot, b. noisy, c. dark, and so on. But that's what you get for not studying at all. But oh well! I don't care! Because third year is finito.

Now begins the year that I have been told, by many people, on many occasions will be 'the best year of my life.' I'll try not to prove them wrong. (Although, I must say I'm planning on my best years being when I'm in my 60s-80s)

Congrats to my fellow finishers. We did what felt impossible. How cool are we???

Before They Were Stars

If you don't watch American Idol, I say 'Good on ya!' I, however, do. And I'm going to talk about it now, so deal.

There is much debate about one rocker-turned-non-rocker contestant. That would, of course be Constantine. (He of the over-done eyeliner last night) There are those that maintain that Constantine can't hold a tune, and manages to float through each week based solely on his ability to bat his eyes and grin evilly. Granted, the eye batting evil grin is quite enjoyable, but to these people, I have this to say: LISTEN to him. He is not bad. In fact, he is quite good.

Good enough to study at Boston Conservatory (granted, I don't know the reputation that this particular conservatory has, but I can tell you - they wouldn't accept me!). AND good enough to star as Roger in a touring production of Rent. (For those of you not as obsessively familiar with Rent as I am: Roger is a lead. Lots and lots of singing) And he was good as Roger. How do I know, you innocently ask? Because I SAW him!!! Yes, indeed. Rent toured here back in fall of 2003, and of course I went, and I just found out that Constantine was Roger.

Granted, Constantine will not win. He is a musical actor/singer, not a rock star. But, hey, it is cool to watch him knowing that I've been within throwing distance of him at least. As long as I was throwing a paper airplane or something else with good loft and flight distance. Maybe a Frisbee...

D-Day, Six Years Later

Flash back to April 17, 1999... I was 21, a junior at college busy with res life staff, class, friends and, on that particular day, taking the MCAT. The MCAT. The test that was going to determine my future. You cannot get into medical school without going thru the MCAT hurdle. The hardest test I had ever taken up to that point, it was really what felt like my first step towards my chosen career. That must be why this date has lived on in my head as An Important Day (whereas I totally forgot the anniversary of Step One of the Boards...) Back on that sunny Saturday, I had no idea where I'd be sitting in six years.

Back to April 17, 2005, an older and somewhat wiser me is preparing to start her Last Week of Third Year. I feel like I've been catapulted through time. I remember the MCAT day so clearly that I cannot fathom the thought that I'm so far beyond it. I remember exactly what I had for breakfast and lunch that day. Last Week of Third Year. That means that in little over 12 months, I will finally be reaching the culmination of the journey that I started six years ago. Of course, that will only mark the beginning of a much longer trip. (Don't you hate it when people use words like 'journey?')

If I took the MCAT today, I would fail miserably...!

Like a Babe in Arms

I am in the middle of my second to last week of third year. This is absolutely monumental.

I'm in anesthesia this week - it is just a brief, one week rotation. And it is supremely cool! There are all these gadgets and levers and knobs. And the residents are fantastic. A complete change from the OB residents (but they would even be cool without the comparison to OB). I worked with one first year resident who grew up in the Midwest (like me), then moved to the Northwest (like me), went back to the Midwest for med school (kind of like me - I went back for college) and then came here (like me!) And, she is blonde, like me. It was like meeting another version of myself!

So, in the Future of Brenna, Anesthesiology is officially added to my top three career choices (not just because of the residents - it is just dang cool stuff). My top three, again, in case you haven't been paying attention: Pediatrics, Neurology, Anesthesiology.

Pediatrics, Neurology and Anesthesiology are about as different from one another as you can get. Why am I drawn to all three of them? My theory: if you take the first letter of each specialty (P, N, A) and rearrange them, you can spell both "PAN" and "NAP" bringing to mind images of spending all day eating and sleeping - quite possibly the perfect life. (And a life that we all lived until we were about 9-12 months old... ahh, the good old days...)

It is presumably possible to combine all three - to be a pediatric neuroanesthetist. But that abbreviation would be "PNA" which, for you non-med speaking people out there, is the abbreviation for "pneumonia" - most definitely not a perfect life. Besides, I don't think the demand for pediatric neuroanesthetists is very large.

Fortunately, anesthesia is freaking hard to get into nowadays (No call and no clinic - can anyone say 'lifestyle?') Fourteenpeople from the class above us are going into anesthesia. That's over a sixth of the class! But that class is populated with impersonable gunners, the type of person currently flooding the anesthesia market. I am not a gunner, and have valued sanity and quality of life, and as a result, do not have the numbers one needs to become an anesthesiologist.

That's okay, because I hadn't really changed my mind from peds anyway!

Blackened Toenail

I almost painted my toenails last weekend. I think I tweezed my eyebrows instead, or watched a movie. Or something like that... The point is, had I painted my toenails, and assuming that I had not hated the result and promptly removed said polish, I would have missed seeing my left pinky toenail turn black. No, I don't have some sort of strange occlusive vascular disease. I'm just a klutz, and the battle of Brenna vs. Wal-Mart shopping cart didn't go my way.

Remember being a kid, and wanting to push the shopping cart, so that you could give it a good shove and then stand on the bottom shelf part, turning grocery shopping into an X-treme sport? Okay, I admit that I do that now, probably more often than I did as a child - there is no mom to say "Brenna!" in her exasperated voice (I heard that a lot when I was younger...still do, actually...) to prevent me from Xtreme shopping. (That wasn't what I did today, by the way - I was just a klutz.)

My bike offered me a little more freedon, because Mom didn't tend to be there when I was zipping around the neighborhood on my hot pink Schwinn.

I am house-sitting this week, which means that I'm in a real live neighborhood, with real live families and kids. With real live bikes. I saw several kids out zinnping around on their bikes today, and I really wanted to join them. Seriously, is there anything like being a kid on a bike? Such freedom and joy. Hills are never as exciting as they are when you are going down as fast as you can on your bike with your hands in the air. Or standing on the girly-bar of the frame. Or with your feet on the handlebars. Yes, of course, I did all of these things at one point or another. And, miracle of miracles, I never hurt myself. (Incidentally, the only time I did hurt myself on my bike was on level ground, with hands on handles and feet on pedals. I ran into a parked van...)

Unlike the Xtreme grocery shopping, though, these are things that I have not done for years! These are actually things that I think I'd be too scared to do now. With or without the exasperated mother.

I hate to feel that I'm growing up - I pride myself even, on certain aspects of my immaturity. Apparently, I've gotten old enough to learn fear, though. Or perhaps just a healthy respect for life-threatening activities.

The Laboring Parturient

Hee-hee. I think that is my favorite phrase/term in all of OB/Gyn. "The Laboring Parturient." It sounds like a book. Or a really bad band. (Like a band in which I'd be the lead singer/clarinet player) It means, in real-person talk (aka anyone other than the OB anesthesiologist who used the phrase repeatedly): a lady in labor.

But guess what? I never have to deal with any more laboring paturients! Or Papanicolaou smears. Or having to say 'pap smear' in Espanol. (BTW, it is 'papanicolau' in Spanish - they just don't shorten it). Or (wonder of wonders) OB/Gyn residents!!!

Okay, in reality, I will have to deal with all of these in the future. Especially as a budding pediatrician. And, you know, as a woman.

But I do breathe a large sigh of relief, even as I frantically cram for the OB Shelf test - a 100 question national exam designed to make us cower and whimper as we acknowledge our severe lack of ability to learn everything... well, anything, really. Let's just say that my brain has not been soaking up OB/Gyn knowledge terribly well. I can write a mean SOAP note, though:

S: Pt s c/o; no HA/RUQ pain/visual change; +FM, -LOF/VB
O: AF VSS, Exam: RRR, lungs CTAB, FF/NT, +BS, 2+ DTR B; FHT: 130-140, Toco: q2-3", SVE: 5/60/+1
A/P: 19 yo G2P1 at 41 c PreE on PPit for IOL, doing well, c/w expectant mgmt and Mg for sz px

Haha! It is like another language. Definitely not one of the Romance languages, though.

T minus two hours and fifteen minutes to test time. More cramming!

Doomed

The White Cloud Strikes Again. Today is my last day on call and we, with two patients on service, are at the busiest we've been all day. Do you know how slowly time passes with very little to do? The answer is very slow. Very, very slow.

And another, larger, problem with this white cloud junk is the lack of opportunity to actually do anything. My vaginal delivery tally is up to four. My standing around, just being in the way during a vaginal delivery tally is up to three. I did get to help a little during one. A little.

