Here's hoping that you don't mysteriously find yourself trapped in the Insurmountable Stairwell of Sadness (physically located in Phipps Plaza Mall). If you are in the stairwell, keep pushing deeper and deeper into the bowels of the building into you are expelled into the cold night air. Then, dear friend, run as fast as you can toward the MARTA station and get yourself to The Majestic for a soothing Patty Melt.
Regardless of what or how you celebrate, I wish you the happiest of holidays.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
A definition? That's the best argument you have?
As usual, Jon Stewart cuts though the crap to the heart of the matter.
"It seems like semantics is cold comfort when it comes to humanity." Indeed.
Well-played, Jon.
"It seems like semantics is cold comfort when it comes to humanity." Indeed.
Well-played, Jon.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Winning Friends, Influencing People
Or: Shitting the Bed in Which I Sleep (Title pending outcome.)
Yesterday afternoon, I received a call from the director of admissions at PCOM. She mentioned that she received a note to call me regarding my application. I quickly filled her in on my previous conversation with the admissions office. She explained how the admissions committee designs the requirements and the requirement for a recommendation from the institution that granted your bachelor's degree. She continued to describe how she constantly gets questions on this topic from applicants.
To recap, here's my simple three-step method of problem resolution:
*AACOMAS is the application service of the American Association of Colleges of Osteopathic Medicine. All applicants to osteopathic medical schools must use this service. In addition to essays that detail your motivation for applying to med school and detailed histories of your life, work, volunteer, and academic career, the application service requires that you submit official transcripts from every college or university you attended. Submitted official transcripts are authenticated and validated against information entered on the application. When complete, this "primary"application is submitted to each school to which you apply and is the basis for their decision to invite you to complete a supplemental application.
Yesterday afternoon, I received a call from the director of admissions at PCOM. She mentioned that she received a note to call me regarding my application. I quickly filled her in on my previous conversation with the admissions office. She explained how the admissions committee designs the requirements and the requirement for a recommendation from the institution that granted your bachelor's degree. She continued to describe how she constantly gets questions on this topic from applicants.
"Well, the letter is intended to get feedback from your pre-med advisor or, failing that, the dean of the college in order to prove that you graduated in good academic standing without disciplinary problems."Finally, she agreed to accept the letters that I submitted and consider my application complete for the Philly campus. She explained that the GA campus is governed by a separate admissions committee over which she, the director of admissions, has no authority to deem my application complete. She would, however, make a note on my file to let them know her decision regarding my other app with them.
"Ma'am, I graduated in 1995 with degrees in liberal arts. The deans who are there now have no idea who I am. I fail to see how a letter from someone who doesn't know me or, much less, have any recollection of me will be of any benefit to you guys."
"That's the requirement as designed by the committee."
"I graduated with honors. Shouldn't my transcripts prove that I graduated in 'good academic standing?' "
"We don't have your transcripts."
"But I submitted my transcripts to AACOMAS* and they're included on my primary application."
"We never get the transcripts. All we receive from AACOMAS are a printout of your classes and grades."
"Would you like me to send you my official transcripts from UGA?"
"No. That's not necessary."
"Well, it seems to me that your requirement is biased against older, non-traditional applicants."
To recap, here's my simple three-step method of problem resolution:
- Phone the office and complain
- Tell the admissions director that the requirement they drafted sucks and is biased against you
- Offer to send an official copy of information that they currently possess
*AACOMAS is the application service of the American Association of Colleges of Osteopathic Medicine. All applicants to osteopathic medical schools must use this service. In addition to essays that detail your motivation for applying to med school and detailed histories of your life, work, volunteer, and academic career, the application service requires that you submit official transcripts from every college or university you attended. Submitted official transcripts are authenticated and validated against information entered on the application. When complete, this "primary"application is submitted to each school to which you apply and is the basis for their decision to invite you to complete a supplemental application.
Monday, December 08, 2008
Three Cheers for Bureacracy!
After submitting all of my required letters to the schools, I've received interviews from 3/5 of them. I've yet to hear from both PCOM campuses (Philly and GA). Thinking it strange that I've heard nothing, I rang them today to follow up regarding why I've receive no contact from them. Here's a recap:
By the way, after giving them my information, I've not received a call. I can't wait to continually hound them on this.
