Never Look to Chocolate For Help

Ask a Dove chocolate a question and, when you unwrap it, you just might have an answer!  Granted, that answer will be dialogue from a LifeTime Original movie but it will be inspirational in some bizarro world where chocolate is a therapist.  Regardless, here is a conversation I had with candy, in the form of an advice column.

Dear Dove Chocolate,
I'm really getting my ass handed to me by my studies.  Is there anything that I can do to improve?
-- Sincerely, The Scholar

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Thanks, but I'm not sure that you understand the writing style of my texts or my lack of time for pleasure reading.  Anyway, I guess I feel like I'm just not retaining things like I used to.  I'd appreciate any suggestions.

-- The Scholar 

 

Dear Dove Chocolate,

 I don't know; I definitely feel like I'm having to scrap for every little bit of knowledge that I'm gaining these days.  I'm just feeling burned out and like my self-confidence is really shaken.  Do you think what I'm doing is worth it?

-- The Scholar

Dear Dove Chocolate,

 Really?  I am?

-- The Scholar

 

 

 

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Okay, I feel pretty now; thanks.  But really, though, I'm getting thrashed by my courses.  Any strategies or other test-taking advice for me?

-- The Scholar

 

 

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Good one, Dove Chocolate.  Hope you're being funny because, clearly, "trusting my instincts" isn't working out so hot for me.  I've done precisely that and have crashed and burned.  Spectacularly, I should add.  Seriously, I should just go full Costanza and do the exact opposite of my instincts and see how that works out.  I could probably look like a freaking genius.  What'cha think about that?

-- The Scholar

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Really?  What's with the "good enough" bullshit all of a sudden?  You know that, at this point, I'd kill for passing grades, right?  Not superlative grades, just passing grades.  Got me? I am failing. I'm dying here.

-- The Scholar

 

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Now you're just screwing with me, right?  It's so dark, I can't see shit.  I'm in a cave that's wrapped up in a blanket that's been put in a box and buried.  It is dark, dark, dark.  You read me?  You get it, chocolate wrapper?

--The Scholar

Dear Dove Chocolate,

 What are you talking about?  Who said anything about singing?  Are you screwing with me?  Have you been listening to me sing?  Should I sing my answers during my exam?  WTF?

--The Scholar

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Are you referencing Lee Ann Womack lyrics now?  I'm starting to feel like you're nothing more than random quotes jotted down by members of Ellen's studio audience and slapped inside chocolate wrappers.  Hell, fortune cookies make more sense that you and they suck.  You know what, Dove Chocolate?  Screw you; we're done.  It's only 9a.m. but I'm gonna start drinking.  Thanks for nothing, prick.

--The Scholar

 

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.

Evolution of THE Man

In honor of Charles Darwin's 201st birthday on the February 12th, we held a few celebratory events at school.  In addition to the scavenger hunt and a lecture that touch on a few evolutionary adaptations in human anatomy, we had a cake baking / decorating contest.  I managed to take home the prize for most creative with my "Evolution of The Man" entry.

For some, Burt's face on a cupcake is a good weight management strategy.

Others end up with cake in their lap.

Although few people saw me bring them in or set them up, most everyone knew within a second that I'd brought them.  What's best is that my anatomy prof quickly (and without provocation) quoted a line from "Deliverance" that didn't involve Ned Beatty, mouths, or squealing.  It was bliss.

One younger classmate, however, remarked that he thought "Kurt Russell" look pretty strange after all the years and surgeries.  I told him to put down the cupcake, get the hell away from me, and never to confuse Russell with Burt Reynolds ever, ever again.

I Have a New Nephew

My sister finally had her baby boy!  For the fourth time, I'm an uncle.  This is, however, the first grandchild on my side of the family.  And, really, it's pretty special when your sibling has a child.  Throughout her pregnancy, we chatted about a ton of stuff related to her health and to the approaching delivery.  So, we were pretty frank about things because it sort of went along with some of the development and other things that we learned during the semester.  That being said, however, I was unprepared to be scrolling through photos that she'd sent and seeing her breastfeeding.  Seriously, could've used a heads up on that one guys.  You cannot unsee certain things, like your sisters' boob for example.  Pictures of the little man to follow.

