Chaos!

Moving in is hard work. Harder even than moving out. Which was hard...

With the invaluable help of my sister, Melissa, and my friend, Heidi, however, I have made large strides. They helped me unload my truck and carry all my stuff up the steep stairs to my new apartment. They accompanied me on an exhausting tour of Ikea, helped me pick out furniture, and Melissa even helped me assemble all the Ikea furniture. (Heidi smartly skipped town before we got to that stage.)

And, then, after my computer DIED yesterday (it is d-e-a-d dead), Melissa went to Best Buy with me today, where I bought a brand spanking new computer. A desktop this time. Harder for me to drop. (Actually, probably easier to drop seeing as it is all big and bulky. But we'll presume that I won't be picking it up very often.)

I am still surrounded by many unpacked boxes. And I still don't have anyplace to store my clothing... But thanks to Heidi, Melissa and my parents (for the funding), I now have a beautiful bed, a couch, a table and four chairs, a rocking chair, a television, a DVD player, a TV stand, a coffee table and various other things.

Finally, I'll have a real life 'adult' home!

Test Time!

I didn't post yesterday because I was so over the whole road trip thing. I wouldn't really feel like posting today, either, except that I'm in Vegas, baby!

Okay, that is a total lie. Haha! Just seeing if you're really paying attention. I am in Reno, Nevada. Not Las Vegas. Nevada. Same state. But Reno is the "Biggest Little City in the World"


Yesterday, I totally wimped out and didn't drive very far. I arrived at my hotel near the Salt Lake City airport at around 4:30 and just stayed in my room for the rest of the day. It was great.

Today, I had 500 or so miles to cover to get to Reno. From here - I only have 130 miles to my new home!!!! Beautiful.

So, anyway. You think you know Brenna? Then I challenge you to the Brenna in Reno Quiz.

Question the First:
Where is Brenna staying in Reno?
a. A low budget motel on the outskirts of town
b. A casino tower that was a splurge, but not a budget-buster
c. The most swankified place in town

Two:
What did Brenna do upon arriving at said hotel?
a. Checked her e-mail
b. Called her mother
c. Blew a few bucks on the first slot machine she saw

Three:
What did Brenna do in downtown Reno?
a. Stopped in every casino to play at least one slot machine
b. Stopped in all the gift/souvenier shops
c. Walked two blocks, saw a homeless guy, turned around and went back to her hotel

Four:
What casino games did Brenna play before dinner?
a. None
b. Slots
c. Black jack

Five:
What did Brenna do for dinner?
a. Room service, baby.
b. Splurged for a steak dinner and a designer martini at a swanky hotel restuarant
c. Had a hamburger and a beer at the bar of a casino microbrewery

Six:
What did Brenna do after dinner?
a. Played midway games at Circus, Circus where she won more tickets than she ever has at any Chuck E. Cheese type place, and promptly gave the tickets to a lady with two well-behaved children
b. Played quarter and nickel slots, where she actually managed to break even
c. Went back to her room and watched Freaky Friday on TV

The answers to the quiz will be posted below... Post your results in my comments!

Two very important things I learned today:

1. If you stop for gas in a small town, drive a few blocks from the highway to get cheaper gas prices. NOT kidding. In one place, the near-highway gas station was charging $3.69 a gallon for regular. Three dollars and sixty nine cents. About half a mile away, I got gas for 2.89. Yeah, the station was a bit sketchy, and I had to carry the hockey-stick key attachment to get to the bathroom. But I saved a butt load of money.

2. I am a wimp. I walked into a Flying J to get some early afternoon coffee. As I walked in, I heard "Mary, please come to the front. It's an emergency!" over the intercom. I didn't think much of it, as I prepared to concoct the perfect afternoon pick-me-up. Then, I heard one of the employees talking to (I presume) Mary. She told Mary that one of the other employees had just collapsed.

Uh.

Um.

Oh, boy. Uh. I'm a doctor. A DOCTOR. A Doctor doctor. I should, you know, doctor people.

These were the thoughts going through my head as I stood there preparing my coffee. Followed immediately by: Should I help? Am I supposed to? What could I do? Say, 'Hi, I'm a doctor?' But... I'm not licensed. I don't know anything. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? I was still having a mini panic in my head when the EMS arrived. Thank. God.

I felt really bad for not doing anything. But... I'm not licensed. I'm not even certified in CPR anymore!