"Hi. I'm trying to follow up on my application status. I've submitted everything and heard nothing from you guys."Evidently, they don't have too many older applicants. I find it ludicrous that they are holding things up because I didn't submit a letter from my undergrad institution. Also, I think it's pretty shitty that I've received no notification that my application wasn't complete.
"Is your application complete? Have you submitted everything?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out. It should be complete because I submitted everything via Interfolio last month."
"Hold please."
[Holiday music plays while I'm on hold for a few minutes.]
"Okay, I see that we received a letter from [private women's college] and looks like one other one..."
"That would be from the D.O. that I shadowed Dr. [name withheld]."
"Okay, just let me look and I can tell you who it's from."
"It's from the D.O.; it's the only other letter that I've submitted."
"It's from the D.O., you're right."
"So, you guys have had these for a month, can you tell me what's going on with the application?"
"It's incomplete."
"What? Why? You have all of my letters."
"We don't have a letter from the institution where you got your Bachelor degrees."
"I graduated almost fifteen years ago with liberal arts degrees. I submitted a letter from my post-bacc program that I recently completed. They are much more familiar with my sciences work."
"I'm sorry but we require a recommendation letter from the institution that granted your bachelor's degree."
"You want a letter from UGA by someone that I don't know -- and who certainly doesn't know me -- from a department that has nothing to do with science to write a recommendation letter for me? How will that help anything?"
"That's what we require, sir."
"That doesn't really make any sense. Every other school to which I've applied has happily accepted my letters from my post-bacc program."
"I'm sorry, sir, that's our requirement. Can I take your information and have someone get back to you on this?"
"You better believe it."
By the way, after giving them my information, I've not received a call. I can't wait to continually hound them on this.
Friday, December 05, 2008
One down, more to go
A few hours ago, I returned from my interview in Ft. Lauderdale. Happy to be back home and away from the stress that is med school interview day.
After spending the night waking hourly between 2:00am and 5:00, I finally got up. I showered and shaved. If they only knew how much it pains me to be clean-shaven, they'd give me bonus points. Around 8:30am, I made my way over to campus and found a parking spot near the building. A few minutes before 9:00, I opened the door to the admissions office and was surprised to see about forty people nervously sitting there, staring at everyone who walked into the room. Apparently, they were interviewing other professional schools (optometry, dentistry, etc.) on the same day.
After waiting and waiting in what was becoming a sweltering room, we separated into two large groups of about 20 and began the process. Usually, this involves an admissions counselor speaking about the awesomeness of their school, someone from financial aid to scare the shit out of you about the $150,000 worth of debt you'll incur, and someone to toot your horn about how good you should feel that you're even on campus for an interview. Turns out that they receive about 2300 applications, invite 500 to interview, and accept about 230. So, sure, I guess that I could feel good about almost making it. Problem is, I don't really hope to be "runner-up."
We heard about the clinical education program they run, their awesome rural medicine effort, and their international medical missions. I was on the edge of my seat when they mentioned a three-month elective rotation in Argentina in which the lodging was provided by the school. Pretty nifty, I thought.
The Interview
After leaving the initial meeting, we were taken to meet our interviewers. I met with two faculty members who were tasked with interviewing me in order to present an evaluation to the admission committee. Per the schedule, I was supposed to interview with them for nearly an hour. Turns out that after waiting for 40 minutes, we chatted for about 15, and then I was on my way. The conversation was pleasant but I'm still trying to process how I felt about it. I was not asked directly about any of my background or anything about the interesting things I've done. Essentially, I got another "tell us how you got here" approaches. This was followed by a "why osteopathic medicine?," and "do you think you'll be able to manage the study load of medical school?" question. My reactions to all of these inquiries were, simply, to curse a lot, insinuate that the interviewers were racist and sexist, and throw my chair across the room. Personally, I think it's going to work out well for me.
Honestly, though, I felt like they weren't all that well prepared for me or - and here's where the neurotic applicant mindset takes root - that they'd already formed an opinion of me prior to my arrival in the room for the interview. What opinion they held escapes me. If they were biased against me, I think I would've detected a little antagonism. If they were biased in my favor, could they not have offered an innocent high-five or a terrorist fist bump? Anyway, I might be over thinking it a little bit. The point is that I could've phoned in for a fifteen minute interview and saved the several hundred dollars that it took to get my ass down there.