Could've Done Without That

Our winter formal was last night.  As Winning Run was not here with me, I had been dead set on not attending but ended up going with a group of friends.  After showering and shaving, I grabbed a suit and went to get dressed.  Evidently, I put on (and am still carrying) holiday weight because I could barely get the pants buttoned.  Mind you, this suit and my gut provided three labors as penance for my holiday gluttony: an inside button, a metal clasp, and an outside button.

I blew out all my breath, sucked in my belly, and prepared for battle.  Somewhere in the process of getting the pants on, I managed to slice the hell out of my finger on the metal clasp.  Luckily, the blood only started gushing out after I'd got the pants buttoned and zipped.  It's the little victories in life, you know.

The most dangerous thing in my pants.

So, at several points during the night, I had the pleasure of explaining that I cut my finger while putting on my pants because I'm a fatass.  Can't wait to get back in the gym.

I Am Unqualified to Brew Coffee

Evidently, the stress and fatigue of the semester is starting.  As is my routine, I prep my coffee maker before going to bed and set the automatically brew a little earlier than my alarm.  Call me a Folger's commercial but I love waking to the smell of freshly-brewed coffee.  So, I hit the snooze button a few times and really noticed the amazingly fragrant coffee aroma wafting into my bedroom.  Still hazy from sleep, I clumsily made my way into the kitchen and turned on the light.

"What the hell is that brown towel on the floor?," I asked myself aloud.  A moment later, I noticed that the same "brown towel" was curled on the counter and snaked down the cabinets to the floor. Finally, my brain caught up with what I was seeing and confirmed that it was, indeed, not a towel but my morning cups of joe.  "Nice job, idiot," I said to myself.

I can understand not putting the coffee put all the way under the brewing basket or something to make it spill out.  My coffee pot was 5 feet away, in the dishwasher.  How the hell am I going to survive being on call?

A Meanness In This World

Nothing quite like preparing for a session on the "internal male genitalia" and "bladder and urethra" and, fifteen minutes before class, finding out that they changed the order of the topics.  And, more importantly, that today will be an interactive session in which you're expected to stand and deliver your differential diagnosis if called to do so.  Super.

And, just for the hell of it, let's add to that the development of the brain and frakking cranial nerves for Friday's test block.  And, some immunology.  And, for the surprise of the week, Pharmacology. We're having our first exam for a class two days after we have the first class.

Grrr.

On To The Next One

Week Two is in the books and what an eventful one it was.  Again, it has been another week where the pendulum moves from the crushing stress of new classes to amazingly distasteful jokes in anatomy lab.  I feel like the clock has been tightly wound and, as a result, is flying by now only to slow down at the end of the semester.

My Bamba Surfs Internet Porn In My Dream

Earlier this week, I had a dream that I walked in on my grandmother surfing porn on the internet.  As would be the case with most grandparents, she got a little flustered when she couldn’t close the browser.  In fact, it took her a ridiculously long time to close it down.  All the while, she’s saying stereotypical grandmotherly things like “Oh Dear” or “My Goodness” or “I Was Just Looking for Recipes,” simultaneously fumbling with the mouse, and clicking errantly all over the screen before becoming hysterical with laughter at herself.  After looking away for as long as I could and trying to maintain the illusion of normalcy, I spent about ten minutes teaching her how to quickly close windows on her computer by simultaneously pressing the Alt and F4 keys.  She was grateful.

Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me that my dear Bamba is surfing porn in my dreams instead of me?

Dissecting the Va-Jay-Jay Is Tougher Than You Might Think

For this section of Gross Anatomy, I'm paired with a few of my good female friends. Needless to say, they make ridiculously inappropriate comments that have me swallowing my laughter and trying as hard as I can to keep it together.  This week, we had the pleasures of dissecting the Urogential Triangle on our female cadaver.  Being the only male in the dissecting team, they tried to make me blush a few times.  At one point during the dissection, they called one professor over to help identify a landmark on the external genitalia.  When he took a moment, one of the gals, J, says to him in a complete deadpan, "I thought you were pretty familiar with the vagina."  He waited a beat and came back with, "I usually have the lights off."

The next challenge came when we attempted to identify the crus of the clitoris, a tissue synonymous with the corpora cavernosa - an erectile tissue.  As the name might imply, there is a relationship with the clitoris.

