Spring Break 'n' Leopard Print

Today:

Woke up, 9am. (sun visible in sky.)

Fantastic burrito made by Iron Skillet Shearer.

Lounge.

Watched a chiropracter crack spinal columns for four hours.

Went on a shopping spree: 4 tumblers, 1 floor lamp, 1 bottle bourbon.

Met Iron Skillet Shearer at home.

Ate dinner, drank some wine.

Felt HAPPY.

Lounge.

Put on Iron Skillet's leopard print pajama pants.

Sitting by the fire.

One of the best parts of hard work is noticing it's absence.

Hormones

I couldn't resist posting today.  In much need of an outlet.  Tomorrow (26 hours from now, to be exact), I have a physiology exam.  That's not so bad.  I'm getting used to having exams looming over my head like second hand smoke at your friend's mom's house when you were a kid, and when you come home and you still smell like Virginia Slim Ultra Light 100s.  

I am really tired of the pre-exam build-up.  Or, in other words, studying.  I'm sick of wading through hundreds of pages of information.  For example, during this 4-week unit on endocrinology, we've had six professors, all with their own style of writing notes, teaching, explaining.  There are hundreds of pages, thousands of different facts to memorize.  And no way of knowing what is more important than something else.  

I am sick of chasing hormones around pieces of paper, arrows pointing every which way.  If the human body was as disorganized our lecture notes, I don't think humans would've evolved beyond the little fish that walk on their elbows.  So, for the next 26 hours, I'm a disgruntled medical student.  Then I will be on spring break.   Until then, I have my agitation to deal with.  Aside from burnout, why am I so resistant to sitting down and learning calcium homeostasis? Maybe it's because I had fun this weekend.  Maybe because Diablo Cody won an Oscar for Best Screenplay for Juno, and I just found out she's 29.  And I'm 30.  And I haven't won an Oscar.  

Maybe it's because I'm wearing fleece sweatpants covered in cat hair.  Yeah, that's probably it.

Talk to Me, Goose

This post is simply for base-touching purposes.  I've actually been a bit too busy to procrastinate.  No blog entries.   I had my last biochemistry exam on Tuesday and am gearing up for the last physiology exam this upcoming Wednesday.  Then sweet, sweet spring break.  While I'm not going to go crazy in Cancun, it will feel like that on the inside.  

There's lots to write about, and I'll have more time after Wednesday.  I don't want to loose momentum this early in my blogging career, so I'm forcing myself to post right now between lectures on Puberty and the Pituitary Gland.  Ah, you can try to not be jealous.  

Silver White Winters That Melt

On a rare bender for February in Detroit, the sun has shone for the past two days straight.  I can almost hear people whistling.  Driving home from Big Parking Lot Hospital yesterday evening, I caught a smidge of sunset in my rear view mirror.  At first, I thought it was an air-brushed sunset scene on the guy's van behind me.  Another glimpse assured me it was THE sun setting in the sky with actual variation in color, tone and texture.   You know in Goonies, when Sloth realizes that there is such a thing as a Baby Ruth?  And he smiles diagonally and shakes his chains in delight.   That's how I felt.  

I'm not one to talk about the weather.  If put in a position to small talk, the weather is usually my last resort.  When I small talk about the weather I have to admit that I have nothing interesting to say about any other topic in the world. It's a declaration of boredom.

Except in Michigan.  In Michigan, during the 11.5 months of winter, talking about the weather is actually interesting.  It's not a topic for small talk either. It's a topic for deep, meaningful discussions.  My sister and I often discuss the weather.  She hates the cold and has loved the sun and warmth her entire life.  We're like a winter support group for each other.  We help each other cope with the dull malaise brought on by an endless parade of grey sky, bone-chilling wind, and days as long as a hyper kid's attention span.  

You don't realize how much the absence of sunshine affects you until you wake up--on the very rare occasion--to a blue morning sky filled with sunshine.  All of a sudden, you can get out of bed.  No problem!  Coffee tastes better.  Your sweater is softer.  The freezing morning air feels refreshing.  Look at my frozen breath!  It's so pretty.  Hey Mr. Homeless Man, here's a dollar for you, to "buy bus fair" to "get to work!"  Yes, "God bless you, too!" Look at the big, puffy clouds, they're shaped like cinnamon buns and baby chicks and spinning dreiedels! 

Yesterday, after parallel parking my car onto a patch of ice, I called my friend John to find out how he celebrated his birthday the day before.  John is in med school with me.  He's an interesting guy with interesting things to say.  Lately, though, he's been looking really tired and red-eyed.  He told me he bought himself a full-color spectrum sun lamp.   What an AWESOME gift!  The gift of sunlight.  The gift of joy and life and hope.  What a smart guy.   We talked about S.A.D.S. (Seasonal Affective Disorder Syndrome--an actual, diagnosable mental illness).  The sun lamp may be the only thing standing between him and going Swedish.

