Piles of Paper and Mountains of Gratitude

Can you tell that it's my mini-vacation right now (break between summer and fall quarter, and relatively few shifts at work), and I actually have time to do things like blog? And sleep, and read, and hike, and breathe? Yeah, it's awesome. Today, I decided to do something not especially fun or crazy or festive, but highly necessary, namely organize the insanity that is my desk. Seriously, why do I have so much stuff? Especially so many papers? What are they? Where did they come from? Why did I ever think that keeping 90% of them was even remotely a good idea? I've been working on it for over two hours and still have barely made a dent.

But anyway . . . that's not the point. The point is . . .

While cleaning, I found two lovely letters from friends that I'd forgotten I had. I read through them again, and was freshly touched by them. One was a Christmas card, and one was a just-because letter, and both were full of kind words and affection. Both letters made reference to me someday becoming a "world-famous doctor," which meant a lot to me. To be honest, I'm sure I'll never be world famous, and I'll be perfectly happy just to be a clinically skilled doctor who makes a real difference to her patients and is pleasant to work with as a colleague. But it is absolutely wonderful to be reminded that people who are important to me believe I can accomplish my goals. There's so many days when I don't believe it myself -- the days I screw up, oversleep, don't study enough, don't score high enough, don't feel like I'm trying hard enough, etc . . . that hearing (well, reading, actually) someone else say, unprompted, that they think I can do this, just makes me so happy.

And it's not just the two people who wrote those letters, either. I have so many people in my life who believe in me and support me, and I am so grateful for that.

Thank you for your faith in me, guys. I will do my best to never disappoint you.

*Hugs*

Free Knife with Purchase, or, Beatrice and Chloe go to Wallace Falls

One of my goals for this summer is to go on as many hiking/camping/Anderson Island trips as I can. I feel like even after living in the Northwest for nearly three years, I haven't taken advantage of the many outdoorsy opportunities available. I love hiking, I just never seem to have/make time. But anyway, in the spirit of that, Chloe and I headed out to Wallace Falls today, piloted by the dubiously trusty Rufus, who mercifully handled the journey very well.

It was a pretty drive, and not that long, although we did add on a little extra time when we decided to assume we knew better than the Mapquest directions, and also did not stop to consider that "First Street" is actually one of the most common street names in America, and there might in fact be more than one. Yeah, that was cool. But what was even cooler was when we were passing through the thriving metropolis of Startup, Washington, and we saw a sign for a garage sale advertising "Free Knife With Purchase." We were laughing too hard and driving too fast to stop and take a photo, but personally it was my favorite part of the trip.

We had another adventure finding parking . . . Wallace Falls is a popular spot and we got there past noon, so the parking lot was full, but a cheerful park ranger informed me that I could park on the side of the road past a certain point. But because there is no justice in the world, all the nice, flat possible parking spaces were marked with giant "No Parking" signs, and once I got to the okay-to-park zone, the theme seemed to be "enjoy parking here in this ditch!" We ended up with the car tilted at what felt like a 90-degree angle (but probably wasn't, since, you know, that's not physically possible) and with me having to actively climb out of the car, but Chloe basically falling out.

Anyway, after our driving and parking adventures, we had a really nice hike. I learned about a lot of Northwesty animals that I didn't know about before: corn snakes, almond bugs, banana slugs. And the waterfalls were beautiful! It was definitely a reminder to me of how not burly I am; we hiked a total of 2.1 miles each way, and it was rated as "moderate difficulty" in my hiking book, but I was definitely red and sweaty and totally worn out by the time we reached the waterfall. Well, it's just a good reason to go on more hikes and increase my burliness level!

" . . . and therefore, never send to know for whom bell tolls; it tolls for thee."

The above is from John Donne's Meditation XVII, which is one of my favorite poems (do "meditations" count as poems? I don't even know.) ever. I thought of it today as I was reading this article, about the tens of thousands of orphans left by the earthquake in Haiti, in addition to the 380,000 orphans the country already had before the earthquake. That's, at the very least, estimating very conservatively, 400,000 children without parents or homes. I was sitting at Noah's Bagels eating my lunch today thinking about a) how mindblowing a number that is, and b) how those children are the world's responsibility now; that even though this tragedy happened in a country that might be far away from our safe, privileged lives in Seattle or wherever else, it is everyone's moral obligation to take ownership of it and do what they can to help. Also, I was wishing I had a huge house and a ton of money and could take in at least a few kids myself.