But, still. In the end. I think I was kind of a wimp.

Based on what I saw, I think she either passed out or had a seizure. Possibly even a pseudo-seizure. There was an awful lot of moaning that started once the paramedics arrived.

So, now I have had my first 'doctor in the house' experience. (not that they actually called for a doctor). Maybe next time I'll step up.


Anyway. How did you do on the test???

1. b. I'm staying at El Dorado in downtown Reno. Not too shabby!
2. a. Then b.
3. c. I'm alone. Homeless people are scary.
4. b.
5. c. Splurged on the room, not dinner.
6. Trick question: all of the above.



This is a pic of my bucket o'nickels! I got $15 from this slot machine. I heart this slot machine.


How did you do??
0-1 correct: Hello, nice to meet you, my name is Brenna
2-4 correct: You're totally normal. Except that you just took a Brenna quiz.
5-6 correct: Brenna, is that you??

Do do that Hoo-doo

At the beginning of this journey, I had two destinations: Sacramento, obviously, and for no really good reason: Bryce Canyon. Well, today was Bryce Canyon day! After six hours in the car and several hours of hiking, I'm pretty tired. So, I'll just say this: God did a good job on Utah. Now enjoy some pictures!


These are called hoodoos. Really! They are limestone structures formed by years of rain and ice. They come in all sorts of colors.


These are bridges - also formed the same way, but mostly by flowing water.


Me! A self-portrait. Yes, I was hiking with VBS (visible bra strap), but I didn't really plan out the clothes I packed for this trip... I was lucky I remembered sun block and my hiking boots! I missed a spot on my shoulder, so I have a funny little burn.


The Canyon was named Bryce Canyon after Ebeneezer Bryce. He was a Mormon pioneer who lived at the canyon in the olden days (I don't know when). Locals called it "Bryce's Canyon" and it stuck.





Now I'm tired and am going to bed. Check out Kodak Gallery for more pictures! If you can't get to those, let me know, and I'll e-mail you the link.

Brenna Kart!

Since I was in Denver, I decided that I should spend the morning looking around the mile high city. I love it!

I don't know what other people would do faced with a morning in Denver, but I chose to take a tour of the Colorado State Capital (with a fifth grade class). A true mark of my dorkiness, I guess... But I thought the tour was great! And free, which is a huge plus.


Maybe it was the shiny gold dome that drew me to it! Back in 1867, when they started construction of the building, they were going to put a copper dome on. But since they were trying to build it all with native materials, the gold-miners got together and donated enough gold to cover the roof instead. It took 200 ounces of 24 karat gold. Today, that's worth about $146,680. Celebrities wear more gold than that to the Oscars... They hammer it down until it is thinner than tissue paper.


One of the other local materials they used in the construction was this rose onyx from a Colorado quarry. They used all the rose onyx they found in that quarry, and there has never been any more of it found anywhere. That makes this stone much more valuable than the gold on the roof. This picture doesn't demonstrate it well, but the pattern of the onyx varies from piece to piece, and there have been thousands of pictures found in the stone - from a turkey to George Washington's profile.


The rest of the capital was built with Colorado marble and Colorado granite. They spent more excavating and getting the marble to Denver than they would have had they shipped in the marble from Italy. It took 20 years to build, at a cost of three million dollars. The brochure says that that cost cannot even be converted to today's market. Awesome. A priceless building.


Being the Mile High City, they had to officially mark the actual point where it is 5,280 feet high. One group of students (University of Colorado), measured it in 1909 in put in a marker. After that was stolen several times, they engraved it on the granite step. Then, in 1947, Colorado State University students measured it again, and found that the first marker was wrong. Thus the brass marker you see two steps above the engraving. Finally, in 2002, the US Government changed the official height of sea level (so powerful they are!), and the current marker is a few steps below these two.

I wandered around downtown Denver for a little while. It is a really great city, though there are lots of homeless people. It was like homeless person mecca. Which means it was kind of perfect for me today. Seeing as all of my belongings are currently in my car, I am kind of homeless, in a sense. Or, I guess you could say that my current home is... the Comfort Inn room I'm in right now.

I left downtown Denver (it only took me twenty minutes and a trip past the international freight yards to find the highway again) and started up the mountains. Chugga chugga. I was totally reviving and living out one of my favorite childhood books - The Little Engine that Could. Or in this case, the Little Toyota Tacoma that Could.