And that's it. One of our two patients just delivered, the other won't go for a while. And I'm done with OB call forever in three hours. All I wanted to do was deliver one baby!

BUT.

I am DONE with OB call FOREVER in three hours. You're not going to hear me complain.

Code Blue in the Vatican

One benefit of being up all night is being on top of the big news stories that happen while everyone else is sleeping. I've been checking up on the pope all night. And he is not doing well.

He has a tracheotomy from a few weeks ago, a feeding tube put in his nose a few days ago, and now they are saying he suffered "cardiocirculatory collapse." I'm honestly not sure what is meant by that phrase. To me, it means that his heart may have stopped and that they possibly had to give him drugs - or electric shocks even - to start it again. Not quite the same as a heart attack - that is when blood flow to the muscle of your heart gets blocked somehow, causing the muscle to malfunction. With something called a 'collapse,' I picture more of a situation where the heart just stops beating. His body is old and weak, and he has been putting up a fight for a long time.

What happens when people get old and frail and their bodies get tired of fighting? If left to their natural resources, most people would stop eating. It is a natural part of aging - just another way of your body slowing down. I of course don't have proof, but I think of it as a slow systems shut-down of sorts. Start giving your body less and less fuel, and eventually it just kind of drifts to a halt.

The pope, however, is a firm believer, as he wrote in 2004, that "The administration of water and food, even when provided by artificial means, always represents a natural way of preserving life ... not a medical procedure." And, since life should be preserved at all costs, it follows that all of those people who stop eating should get feeding tubes to prolong their lives.

I just don't think I agree with that. If that were true, we'd be force-feeding a lot more elderly people who don't necessarily want it. There are a lot of sons and daughters out there that want to keep their parents around for as long as possible for fear of losing that parent. There are also sons and daughters out there that want to keep their parents alive through the holidays, summer, vacation, whatever, until it gets to be a more convenient time for them to die.

There is a time when I think it is okay to let a person go. Not necessarily euthanasia (I am still undecided about that). Just a nice, peaceful, natural death. The way God intended. Slow systems shutdown.

Of course the question that comes then, is where to draw the line. But I don't have to answer that! Besides, it is 3:45 in the morning and I've been up for way too long to think about things like that.

As a last plug, I do encourage everyone out there, regardless of age, to have some sort of end of life plan and make sure that people know about it. (And I need to follow my own advice). The Pope is 84. Terri Schiavo was in her 20s when her tragic accident occurred. There is no way to know...

Yodelling Banshees from Neptune

I have absolutely nothing to say. There are some days where a lot of interesting stuff happens, and I spend the entire day composing blog entries in my head (most of which never actually make it out of said head). But today has been... ordinary? Boring? Eh. Maybe I'm just not picking up on the interesting things.

I did get to actually help with a vaginal birth this morning. That was pretty cool. Here is my issue with OB, though: delivering babies is pretty freaking cool, but after the baby is out, I want to stay with the baby. At that point, I don't care about the mother any more. I'm all like 'Hello! There's a baby in the room!' and am completely distracted. I much prefer the baby to the mother. Partly, because all that's left for the mother after the baby is out is delivering the placenta (disgusting) and achieving hemostasis (stopping bleeding = boring)

Did you know that yodelling can be spelled with one L or two? You learn something new every day...

Also somewhat interesting is the fellow/attending whose name is Nina, but is spelled Ngina. I am going to add a silent G to my name. I'll be Brengna.

The doctor's parking lot at this hospital (private hospital) is littered with Audis, BMWs and Mercedes. With the occasional Honda.

That's about it for now.

I Refuse!

Today is my penultimate day of call for my third year of med school (my penultimate year...)!

I'm trying to ignore the fact that for the last two hours, I've alternately been breaking out in a cold sweat and having chills. I refuse to be sick. I prefer to think it is a combination of lack of sleep, and a change from night to day shift. Night shift bumps the temp up to about 90, and day shift keeps it at around 50. I don't understand it. Night shift also sits around and talks the ENTIRE time.

Anyway, wish me luck on call. Hateful thing.

Drumroll....

Today was my last day EVER at the DHP. What, pray tell, is the DHP? I'm glad you asked. Unless you didn't, in which case, I'm a tad bit peeved with you.

The DHP is the "Downtown Health Plaza" which is the place where you go to see a doctor if you don't have any insurance. It is really a great service to the community, and is heavily used - as a place to receive medical care and as a place to force medical students to learn/practice Spanish. Lots and lots of Spanish. Once or twice, I started speaking Spanish (I use the term 'speaking' loosely here) to people with last names like 'Smith.' AKA Non-Spanish speakers.

We get the lovely experiece of going to the resident's clinics at DHP during Peds and OB/Gyn rotations. During Peds, I relied heavily upon the translators, but during OB I branched out more on my own. Dolor? Donde? OK, escuchar a la corazon de bebe ahora. (No clue if that is even close to right)

There are several translators there for people like me. Most of them are great. But then there is Miss Grumpy Pants. I have no clue what her real name is. She is a surly one, though. I was sorely tempted to grab her arm, maybe shake it a little and exclaim (because I do a lot of exclaiming in my mind) "If you hate the job so, why are you here?" Needless to say, no exclamations were made.

But, today was the last time I had to see Miss Grumpy Pants. Ever!

I'm stuffed up and my head hurts. I think Grumpy Pants cursed me.

Happy Easter!

As 40% of my grade in the OB rotation is based on the test that I take in... 12 days, I really would be doing myself a favor by studying. Apparently, I don't like myself all that much this weekend, though! I DO have the Discovery Channel on right now, though, and they are showing Babies: Special Delivery, whcih is chronicling several complicated pregnancies. So that is kind of like studying. Of course, with statements like "She's also been given penicillin, because she tested positive for Group Beta strep" however, are probably doing me more harm than good. It is Group B strep. The "B" stands for... well, "B."

Another great educational comment: "But in the high risk unit, nothing is ever routine!"

I think I may find more helpful (and relevant!) information here.

I hope everyone is sitting at home nursing a stomach ache after stuffing their faces with pounds of chocolate bunnies!

Mmmm....

I have fallen in love with a new book. It sustained me through call last night, and through a (cavity free!) dentist visit today. It may be pure fluff, with little actual nutritional value, but Candyfreak by Steve Almond (real name!) is fantastic. So says I.

I was reading it last night while sitting on the refrigerator in the dog house (don't ask). I had a really, really hard time not bursting out laughing at several parts.

It is a book (and we all know I love books) about candy (and we all know I love candy). Book! Candy! CANDY!! Pure bliss.

And interesting and funny, too!

It's Not Late, No - It's Early!

Another Night, Another Dream

(Apparently today is "Use a song Lyric as a Title Day")

I'm on call. Again. Not for the last time. But this time, instead of being on call with my happy, fun, goofy friend that makes time pass quickly, I'm on call with... (dum de dum dum) a (MM)PWHM...

Which brings me to something that has been on my mind for, oh, three or so days. Because, as I am acutely aware, it has been officially over a year since I was dumped by my friends. I cannot believe that I survived. Scratch that. I can believe I survived, I just can't believe that I did as well as I did.

:::Pause for a moment to send my sincerest thank yous to everyone who helped me remember that I am a nice person and that some people do manage to keep liking me. I don't say it enough, but I love you all. :::

I have not decided whether it was a good or a horrible thing to have been in the same rotation group as these people. In some ways it has been among the hardest challenges of my life - to have to see these people who quite literally crused me on a daily basis. In other ways, I think it was good for me to have them around. It let me keep everything in perspective. Had I been able to isolate myself from them, I think they would have built up into this gigantic force in my head. A force that I could see haunting me for a lot longer than a year. In real life, they are now nothing more than a couple of people I'd rather not be around. Hey! Look at that. I just decided (amazing what things come out of your brain at 1 am sitting in a tiny little closet waiting for babies to be born): it was a good thing. Hard, but good.

And really, that's where it ends. They deserve no more of my life now, than just some acquaintances. I will remember the fun times we had, because they were dang fun. But, that's it. I am officially retiring the (MM)PWHM.

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart

We have a patient on the high risk OB service right now that is just breaking my heart. But in reality, it is her heart that is broken.

She is a young Hispanic woman, and this is her first pregnancy. She went to the doctor for a check-up - the first one during the pregnancy (possibly the first doctor visit in a long, long time - at least, I hope so). The doctors noticed a murmur. A bad murmer. A cardiac echo showed that she has a hole in her heart (an atrial septal defect for those in the know). This is something that has almost certainly been there since she was born. Something - perhaps the pregnancy, perhaps time - has caused the blood flow to back up into her lungs, causing pulmonary hypertension (aka Eisenmenger's syndrome). Severe pulmonary hypertension. Plus a bit of severe pulmonic stenosis and severe mitral regurgitation on top of that. In real person terms: she is about one sneeze away from going into total heart failure. And she is pregnant.