I do know that at some point, when I am ready to have my own kids, I want to adopt them. I know I want to be a mom (although not for several years!) and I think that saving a child from unsafe, unfair circumstances is one of the greatest good deeds anyone could perform. Doing good while also getting a chance to do something I really want seems like kind of the ultimate win-win situation.

Photo from: http://hosted.ap.org/photos/A/af50da05-26cf-47df-9976-c7a1295a7b08-big.jpg

A Possibly Very Exciting New Plan

Tonight, I went to the HCASB participant information session, to speak about my experiences as a participant last year. I was in a hurry to get in there, speak briefly, and get out . . . I was hungry, had been busy all day, and had a fair amount of studying left to do. When I heard that a representative from Teach For America was coming to speak at the end of the meeting, I groaned inwardly. There was no polite way I could sneak out early, it was too small a room, but I had no interest in sitting around and listening to somebody talk about something that had no relevance to me. Sure, I've seen the 3838238290 signs that TFA puts up around the UW campus periodically, and I'd sometimes even thought "Hey, if I wasn't going to medical school, that'd be pretty cool. But I am going to medical school, which is 75 times cooler." Basically, TFA recruits college graduates, trains them, and sends them into low-income, underachieving public schools to teach for two years. They publish a lot of stuff about the huge disparity between low-income and high-income schools, as well as the disparities between the futures of the students at those schools. I'd always thought it sounded like a great, well-intentioned program, but, as I said, something that simply wasn't relevant to me or my plans. But a combination of the presentation this guy gave tonight and just the wheels turning in my head changed my mind.

This guy specifically talked about Teach for America as an option for aspiring doctors. He spent two years working for TFA, and is now starting medical school in the fall. He talked about how a lot medical schools are partners with TFA, and will offer a two-year deferment (they accept you, and hold the spot for you for two years) while you work for TFA.

It wasn't that his presentation was mind-blowingly amazing or anything; he talked for a maximum of five minutes (which was good, because, although I was actually interested, I was still hungry). It was just that he pointed out a couple of things I hadn't heard before, and those couple things got me thinking.

I used to be absolutely terrified of the idea of not being in school. I think I thought that if I veered off the direct path toward my goal for even a minute, I'd somehow lose momentum and never get there. I'd become a different person, I'd forget how to study, I'd become less smart . . . yeah, it really didn't make sense. Last school year, for financial reasons, I had to become an in-state student, which meant taking two quarters part time and then one quarter off. Shockingly, I did not come back stupider, quite the opposite actually. I didn't do anything extraordinary that year, mostly I just worked a lot. But I learned, lived, and grew, and had just as many valuable experiences to show for that year as I would have if I'd spent it in school, maybe even more.

So anyway, now I'm picturing myself done with medical school, or maybe in clinical rotations, seeing my first patients. I will (hopefully), be clinically skilled and well-qualified to treat them. But people need more than that from their doctor. Empathy? Well, I'll try, that's for sure. But how much will I really know about the communities they come from or the circumstances they face? How much will I really know about anything that wasn't published in a textbook I had to read? Maybe some . . . I like to think I have slightly more life experience than my average peer. But that still isn't much. But now, say I had spent two years working with children from the same type of community where I want to practice medicine? Meeting their families, hearing their stories, learning what their lives were like and what issues they dealt with on a daily basis?