Somewhere along the road today, I started making sounds like I was in Mario Kart. Traffic was stop and go due to some construction. I kept shouting "Here we go!" in that Mario way. And "woo-hoo!" every time I went over a bump. My truck is so loaded down that the shocks are strained - when I go over bumps I go Bumpy-bumpy-bump. It is fun. Woo-hoo!!

My other planned stop for the day was Buffalo Bill's grave. He was buried on Lookout Mountain in Golden, Colorado. It has a great view (as one would guess "Lookout Mountain" would)


I wasn't all that much of a Buffalo Bill aficionado before today, but it was neat to learn about him. According to his wife, one of his last requests was to be buried here. Two other towns wanted his body, though - Cody, Wyoming (he co-founded the town), and a place in Nebraska (where he lived most of his life). For a while, the National Guard had a tank at the grave to prevent people from those towns from stealing the body. Finally, after his widow's death and burial there, they poured a ton of concrete over the bodies. Weird.

So, traffic was difficult today - Colorado is definitely not a place to drive through if you're at all sleepy (I wasn't). Partially because of the traffic and the roads, but also because it is freaking GORGEOUS. Following are a few pictures I took while I drove - I just held up my camera and clicked. I took about 70 pictures... some of them turned out great.









Peachy!

We're Not in Kansas Any More!

Thank goodness! Kansas does tend to go on. I drove 533 miles today (with some Colorado thrown in there), plus a few side trips. My observations on Kansas: there are lots of billboards, there is no cell phone service anywhere, and it is very windy.

Speaking of side trips. And wind... I found myself transported to another land! I met this nice young girl there. She kind of looks like a cross-dresser, but she's really a statue. Love the shoes.


Here I am with a nice, gentlemanly (if a tad empty in the head) scarecrow. He said his name is Fiyero, but that is open to your own interpretation (depending on which Oz lore you subscribe to)


Some people said she was a total witch, but I think she's really just misunderstood...


Okay, so, I wasn't actually in Oz, it turns out. I was in Wamego, Kansas - at the Oz Museum. Some guy wrote a term paper about the Wizard of Oz, and it turned into this ridiculously huge collection of Oz-ities. So, what do you do when you're in a Plains State and you have something ridiculously large? You open a museum! (or you stick it on a big pole along the interstate...) Wamego is a cute little town. I felt good contributing to the commerce of that town.


One notable occurence today: My odometer hit 23456. Tee-hee. I love it when the numbers look cool. Sadly, it only lasts for... well, a mile. I took this pic on my way to my other side trip of the day: Gove, Kansas. I was drawn to Gove by one (among many, many) billboard on the road that said "Antiques and Yarn." I'd been thinking of stopping into an antiques shop today. And... well. Yarn. While at the yarn and antique shop (more yarn than antiques), I met about 1% of Gove's population. That's because only 100 people live there. Seriously. That's fewer people than my new apartment complex.

When I finally hit Colorado, the speed limit, to my happy surprise, was 75 MPH. But, you know how Denver is the mile high city? Well, I always pictured that as, you know... a mile up from zero. Like on a big mountain with tons of switchbacks and scary edges. Turns out it is just a gradual incline from about the middle of Kansas. My truck don't like gradual inclines. Especially when driving head-on into a big ol' thunderstorm. I maxed out at 65. Sometimes I could barely hit 60. All these little old grannies in their Oldsmobiles were passing me. Ah well. Got to see some really spectacular lightning bolts (thankfully all far away).

Now I'm finally in Denver! I've met 7.2 x 10 to the negative 4th% of the population so far...

You Have Died of Diphtheria!

Here is my fearless travel companion, in all its glory. You'll note how low it is sitting in the back. That is due to the weight of all of my stuff. I have a lot of books. The books themselves are not heavy in the philosophical sense. But all that paper makes for a lot of weight.

Guess where I am now?! Topeka! Topeka, Kansas! I have traveled 1032 miles so far. Man! That is a lot of road. (Speaking of roads, I'd like to give a general message to the state of Missouri: FIX YOUR FREAKING ROADS!!!) Today, I added Missouri and Kansas to the states I've been in - the states have gotten considerably larger, sadly, so there will be fewer 'yay! I'm in new state!' moments.

Only about 2050 miles left...