Doing a little research online shows me that the official recommendation for women with Eisenmengers is sterilization. AKA no babies. None. Ever. Why? Because the mortality - that means death - rate is up to 50%. Half of these women who get pregnant will die, either before, during or after they give birth.

This young woman had no clue.

And she still didn't as of a few hours ago when I saw her. Because she speaks Spanish, and you need a REALLY good translator to go in to tell someone that we need to deliver her baby at just over 6 months gestation otherwise she may die. She may die anyway.

No one knows what to do with her. We'll probably have to transfer her to another university hospital. One that can do heart transplants, so that she can get added to the list.

It just breaks my heart.

I Wasn't Online Yesterday

Happy (day after your actual) Birthday Maripat!!!

Woop-woop! Bring down the hiz-ouse!

Lesson for the Ages

If it has been, say, a year or so since the last time you went running, and you decide all spur-of-the-moment to try it again one afternoon: don't start by running three miles. Or you will end up one sore puppy. Believe me, I speak from experience.

Also: Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Also, 2: Happy MATCH Day!!! (a mere 364 days, or about 8736 hours, until mine own)

Also, 3: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARI!!! (I think I have the date about correct...)

Lastly: I missed my One Year Blog Anniversary (3/12/05), so Happy (Late) Anniversary, oh blog-o'-mine. How I love thee, and the ability thou givest me of spouting off to the world at general. You complete me. (tee-hee!)

4 am

I'm tired. Even though I already slept for three or so hours. OB call is another opportunity for me to be on call overnight. Isn't that just great?!

Today... well, yesterday, really, I guess... I got to see one vaginal birth and one C-section of twins.

And I have this to say: we all come into the world looking pretty skanky-nasty. Covered in grayish slime and a nice purplish-blue color. That is until we start screaming.

Scream away little baby, say I. Some day you might find yourself awake at four in the morning just waiting for something interesting to happen...

Bridal Shower Gone Wild! 

I'm With the Bride

Last night I had the lovely experience of going to my first ever Bachelorette Party. We all wore matching pink T-shirts that said "I'm with the bride." And the bride wore a white shirt that said "The bride" and a veil (covered in condoms)

Oh, yeah, and the whole thing was in Charleston. I heart Charleston.

So, being a person who has gone out on occasion in the past, of course I'd seen bachelorette parties before. Usually in a "oh, look, there's a bunch of giggly girls with one wearing a veil/tiara/feather boa/some form of penis decoration - must be a bachelorette party." Then I proceed to go on my merry way. Turns out, that is not most men's reactions. They honestly seemed to be fascinated with the whole concept of a large group of girls (there were 13 of us) out specifically to celebrate a wedding. Of course it probably helped that we were toting along an inflatable penis. Other bachelorette parties were also very excited to see us.

On the whole, I have never felt so conspicuous going out to bars and/or dancing before. It was fun! Of course once is about enough for me. I'm perfectly happy to go back to my days of blissful anonymity.

I propose here, though, that every woman should have a 'bachelorette party' with her friends at least once a year. Even if there are no weddings forthcoming. It is just a fun way to feel special for the night!

Back to real life now, though, and to a place where I will feel decidedly un-special. I am about to embark upon my two weeks of high-risk obstetrics. These two weeks are purported to be two of the worst imaginable weeks of third year. Wish me luck...

Six weeks of third year left, total. Just under 14 months until I'm an MD. Ack!

Which is Better: Silence or Stupidity

I am just so annoyed right now that I don't even know how to describe it.

Today was a perfectly normal day, with really nothing that went wrong. Then we had our lecture at 4 and I feel like my head imploded. The lecturer was one of those deluded people who actually wanted, and expected full participation. For some groups, this is not a problem. Unfortunately, I seem to be in a group of monks that only fulfill their vow of silence during lectures. NO ONE answers anything. Okay, that is an exaggeration. Of the 15 of us, there are 3-4 that regularly open their mouths to answer questions. That leaves 11 silent bodies.

Today, the lecturer was WAY above our heads. Well, at least way above my head. I didn't know anything, may some of the others did. But I tried! As one of the 3-4 regular speakers, I did my duty - I answered questions. Of course, EVERYTHING I said was wrong. I just kept sounding stupider and stupider. (heh. Stupider...) Eventually, it got to the point where even I stopped answering. I just couldn't handle it any more. I wanted some semblence of support from the rest of my group. Sigh.

Today WAS a game of 'Read My Mind,' though, so I don't blame the others for not piping up.

Dr. Attending: What other anemia can you get during pregnancy?
Me (or some other brave soul): Um, hemolytic?
Dr. Attending: Well, I guess, but I was really thinking sickle cell.

OR

Dr. Attending: What other vitamins should she be on?
Brave soul: Um, folate?
Dr. Attending: Related to anemia.
Brave soul: Um, B12?
Dr. Attending: That has to do with that GI lecture I gave you last year.
[Silence]
Brave Soul: B6?
Dr. Attending: Vitamin C!

Why even bother speaking, you may ask, when all the others get by with remaining mute? Well, I have been a teacher at various points in my life, and I know how awful it is to be there looking at the silent class, waiting for someone to just get the ball rolling. I have sympathy for the lecturer, and I have a desire to get out of lecture faster. Today it just ended up frustrating the heck out of me. Bye bye heck, you're all gone from me.

I'm going to go find chocolate now. Mmm. Chocolate. And a book that doesn't contain any uteri.

Three Months

That is apparently how long it takes one to get over the crash of a computer, and the loss of a novel. Interesting, no?

My computer crashed about three months ago. If you'll remember, that was right around the time that Nanowrimo came to an end. I had successfully reached the 50,000 word mark (50,009 to be exact), and was finally getting around to posting it on my novel blog... Then came the crash. Like the stock market in 1929, my computer crashed; like the investors in 1929, my hopes and dreams were crashed with them.

Except that it took them years and years to get over it, and it only took me three months. And lots of chocolate.

I've finally gone back to my website, copied everything I had posted there, and discovered that I lost around 16,500 words. Not too bad... I don't think I even really liked much of the last 10,000.

So, what happens now? (does that phrase make anybody else think of Evita? Well, I don't know. I have to re-read what I wrote to decide how terrible it really was. Then, maybe if I'm feeling inspired I'll try to work on it some more.

Some others of us could use some inspiration, too, I believe...

Horn-Tootin' Brenna

I don't like to toot my own horn (okay, sometimes I do, but I swear this isn't really one of them), but I got an e-mail the other day that has thrown me back into a state of confusion and doubt. The e-mail reads thus:

Hi Brenna,
have been thinking back on the good students on neurology in the past year and wanted to send out some random recruiting e-mails. What are you going to do with your life? Remember how fun neurology was?? Hint, hint.. You would be good at it. Please let me know what you are going to do as I am interested and if I can help you in any way whatever you choose to do, then please feel free to ask...

So... Just when I had given neurology up (partially because we still haven't gotten our grades back and I was not certain whether I had done well or terribly) I get a freaking recruiting e-mail! I didn't even know that people did that kind of thing. I can tell you that I don't think the pediatrics department does. Which wouldn't be necessary, anyway, as I spent the entire rotation in Cheerleader mode (aka Like me! Like me! Give me Honors! I'm Going into Peds Girl)

I would be much more appreciated in Neurology, that's for sure. What's a girl to do?

One thing I won't do: Obstetrics and/or Gynecology. I'm only on my third day of the rotation and it honestly is not going that terribly (we'll see if I'm singing a different tune after 'STD Clinic' at the health department tonight) but I just feel... wrong. Hairy.

There are two (female, of course) residents on Gyn-Oncology team that I'm on this week. Both are nice. But get this: their names are Cassie and Suzy. Cassie and Suzy. CASSIE and SUZY! Good grief.

Remember that episode of Scrubs? The one where the OB residents are trying to lure Elliot to join them? They are depicted as an ongoing slumber party type of girl. I know that Scrubs is one of the most accurate programs out there in terms of depicting medical training. But even I thought that perhaps they were exaggerating the OB/Gyn thing. Nope.

Cassie and Suzy!

