This Is War

Not that I'm finished collecting my thoughts about my first year or anything, mind you, but it's day 4 of the 2nd year and I'm feeling like I've been in the trenches for months.  All that bullshit "pie-in-the-sky" thinking that I'd be able to sneak off to see Winning Run in Seattle are teetering on the edge of the sinkhole that is being a med student. 

Seriously.  Day 4.  Monday.  Tuesday.  Wednesday.  Today.

In other news, I feel like I've learned a bunch in these four days.  It is stunning what you can learn when terrified / trying / overwhelmed / sleep-deprived / enjoying it.

More from the front lines, soon.  I promise.

Worth a Thousand Words...

Three days left in the semester and, after, a little freedom* for a few weeks.  Meanwhile, I found another great visual metaphor for med school.



It never gets old.

It Takes an Ocean Not to Break

So, the afterglow of finals was ridiculously short-lived.  A few celebratory drinks were hoisted.  Then, it was off to the races to get to Valdosta, GA for Crazy Greg's (and, by marriage, "Crazy" Meg's) wedding.  Road construction had me miss the red-eye out on Friday night.  After taking the first-flight out on Saturday, I landed in ATL, dove into the car Winning Run had waiting, and sped toward south Georgia.  I arrived with enough time to put on my tux and rush to join the wedding party.  Seattle to Valdosta, GA with thirteen minutes to spare.  That's cutting it too close for comfort.

After the wedding, we hauled back to ATL.  I slept in my bed with my wife for a few hours before hopping a plane back to WA to begin the summer semester.  Now, I'm thoroughly embedded in the work of a few new classes and some remediation work for a few of the old ones.  And, for some reason, I thought that this semester might be a little more relaxing.  Evidently not.

To top off it all off, I came down with a horrible stomach flu shortly after arriving: up at 3am with projectile emissions from both ends for a few days.  Ah, what could be better?

Between all of the running around and stress and loose ends that I'm trying to tie, I've not had a true chance to reflect on the goings on from the year.  When the dust settles, if the dust settles, I share my thoughts.  Until then, some good news:  Winning Run was offered (and accepted) a job at her top choice of Seattle firms.  I'm really proud of her, my rock.

Well, That's a First....

Three finals left this morning and they're the biggies:
Physiology
Pathology
Gross Anatomy

Last night, got to bed around 1am.  Up at 4 to shower and make the final push. 

So effing stressed about these tests that, five minutes ago, I ran to the bathroom to wretch in the toilet.  WTF?

Living on Coffee and Flowers

Finals are in full effect.  So far this week, I've spent roughly 15 total hours at my apartment.  Rising around 5am, hitting the rack somewhere between 1am and 2am, and spending the hours between buried in books is taxing at the very least.  It sucks.  I'm exhausted.  I've miles to go before tomorrow's exams (and the remaining ones this afternoon).  This shit is medical school, is the best.

From "Conversation 16" by The National:

I think the kids are in trouble
Do not know what all the troubles are for
Give them ice for their fevers
You're the only thing I ever want anymore
Live on coffee and flowers
Try not to wonder what the weather will be
I figured out what we're missing
Tell you miserable things after you are asleep

Do I Even Belong Here?

Royal Tenenbaum: That's just not right, damn it.  You used to be a genius.

Margot Tenenbaum: No I didn't.

Royal Tenenbaum: Well, anyway, that's what they used to say.

From Wes Anderson's "The Royal Tenenbaums"

Another tough week in the bag and I am damned sure not going to be earning honors in any of my classes.  If I can't improve my performance, the only thing I'll be earning is a bus ticket back home.  What the hell, man, I'm not even halfway through the semester and I'm feeling like I'm running on empty, on fumes.  I'm burned out and tired of not passing exams.

Shit, I'm tempted to host a coloring exam where all anyone has to do is take a single crayon and color in a giant rectangle.  That's it, just fill in a rectangle with a crayon and, hell, just stay mostly in the lines.  Do it and you pass.  Bingo.  A+.  Honors.  Ticker-tape parade.  Confetti.  Bells.  Whistles.  Bullshit.

Last week, during a four day weekend.  I took about 8 hours to myself excluding the hours I slept, of course.  On average, I've been getting about 5 and a half hours of sleep a night.  I've lived in a study room on campus, coming to my apartment only to sleep.  I knew that yesterday's exams would be a challenge.  Hell, no matter how you approach it, Neuroscience is tough stuff; it's amazing but tough.  Immunology, too.  And OMM.  And Pharmacology.  All told, though, I didn't expect another "O-fer" day.  "O-fer" as in I was zero for four on passing anything.  Here's the best part:  I was absolutely sure that I was going to rock my Pharmacology exam.  Absolutely effing positive.  When I'd answered all the questions, I clicked the proceed button, saw that I'd failed miserably, and felt my countenance morph from a smarmy, shit-eating grin to a stunned, distant look of shock.

I hate working my ass off and feeling like I'm just spinning my wheels and getting nowhere.  Still, I keep attempting to get up, dust myself off, and dive back into the fray.  That being said, it sure would be nice to have some sort of a win in the near future; I hate feeling like a big bag o' fail.