I'm not feeling the words tonight, so I'll just try to post some pictures of my morning in St. Louis. I went into St Louis in the morning, and stayed doing touristy things through lunch, then drive to Topeka.



It's the arch! That's how you know for sure that I was really in St. Louis. For $10 you can get a ticket to get a tram ride to the top of the 630 foot arch. Also for $10 you can get an hour long 'cruise' on the Mississippi River in an old Sternwheeler type boat. I chose the boat. I've been 630 feet up before. Higher, even. (I've also been on a boat before, but not in St. Louis) This picture has the old Courthouse under the arch. They built it in the 1830s-1860s. Remember the famous Dred Scott case? (me either) Dred Scott, and his wife, both slaves, sued for freedom after they were moved from a free state to Missouri, a slave state. They lost.



I love this building so much, that I'm going to build a replica of it on my Greek island some day. I'll have a big sign on the outside that says "Orphanage" and inside will be the coolest playground/rollercoaster ever. What it is in real life is an old electric company - built in 1902 to power the 1904 World's Fair.


The Gateway arch was finished in 1965. It was built to celebrate or commemorate or something-ate America's expansion west of the Mississippi. Seeing as St. Louis was the gateway city and all. Three of the main Trails of the Oregon Trail started in St. Louis.


One of the other main jumping off points for the Oregon Trail was Independence, Missouri. I decided that I should check out their historic area as well, seeing as it was on the way to Topeka. Independence, MO in modern days is like a ghost town. Everything is boarded up, and the roads are even worse than the bad Missouri roads. I guess it makes sense that the town that grew up around people trying to get as far away as possible would eventually fade away. The most interesting thing I found in the historic district (I kept getting lost and couldn't find things!) was this old log courthouse from 1827.

I have bunches of more pictures on Kodak Gallery if you are interested.

I'll stop my history lesson now!

More road beckons for tomorrow...

Bring in da Nois-e

After twelve and a half hours driving in my truck, you'd think that I could actually wrap my mind around the fact that I'm in Illinois now. Instead, I just keep saying "Illinois!" in a perplexed way.

Incidentally, after twelve and a half hours driving in my truck, I'm talking to myself. A lot.

Isn't it weird that you don't pronounce the "S?" It is.

So, yes! I started my Road Trip! I'd go into all sorts of details about packing up my apartment, and loading (cramming) up my truck (which I could not have done without the capable help of the fantastic and lovely Miss Heather). I could talk about all the 'lasts' of this past week, and all of the things that were causing me to choke back tears (e.g. *sniff* this is the last time I'll get annoyed at someone at this intersection *sniff*), or the full-out bawling this morning.

But I'm on my Road Trip Adventure of Insanity now. And on Road Trip Adventures of Insanity, there is no room for looking back. Especially when your truck is so loaded up that you can't use your rearview mirror.

I hit the road this morning. The Winston-Salem to Sacramento directions on MapQuest say that the journey (straight through) should take about 40 hours of driving. I'm taking a week to do it. For some reason, I decided that I needed to make it to St. Louis on Day One. It took me twelve and a half hours (my loaded, heavy truck is slooooow on hills - like the Appalachians) to get here, but I am 12 miles away from St. Louis.

I'm totally pretending to start the Oregon Trail tomorrow. You remember that the jumping off point was St. Louis, right? Oh, yes.

Today, I drove through North Carolina, Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, Indiana and Illinois. That dumbfounds even me.

The biggest adventure of the day was in finding out what state came next. I'm not so hot at the geography. I was all "Am I in Indiana or Ohio??? Indiana! Indiana!" I was really excited to be in Indiana. I don't think I'd been there before. Or Kentucky. I think...

I was pleased to have no adventures today - that was the goal. My stuff stayed nicely packed. The only mishap was when I poured a whole canister of Pringles all over the stuff in my front seat. Oops.

I have a couple of pictures. They're boring, though. Plus, there is a weird lady hanging out at the front desk, and my camera is in my truck (along with EVERYTHING I OWN - including my med school diploma). I don't feel like chatting with weird lady again. Hopefully I'll have some fun pictures tomorrow.

So They Say...

I'm officially a doctor now. No more denying it... Be warned. :)

I hope to have fantastic pictures of the event soon - it will serve as final proof that I'm not just some delusional blogger making up a life more fascinating than my own, true life. Though I'm sure, after reading my blog, there is no one that thinks that I'm making it up. It is much to boring for that.