I have never heard two residents giggle so much. Mostly when the attending is around. The male attending. The male attending who does not have a wedding ring on (could mean single, could mean doesn't wear ring). Giggling + male = Flirting. At least in my book. So, yes, these residents are FLIRTING with the attending. I never thought I'd see such a thing.

This is why I can't go into OB. Don't get me wrong, I can giggle with the best of them. I'm just generally not around patients when I do it.

Disclaimer: I am intending no harm to the above mentioned residents or attending. All are quite competent as physicians, and the patients seem to really enjoy them. The comments I made, though they may sound disparaging, are just my way of saying that I don't fit in. And you know how we all fight the unknown...

Land of the Perky

Yesterday afternoon, I was privileged enough to attend a wedding shower of a friend of mine from school that is getting married. (Thus the wedding shower... duh.) I've only ever really been to one wedding shower before - one peril of moving all over the country is that you are rarely there when your friends are getting married.

So, there I was, being all wedding-showery and cutesy and girly, when I had a sudden realization: I had, unknowingly, fallen in amongst the girls that drove me CRAZY in college. The cutesy, flirty, girly, cliquey, PERKY girls. There were no sororities at my college, but if there had been, these girls would have been the presidents and social directors. They were nice and all, but as a group, they were quite frightening. With enough energy to power the Twin Cities for days.

And there I was, smack dab in the middle of one of their wedding receptions.

It was okay, really, except that I felt hairy. Yes, that's right. Hairy. Interestingly, being around these cute petite girls doesn't make me feel huge and hulking like it should, it just makes me feel hairy. I realized, as I sat there during the Opening of Presents, that I hadn't even thought about plucking my eyebrows or shaving my legs in much more time than it takes for plucked/shaved hair to grow back.

So, today became Hair Removal Day. I plucked and I shaved. And the result? I am cut and swollen, and you can't even really tell the difference (except for the swelling and bleeding) because I have BLONDE hair.

But at least now I don't feel hairy!

Angry Incompetence

As much as I liked my pediatrics rotation (which ends today - well, tomorrow really, after the tests), and as much as I liked the heme/onc week of it, let me tell you HOW relieved I was to leave today. Yesterday I briefly mentioned my 'less than confident' intern. Well, today, I think her head was about to implode.

EVERY little thing was stressing her out today. And when she didn't understand something, or didn't know the answer to a question, she just got louder. I swear, by the end of the day I needed ear plugs to protect my ears from permanent hearing loss. She just sounds angry. Loud, angry and confused.

Along with louder and possibly angrier, she'd get more frantic - stacking papers up, jumping from one thing to another. A question such as: "So-and-so is back from their test. Can they eat now?" was enough to make her jump out of her seat and run out of the room. I don't know why. The answer was clearly yes. Which is just as easily said while sitting calmly with nicely organized papers.

Sigh. Some people really worry me. Because, gentle readers, some day this woman will be a doctor. Wait. She IS a doctor. But some day she'll be off on her own, practicing medicine.

And do you really want to see some one who will hit the ceiling when you ask if your kid is ready to start eating solid foods?

Ahh, but I am too, too harsh. She has time yet to learn much more. Much, much more. But let me tell you this: I will NOT be that way.

Except, perhaps, on Tuesdays.

Stamping Out Disease, part deux

Okay, they knock the little kiddie out, then they jam a needle thing-a-ma-bobby into his little hip. The needle is surprisingly not all that big. And it isn't really a needle like you'd picture a needle. More like a blue plastic toy contraption that has a two inch sharp metal piece sticking out of one end. I think the blue plastic part is for traction - it must be dang hard(ish) to jam a needle into bone.

Okay, Lindsay, get up off the floor now. I'll stop talking about bones and needles.

Alright. So, doctor gets bone marrow, nurse lady puts marrow into and on top of several different tubes and slides. Little kiddie is then woken up. Easy peasy, no? It is! The parents even stayed and watched.

I assumed my participation would end with the... Well, actually I didn't really participate per se in any of this. I was merely an observer. But, the attending did invite me to travel with her to the lab to check on the results.

Now, I did say that I didn't have the gold touch, but I do have to tell you that, in Medical Student Land, one-on-one time with an attending is tantamount to bushels of gold. Bushels! Especially when the attending is the clerkship director. ESPECIALLY when the attending is the clerkship director of pediatrics. Smashing!

I got a full half hour of walking around with Dr. Attending, asking thoughtful and relevant questions. All the while thinking "Ha! Someone to ask for a recommendation letter! She actually knows that my name is Brenna, not Brenda or 'that student' This is great. Sound smart, sound smart! And stop talking to yourself!!!"

Then, to top it all off, we went to look at the bone marrow smear of the adorable little two year old whose symptoms were all concerning for leukemia. And he didn't have it! He instead has something called Idiopathic (or Immune-mediated) Thrombocytopenia - ITP. 90% of kids with this recover pretty quickly without any problems.

Isn't that great? I think so.

To celebrate, I went home and had a processed cheese and pickle sandwich. With horseradish. It sounds like I'm pregnant, but I'm really just poor and haven't been grocery shopping for a while.

La di da!

HAPPY DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY, DAD!!! Way to go!

Stamping Out Disease!

Putting aside for the moment that I am currently tired, hungry and bored and that no one seems to be feeling the compulsion to send me home (I need to study!!) becauss the upper level left and the intern here is... less than confident, I have had a pretty amazing day.

Not in the everything-I-touch-turns-to-gold-I-can-do-no-wrong-and-here's-my-winning-lottery-ticket way, but in the gee-that's-just-pretty-dang-freaking-cool-and-I-got-to-be-a-part-of-it way. [editorial note: typing with a lot of dashes instead of spaces is really hard]

A two year old presented to his peds office yesterday because he'd been bruising all over. He was sent to the heme/onc clinic here for work up. What is the most likely diagnosis with easy bruising (and oh yeah, toss in some petechiae and an enlarged spleen and low white blood cell count) All the little children say: Leukemia!

So, two year old (whose mother, by the way just had a baby a few months ago and is supposed to go back to work tomorrow) is admitted to the heme/onc service for a bone marrow aspirate. I, eager-beaver of a med student that I am, tagged along.

In the bone marrow aspirate, they start an IV and knock the little kiddie out, then

HA! I was sent home. I'll finish the story later.

BAM.

Diabetes, Schmiabetes

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.

"Patients commonly present with polyuria (including nocturia), polydipsia, polyphagia, and rapid or unexplained weight loss."

From First Aid for the USMLE Step 2

It Be Done!

Two things are done:

1. I'm done with call for peds, and after our ONE admission last night, I have a grand total of 3 patients that I admitted/saw while I was on call. Two of the interns I worked with woke up the next morning (after an almost page-less night) and called it their 'best call ever.' They call me a white cloud. Somehow, I think I annoyed my upper level, though, who I've never been on call with and who keeps having the world's WORST calls ever. While I'm happy to bring the white cloudness, I fear that it may backfire on me, and I'll develop a big ol' black cloud while I'm a resident... Time will tell.

2. My Valentine's CD! I 'finished' it the other night, but as I'd only put in 6 or so hours of work into it, it just didn't feel right. I listened to the prelim CD on my way home from Susan's (my computer is having more identity issues and doesn't seem to believe that it has a D drive, so I'm borrowing Susan's), and I just shook my head and said NONONO! It was not right. Usually I spend MONTHS planning the perfect Valentine's CD. (Usually, too, I was supposed to be studying and found searching for the perfect song much more rewarding.) Anyway, I think I've fixed it all today, and finally can breathe a sigh of relief for a job well done. And this version won't leave people despondent and suicidal at the end. (KEY: If you choose to include depressing songs - sandwich them with happy ones!)

All that said: who wants a CD? Let me know. I have a list in my head, and if you read this and I know you, you're probably on it. But, heck, even if I don't know you - if you want a CD, let me know. I love to spread musical joydom.

ONWARD! I have a Career Planning Seminar tonight. I'm pretty dead-set on peds, but I want to see what this thing is all about. Plus, free dinner. Yum!

I'd Rather Be Reading Jane Austen

I believe you belong in Pride and Prejudice; a
world of satire and true love. A world where
everything is crystal clear to the reader, and
yet where new things seem to be happening all
the time. You belong in a world where your
free-thought puts you above the silly masses,
and where bright eyes and intelligence are
enough to attract the arrogant
millionaire/prejudiced young woman of your
choice.


Which Classic Novel do You Belong In?
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HVD!

When you put Happy Valentine's Day into an acronym, it sounds kind of like an infectious disease. Huh.