 

To locate this tissue, one can use the clitoris as a landmark and, then, dissect laterally from it to locate the crus.  After some confusion on locating the "big C," I told the team how great it was that it wasn't only men who had a tough time finding it.  Apparently, the gauntlet was thrown because they challenged me to find it really quickly.  Without missing a beat, I told them to give me some room because I was going to have to climb on the table and get my face down there.  Our laughter prompted the professor to return and ask us what was going on.  Just being inappropriate and trying to earn low marks on respectfulness, I assured him.  Sometimes, dark humor is just what you need to get you through a situation.

Immunization Certification:  Epic Fail

This morning, I attempted to get a certification for giving immunizations.  The course was mandatory for second-year students and optional for us lowly first years.  Although I didn't really expect to pass the damned thing, I thought of it as a free play:  throw it up in the end-zone and maybe someone would come down with it.  After all, it had a lot of material from a class that I've not even taken at this point.

Let's just say that I'm pretty sure that I can deliver an IM or SQ injection but, obviously, have not memorized the vaccination schedule as required to successfully pass the test.  Luckily, I only spent a couple of hours studying for it.  Out of the approximately 90 people who showed up to take the exam, only a handful of people passed the exam and advanced to the practical side of giving injections.  Evidently, at this point, if a 13-year-old walked in a provided a list of the vaccines that she'd received at 6 months, 12 months, and 6 years old, I would be unable to determine from memory what vaccines to give her.  Although I failed the exam, I scored as well as many of the second year students (and better than a few).  That being said, if the pass rate for an exam is ridiculously low, maybe all of the blame doesn't belong on the students.  Just a thought.

Off and Running

The first week back in classes is behind me.  This go-around, I think, will be a long and brutal campaign toward June.  I'll say that the addition of Neuroanatomy, Pathology, and Pharmacology to the mix adds an exponential amount of stress and difficulty to the mix.  My "old" classes haven't been slouching either: we're starting Gross Anatomy this semester with the pelvis and have spend a good deal of the week on the Anal Triangle. 

Yep, it's as awesome as you'd imagine.

Back to the Future

After arriving back here in advance of school, I caught up with a few classmates and we decided to go see a movie.  Being that I'm not exactly in a metropolis, there aren't that many selections to choose from.  Typically, I tend to shy away from blockbusters and head toward more independent fare but, like I said, I'm not exactly in a metropolis.  So, we decided to go see Avatar.  I was curious to see the spectacle and didn't really expect too much from Cameron's story line.  Typically, I think he tends toward underdeveloped characters and incorporates a little too much cheesiness into his pictures.  No matter, I was willing to plunk down my cash and see the "game changer" that he'd unleashed.

One dilemma of seeing movies here in the Palm Springs of Washington is that the theaters take cash only.  Their online ticketing is, shall we say, a little behind the times.  In true 1988 fashion, we headed over to the theater yesterday evening to catch the 6pm showing.  When we got in line for tickets, we noticed after a few minutes that all remaining showings for the night were sold out.  By the way, this was scrawled on a whiteboard hanging on the ticket window.  No worries, we'd catch it today.  This morning, the gang got together for brunch and decided to head over immediately after to buy our tix a full hour before the start time.  Once again, on walking up to the ticket line, the whiteboard noted that the next two showings were sold out!  Seriously, the last time I wasn't able to buy tickets online and actually walked up to the theater to find the movie I wanted to see was sold out was twenty years ago when I was in high school.  Seriously, what the hell is wrong with this town?  Anywho, we bought our tix for a show nearly four hour later.  It sold out shortly after we got our tickets.  Forty-five minutes prior to showtime, our friends called to say that they were in line to get into the theater and would save us seats.