But now, the next time you see me in the grocery store, make sure you give me a big, hearty "Hi, Dr. Yard!" I won't answer (who, me? Doctor?), but I'll appreciate the effort.

Oh, and I made sure to note the first thing I said as a doctor (after 'thank you'), as a predictor of my future professional life (something I made up, but doesn't it sound official-like?!) The first thing I said: "Was it?" I don't know what that means for my future...

And Then There Were None

No more school, no more books, no more teachers dirty looks!

We're done. For real. Like, totally and completely done. This is the goal that I've been working towards for way too long... I can really say: "No more school" and it is true - no quiet modifier ("until next year...") needed.

And now, the Graduation begins. We have about ten billion different activities - tonight I have an induction into the Humanism in Medicine honor society (people seem to think I'm nice...), followed by a class party - where we may (or may not) burn our short white coats (!!!). Tomorrow, most of my family comes (sans Melissa). Friday is an awards ceremony - I'm not winning anything, but I am presenting something. Saturday is the big semi-formal Faculty/Senior reception. On Sunday we get hooded, and then, finally, on Monday, we graduate.

A whirlwind of activity!

All requiring new clothes!!!

But, now, I have learned everything that I'm going to learn. I will be dumber on Monday than I am right now (short term memory will have cleared by then). Yet they're still going to let me be a doctor.

I would like to pontificate on the significance of moving into doctor-hood as a whole paradigm shift and how it will finally force me to acknowledge the fact that I am, indeed, an adult, and how today is the last Wednesday of my life that I will not be a doctor... but I just got an e-mail saying that I won't graduate unless I turn in this one financial aid form... So... I'd better go do that.

Code Blue!

As part of our clinical education here in med school, we get several opportunities to work in the Patient Simulation Lab. It is set up with a very high-tech dummy and all the monitors and meds and lines, etc. that you'd find in an OR or ICU. We work in groups to run fake codes (patient having a heart attack, or not breathing, or otherwise crashing), or to practice putting a patient under for anesthesia. It's actually really, really cool. The dummy has eyes that open and shut - and the pupils even dilate. A man in another room runs the controls that move the dummy's chest up and down to simulate breathing, pumps that simulate carotid, femoral and radial pulses, and even talks for the patient - "Doc, I'm not doing so well!"

Did I mention that we do this in groups? It makes everything seem much more manageable when you have four colleagues fumbling around with you. You always hope that your group has the one Take-Charge person who is up-to-date on all of their Advanced Cardiac Life Support stuff. Otherwise, the group often lets the patient totally and completely deteriorate and die. Which is why it is nice to practice on a dummy, not someone's dear old granny.

As part of our "Phase V," we have two patient sim lab sessions. Except that you can miss one.

Which seven people decided to do today.

Leaving three of us to save the dummy's life. Repeatedly.

They made us go alone.

I had to save a 75 year-old Alzheimer's patient with a small bowel obstruction.

Alone.

AHHHH! Man, that was pretty stressful. We all did admirably, though. I think. At least I didn't kill the guy. But I had a lot of assistance from the man in the back -

Me: "uh, now I want to give a... paralytic...so I can intubate"
Man: "Okay, what would you like to give?"
Me: [shoot, I can't remember any... think, think, think] "Ummm. Rocuronium?"
Man: "Are you sure about that?"
Me: "Umm, no, but it is the only one I can remember."
Man: "How about something shorter acting?"
Me: "Um. Vancuronium?" [shoot, that's kind of the same thing]
Man: "How about Succ.."
Me: "...inylcholine! Yes, give Succinylcholine!"
Man: "Okay. How much?"
Me: "Um. I don't know. Enough so that he won't move."
Man: "Alrighty."

So, yeah, the patient didn't die, but it took a long time to get there.

OBX

I didn't learn until last week that the "OBX" stickers that are ubiquitous on SUV's in North Carolina do not, in fact, refer to some obscure sport about which I know nothing, and would surely be horrible at. No! "OBX," as anyone fluent with Google (and who isn't!?) could tell you stands for the "Outer Banks." Outer Banks! Du-uh! OBX... Outer Banx.

For those not from North Carolina, I liken the Outer Banks to a cross between the Boundary Waters of Minnesota and a summer beach hang-out. For those not familiar with Minnesota, the Boundary Waters (and thus the Outer Banks) is a wild-ish area where people like to go kayaking and fishing. The Outer Banks are actually in the Atlantic Ocean, though. Look at a map - it looks fake.

