Before this week, I don't think I ever wrote the word "syphilis." During a lecture this morning, I wrote "chlamydia" over and again. It's kind of a pretty word, kind of sounds like an old lady's name.
Gonorrhea: you know it when you see it, but do you know how to spell it?
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
A Year By Any Other Name
I'm not getting any younger. We've all heard that time goes by faster as we age. I have the perspective of childhood memories to confirm that observation. When I was a kid, my busy mom would tell me to wait 10 more minutes until I could do something awesome, I swear I could feel my hair grow during the slow tic of 10 long minutes. During one such 10 minute vigil, I remember actually counting the seconds until 10 minutes were up. It felt as though I had finally counted to infinity. There, it could be done, infinity had been reached, now can we go to the pool?
But, as we age, the increased velocity of time is somehow seen as bad; time becomes slick and evades us, slipping through our hands until all of us a sudden we find ourselves eating dinner at 4pm and wearing a sweater in July.
Yesterday, Iron Skillet celebrated her 31st birthday. And while 31 is still considered young, I believe it is subject to debate. Everyone agrees that the major birthdays of 16, 18 and 21 are celebrated in the neon sunshine of youth, but 30...that's a moment to pause. Even for myself, as a 30-year-old, I've noticed store clerks refer to me as "ma'am" instead of "miss." Whoa, when did that happen? People, when they hear that I'm 30, reply in surprise, "wow, you don't look 30!" All this confirms that somewhere in our cultural psyche, 30 is registered as Young Old. In their 30s, people start to talk about youth as a state of mind instead of a physical reality. You don't hear 21-year-olds talking about their age, they're too busy learning existentialism and drinking Boone's Farm wine.
The odd thing about how quickly time flies as we age is that I don't seem to mind. I have nothing but the desire to be done with this phase of my life. Medical school is not a time in which I choose to languish. This four year stretch of time is like getting your teeth pulled without novocaine or whiskey. You want it quick, over with and then some really good vanilla ice cream.
So, let me age! If it means that this time will fly, buy me a girdle and call me over the hill.
During Iron Skillet's birthday celebration last night, however, the evening felt like it stretched on for week. It was wonderful. Over a beautiful bottle of wine, Iron Skillet and I came up with a list of 31 things we want to do in our lifetime. The list included everything from "make a soufflé" to "go to Africa." While Iron Skillet and I enjoyed a rare moment together of total relaxation, drinking wine and making up that list, it was the best kind of birthday celebration possible. Instead of noticing time moving quickly or slowly, we were suspended in the eternal timelessness of happiness. I think the passage of time is most enjoyed when it is not noticed. Life goes on, bliss fades, but moments like that last forever.
But, as we age, the increased velocity of time is somehow seen as bad; time becomes slick and evades us, slipping through our hands until all of us a sudden we find ourselves eating dinner at 4pm and wearing a sweater in July.
Yesterday, Iron Skillet celebrated her 31st birthday. And while 31 is still considered young, I believe it is subject to debate. Everyone agrees that the major birthdays of 16, 18 and 21 are celebrated in the neon sunshine of youth, but 30...that's a moment to pause. Even for myself, as a 30-year-old, I've noticed store clerks refer to me as "ma'am" instead of "miss." Whoa, when did that happen? People, when they hear that I'm 30, reply in surprise, "wow, you don't look 30!" All this confirms that somewhere in our cultural psyche, 30 is registered as Young Old. In their 30s, people start to talk about youth as a state of mind instead of a physical reality. You don't hear 21-year-olds talking about their age, they're too busy learning existentialism and drinking Boone's Farm wine.
The odd thing about how quickly time flies as we age is that I don't seem to mind. I have nothing but the desire to be done with this phase of my life. Medical school is not a time in which I choose to languish. This four year stretch of time is like getting your teeth pulled without novocaine or whiskey. You want it quick, over with and then some really good vanilla ice cream.
So, let me age! If it means that this time will fly, buy me a girdle and call me over the hill.
During Iron Skillet's birthday celebration last night, however, the evening felt like it stretched on for week. It was wonderful. Over a beautiful bottle of wine, Iron Skillet and I came up with a list of 31 things we want to do in our lifetime. The list included everything from "make a soufflé" to "go to Africa." While Iron Skillet and I enjoyed a rare moment together of total relaxation, drinking wine and making up that list, it was the best kind of birthday celebration possible. Instead of noticing time moving quickly or slowly, we were suspended in the eternal timelessness of happiness. I think the passage of time is most enjoyed when it is not noticed. Life goes on, bliss fades, but moments like that last forever.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Prologue to Year II. Or: At least I don't Smell Like Formaldehyde
School has started. With summer vacation over, I've quickly adjusted to student mode, ready for the high-stress year ahead.
During the first week of school, I have already learned how to draw blood. It's not a hard skill to acquire, the hardest part was pushing the needle into another person's vein. Such a little needle, such a little vein, it felt like such a big deal. I can still count on one hand the number of hard skills I've acquired in medical school. At this point, I've earned more gray hairs than skills, if we're keeping score.
Second year of medical school is reputed to be the toughest academically. Much more information in much less time. On a positive note, this year will prepare us for the elusive thinking like a doctor--which is hopefully more rewarding than thinking like a confused, stressed out and overwhelmed medical student.
Over the summer I had a chance to speak with Amy, a good friend from undergrad, who is a resident in Opthalmology at the Mayo Clinic. She advised me to "trust the system" to prepare me for becoming a doctor. It's the first time that I've ever been encouraged to trust the system. Maybe it's something I'll have to do in order for patients to trust me. Maybe this academic gauntlet is actually useful in the world of professional medicine. Maybe I have to stop being a rebel for once and toe a line in order to learn the responsibility of other people's lives.
It will keep getting better, that's what I'm told. And to think one year ago I was heading down to the cadaver labs of Gross Anatomy. Just after one week of school, it is already a huge improvement to come home at the end of the day without having to wash the smell of embalming fluid from my skin. There's nothing like medical school to wipe clean your previous sense of standards.
During the first week of school, I have already learned how to draw blood. It's not a hard skill to acquire, the hardest part was pushing the needle into another person's vein. Such a little needle, such a little vein, it felt like such a big deal. I can still count on one hand the number of hard skills I've acquired in medical school. At this point, I've earned more gray hairs than skills, if we're keeping score.
Second year of medical school is reputed to be the toughest academically. Much more information in much less time. On a positive note, this year will prepare us for the elusive thinking like a doctor--which is hopefully more rewarding than thinking like a confused, stressed out and overwhelmed medical student.
Over the summer I had a chance to speak with Amy, a good friend from undergrad, who is a resident in Opthalmology at the Mayo Clinic. She advised me to "trust the system" to prepare me for becoming a doctor. It's the first time that I've ever been encouraged to trust the system. Maybe it's something I'll have to do in order for patients to trust me. Maybe this academic gauntlet is actually useful in the world of professional medicine. Maybe I have to stop being a rebel for once and toe a line in order to learn the responsibility of other people's lives.
It will keep getting better, that's what I'm told. And to think one year ago I was heading down to the cadaver labs of Gross Anatomy. Just after one week of school, it is already a huge improvement to come home at the end of the day without having to wash the smell of embalming fluid from my skin. There's nothing like medical school to wipe clean your previous sense of standards.
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