Finally, we made our way into the theater and watched the damned thing.  I'll just say that the animation was amazing.  It makes the animation in Robert Zemeckis' CGI flicks look like stick figures.  So, for that alone, it was worth the money.  The 3D was pretty stinking amazing also.  When I was a kid, all the 3D movies were pretty gimmicky with only a few scenes with objects flying at you.  That this entire film was in 3D still amazes me.  Keep in mind, however, that I've not pulled the trigger on seeing any of the spate of recent films offered in 3D; this was my maiden voyage.  So, that being said it was an entertaining movie.  The technology behind it was amazing.  The visual world Cameron's team created is unlike anything you've ever seen in cinema.  I think it really has moved the bars for digital animation.  Was it the best movie I've ever seen?  Hardly.  The story, in itself, is compelling and can easily be viewed as a parable for any number of issues (both current and historical).  A few of the plot points, though, were heavy-handed and some were far-fetched even for an imagined world which I had no problem buying into.  That being said, I'd recommend seeing it on the big screen just to be a part of the spectacle of a world-wide blockbuster.

If you can, buy your tix online, show up fifteen minutes before show time, and let me know how that feels.  I miss the new millennium.

2010? Really?

Seems like just yesterday that the eccentric, fanny-pack-wearing IT security guy at my old software job was withdrawing the money from his bank accounts, stockpiling goods, and preparing for the looming Y2K technology meltdown. 

Winning Run and I had a great lunch at Muss and Turner's with Tainted Hummus' own "Keytar Rob."  Later, we made a stop-in at a small get-together with some friends.  Finally, in bed by about 11:30pm because my flight left ATL this morning at 6:30am.  First to Cincinatti, then on to Seattle.  Most of my New Year's Day was spent cramped into seat with a wailing toddler directly behind me kicking my seat for most of the flight.  Hooray me!  Really, I'm not a parent but I'm pretty sure that quietly pleading with a toddler to stop crying is an ineffective strategy.  I'm pretty sure that a bouncing stroll up and down the aisle might've been a better option.  Needless to say, it's only the first of the year and I've already exceeded last year's crying-child-on-a-flight stats by about 1000%.  What can I say, I piss excellence.

Also, I had my first experience with snow chains on the drive over a mountain pass with a classmate.  Best part of it was when some guy in the car behind ours at the chain-up area, came up to me with questions on how to put them on his tires.  "Man, I'd love to help you but I'm from Georgia and this is the first time I've ever touched a snow chain.  I'm afraid I can't help you," I told him laughing.  He shrugged his shoulders and went back to his car to figure it out himself.

Near the top of the pass.

So, now I'm back at my crappy apartment.  Alone.  No television.  No wife.  No dog.  No old-friends to meet for a drink and a visit.  No black-eyed peas.  Or collard greens.  Or ham.  Just me and the thoughts that all this hardship is worth it:  that 2010 will be better than 2009.  That it will be the foundation for better years to come.

Happy New Year.

Put a Fork in 2009

Boy, this one got out of here fast, didn't it?

I finished finals on the 19th, cracked open a bottle of Blue Label and had a celebratory toast.  Let's just say those damned things were pretty tough.  I focused most of my efforts on Physiology and BioChem.  As a result, I pulled up those grades at the expense of my Anatomy grade which fell.  All told, though, I passed everything so I'm thrilled.  For a while, it seemed doubtful.  After the dust settled, I packed my stuff and got my ass back to Georgia for the holidays and have been doing as little as possible.  Seriously, my goal has been to stay in my pajamas as long as possible each day and watch the worst television possible (reality programming excluded).