Enough for the geography lesson.

After living in NC for four years, I decided that I needed to make at least one trip to the Outer Banks - and a second trip to the Atlantic Ocean (I've only been once before to NC's beaches!) So, I subtly enlisted Susan to join me (she'd been making other weekend plans - ha!) on a spur-of-the-moment trip. Spur-of-the-moment in Brenna terms, that is - with only four days planning.

Guess what? Now it is history lesson time!!

Have you heard of the Lost Colony of Roanoke Island? In the colony of Virginia? You know, people came over on a ship, set up a settlement, and then by the time the next ship came (three years later!), the people had totally disappeared. I always assumed that Roanoke Island was in Virginia. Nope! It's totally in North Carolina. In the Outer Banks, in fact. Susan and I stayed on Roanoke Island (the island wasn't lost, just the people).

We didn't find any of the lost people.

I think they're probably dead now...

Done with the history lesson! How about some art appreciation? Well. Maybe not 'art' per se. But Brenna's Photos Appreciation just really doesn't seem like a legitimate class title...


This is Susan in the Lost Colony. Maybe. It was a fort at some point. But I'm not sure if it was the Lost Colony, or Fort Raleigh. Either way, now it is just a pile of dirt.

Alrighty. I was going to post more pictures, but Blogger isn't letting me. That's okay - I don't have any pictures of me yet anyway - Susan has all of those! :)

Maybe I'll post more pictures later. Maybe not. It's a crap shoot.

Oh yeah, by the way T minus 12 days until I'm officially a doctor.

Stymied

Most of the time I don't write because, well, there isn't all that much that happens in my life on a day-to-day basis. But lately, there have been things going on all over the place, and I haven't been writing because I didn't know where to start! So, I just decided to not start at all.

Or maybe to just paraphrase.

Can you paraphrase something that was never written in the first place?

Let's just say that we can.

When we last heard from me, I was home for Easter. Since then, I went down to Sacramento with the parentals to look for a new domicile. Abode. Dwelling. Pad. Home.

Yeah. Not doing so good on the paraphrasing here, am I? It's Thesaurus night.

Speaking of thesaurus - I wrote a paper in high school once, and I was feeling like sounding smart, so I "shift-F7'd" a lot of words (for those that don't know, that is Microsoft's shortcut to the thesaurus). I don't remember what the paper was about, but my teacher loved it so much, that she actually read it to the class. I felt like I had cheated by relying so heavily on the thesaurus... Terribly embarassing.

Random aside is done now. But good story, no? Yeah, not really.

It takes around 9 hours to drive from Portland to Sacramento. And such an easy drive. The directions are: get on I-5 South. That's it!

I won't go into gory details about the apartment search. We looked at ten places on the first day. I was agonizing over the decision. Some places were great but pricey, others were affordable but dicey (Heh - catch my rhyme there? I'm to-tal-ly a poet) Nothing was quite right. We decided to go to a new area at the beginning of the second day. And the first place we got to look at was perfect! Or at least was missing all of the things that I had major concerns about at the other place. So, assuming all the paperwork goes through (it should), I have a home! Huzzah! It is in an area of Sacramento called "The Pocket." Not kidding.

I flew back to the NC on Saturday, and here I remain sitting on my butt doing nothing. (I did get my hair cut today). I should really be thinking about packing and selling my things and all that jazz. But it is more fun to sit and do nothing. Zero. Zilch. Naught.

I do have a preliminary itinerary for my Cross Country Road Trip, however! It is totally and completely arbitrary. It started with the plan: get on highway, go west.

There were many funny things that happened during the past week that would have been good blog posts, but now the time has passed.

Except, I do have to tell you about the restaurant whose name my parents can't remember. It was definitely more funny if you were there, but between them, they came up with "Jimmy Bob's," "Jim Bob's," "Jimmy Boy's," "Roy Boy's," "Jimbo's". It was called "Jim Boy's," so I guess they were close. But they never got it right. Probably part of the problem was that it was a Mexican restaurant. Named Jim Boy's.

Come visit me in the Pocket and I'll take you there.

By The Way...

... I'm home for Easter! This trip totally took me by surprise - I mean, I knew it was coming, but it still feels like a bonus surprise week off. My parents and I are going to drive down to Sacramento in a couple of days to look for a new home for me... Daunting task.