The Jackass
During these things, there is always at least one person who does their best to show off their pedigree. Usually, this is either in the form of bragging about an MCAT score, discussing their awesome research, detailing how many interviews they have, loudly asking overly detailed questions or raising points for the purpose of being noticed. This one guy from "suburban New Jersey" was this jackass. Not only did he have a voice that would make Fran Drescher nauseaous, he never shut his pie hole during the entire lunch session. He made it a point to loudly contradict or question everything that the two female 1st year students said during lunch. Keep in mind that they're joining us, in part to evaluate us, but, most likely, for a free lunch. Still everything they said was challenged or met by a overly-detailed follow-up question. Example:
After lunch and an endless wait for someone to tell us something about what was going on, the Dean of the college stopped in for a conversation. If I were the school, I definitely would've put him on stage early in the day. He was enthusiastic and gregarious; a perfect salve for the rash of obsessive/compulsive, Type A applicants. (For the record, I'm not nearly as OCD or Type A as the majority of these folks. I'm quietly confident not loud and boastful.) To top it off, the guy wears quite the mustache and, I might add, he effing nails it. Personally, I'd like to believe that he enters any room though a cloud of white smoke that immediately follows a magician's explosion. Ideally, he'd be out of breath and muttering about leaving the damsel bound in rope on the railroad tracks in the desert with no hopes of the hero liberating her before the 3:10 passed.
It's so much better in person.
His talk with us was rambling but very engaging. Essentially, it was this: don't give up on your dream of being a doctor. If someone is trying to talk you out of going to medical school, don't listen to them. Also, if someone is trying to talk you into going to medical school, don't do it. It must be your dream to pursue for your own reasons.
Honestly, it was nice to have someone in his position eliminate a lot of the bullshit that gets thrown at you during these things. It was pretty refreshing to witness that degree of candor. He's a friendly, outgoing guy with a fascinating life history.
Afterward
We were told to expect a decision by the DEC 17th or so. If accepted, we have 30 days to pay a deposit to hold a place in class. The good thing (sic) is that my other interviews (WA and CA) are just on the other side of a 30-day window. :(
While waiting in the airport for my flight, I had a couple of beers with one of the guys from the interview who was from Boston. It's nice to talk about the Sox and "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." For the record, I think that Sunny has a disproportionately loyal following in New England.
After spending the night waking hourly between 2:00am and 5:00, I finally got up. I showered and shaved. If they only knew how much it pains me to be clean-shaven, they'd give me bonus points. Around 8:30am, I made my way over to campus and found a parking spot near the building. A few minutes before 9:00, I opened the door to the admissions office and was surprised to see about forty people nervously sitting there, staring at everyone who walked into the room. Apparently, they were interviewing other professional schools (optometry, dentistry, etc.) on the same day.
After waiting and waiting in what was becoming a sweltering room, we separated into two large groups of about 20 and began the process. Usually, this involves an admissions counselor speaking about the awesomeness of their school, someone from financial aid to scare the shit out of you about the $150,000 worth of debt you'll incur, and someone to toot your horn about how good you should feel that you're even on campus for an interview. Turns out that they receive about 2300 applications, invite 500 to interview, and accept about 230. So, sure, I guess that I could feel good about almost making it. Problem is, I don't really hope to be "runner-up."
We heard about the clinical education program they run, their awesome rural medicine effort, and their international medical missions. I was on the edge of my seat when they mentioned a three-month elective rotation in Argentina in which the lodging was provided by the school. Pretty nifty, I thought.
The Interview
After leaving the initial meeting, we were taken to meet our interviewers. I met with two faculty members who were tasked with interviewing me in order to present an evaluation to the admission committee. Per the schedule, I was supposed to interview with them for nearly an hour. Turns out that after waiting for 40 minutes, we chatted for about 15, and then I was on my way. The conversation was pleasant but I'm still trying to process how I felt about it. I was not asked directly about any of my background or anything about the interesting things I've done. Essentially, I got another "tell us how you got here" approaches. This was followed by a "why osteopathic medicine?," and "do you think you'll be able to manage the study load of medical school?" question. My reactions to all of these inquiries were, simply, to curse a lot, insinuate that the interviewers were racist and sexist, and throw my chair across the room. Personally, I think it's going to work out well for me.