Shopping Habits of the Overly Stressed Medical Student

Pretty good summary of consumption as the next round of tests approaches.

Caffeine, dark chocolate, energy shots, and antacids.  

Missing: diaper.

Staying Positive

One class final (Histology) and one practical exam down.

One practical exam, one presentation, and exams in Community and Behavioral Medicine, Medical Microbiology, Clinical Skills, Medical Physiology, Osteopathic Principles and Practice, Gross Anatomy, and Biochemistry to go. 

Down

Last night as I headed back to campus for a Physiology recitation, the moon perched in the sky, peeking through the clouds, winking at me, whispering "There is more.  There is more."  I had dressed in too light a jacket for the cold foggy day and wore the same into the night.  Sometimes, I like to feel the stinging cold air rip through my shirt and chill me to the core.  Sometimes, it's what I need to remind me that life exists outside the walls of this building, away from the formalin that leaps from an old, gray body to bury itself in my skin, apart from the pages and pages of text that I hunch over.  It heightens my senses, puts a snap in my step, pushes me urgently into these halls toward the tasks at hand.

I thought that Thanksgiving break would replenish me.  I thought that I could go home and be fully recharged.  Instead, I feel the pain of transition anew: parting is such sweet sorrow (again).  On my return, I discovered that those tending the fire had busied themselves splitting kindling and, on seeing me, dumped armloads onto the flame.  The heat is too much, is suffocating.  I want to wade out into the river and let the cooling waters pull me down, pull me down.

Stand and Deliver

Or Holy @$*!, They Know Our Names
Today's BioChem lecture found us with a new prof for the next several weeks. Today's lecture was on the intricacies of conservative DNA reproduction. Easy enough, we thought...until he started calling people's names from memory and asking them to answer questions. The tension was overwhelming. The first time he called on someone, we thought that maybe he simply knew them as their faculty advisor. The third time it happened, we were terrified. Each person's eyes were wide with fear; everyone screamed through closed mouths "They know our names! It is not safe here." You could hear the seat cushions being squeezed by room's collective ass clenching.

Like everyone else, I willed myself invisible, declined to make eye contact with him, studied his slides intently, and took amazing notes. It was to no avail: As he strolled around giving his lecture, he asked a question and then said my name. From me seat, I yelled the answer because he was on the other side of the room. The heads of everyone in the class spun around to look at me because, evidently, he was talking to someone else with my name. He casually looks at me, correctly states my last name, and asks me to stand and tell the class the answer. Well, for some reason, I geeked out and totally changed my answer to one less correct before turning beet red, peeing on myself, and sitting back down in my seat.

Next time, I'll wait for him to call my last name prior to spazzing out and yelling an answer.

This is awesome; it's not like I wasn't stressed out before. Super.

Ready, Set ...

Got back from an orientation retreat on Thursday afternoon and joined a friend and his wife for dinner. I must say, everyone that I've met -- both students and faculty -- have been really friendly and genuinely excited about the school.

We spent the orientation at some cabins at Camp Prime Time,
a camp for seriously ill children and their families.

A lake near Camp Prime Time.

There are 75 of us in the incoming class. I've probably had a good conversation with about 65 of them. The other ten or so, I've not really gotten to know just yet. There are, however, a crap-ton of interesting people. For example, one guy used to train honeybees to identify landmines. (Apparently, they're also being trained to find dead bodies and meth labs.) Pretty stinking cool. Seriously, he used to train bees to find landmines. I still can't get my head around how freaking cool that must've been. Several have just left the military. One, I think, is fresh out of college.

Like me, several folks are without their wives and families. One friend just left his wife and two kids (3 and around 1) back east; they won't be out until next June. Strength in numbers, I guess.

I'm neither the oldest or the only person without a hardy science background.

I am not alone. (I knew I wouldn't be but still.) I am happy(-er).

Someone's Going to Show Up and Take It All Back
I've picked up about a ton of books, some scrubs, a stethoscope, and other diagnostic gear. I put it on and, next week, will wear it to school on certain days. At this point, I feel like they're a bunch of props for some costume party. Isn't someone going to come and take them away from me? It's all so new and strange.

Freshly unpacked, oversized scrubs.

Putting on the gear.

Seriously, my self image hasn't come up-to-speed with where I am in this process. I'm still holding on to my former identity as an instructional designer / software consultant or, at the very least, an applicant. Holy crap, I am a medical student; it's here.

The Crushing Weight of Study
I'm right on the precipice of my "Oh Shit Moment," where I'll absolutely lose it and freak the hell out. As expected, the faculty met with us during orientation to describe some typical study schedules and how we should expect to spend between 60 and 80 hours a weeks on coursework (in class and self-study). As expected, their plan to motivate everyone to begin their studies has worked. I've started to substitute Pepto Bismol for the half and half in my coffee.

Based on their professional estimates, I can probably have about four hours of waking time to myself. Subtract the time that I'll need for meals and stress-related bowel movements and I should have about 20 minutes per day. Holy smokes, what have I gotten myself into?