Let me tell you about Easter, though. Mostly because I have some pictures to post.

It was a very 'adult' Easter this year. Not in the sense that we sat around watching R rated movies and telling dirty jokes. (Get your mind out of the gutter!!) It was just that, well, there were no children. No searching for Easter eggs. No Easter Bunny. Etcetera. We did have a visitor, however, but she doesn't have big, floppy ears. Chelsea - our old neighbor, and one of Lindsay's oldest friends - is living in Seattle these days (her family is in Pennsylvania), so she came down to join us.


This here is my lovely family. It was nice to have Chelsea here, as she worked very well as a photographer. And we made her clean the house, too.


Our version of an Easter Egg Hunt. Find the rocks!


You can see here that it didn't take long for us to totally engage Chelsea into our Easter traditions. This particular tradition has roots in my kindergarten days. And it isn't a tradition so much as everyone just making fun of me. Which kind of is a tradition, but not special to Easter.

One last thing I have to comment on: This August is my ten year high school reunion. Yes, I am oldy-old-old-old. Now, there was this boy back in the day that I had a cyclical crush on - meaning that from seventh grade through senior year, I had multiple crushes on him. Separated by, you know, other crushes. I had a lot of crushes... Anyway. I was keeping Cyclical Crush Boy in my mind as the potential movie-plot-like addition to my high school reunion - we meet again after ten years, yada yada. You know the plot.

Well, yesterday, I saw him! At church! With his wife. And baby.

Darn.

I guess it'd be more movie like if the person that I re-connect with after ten years is someone that I didn't really know in high school, anyway.

(I pretended I didn't see CCB because I was there with my family and he was there with his family, but his family was a wife and baby, and my family was my parents and sisters, and even though I'm going to be a doctor, which does give me some legitimacy in a mature, adult world, I'm not a doctor yet, so it just looks like I'm the 27 year old living with her parents.)

In Defense of Knitting

We're in what we call "Phase Five" of medical school now. Because our schedule here doesn't completely flow on a year-to-year basis, each chunk is called a "Phase." During first year, it was Phase 1, second year was more or less Phase 2, and so on. So I guess you could say we're Fifth Years now. Heh. I'm totally in remedial medical school.

Anyway. All Phase 5 really involves is going to helpful and interesting lectures where they try to 'prepare' us for real life. Lectures on the finances of medicine, and lectures on our personal finance, interspersed with reviews of basic medicine that we should all know (but tend to forget).

Our one responsibility during this phase is to Show Up. We even have little barcodes that we have to sign in with.

They've added another dimension to Phase 5 that was not present in the earlier phases, however: We are not allowed to have our computers. Now, I must admit, that during Phases 1 and 2, I was horrible with the computer. If a lecture started getting even remotely boring, I was off onto the internet, IM-ing my classmates, shopping, playing Bejeweled... Anything but paying attention. I'm positive that the lecturers knew what we were doing, but at that time, it was kind of accepted. And, honestly, it was almost expected. (Rarely would any faculty ask us to leave our computers shut).

But now that we're more or less 'adults' (or at least that's what they're trying to convince us of), we're expected to Show Up and to at least marginally Pay Attention. (with the occasional game of hang-man, or a note passed on whether or not the presenter looks like Guy Smiley)

Yesterday, there was a big kerfuffle because one of our classmates was knitting during a presentation. Granted, this is a person who is notorious for trying to get away with things. With everything. (i.e. going to Starbucks off campus and then calling the hospital operator to patch them in when they got paged so that it didn't register as an off-campus call; or wearing headphones during a no-computer lecture) This is probably one of the least respected people in our class for that reason.

But, personally, I think knitting is a great way to spend lecture. It helps me focus, keeps me from debating Guy-Smiley look-alikes, and actually makes me remember what I hear. It keeps my mind active and engaged. I know it probably sounds silly to the non-knitters out there, but that's the way it is. Why do you think knitting circles (or quilting, etc.) are so popular? I'm sad that knitting is not a more culturally accepted thing in the medical world.

I'd write more, but I have to so sign in!!

Day The Last

Approximately seven hundred and eleven days ago, I wrote my first post as a clinical medical student.

Today, I write my last.

Because I quit. Haha! No, just kidding. Today is our last day on rotation. The last day that I walk around wearing my short white coat (which should more rightfully be called a short, slighty-grayish coat).