Honestly, though, I felt like they weren't all that well prepared for me or - and here's where the neurotic applicant mindset takes root - that they'd already formed an opinion of me prior to my arrival in the room for the interview. What opinion they held escapes me. If they were biased against me, I think I would've detected a little antagonism. If they were biased in my favor, could they not have offered an innocent high-five or a terrorist fist bump? Anyway, I might be over thinking it a little bit. The point is that I could've phoned in for a fifteen minute interview and saved the several hundred dollars that it took to get my ass down there.
The Jackass
During these things, there is always at least one person who does their best to show off their pedigree. Usually, this is either in the form of bragging about an MCAT score, discussing their awesome research, detailing how many interviews they have, loudly asking overly detailed questions or raising points for the purpose of being noticed. This one guy from "suburban New Jersey" was this jackass. Not only did he have a voice that would make Fran Drescher nauseaous, he never shut his pie hole during the entire lunch session. He made it a point to loudly contradict or question everything that the two female 1st year students said during lunch. Keep in mind that they're joining us, in part to evaluate us, but, most likely, for a free lunch. Still everything they said was challenged or met by a overly-detailed follow-up question. Example:
"This chicken wrap is tasty. I love the tomato tortilla." [Takes bite of sandwich.]The Dean
"Actually, it's a sun-dried tomato tortilla. A tomato tortilla has a different hue."
"Umm, okay." [Rolls eyes, continues eating.]
"C'mon, you have to know the difference. You can also tell by the different texture it has."
"Umm, okay." [Fastens rope to ceiling, affixes noose to own neck, steps out of chair.]
After lunch and an endless wait for someone to tell us something about what was going on, the Dean of the college stopped in for a conversation. If I were the school, I definitely would've put him on stage early in the day. He was enthusiastic and gregarious; a perfect salve for the rash of obsessive/compulsive, Type A applicants. (For the record, I'm not nearly as OCD or Type A as the majority of these folks. I'm quietly confident not loud and boastful.) To top it off, the guy wears quite the mustache and, I might add, he effing nails it. Personally, I'd like to believe that he enters any room though a cloud of white smoke that immediately follows a magician's explosion. Ideally, he'd be out of breath and muttering about leaving the damsel bound in rope on the railroad tracks in the desert with no hopes of the hero liberating her before the 3:10 passed.
It's so much better in person.His talk with us was rambling but very engaging. Essentially, it was this: don't give up on your dream of being a doctor. If someone is trying to talk you out of going to medical school, don't listen to them. Also, if someone is trying to talk you into going to medical school, don't do it. It must be your dream to pursue for your own reasons.
Honestly, it was nice to have someone in his position eliminate a lot of the bullshit that gets thrown at you during these things. It was pretty refreshing to witness that degree of candor. He's a friendly, outgoing guy with a fascinating life history.
Afterward
We were told to expect a decision by the DEC 17th or so. If accepted, we have 30 days to pay a deposit to hold a place in class. The good thing (sic) is that my other interviews (WA and CA) are just on the other side of a 30-day window. :(
While waiting in the airport for my flight, I had a couple of beers with one of the guys from the interview who was from Boston. It's nice to talk about the Sox and "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." For the record, I think that Sunny has a disproportionately loyal following in New England.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Ready, Set...
I'm in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. Tomorrow, I'm interviewing at the local Osteopathic medical school for a spot in their incoming class. So, I'm a bit anxious and excited and hopeful. This South Florida thing is sort of strange. It's pretty flat and strip-mallish. The thing is that I'm not in Lauderdale proper but Davie which is akin to telling people you're in Atlanta but really hanging out in Alpharetta: close but not quite the same.
Anywho, I interview for most of the day tomorrow. Hopefully, all will go well. I've already taped a note to the door tomorrow morning reminding me to wear pants. Yep, that should do it.
More later.
Anywho, I interview for most of the day tomorrow. Hopefully, all will go well. I've already taped a note to the door tomorrow morning reminding me to wear pants. Yep, that should do it.