HAPPY HEART DAY ONE AND ALL. Much love to all the peeps out there - family, friends, teachers, patients, people who sell me coffee... all those near and dear!

On another note, I've declared today to be National Stair/Stare Day! What happens on NS/SD? Let me elucidate: Today, all day, you either 1. take the stairs whenever you are moving from one floor to another or 2. Stare at someone on the elevator as you move from one floor to another.

I've generally been choosing "stair," and man! eight flights is a lot! Especially after lunch. But I'm not too keen on being that weird girl who is staring at everone on the elevator. But thems the rules, people, I didn't make them up. (oh, wait...I did...)

HVD and NS/SD!!!

Slow Motion Day

Yesterday, being the proactive person that I (sometimes) am, I made a schedule for today. It looked like this:

9-12: Study at Panera
12-2: Laundry and bills
2-4: YMCA, shower, etc.
4-11: Chill

Here's what has happened so far:
9-12: Sleeping. Every once in a while waking up, with a bad stomach ache
12-2: Up, lunch, watching TV, trying to make stomach ache go away
2-3: Shower, dress
3-3:30: Go to Panera to study, realize that their internet isn't working, leave
3:30-4: Come to school to study, mess around on the internet

Somehow, I haven't even made it onto my schedule for the day! I decided to no work out because my stomach still hurts - I blame it on my diet over the last few days. (Diet here meaning 'the food I've eaten' rather than 'an attempt to reduce caloric intake and improve health')

Sigh. I don't really feel like studying, but I figure I ought to do at least ONE thing from my list. I still do intend to do laundry. And bills. Eventually...

I'm in the Fishbowl right now, because all the private study areas are taken. This place is crawling with little first and second years... They must have a test or something coming up. It is weird to be back in here after so long. To think I used to practically live here! Thank goodness for change.

But right now, to make myself feel a bit better, I'm going to Google people that I didn't like in High School. Tee-hee! It always makes me feel good to find no references to them... Like they don't exist.

Friday!

I made it! It's officially my thirteenth day in a row. But tomorrow I GET TO SLEEP IN. I'm so happy I could cry.

Oh, yeah, and I'm going to the circus tonight!! What a fantastic day!

PMS, a Primer

Assuming that half the world is of the male variety, and that a good number of women manage to control their hormonal ups-and-downs, I believe that I can safely say that more than half of the world does not personally know what PMS is like.

Folks, I am here to educate you.

Lesson One: When you're PMS-y, things annoy you more. Things like... drivers, traffic lights, girls on the elliptical trainer next to you at the Y talking really loud on their cell phone, old men on the elliptical trainer in front of you sweating buckets all over the floor, residents who smile too much, residents who talk too much, unit secretaries who won't answer your questions, and basically just... people.

Lesson Two: When you're PMS-y, you get teary at more things. Things like... little kids, patriotism, sports events, people being happy, people being sad, being tired, being frustrated, reallity television.

Lesson Three: When you're PMS-y, you say things you didn't even realize you were thinking. Usually kind of mean things. And usually when you're annoyed (see Lesson One).

That's enough for now. Maybe I'll write more later, but MAN The Amazing Race is FREAKING me out.

Back Where I Belong

Well, maybe anyway.

For the first time in over three months, I'm back on an inpatient service. It is easy to forget how different things are. I am on peds inpatient now, which is cool since I've decided that this is what I'm going to do with my life.

Today, however, I'm on call. And it is Saturday. And it is beautiful outside. And it is overnight call, so I'm here until tomorrow. And I have to be back on Monday, which means I'll be working twelve days straight by the time I reach next Friday. AND I'm having an 'I Feel Stupid' Day.

It started because I had no idea what to do this morning. I eventually got to the right place (not late, either), but everyone was SO grumpy! Even a fellow student who I have never, EVER seen even remotely CLOSE to being grumpy before. My team (of which I was the only one present at that time) got chastised for not keeping the list up to date. Then the upper level who had been on call proceeded to bash all of her fellow residents, most of whom I think are wonderful people.

Anyway, that just starts the day off on a bad note.

And then, I didn't have a red sheet done, I didn't know (still don't) what Bicitra is/does, and I just feel all-around incompetent. And this is going to last until tomorrow morning! ACK!

Sigh. Back to doing something... smart-seeming.

Why anyone is letting me be a doctor, I'll never know... Beware!!

(Ha-ha, not really! I'm sure I'll be feeling relatively smart again at some point...)

Happy Winter Y'all

It's Groundhog Day!

I Couldn't Find My Shoes

According to this article, one in three people have called in 'sick' to work in the last twelve months. Well, go ahead and add me to those ranks today. Evil, evil Brenna. But it is not actually work that I'm playing hooky from... It's a day (probably shadowing) at a private pediatrician's office that is 45 minutes away. And I'm not taking the day to relax - I'm studying for my test tomorrow. I figure my time is better spent studying the TOME of pages we're supposed to read rather than seeing a few more well child checks or ear infections.

But I couldn't very well call in and say I got a case of the "studies" now, though, could I? So, this morning, I woke up with a "migraine."

I was going to call in sick once before, in December (after Vegas). On that occasion, I actually GOT sick. I'm hoping the same doesn't happen today...!

Babies Galore!

I'm working in the newborn nursery this week. It's like a flood of babies! Last night, as I was falling asleep, I started hearing babies cry. Hee-hee. Maybe because I'd tucked one of the five pounders into my white coat on the way out yesterday afternoon.

Okay, not really. I cannot even fathom trying to take care of another life at this time.

I killed another plant this weekend...

Send me your babies!!

Babies Galore!

I'm working in the newborn nursery this week. It's like a flood of babies! Last night, as I was falling asleep, I started hearing babies cry. Hee-hee. Maybe because I'd tucked one of the five pounders into my white coat on the way out yesterday afternoon.

Okay, not really. I cannot even fathom trying to take care of another life at this time.

I killed another plant this weekend...

Send me your babies!!

Well, darn.

I thought I could live the life of the sophisticated, academic-ish physician and be all smart and all that jazz. Drive the fancy car, live in the fancy house. Be a smart enough doctor that I could be rude to all the people around me and such. But it turns out that I just like kids too much. Sigh...

I can see myself being a neurologist. But I don't like that version of me as much as I like the pediatrician me. The one with the mini-van and the house in the subarbs (nice, but not nice). The one who is good at what she does, but is only a simple pediatrician after all, so has to be nice to everyone around her. I don't think that will be too hard. And I'd get to play with kids all day long!!

I guess thems the breaks.

Sorry Mom!

Gosh!

Deb
(Please rate my quiz)


Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
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Yo quiero Mickey Mouse!

I'm on peds rotation now. It has been quite fun - where else does playing with babies constitute a patient visit? How great is that? Except when you have to see kids like those I saw today.

There are a lot of good parents. Most parents, in fact, try really hard to do things right. Every once in a while, I think they get a bit overwhelmed, though. Like when they have a two year old and a three year old at the same time. And when they don't have any good disciplining skills.

Thus the situation leading up to me chasing a three year old boy around the office while he chanted 'Yo quiero Mickey Mouse. Yo quiero Mickey Mouse.' Which, for those non-Spanish speakers (and for those who missed the years of talking chihuahua Taco Bell commercials) basically means 'I want Mickey Mouse! Gimme Mickey Mouse!"

I won't go into any detail, but I found my patience with children (usually bigger than my patience with adults) sorely tested today.

Still really like peds, though.

Valentine's Mix

Ahh, dear ones, it is the time of year where I begin thinking of my Annual Valentine's Mix. Ha-HA!! Are you not filled with thrilled excitement? It is only my Third Annual Mix, but I am still excited.

I've been thinking of a theme since last year's left the production room (aka my computer). The previous two themes were: "Love On Estrogen" (songs of female love-ridden angst) and "Ahh... The Single Life" (songs about freedom, or conversely the perils of coupledom). I've rolled through several options: Love on Testosterone (too R&B-y), Fruit (too... fruity), Working it Out (you know... exercise love songs...)

Okay, so I didn't have a good idea. I had squat.

But the Fairy of Valentine's Mixes joined me today: I have a theme!!!

I'm not telling!

Home

Another post written while travelling.

Did you know that the Cincinnati airport is in Kentucky?

Thus I find myself writing a blog in Kentucky. (“Blog” is not a recognized word on Microsoft yet. “Microsoft” is, though)

So, early, early this morning, I left home to go… home. Which is the real one, and which is merely a reasonable facsimile? I’m tempted, of course, to call Oregon my ‘true’ home, mostly because I still exist in the transient world of higher education. No one is actually from Winston-Salem (okay, maybe one or two people are, but deal with it). And few plan on staying there.