As I look back on the past 711 days, I see that while I have come a long way, there is so much more yet to go. I started out knowing nothing about anything. I approach the end knowing more - a whole lot more - but much of what I know is that there is so so so much more that I don't know. How gloriously cheesy!

Today marks the last day that I will walk into a patient's room and introduce myself as a 'student' (actually, that was yesterday, but I'm taking some poetic license here). I have been a student for twenty-one years now. That is over 7600 days. These past 711 make up less than 10% of what I have been taught. What I have learned, during these days as a pseudo-doctor is that a physician must never stop learning.

Though we are shortly to drop the title of 'student' and take on a much larger title - 'Doctor' - I know, or at least I hope, that I will remain a student in my heart. It's hard to give up a 21 year habit, after all!

So, even when I do walk into a patient's room and introduce myself as a doctor - as their doctor - I will be looking to them as my new teachers. And I will remain a student forever.

Keep 'Em Covered, Please

I'm in the library at school working on a presentation about Robertsonian Translocations right now.

I was working along just fine, minding my own business, drawing nice pretty little diagrams of chromosomes and gametes. Then this lady sat down at a computer that is about ten feet away from me.

And she took off her shoes.

Now my eyes are watering, and I'm getting a headache, and I have to leave.

You'd think if your feet smelled that bad, you LEAVE YOUR SHOES ON!

Contest!

I would like to announce the First Ever Big Words Movie Quote Contest!!!

[bells and whistles go here]

The winner will receive (if they want it) a copy* of the movie in question.

Name the movie that goes with this quote:

"The only industry left was the manufacturing of space ships."

Include with your answer at least ten words (in sentence format) of why this movie rocks. Submit all answers to my comments section. And... if I don't know you, I'll need some sort of contact info.

*In VHS format. I'm not DVD nice.

Lull

I like the word 'lull.' It is such a pretty sound. And I love that it can be a verb - to lull - it sounds like what it means.

But today, I use it in the 'before-the-storm' sense. Or rather, between the storms. The storm of Match Day has passed. And now is the lull before GRADUATION happens.

Everything is nice and peaceful right now. I'm on my last - last - rotation as a medical student (genetics), and I'm so peaceful (in a state of lull), that I don't even care all that much about anything going on. I have not made one peep on this blog about the resident or other student that I'm working with. And believe me, had this been in a non-lull month - I'd have been more than peeping.

And the tragic story of the honor student who got pregnant, thus ruining her grandiose plans, only to find out that the fetus has a not-compatible-with-life genetic mutation, thus ensuring that she will actually be able to follow her plans? Or the parents of the eight-year-old child who were just told now that their child is retarded and won't 'get smarter'? These stories have fallen into my lulled little brain with a small little thud, instead of drumrolls and large cymbal crashes as they would have a few months ago...

My entire existence now, is focused on the arriving storm: Graduation. Finding a place to live. Doctor. Moving. Doctor. Residency. Doctor. California. Residency. DOCTOR.

Time to batten down the hatches!

Excuse Me!

Just now, I had a girl literally run after me in the hallway yelling 'Excuse me! Excuse me!" I thought it was someone in a rush just trying to get past other people with a large bag or something. There are always people rushing around in a hospital with large bags. Or something.

But it turns out, she was actually trying to get my attention. She recognized me as her Kaplan teacher from a couple of years ago. She's starting school here in the fall, and wanted to thank me for helping her do well on the Verbal Section! ::warm fuzzies::

How awesome must it be to be an actual teacher (instead of a fumbling wannabe like me) and be able to shape the lives of so many people. Teachers deserve so much credit. I hope people give them ::warm fuzzies:: all the time. Though, unfortunately ::warm fuzzies:: can't be exchanged for dollars or gold.

Or burritos.

Excuse me, all teachers!: You rock!!

Shake That Booty!

Yesterday, I knit a baby bootie.

Then I was like... "Brenna. You just knit a baby bootie."

And then I felt like my own great-grandmother. Not that she was known for knitting baby booties. (I don't know if any of my great-grandmothers were known for anything, actually.) But, seriously? Baby booties? Afghans and scarves are one thing - knitting those can be kinda-sorta cool. I don't know about baby booties, though.

But it is so cute!! And one baby bootie will do no one any good.

Incidentally, let's start a rumor that my great-grandmother was known for caber tossing.