More later.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Monday, December 01, 2008
School Updates
Well, I have interviews with at least two D.O. schools. Later this week, I'll head to Ft. Lauderdale for my first D.O. interview. In February, I'll head out to the San Francisco area for another one.
In the meantime, I'm waiting to hear from schools in Atlanta, Philadelphia, and Yakima, WA. Keep your fingers crossed for me. I need at least one stinking offer of acceptance.
In the meantime, I'm waiting to hear from schools in Atlanta, Philadelphia, and Yakima, WA. Keep your fingers crossed for me. I need at least one stinking offer of acceptance.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
The Devil and Daniel Johnston
Just watched "The Devil and Daniel Johnston" for the second time in the last few days. It's really an amazing documentary.
Like many, I'd been peripherally aware of Daniel Johnston's music via others' performances of it. During the mid-80s, I was just cutting my teeth on music that was off the beaten path. As a result, he was off my radar until many years later; his story was one about which I new a few details but nothing comprehensive. I'm awed by the peaks and valleys of his musical career and, even more importantly, of his life.
I must admit that, while viewing the special features on the DVD, the filmed reunion between Laurie and Daniel made me cry. I'm not so sure that it should've happened (the reunion, not my tears) or, at the very least, that it should've been filmed. It broke my heart.
I can't get his songs out of my head. "Speeding Motorcycle" has been stuck there for days.
Anyway, give this one a shot.
The film's trailer.
Like many, I'd been peripherally aware of Daniel Johnston's music via others' performances of it. During the mid-80s, I was just cutting my teeth on music that was off the beaten path. As a result, he was off my radar until many years later; his story was one about which I new a few details but nothing comprehensive. I'm awed by the peaks and valleys of his musical career and, even more importantly, of his life.
I must admit that, while viewing the special features on the DVD, the filmed reunion between Laurie and Daniel made me cry. I'm not so sure that it should've happened (the reunion, not my tears) or, at the very least, that it should've been filmed. It broke my heart.
I can't get his songs out of my head. "Speeding Motorcycle" has been stuck there for days.
Anyway, give this one a shot.
Old Friends
Many moons ago, I worked as a camp counselor at Rock Eagle 4-H Center. During my three summers as a counselor, I met many kids from across Georgia, worked until I was exhausted, and made the friends that I still cherish today. Without hesitation, I'd do it all again for free.
During my second summer as a counselor, 1993, I met a little girl who was there for a week of camp. At the time, she was homesick, crying, and ready to throw in the towel and go home. I spent a few minutes with her to cheer her up and calm her down. I'm pretty sure that we pinky-swore to be friends and for her to stick it out a few more days. After her week at camp ended, she wrote me as did many of the campers that we got to know. The next summer, she returned to camp for what was a better time than the previous year.
Since 1993, we've traded letters with one another. Through our correspondence, I've witnessed her grow from a homesick little girl, to a high-school student facing adversity, to a college student choosing a path in life, and into a wonderful, confident woman.
"A Skunk Went Around My Leg."
Last week, I went to the wedding of my penpal, my friend through fifteen years of letters. I felt quite happy, if old.
During my second summer as a counselor, 1993, I met a little girl who was there for a week of camp. At the time, she was homesick, crying, and ready to throw in the towel and go home. I spent a few minutes with her to cheer her up and calm her down. I'm pretty sure that we pinky-swore to be friends and for her to stick it out a few more days. After her week at camp ended, she wrote me as did many of the campers that we got to know. The next summer, she returned to camp for what was a better time than the previous year.
Since 1993, we've traded letters with one another. Through our correspondence, I've witnessed her grow from a homesick little girl, to a high-school student facing adversity, to a college student choosing a path in life, and into a wonderful, confident woman.
"A Skunk Went Around My Leg."Last week, I went to the wedding of my penpal, my friend through fifteen years of letters. I felt quite happy, if old.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
If You Look at Only One More Web Site Today...
Make it this one. Bookmark it. You must learn all that you can about your enemy.*
*Thanks to Dr.J3K for passing along the site and the encouragement to study it.
*Thanks to Dr.J3K for passing along the site and the encouragement to study it.