But can I call a place home after I’ve lived more years away from it than years in it? Seven years in our house, eight years out.

I’ll just call myself bi-home-al. And bi-coastal!

Last year (cause it’s 2005, now), I went on several vacations, some (i.e. cruise) specifically designed to be relaxing. But! I am here to tell you all that there is NO place as relaxing as your childhood home. There, I don’t have to cook, don’t have to clean (beyond just picking up my own junk), don’t have to grocery shop – or even pay for the groceries. I don’t have to worry about oil changes or the electricity bill. For the whole time you are there, you are transported back into your childhood.

Can you blame us (I speak now for my generation) for putting off such things as marriage and children? Hello?! Can’t you see how good we have it? Why muddle that up with joint finances and dirty diapers?

People (our parents) wonder at the trend of selfishness that is running rampant thru the twenty- and thirty-year-olds of the U.S. We are putting of marriage! How could we?! Yes, of course this has to do with the ease of being single nowadays, and the acceptability of having a career before a family. But I also say it has to do with an unwillingness to give up the one place on earth that allows us to truly relax.

Those of us who grew up in a happy, healthy home anyway. That is not to say, of course, that people who get married or have kids early did not have a happy, healthy home. Maybe they’re just less selfish than me…

Or maybe the ultimate home is when you actually find someone that can provide you with that contentment you get in your childhood home. That would be pretty cool.

Happy New Year!

And good riddance to 2004. The year that was contained some of the best and some of the worst events of my life. Phew. I'm glad that's over. I'd prefer '05 to be nice, smooth sailing. Don't get me wrong, I love roller coasters and all, but I also enjoy It's a Small World, and I'm ready for a few of those clackety-mouthed kids to keep me company for a while.

2004:
Finished second year
Washington DC
Took Step One of the Boards
Got dumped by friends
Fantasia on American Idol
West Coast Tour
Started clinical years of med school
Passed Step One of the Boards
Ohio
Parents sold house, building farm
August vacation: NYC, Charleston, Disney World, Miami, Cruise
My Novel!
Losing my novel (oh, yeah, it be gone...)
Las Vegas

There's much, much more of course, but I'm starting to bore myself.

I feel compelled to do a "Top Ten" list for 2004. Like Brenna's Top Ten Movies of 2004 (maybe I could work on that title) Here's what I have so far:

The Top Ten Movies Brenna Can Remember Seeing in 2004
(in no particular order, cause it is hard enough to just pick ten)

1. The Incredibles - we all know I love children's stuff anyway, but this one was custom made to allow adults admit to liking cartoons.
2. Garden State - who hasn't seen this and fallen a little bit in love with Zach Braff?
3. A Very Long Engagement - I don't know if this should officially make the list since I haven't had time to distance myself from it yet. But, goodness, for a movie coming from the Amelie guy, this movie containes some of the bloodiest/goriest war scenes I've ever seen. Oh, and a good mystery plot with lovely Audrey Tautou.
4. Kill Bill Vol. 2 - I want to be Uma Thurman. I'd even wear yellow, which makes me look like a banana. Anyone else practice the finger-distance punch? I haven't made much progress...
5. Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights - movie was really quite bad, but the main guy was hot, and we all left the theater shouting "Cuba!" while throwing our arms in the air. You've GOT to love a movie that can turn you into a mini-insurgent for even the slightest period of time.
6. Spider Man 2 - Wasn't a huge fan of the first Spidey flick. Which was why I was so shocked that I liked this one. I'm working on one of those octopus-y (no movie references intended) things for myself. I will be the next Doctor Octopus! But I'll only do good.
7. The Station Agent - I'm cheating, cause this is actually a 2003 movie, but I. LOVED. IT. Watched it like three times one weekend. I can't even really tell you why I loved it so. Maybe for the guilty pleasure of being able to watch an achndroplastic without feeling guilty for staring. Remind me to tell you the story about my three year old self and the midget convention some time. (Or ask my mom)
8. Super Size Me - Gutsy, gutsy man. In more ways than one. Imagine what his poor intestines were going through during his month long adventure. People: this movie is amazing if for no other reason than he caused McDonald's to get rid of Super Sizes. MC-FREAKING-DONALDS! Hello!? Not to say that I didn't crave a nice McChicken something upon leaving the theater. With a large fries. Mmmm. And a milkshake. Yeah, baby. Seriously, though, rock on with the stuff about childhood obesity.
9. Sideways - Again, maybe I saw this a bit too recently to put it on my list, but I couldn't think of anything else! Plus, I know that for the rest of my life, I will think of this movie any time I drink a glass of wine. Maybe not for the rest of my life, but at least for the next few months. Or days.
10. Dogville - Wow. Who knew this movie even existed until my sister told me about it?? Wowsers. I doubt that I will ever watch it again, but it will stay with me. Much like the story The Most Dangerous Game which my sixth grade teacher told us we would never forget. I haven't.

That's it! Too much writing, not enough packing.

Pack, young lady! Time is a flyin'. I'll see you soon, North Carolina...

Giant Squid!

I was just surfin' the world wide web, and came across this blast from the past.

I was up in Sitka, Alaska in 2001-02, working with AmeriCorps. It was one of the most interesting and unusual years I've ever had. (I always recommend a year in Alaska to anyone who is not sure what they want to do with their life)

One of the more unusual things that happened was the Episode of the Giant Squid. There I was, in my office, calmly working away (which mostly consisted of e-mail, Solitaire and staring out the window) when I heard about the Giant Squid. I can't remember where I heard it first... I do remember that our entire office decided to take a field trip down to the dock to see it. Our entire office consisted of about three or four people at that time, but that is beside the point. Practically the entire population of Sitka had gone there to see it.

We got to the harbor, got a gander at the giant squid - a big, red blobby thing with really long tentacles - took a few photos and left.

Later, we heard more stories:

- the harbor master had to get people off the docks, because they were starting to sink below the water line, since the ENTIRE town was there
- the squid was removed from the harbor and taken on 'tour' to the schools so that the child/adolescent population of Sitka could see it, too
- when the fishermen caught the squid (tangled in their fishnets), they were so excited, that they gutted it and ate some right there at sea...
- had the squid remained intact, rumors were that the Smithsonian would have wanted it (but Sitka is a small town and rumors run rampant)

I think the most amazing thing about the Episode of the Giant Squid to me was not the squid itself, but the fair-like atmosphere that descended on the town with the arrival of the squid. They practically had a parade.

Things like that don't happen in Winston-Salem. Or Portland.

I Was in a Syringe

Now I'm in you. (Name the movie?)

Again, apologies, to all my many fans out there for my prolonged absence. I've been in hibernation. Seriously, I have done very little of actual substance in the last one and a half weeks. It has been fantastic! As a result, I've almost completely cut myself off from all forms of communication - blog or otherwise. But I'm back!

Highlights:

1. Vegas: originally, I was going to write a review of all the casinos I saw (casinoes?). Now, I'll just say that I stayed at the Flamingo Hotel and that Paris was my favorite. Vegas was fun and tiring. I gambled a little, lost about $20 total, all on slots (mostly penny). I did earn twenty dollars, though, taking a survey about faucets. Seriously. Danced with Kristin on the bar at Coyote Ugly, cause you just gotta do that (even sober). All said and done, I prefer New York, but I wouldn't say no to another Vegas Vacation. In a couple of years. Oh, the Bellagio fountain thingy rocks.

2. Flu: Arrival back in Winston, I promptly developed a stomach flu, and missed two days of my Family Practice rotation. Yuck, yuck, yuck. My least favorite thing in the world (next to onions and war) is throwing up.

3. Plane ticket oops: Shortly after contacting the people at my rotation to tell them I was sick, I realized that I'd booked my tickets home for Friday afternoon instead of Saturday. Friday afternoon was out test. Yeah. Anyway, I felt like a royal idiot, but it all worked out. And I got to go home a day early! Yay!

4. FOPA: Focused Observed Patient Assessment - our Friday morning test. We were to work on our communication skills, and get graded on that, as well as our basic skills. I flipped out during my patient interview, and completely forgot to ask the things I'd learned about during our FIRST year of school. But I got a 24/25 on the communication. Hmm. Well, at least I learned something.

5. PORTLAND: I heart Portland. No problems on the flight back home. I think my Vegas plane adventure guaranteed that. HOWever, they are calling for snow in Portland on Saturday/Sunday. I leave on Sunday. Portland doesn't do snow well.