What I Learned During My First Semester in Medical School

• Nobody can truly prepare you for the shitstorm that you are entering.  Seriously, people told me that it would be tough but that I could succeed at it.  After I'd started, it seemed like all of my doctor friends changed their tune to "Yeah, it's pretty tough but you've got to gut it out and get through it."  Today, I really think that I can make it.  For the first few weeks, however, I was waiting for my bus ticket back home.
• Your closest friends and family really have no idea what you are battling through on a daily basis.  People can empathize and sympathize but, unless someone has done it, people don't truly understand.  At times, this is great because having a conversation with someone who is "in the real world" is awesome.  The outside is a balance to the all-consuming world of being a student; it's beneficial.  At other times, it can be pretty lonely when you are trying to recount an anecdote who's primary audience are med-school dorks like you.
• Sometimes, a class member can yell out "Anal Sex" in class and be courteously dismissed by the professor and thanked for a good guess but an incorrect answer.
• When strangers find out you're a med student, they will tell you things that they don't confide to others; it's the blessing and the curse of the profession.  For example, the guy who cuts what's left of my hair dropped some heavy personal medical information on me during a visit.  The best I could do was listen, remind him that I was seven weeks into my first semester of school, offer to track down some information for him and try to give him some resources.  I was flattered and frightened by his confidence in me.
• I can do this; I will be a doctor.  Early in the semester, I wrote a few notecards for myself and posted them around my apartment where I'd see them each day.  "Kick Ass Today" on the back door.  "You Can Do This" on the bathroom mirror.  The one that gets me going the most: "Do This For Bamba and Granddaddy." Sure do wish that those family and friends who have passed on could be here to experience this with me.  
• Friends, old and new, get you through it.  I'm now in a fraternity with my classmates.  We've been through the hell of the semester together and have seen each other at our best and worst.  They're the day to day crew that help you get over the peaks and valleys of the coursework.  Of course, my wife, family, and friends back home helped me more than I can articulate.  Cards, voice messages, quick emails or texts give me so much motivation to keep studying for another ten minutes, another half hour, another hour, another day.
• You will be isolated by what you know.  Lots of acquaintances will glaze over when you get into the second sentence of your description of med school.  Others will laud you with "fact" that are absolutely untrue.  Seriously, people will repeat things that one would think are too absurd to pass along as fact.  People just don't think about what they're saying.  I was walking my dog with a guy at the park who told me about a lady who "cured" her cancer simply by thinking positive thoughts.  After listening to as much as I could, I sort of unloaded on the error of his thinking and of the tremendous gaps in the retelling of his story.  Without a doubt, a positive attitude and strong support network is beneficial when fighting illness but I'm not sure that it's the only thing.  After spending most of every day thinking critically and doing your best to rationalize through things, it's a little more difficult to suffer fools and foolish comments. At a minimum, people should research things; snopes.com is a great start.
• Classmates will drunk-dial you over the holidays to remind you of that one time when a microphone fell into your ass in front of the entire class.
• Some classmates might get a little uneasy at jokes involving hobo hunting (for sport, of course) and jokes involving Bea Arthur's sexual magnetism.

Here's looking forward to next semester.

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. 

You've Got Mono!

I just got out of an essay exam in Microbiology.  Essentially, we were given an infectious condition and expected to identify the causative agent, describe the etiology of the causative agent, discuss the pathology of the condition, identify transmission methods, describe hallmark symptoms, describe any pertinent incidence/fatality rates, and discuss treatment options.  All of this in a pseudo-cohesive essay per condition, within an hour.

Our prof had given us a list of five possibilities:  bacterial pneumonia, bacterial diarrhea, burn wound infections, infectious mononucleosis, and urinary tract infections.  Of these five, two would be drawn from a hat at test time. We'd write a third essay on a condition of our choice that was not included in the original five.

So, as the week has drawn on, everyone has been busy trying to learn everything for all the conditions, some of which have what seems like a gajillion causative agents.  (Google some of the causes of bacterial diarrhea; there are seven serotypes of Escherichia coli alone.)  A few days ago, I started asking people what their wish list would be for the exam.  Most everyone, would say either bacterial pneumonia or diarrhea and infectious mononucleosis.  Mono is caused by the Epstein-Barr virus and, compared to the others, is easier to quickly understand and memorize key points.  As the rigors of the week continued to mount (we have two tests tomorrow and finals next week), people became more hopeful that we'd all get mono.

"I don't know ... I really hope we get mono!," someone would tell me.

"Yeah, that'd be pretty sweet," I'd concur.

Today, everyone made the final push on studying for it.  Like most exams, the room was buzzing with nervous tension in the minutes before the test.  One of our classmates picked the topics from a jar.  We were on pins an needles as our prof, unfolded the first one and announced that one of the topics would be bacterial pneumonia.  Everyone sighed.  In my gut, I knew that we'd be getting Urinary Tract Infections.

His hand rattled around in the jar for what seemed an eternity before he drew out a folded yellow slip and handed it to the prof.

"Your.  Next. Topic. Is. Infectious Mononucleosis!"