Facebook Faux Pas
A few months back, at the behest of a good friend, I joined Facebook. At times, I think it's pretty cool. At many others, I find it to be pretty creepy or annoying. For the record, I'm one of those people who never updates a status and never ever sends or accepts flair or pokes or drinks or anything. At most, I'll log in and check it about twice a week for about ten minutes. It is, in my opinion, just one more thing to manage. Personally, I already have enough things that deserve my attention.
In spite of all of the annoyances, there are some redeeming qualities about it. There are some folks from high school with whom I'd lost touch that I've traded a few emails. Unfortunately, after not hearing from or, in many cases, thinking about someone for fifteen years, I now have the ability to know what they are doing at any given moment courtesy of the Facebook's wretched Status updates. Is it critical, for example, to know that someone has paused "The View" to run to the restroom? Methinks not.
Anyway, it can be a better way to email someone than email, you know? There's no bother of remembering an email address. If you're connected to someone, you can send them a message. I've probably done this about ten times.
Several days ago, I emailed a buddy that I've know for many years. I told him how I missed seeing him at the bachelor party/tailgate for K's bachelor party weekend, that he picked the right game to miss because Alabama kicked our ass, that I hoped to catch up with him and his family soon, and that we should go snowboarding again this winter. It felt nice to email him. After I, I did miss seeing him there. Yesterday, I popped into my Facebook account and got his reply:
I'll have no recollection of this moment in 3 ... 2... 1...
So, not only did we have our photo made but, I recall that we talked at length about snowboarding again this winter. On top of that, I walked to the stadium with him and his buddy from back home.
My only explanation is that, yes, the tailgate was that good. Yes, I am just that idiotic. Yes, I had a blast.
In spite of all of the annoyances, there are some redeeming qualities about it. There are some folks from high school with whom I'd lost touch that I've traded a few emails. Unfortunately, after not hearing from or, in many cases, thinking about someone for fifteen years, I now have the ability to know what they are doing at any given moment courtesy of the Facebook's wretched Status updates. Is it critical, for example, to know that someone has paused "The View" to run to the restroom? Methinks not.
Anyway, it can be a better way to email someone than email, you know? There's no bother of remembering an email address. If you're connected to someone, you can send them a message. I've probably done this about ten times.
Several days ago, I emailed a buddy that I've know for many years. I told him how I missed seeing him at the bachelor party/tailgate for K's bachelor party weekend, that he picked the right game to miss because Alabama kicked our ass, that I hoped to catch up with him and his family soon, and that we should go snowboarding again this winter. It felt nice to email him. After I, I did miss seeing him there. Yesterday, I popped into my Facebook account and got his reply:
Dude, I was there! We had our picture made together. Guess I was just that forgettable.LOL. Still trying to figure out if I can go on the ski trip. I really want to. Keep me posted on the updates.
I'll have no recollection of this moment in 3 ... 2... 1...So, not only did we have our photo made but, I recall that we talked at length about snowboarding again this winter. On top of that, I walked to the stadium with him and his buddy from back home.
My only explanation is that, yes, the tailgate was that good. Yes, I am just that idiotic. Yes, I had a blast.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
School Update
A couple of weeks ago, I submitted the next batch of supplemental applications and recommendation letters for osteopathic schools. Now, I'm waiting to hear back from everyone. At this point, I have, hopefully, what will be the first of several interview offers. Currently, I'm trying to get it on the books for next week but it might get pushed until after Thanksgiving.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Chasing My Shadow
I thought I'd share more from last week's shadowing experience, including a bit that I frantically wrote prior to the start of my first day. That morning, I arrived at the doctor's office, talked with him a bit, then went to the hospital to meet the resident that I'd follow for the day. While waiting, I decided to jot down some things in my journal. Here's what I wrote:
Anyway, as I mentioned previously, I saw a fantastic amount of stuff on the first day. The next day, however, seemed to be much more subdued. I worked with a doctor in a clinic seeing patients for most of the day. Here are few notes from my journal regarding day two:
I'm sitting here in the doctor's cafeteria. Man, do I feel like a fish out of water. I have this white coat crumpled in my lap and am sitting here alone at the table: the new kid on the school playground. The problem is that I don't even go to this school. My fear: putting on the white coat, walking across the parking lot, being caught in the middle of some big accident or something, and having someone yell "Doctor! Doctor!" while I just freak out. Yep. This is my terrible fear. At the very least, I should get my community CPR and First Aid renewed pretty quickly. This might help me feel a little more comfortable in my own skin.Pulitzer worthy stream-of-consciousness stuff, isn't it?