6. Lots of sitting around, staring at the wall. Occasional reading, crocheting, playing with dogs and piano playing.

7. Spanglish with me muther. Sehr gut.

8. Christmas party at Elizabeth's. Had fun, but I was still in hibernation mode at that point, so I wasn't terribly sociable or witty.

9. Christmas Eve traditions: church, dining room dinner, open one present, 'go to bed' at ten so 'Santa' can come (the youngest person in the house is 19, but Santa still comes), sneak back downstairs at midnight to play Santa to parents, sleep.

10. Christmas Day traditions: wake up first (after Dad), awaken sisters with dogs, look at stockings (trying to not see what our sisters got, because we all get the same things and want to be surprised), shower, Christmas morning breakfast, help clean dishes (I think my mom gets more help with dishes on this day than any other), open presents. There are five of us, we go one at a time, starting with Lindsay, the youngest. It takes HOURS, but it is fantastic. Opening presents at our house is truly an event. Then we eat and watch movies or whatever.

11. December 26th: Day after Christmas shopping mit Schwestern. I always buy more than they do. Got some goodie-good stuff this year.

12. A Very Long Engagement with Lindsay. Muy bien.

13. New glasses, new haircut (hadn't been cut since March 20th - "THAT" day)

14. Removal of Christmas decorations, and preparation for their removal to new farmstead. My parents call it the 'farm.' I'm going to call it the farmstead. My dad is having a large workshop built, which has these really big doors. I'm pulling for the installation of a large piece of plastic that will make a mooing sound when the doors open. I don't think my dad is really going for that, though.

15. Write blog, during which I get side-tracked by many numerous things on the internet, which was another thing I was avoiding during my hibernation.


I'm sleepy now. But I wrote! Are you proud? :) Happy last few days of 2004 to you all!

Oh, yeah:

16. Tentatively choosing neurology as my career path. Discouraged, however, by lack of neurology residency positions, and complicatedness of residency application process (NEMP vs. NRMP vs. Both; ERAS and SF match... confusing!)

Now all that happy last few days stuff.

Here's to a New Years celebration that meets all your expectations. I'm staying home and watching movies. Hallelujah!

Merry Christmas

to ALL. I hope everyone had a fantastic Christmas!!

July 16

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince will be released! Can you taste the excitement???




Oh, and I know, I know... I haven't posted. My brain seems to be on hiatus. I'll try to kick it into gear tonight...

High in the Sky

I actually wrote this on the plane last Friday. I didn't get any internet in Las Vegas...

Oh, my, my, my. This was the CLOSEST I’ve ever been to missing/catching a plane. But here I am, mid-air on the way to Vegas.

Here’s what happened:

My first flight was to leave Greensboro at seven twenty five (I’m not using actual numbers because I’m basically typing in the dark, and I don’t want to fumble around with those keys. But look at me go! Typing in the dark!!! Using exclamation points, even!)

Okay, as I said: original flight to leave seven twenty five. When I checked in, it had already been pushed back twenty or so minutes. By the by, I arrived extremely early. Not that that really matters, I just felt like mentioning it. And the phrase ‘by the by’ is not used nearly enough, in my opinion.

While I was waiting for the seven forty nine (seriously, that’s what time it said when I checked in) flight, there was the BRIGHTEST flash of lightning I have ever seen and the LOUDEST thunder I have ever heard. In my ENTIRE life. Susan said it was like an earthquake. Oh, yeah. Susan was also at the airport, flying off to Nashville. But she was driving when the world’s biggest lightning bolt hit.

Yeah, yeah. I bore myself even, but really, the story gets more exciting. Slightly more, anyway.

Waiting and waiting… I am very good at doing that in airports, and I definitely got practice tonight. Finally, around eight thirty, our flight took off to Dulles in DC. My flight out of DC was scheduled at nine forty five. We landed in Dulles at nine forty. I got into the terminal at around nine forty five, and MY FLIGHT WAS NOT LISTED on the “departures” board. I wandered around in circles (literally – I was only covering about a ten yard space, just over and over) Then I went up to ask a flight person where the flight was, and he said “follow me!” and went running to a gate that was closed. He used his little badgy thing to beep in and ran down the breezeway yelling “Holly!” And they hadn’t closed the plane door yet! Huzzah! They closed the door immediately after I got on. It was amazing.

AND I’m in row eight, and I am by myself, and I think I’m in the “economy plus” section or something, cause there is TONS of space. Ahhh…. I am so filled with coolness and pleasurosity. Except that they’re playing The Notebook.

Movies I will NEVER watch:
1. Bridges of Madison County
2. Varsity Blues
3. The Notebook

Luckily, I brought my computer (duh), AND a Katharine Hepburn movie that I haven’t seen. FAN-tastic.

Vegas, here I come…

Apologies

To my numerous fans (or maybe really just Ari). I didn't go by to get my computer yesterday, so I still don't know the fate of my novel...

And NOW, it is time to go home and pack, cause I'm going to Vegas, baby! Five hours from now I will (hopefully) be on a plane. The plane will still be on the ground in Greensboro, but at least I will be on it. Hopefully. Yippee!

I've never been to Vegas. I don't even know what to expect other than BIG BIG BIG.

Stay tuned for reports from the front line.

ACK!

The computer people are done with my computer. Time to go find out if any of my novel was salvaged...

I Can't Really Define Irony

But I know it when I see it.

Presentation this morning:
1. Don't go over time limit - check
2. Don't trip and fall flat on face - check

Sounds like a good presentation in my book! Yippee! Now it is almost weekend...

But, first: an adventure (of sorts).

Refer back to the Flashing Lights incident, and you will realize that I need to register my car. To do that, I need to get someone to verify my Vehicle Identification Number here in North Carolina to prove that my car is NOT in Oregon.

First stop: DMV. They seem knowledgable about... cars and stuff. Plus, I knew where it was, based on one prior foray into the bowels of licensing. I didn't actually go into the bowels, but I did fail the written driver's test, so I felt like... It was after that, though, that I realized that I don't have to sacrifice my cherished OR license (I love it mostly because I have the # memorized. If I got a NC one, I'd have to memorize an entirely new number. Plus I look really funny in the picture) leading to the whole 'verify the VIN' situation I am in currently.

So, DMV lady (very nice, but really weird tie on) said they didn't do it, so sent me to the State Troopers' office in the same building. Who knew that was there? Not I.

Second stop: State Troopers' office in the DMV building. State Trooper lady (also nice, but mumbly) told me I needed to go to the DMV Enforcement Office. Actually what she said was, "Mmph-mmmm-DMV-emmmeomm-ofemm" She gave me directions that were relatively simple, but completely un-understabdable. I pulled out a piece of paper and played stupid to make her tell me the directions slow while I wrote them down. That worked like a charm!

Third stop: Take 52-North to the Patterson Exit, Turn Left and the DMV Enforcement Office will be on your left. But beware! You may get there and, like me, discover that all of the officers who verify VINs are 'on special assignment' until eight tomorrow morning. Grrr. Then, if you, like me, are wearing your badge proclaiming to the world that you are a med student, the clerk at the DMV Enforcement Office may try to get some free medical advice. Oh, yeah, and you may be, like me, completely dripping wet cause it was pouring during the whole experience.

So, no VIN verification for me today. Great. And tomorrow I can't go, cause I'm going to LAS VEGAS. Yeah, baby.

But, not getting VIN verification did leave me time to go home and watch Reality Bites.
I had not seen that since it came out in 1994 when I was 16. I didn't particularly care for it then, but now? Now I really like it. The acting is not always stellar, but the pop culture references are fantastic. Go Lisa Loeb! I recommend it for good rainy afternoon watching. I may even have to add it to my collection...

There is a lady here at the office wearing a purple sequined dress today. I think that means it is time for me to go home.

I'm an ANIMAL

I have a fifteen minute presentation to do tomorrow on immunizations. I have spent the ENTIRE night working on it. And there is still stuff that I want to change around. I am a person obsessed. Actually, it is quite interesting. I'm looking at reasons that parents would refuse to vaccinate their children - there are so many websites that LOOK like they're all official and smart, that are saying things like

"It is very clear from reviewing CDC documentation on the National Immunization Registry Plan, that U.S. government agencies and officials are ostensibly using public health to create a massive networked computer database to create a national surveillance and enforcement system. This system will monitor, intimidate, harass, and punish conscientious parents, their children, and their health care providers if they do not conform with every government recommended vaccination health care policy."

Boo-yah. You KNOW the government is out to intimidate, harass and otherwise bully people who don't try to protect their babies from horrible, awful PREVENTABLE deaths.