Right now, I'm sitting at my desk, looking up to the clear, azure sky.  I'm pretending it's late Spring, filled with fuzzy green buds, innocent yellow daffodils and the sound of tires in the parking lot spinning, trapped in knee-deep mud. 

Why July?

I thought that I should explain why I entitled this blog "Busy 'Til July."  In April 2007, I moved back to Michigan (from Portland, OR).  At that time, I made some phone calls to old friends.  A friend of mine, Nicole, was in her second year of medical school in Detroit. She was finishing up the year and about to begin studying for her Board exams.  I'll get into the Board exams later, but suffice it to say, they are MAJOR.   (Without getting into too many details, it is a series of exams that are leaps more annoying than most other annoying exams.  For example, most multiple-choice exams give the usual answer options A-E.  Five options.  Even if you guess, you have a 20% chance of getting it right.  Not terrible odds.  On the Boards, the answer options are listed A-K.  Eleven.  Eleven options all starring back.  Blank faced.  Guessing brings your odds of a correct answer down to a measly 9%.  And it is not just a matter of passing, it's a matter of doing so well that you get a competitive residency, which is what determines your job, which is what you work so hard for and sacrifice so much.  One exam.  In July.)

So, Nicole was about to begin studying.  I called her to hang out.  She told me she was busy studying.  I asked when she'd be free.  She thought about it, and replied, "I'm pretty much busy until July."  She wasn't exaggerating. She wasn't being funny.  She was actually busy studying until July. It was early April.  (No small aside: she rocked the exam.)  By that time, I already knew I was going to med school and knew that in two years, it will be my turn to look down the list of A-K.  It struck me as a small glimpse into the life ahead.

That pretty much captures the spirit of this blog.  At this point, I pretty much feel that I'm busy until...2011? During first-year orientation, an academic counselor actually suggested that on our voice mail, we record something like, "Hi, you've reached Lara.  I'm a first year medical student and I probably won't be able to call you back."  During those first days and weeks of school,  I looked at second year medical students, and wondered how they had gotten through it, how they had managed to pass their classes.  How they remembered to make a sandwich after cramming so much other information into their brains.  

The key is, like hot water, you get used to it.  A four-year long tub of very hot water.  And as soon as you think you might be used to it and you can stop squirming around, they turn on the water and crank up the heat. But day by day, month by month, time goes on and you know that if you wait it out, you'll be okay.  At least, that is, until July.

Busy Until Next Week

We all know that life is cyclic.  Eon by eon, century by century, and minute by minute, we experience the rise and fall of galaxies, empires, hormones, sun tans.  The axes upon which these cycles revolve vary, and so does our ability to perceive them.  Our lives themselves may seem linear, with a definite beginning, middle and end.  This apparent linearity is evident in how different the end of life appears from the beginning.  For example, as a recently-turned 30 year old, I can hardly relate to the person I was ten years ago.  But, perhaps, this process of maturation and growth isn't so linear, as it is a first time around in my cycle.  Maybe as I age, I will seem more and more familiar to myself, until I recognize myself in all that I do, similar to that of a child.  "Really, though," my sister observed recently about her twin three-year old sons, "they act like old men sometimes." So, maybe taking a step back, we see how the extremes of life are not so different after all.  And if we take a step even farther back, we can see how we are created from the earth's matter and return to the earth at the end.  

The current axis around which my cycle revolves is the ebb and flow of exam time.  As a first year medical student, I am enrolled in two main courses at any one time.  In the beginning of the school year, I tangoed with Anatomy and Histology.  Embryology was incorporated into Histology.  The third class that runs the entire academic year is called Clinical Medicine, where we are taught exactly that, clinical medicine.  The class includes some gravy topics, like evidence-based medicine, complementary and alternative medicine and other such catchalls not included in basic medical science.

After the whirlwind of Anatomy and Histology, we began Biochemistry and Physiology.  These two classes are appreciably more interesting than the first two--because they are more than memorization, memorization, memorization--but it's still too easy to complain about them.  

In one week (here is the cycle of my life) we have our last biochem exam.  A week after than, the final physiology exam, followed by spring break, followed by the final push towards summer vacation.  

In many ways, this has been an absolutely bizarre year.  Medical school gives a certain amount of assurance about my future.  Long term, I know I will have a job that I will most likely enjoy. I know that I will not have to worry about paying off my substantial student debt and for the most part I will be able to make a difference in the lives of my patients.  But, aside from those securities, I feel completely insecure.  

Hopefully, this blog will be a respite from that insecurity, an outlet for the emotional ups and downs endemic to life as a medical student.  

So, the countdown begins.  Six more days left of biochem.  On the seventh day, I'll be able to take a breather, see a movie, relax a bit, until the cycle of stress and pressured studying begins again.  We'll see how this blog project responds to cycle.  Hopefully, it will not be my greatest accomplishment of these next four years.