As it is now, I'm sitting here waiting, waiting for my contact to show up. The room is full of docs scarfing down breakfast and just being normal. SportsCenter is on in the technology noon, pleasantly low volume, recounting the Phillies win last night. So, I'm here. Consciously trying to blend into the background but feeling like I might as well be standing on the table screaming. Just a perception really; things are probably fine. I'm likely unnoticed by most. What will the day hold for me? Will I see crazy things or just a normal day?
The awesome thing is that I nearly crapped myself this morning. Nerves? Probably. I was on a military strike mission to find and destroy a nearby toilet. Using the facility inside the office wasn't an option. No easier way to thoroughly alienate people than to violently defecate in a small office toilet. Seriously, it would've been something from Dumb and Dumber: me with a branch clinched in my teeth levitating over the seat. Anywho, after the initial "shock and ewww," I met with Dr. B who told me about today's assignment.
Anyway, as I mentioned previously, I saw a fantastic amount of stuff on the first day. The next day, however, seemed to be much more subdued. I worked with a doctor in a clinic seeing patients for most of the day. Here are few notes from my journal regarding day two:
Spent the night at mom and dad's place. This morning, I slept in a little and made my way to the doctor's office. Surprisingly, I've had no violent ass-plosions this morning. I think yesterday made me feel a good deal better about everything. So, at the moment, I 'm waiting for the doctor with whom I'll be paired to show up and take me to the clinic.So, that's about it. It was pretty cool and has gotten me really jazzed about school again. All of my secondary apps have been submitted and I'm awaiting recommendation letters to be sent. Then, the ball is rolling once more. Keep your fingers crossed that I won't have to retake that damned MCAT.
[Six hours later...]
Today has been pretty cool. I've been with a doc who's pretty close to my age. He'd been giving me some very helpful insight into D.O. schools. Seems like a lot of the patients we've seen today have diabetic conditions that require medications. We've given the 1200-calorie ADA (American Diabetic Assn.) diet to about half of the folks we've seen.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
All the Way!
This morning, we got up around 5:45, threw on some clothes, and walked a few blocks to our polling place. Instead of early voting, we decided to go on election day to get the full experience. We walked up to the polling location at about 6:00 and took our place in line. The place was buzzing with excitement and hope. The gaggle of elderly African American women in front of us were a riot. They were as giddy as schoolgirls, full of smiles, and teasing one another. One lady offered her friend a baggie stuffed with Cheerios, demanded that she take some, and said "Don't ask me for them later. You won't get none." They all laughed.
On the walk home, we passed a gentleman that I see often in the village during my walks with the dog. Typically, he looks a little unkempt. Mostly, he keeps to himself as he rummages through the trash cans on the sidewalk. This morning, he looked up from digging through the trash. We said our "good mornings" to each other, introduced ourselves, and shook hands. I'm not sure if he has some learning disability or some other disability but his speech is affected and difficult to understand.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning."
"You guys smoke? You have a cigarette?"
"Sorry. We don't smoke," I replied, convinced that this was going to be a run-of-the-mill bait-and-switch for money.
"I'm going to the store to buy some cigarettes," he confided.
"Well, you're almost there. It's not too much farther."
"I pick up cans for money," he told us. Then, he asked "You guys vote?"
"Sure did. Just got finished. We've been in line since six o'clock this morning."
"Who'd you vote for?"
We told him and his face lit up.
"He's going all the way! All the waaaaayyyyy! All the waaaaayyyyyy!," he cheered. "He's going to change everything, make things better!," he added with a smile absolutely beaming across his face.
"I certainly hope so. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?," I added. "How about you? Did you vote?"
"I voted early for Obama."
"You vote over in Decatur? You have to stand in line for a long time?"
"Yeah. Had to wait about three hours."
The three of us meandered down the sidewalk toward the store and toward our street. When we turned off, he told us goodbye and kept going. I had to fight back my emotions to stave off welling up on the last block of the walk.