Let's guess what Brenna's opinion is on the matter, shall we?

Though I must admit, I'm a tad wary of the Varicella vaccine. That's chicken pox to all y'all lay people out there. (ha... y'all... I think I'll keep that in my personal vocab even after I move back to Oregon) I had chicken pox (she says, with her nose turned up) why shouldn't my kids? Plus, it was only started in 1995, and I don't believe that they know that it provides lifelong immunity. And chicken pox when you are an adult is MUCH worse than when you's a wee child. I had a horrible time, and I was only ten. I looked like a toad. And I couldn't wear my glasses. And it was about 10,000 degrees outside. Such fond memories...why shouldn't any of my kids have the same?

BUT! Look at me go on still. I must get a grip. I must get sleep.

Nighty, night, y'all.

Flashing Lights!

Really, there are like ten kajillion things a day that I mean to comment on on my blog here (like the resident saying tes-ti-kyoo-lur cancer yesterday all weird) but then something else happens and I totally forget... Isn't it tragic? I know.

There may have been something that I was going to write about, but then I got pulled over by a police car. (aside: a whole web site for pictures of police cars??? Okay, then.) I knew it was coming - he actually backed up from where he had been turning right to get behind me, and then apparently looked through a little magnifying glass thing on his dash board. Ahh, yes. Light turned green, I started, and he turned on his flashy blue lights.

Question: I've been looking online, but can't seem to find out if there is any difference between red or blue or red and blue flashing lights. Anyone know?

Okay, so I was driving forward, with my blinker on, because I was FIFTY YARDS away from my apartment. Mr. Cop Man followed me into my parking lot, AND left the lights flashing. I'm sure all my neighbors think I'm of the criminal persuasion now.

Why, oh, why was dear, sweet, law-abiding, speed-limit heeding (most of the time) Brenna pulled over? Yeah, my license tags are expired. Since, like, September.

But, listen: I'm working on it! Kind of. I have the papers that need to be filled out to prove that my car is not actually in the state of Oregon, but have not had time to stop by the vehicle registration place to get the signature proving that my VIN number matches. Sigh.

I explained to Mr. Cop Man that I was working on the wholething. That was while I fumbled around trying to find the vehicle's registration. I didn't know what it looked like! I've never been pulled over before! Anyway, he ended up just jotting down my driver's license number and registration or something, then left. I don't think it was because I was so convincing, though, I think it was because he was being called away for a more pressing emergency.

Blah, blah. Ended up being kind of a boring story, huh? My sincere apologies.

Testimonial of the Day: I LOVE Goodwill. I spent (too much) time there tonight, and got: a sweater, a purse, and eighteen books (hee-hee!) for $16.05. How fantastic is that? Really, really fantastic, that is the answer.

Ugh. Research now for 15 minute presentation on Thursday. Blah, blah, blah.

Threes

Things come in threes, bad or good, right? Here's my latest three. You be the judge of goodness vs. badness.

1. Yesterday was our final Nano gathering of the year, and we all got together to celebrate our writing (did I mention that I'm a winner?) and then went to Arigato, a Japanese Steakhouse for dinner. I had the shrimp and salmon, cause I loves me some little fishy things from the sea. After dinner, I was driving home, and called my sister and realized I was all itchy, which I attributed to an allergy to her voice (cause I loves me some her like that). Anyhow. Once home, the itching intensified, and I discovered that I had HIVES all over my face and arms. HIVES. Yup. Those little fishy things from the sea are apparently harrassing my immune system. Mean little fishy things. So: allergic to shrimp.

2. On Friday, I started my computer, only to get the message "Disk Error. Press Any Key to Restart." I pushed any key several times. Actually, I probably pushed all keys to restart, but no restarting happened. "No worry," I assured myself, "probably some faulty wiring or some such nonsense. The miracle-workers in academic computing will get this all shaped up and shipped out in no time." Fade in to this afternoon:

Brenna: My computer won't start.

Dennis: What happens?

Brenna: It says "disk error."

All three miracle-worker academic computing gurus, in unison: Uh-oh.

Well, darn it. Okay,not as big a deal as it would have been when I acutally had all my lectures, etc. stored on said computer (I lost all of those a couple of months ago already) BUT! Guess what is on the computer, that is not completely backed up? Have you guessed? That's right. MY NOVEL. My freaking, 50,009 word novel. I've only posted thirty thousand or so words on my site. They are going to 'try' to recover it.

3. I was driving over to Susan's house tonight to blog about the things that had happened, and to leave spot #3 open, wondering what would fill out the triad. Then Susan called.

Susan: How far away are you?

Brenna: (thinking, uh-oh) I just left. Why?

Susan: Well, my dog just mauled me, and my hand is falling off in a bloody mess. Hurry!

Okay, okay, so it wasn't quite like that, but Susan managed to stick her hand in the mouth of her German Shepard as it tried to bite off her other dogs head. She got Susan's hand instead. (At this point, I'd like to remind you all that Susan will be a doctor someday. Possibly yours.)

I called my mom for some Urgent Care advice (thanks, ma!) and finally got to Susan's. The wound itself was not terrible, mostly a puncture wound - three main spots. Her hand was all swollen, though, so brilliant med students that we are, we determined a plan of action: Augmentin and Vicodin. Problem: no pharmacy anywhere would accept our word or our signature.

So we ventured out to "The Baptist" to visit the nice ED docs, as Winston-Salem lacks a good after hours urgent care facility. Being med students did help us get through a little faster, but it still took us nigh on three hours to get (drumroll) Augmentin and Vicodin. (And a hand x-ray and tetanus booster, but we are only third years after all)

I thank Susan for nicely rounding out my triad of the last 24 hours. Didn't affect me personally as much as the shrimp or the computer, but it still fits.

Good or bad?

I guess it depends on your point of view. Example: someone who didn't like me very much (say for instance, a shrimp) might wish the loss of a novel upon me and pain upon my friends. Mean little fishy things.

I Don't Like Hats

When I am an old lady, I want to wear high heels and carry a pick axe.

Things I've Wanted to Blog About

My novel has been consuming all of my writing abilities lately, so I really have not blogged much, but every day I have a few things I want to mention. Because I really feel that the world needs to know these things. Really, I do.

Okay, not really, but I feel like writing them anyway, so deal with it. Punk.

1. Yesterday, the resident I worked with looked like Ferris Bueller. I couldn't figure out at first who he reminded me of, and then right in the middle of a pelvic exam, it was like WA-POW! You's workin' wit' dat Ferris kid! Thus spinning me off into fantasies of my life being like Sex and the City. (Two points for you if you follow my logic. Only two though, cause it ain't that hard.)

2. I have determined that I do not want to enter a field of medicine that requires me to do pap smears and/or pelvic examinations. Eew. Really, gynecology? Why? There are very important things that go on 'down there,' and, as a medical semi-professional, I do care deeply. I just don't want to be privy to everyone's hoo-hoos. (Does anyone call them hoo-hoos? I may have made that up.)

3. I had lunch today (okay so this was not something I have been burning to blog about, but it happened nonetheless) with the doc who set up a scholarship that I am receiving. Awesome thing to do, set up a scholarship - one of my goals in life is to do the same. (Listen to the class shout "DIGRESSION!" Holden. No one cares about your uncle's farm.) Anyhoo. (Heh. Anyhoo-hoo.) Anyway, the topic of the eighty hour work week, recently instituted for house officers came up.

My opinion: awesome, I only have to work eighty hours a week for 3-5 years. Maybe I'll actually manage to get some sleep and avoid killing a few patients. The doctor's opinion: (keep in mind that he is about five hundred years old) I had to do it, why should they get coddled; how are they suppsed to learn anything in 80 hours - that is losing one third of their educational time (yes, folks 120 hr/week was the preferred method before); and finally: the pendulum of change has swung too far, and needs to swing back a bit towards common sense. In short: 80 hours a week is ridiculous, no one can learn anything in that amount of time. 100 hours makes more sense, obviously.

Why do doctors get God complexes again?

4. I dropped off my crocheted items at the Sawtooth Center for their Deck the Halls event. Gak! People are going to look at my things and decide whether they are worthy of spending money on. Is that not crazy? It is. It is certifiable. If that idea showed up in the emergency room, it would have to be escorted out in the company of a sheriff and driven to the state hospital.

5. I forget everything else. And I gotta go to the bathroom now. Maybe I'll write more later.

HAPPY DECEMBER! Do the Christmas Dance. I'll give you ten points if you do...