No shit, the room erupted with yells and applause.  All 75 of us were cheering and carrying on like we'd just won the lottery. It was ridiculous.  Hell, I personally was pumping my fist and screaming "Mono!!! Yeahhhhh!!!" without being at all sarcastic or ironic.  For five minutes after the cacophony settled, I sat there with my eyes closed laughing silently.  I smiled and chuckled during the entire thing.  Afterward, I headed to a conference room and laughed about it with a classmate until I cried.  Instead of studying for Histology and Anatomy, I'm writing this because it still kills me.  Damn, I wish I had it on video.  Classic.  Absolute classic.

That's what it's like to be a medical student:  the absolute effing highlight of my day involved cheering with joyful abandon for mono.  Honestly, it felt like my team won the big game on the final play with no time left.

Microphone Check, One, Two, One, Two...

In one of my classes, students are regularly used by instructors to demonstrate certain techniques and practical skills to the class.  Typically, the student, playing the role of the patient, will be examined by the instructor on an exam table on a small stage in the front of the class.  Overhead video cameras are used to ensure that everyone gets a great view of the treatment technique being addressed.

So, my lucky day was last week.  I was to be used to demonstrate how to identify and treat certain tender points on the posterior lumbar and sacral areas.  Normally, male students are shirtless and wear only a pair of running short.  The room was cold, however, and I got away with a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt.  During demonstration of the technique, the attending doctor had me slide to one side of the table so that he could manipulate my leg in order to demonstrate the treatment technique.  The following image shows how I was splayed on the table in front of my peers.

For the record, I wasn't wearing a sports bra. Also, my shorts were much shorter. 

While the professor was lecturing, he leaned over to move my leg.  His microphone fell off and dropped right into my ass-crack.  My shorts served as a thin, nylon barrier but, for all practical purposes, it was a direct hit.  Hell, I probably couldn't have placed it so precisely myself.

Precision and accuracy.

On feeling the impact and hearing the broadcast, muffled sounds of a microphone rumbling around in my ass, I quickly raised my head and flashed a confused expression to my classmates.  I was greeted with laughter, some stifled, most raucous.  Although I couldn't see him, it seemed as though it took the professor about an hour to gingerly pluck the microphone from my crevasse.

Never in my life had I been so happy to not have farted into a microphone placed in my butt.  (Not that this scenario has presented itself before, mind you.)  Had I done so, I would've immediately thanked everyone in the room, gather my things, and left, never to return. As it stands, I'm not sure that I'll be volunteering much more.

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.

Culinary Delights

After nearly a semester of dissecting a cadaver, it's safe to say that my culinary horizons have narrowed slightly thanks to the sights, smells, sounds, and tactile experiences I've gained. Recently, I had to really coach myself through some tasty carne asada; so I guess that beef is probably off the list for a while.

Based on today's lab where we removed the GI tract and opened various structures, I can firmly say that I'll be hesitant to make a meal of only Oreos and pesto sauce.

Heal Me, Nature

Still licking my wounds, I headed into the canyon for a little "me" time to get away from things and to put something in front of my face that wasn't ink on a page. So, I headed into the river canyon for a short hike to get away from things, climb a ridge, and get a fresher perspective.

I drove fast in the canyon, leaning into the curves, glimpsing the river down below, seeing the rain clouds move in from the horizon. On reaching the trailhead, I ditched the car, grabbed my gear and heading across the river and into the thicket. I picked the steepest trail that I could find and attacked it. Within five minutes, my legs were throbbing and my lungs were on fire. I pushed onward, upward and, eventually, was rewarded with fantastic view of the canyon.





On the plateau, I lost the trail but managed to pick up a game trail and follow it for a while. Ten minutes later, when I was precariously perched on the seriously steep mountain side, I realized that I was not and had never been a mountain goat capable of comfortably walking on such stupidly sloped mountains. Carefully, I picked my way along the hillside for the next thirty minutes, pausing often, shooting some pics, and scouting my route. Eventually, I worked my way around the canyon and back to some landmarks that I'd noted that were on a proper footpath. Then, with quivering legs, I headed back to the car. I left the parking lot as the rain moved in and drove home tired and happy.

That Stung a Little*

*By "Stung a Little," I mean that it knocked me on my ass and hurt me badly. A brief rundown...

Community and Behavioral Medicine:

I'm in the white trunks.

Medical Microbiology

Here I am, taking the hit.

BioChemistry

Once again, I'm on the bad end of the business.

Medical Physiology

That's me in the role of Marcellus Wallace.