What a statement it is that a guy with some type of disability and likely living with some assistance, who's visibly impoverished and on the societal fringe, not only takes the time to vote but is genuinely concerned about the election and moved to hopefulness and cheer by a candidate.
Although I'm sure that my recollection of it doesn't really capture the power of this simple conversation, I know that it is why I voted. Simply put, it is the promise of America where everyone has a voice. It is the embodiment of hope and of potential. It is the power of a unifying, uplifting message based on hope instead of fear and divisiveness. We're on the edge of something wonderful.
Please, please, please don't let the Dems lose this one.
On the walk home, we passed a gentleman that I see often in the village during my walks with the dog. Typically, he looks a little unkempt. Mostly, he keeps to himself as he rummages through the trash cans on the sidewalk. This morning, he looked up from digging through the trash. We said our "good mornings" to each other, introduced ourselves, and shook hands. I'm not sure if he has some learning disability or some other disability but his speech is affected and difficult to understand.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning."
"You guys smoke? You have a cigarette?"
"Sorry. We don't smoke," I replied, convinced that this was going to be a run-of-the-mill bait-and-switch for money.
"I'm going to the store to buy some cigarettes," he confided.
"Well, you're almost there. It's not too much farther."
"I pick up cans for money," he told us. Then, he asked "You guys vote?"
"Sure did. Just got finished. We've been in line since six o'clock this morning."
"Who'd you vote for?"
We told him and his face lit up.
"He's going all the way! All the waaaaayyyyy! All the waaaaayyyyyy!," he cheered. "He's going to change everything, make things better!," he added with a smile absolutely beaming across his face.
"I certainly hope so. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?," I added. "How about you? Did you vote?"
"I voted early for Obama."
"You vote over in Decatur? You have to stand in line for a long time?"
"Yeah. Had to wait about three hours."
The three of us meandered down the sidewalk toward the store and toward our street. When we turned off, he told us goodbye and kept going. I had to fight back my emotions to stave off welling up on the last block of the walk.
What a statement it is that a guy with some type of disability and likely living with some assistance, who's visibly impoverished and on the societal fringe, not only takes the time to vote but is genuinely concerned about the election and moved to hopefulness and cheer by a candidate.
Although I'm sure that my recollection of it doesn't really capture the power of this simple conversation, I know that it is why I voted. Simply put, it is the promise of America where everyone has a voice. It is the embodiment of hope and of potential. It is the power of a unifying, uplifting message based on hope instead of fear and divisiveness. We're on the edge of something wonderful.
Please, please, please don't let the Dems lose this one.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
The Shadow!
Today, I've shadowed a DO resident at a hospital near my hometown. Essentially, shadowing means that you follow a doctor around all day, watching everything, trying to soak up everything, and convincing residents that, yes, you've really thought it through and, of course, you want to go to medical school.
Without going into too much detail, I'll just make a quick list of the highlights of the things I witnessed today: a rectal exam (yep, the ol' finger poke), an NG tube being shoved into someone's stomach via the nose, and some poor guy who's balls had swollen to the size of a grapefruit.
Super awesome!
Tomorrow, I follow a different doc around. More later.
Without going into too much detail, I'll just make a quick list of the highlights of the things I witnessed today: a rectal exam (yep, the ol' finger poke), an NG tube being shoved into someone's stomach via the nose, and some poor guy who's balls had swollen to the size of a grapefruit.
Super awesome!
Tomorrow, I follow a different doc around. More later.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Your Business Card Isn't As Impressive
An old camp counselor buddy who now works for the Atlanta Police Department dropped by the house the other day. I knew it was him from the way he knocked on the door: a loud, authoritative pounding. It was the opposite of a Jehovah's Witness knock; honestly, they could learn a thing or two from the APD.
Anywho, he left me with his business card. When I looked at it, I immediately felt that no matter what I did, my card would never be as badass as his.
His card has the elements of every kick-ass action movie.
Anywho, he left me with his business card. When I looked at it, I immediately felt that no matter what I did, my card would never be as badass as his.
His card has the elements of every kick-ass action movie.Mine might say "Man of Leisure" or something but nothing nearly as cool as having the combination of S.W.A.T., Bomb Tech, or freaking Rappel Master.
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