If I spent two years working for Teach for America, I'd be 25 when I started med school instead of 23. There was a time when that would have seemed like a huge deal to me, but it just doesn't now. I'll be spending a gazillion years in med school and residency anyway before I'm a full-fledged doctor, what's another two? I wouldn't lose anything. And I might gain knowledge that made me more able to relate to my patients, to better understand what they need, how to reach them, how to explain things to them, etc., etc. I might be a better doctor if I do this, and that in itself would make it 100% worthwhile. Also, not the most important issue, but TFA teachers make approximately $47,000 per year. That's not a fortune, but it would mean I actually started medical school with some savings, instead of virtually none. It might mean I wouldn't have to join the military to pay for medical school. Spending two years helping children who truly need help sounds a lot better than selling myself to the military just so I can enter my chosen career. After all, the reason I want to be a pediatrician in underserved communities, the reason I even decided to become a doctor, is that I want to dedicate my life to helping people who really need my help . . .

. . . I have no idea if I will actually pursue this or not, but it's an option that is on the table that wasn't before tonight. I love having options! I am so grateful for my youth and for the privileges that have been generously given to me . . . so grateful that I have choices, and that I have time to make them. :)

Photos from: http://lobellovida.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/pediatrician.jpg and http://www.educator.com/news/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/teach-for-america.png

Good Week :)

First of all, I fail at updating regularly. But I've had a really fantastic week and I wanted to gush about it over the internet a little.

Probably the best thing that happened this week was that I got a really good grade on my first physics exam . . . to be honest, it was one of the best science grades I've gotten in college. I usually try not to be a huge grade-bragger, mostly because the stuff I tend to get really brag-worthy grades in is stuff that comes easily to me (foreign languages, writing papers, the parts of science I happen to really "get" just by hearing about them the first time, etc.). Usually, in my pre-med classes, I feel like I'm busting my ass just to stay enough ahead of the curve to come out with a decent grade. But for this test, I worked really hard, invested a lot of time, and it payed off. And that makes me really happy.

Secondly, I found out this week that the scribe company I work for (my ER job) is starting a pilot program at First Hill, one of the Swedish campuses in Seattle. They're sending a few scribes over there to work with doctors and hopefully convince them that they want to pay to use scribes regularly, and I get to go! I'm really excited, and hopefully I will successfully impress the doctor . . . maybe I'll bake him brownies or something? Baking brownies is kind of my fallback plan for any situation that arises in my life.

Thirdly, I got a car! A 1993 burgundy Ford Taurus, that I have named Rufus. Rufus's two main virtues are that he runs, and that he was cheap. His main deficits are that his windshield is badly cracked (but even if you add in what it'll cost to get that fixed, he was still cheap), that he has leather interior (I don't believe in leather), and that the guy who owned him before me was apparently not a big fan of respiratory health, so he smells like cigarette smoke. But I drive with the window down, and I'm getting the interior cleaned ASAP, which will hopefully resolve that issue. I am so happy to have a car! Can we talk about taking the bus to the ER in Issaquah? And back? After 10:00 at night? Actually, never mind, let's not.

Tomorrow, Rufus and I are leaving for the Lake Quinault Lodge for the weekend, because my Aunt Marion and her fiance Mark are getting married on Saturday! They're getting married in the rainforest (yes, Washington has a rainforest, because we are rad), and everyone's dressing up in the theme of "Woodland Magic." I'm pretty excited. I'll post pictures when I get back.

Also, fall, especially in Seattle, especially on the UW campus, is gorgeous. That is all.

Photo from biggarphotography.com

Good news and bad news

I really want to finish blogging about my HCASB trip, but I'm still waiting for an uninterrupted hour or so where I can sit down and write another really long post, so I can actually go into detail about it. However, I feel the events of today merit a brief interruption to the regularly scheduled HCASB-recap programming:

I lost my wallet about . . . three weeks ago, I think. I searched valiantly for it for a few days. My friend Kristine turned her apartment upside down, since there was a possibility that I might have left it there. But no luck. So, after swearing profusely for awhile, I froze my debit and credit cards, ordered a new driver's license, and generally set about getting stuff replaced. I was set for a long pain in the ass process; there was so much stuff in that wallet! My health insurance card, my Husky card, my library card, my Seattle Art Museum membership card . . . you name it, it was probably in there. Then this morning, Kristine texts me to tell me that she was cleaning her apartment this weekend and found my wallet behind her bookshelf, wedged between some books and the wall! How it got there, I have no idea. But I am thrilled that I won't have to get all that crap replaced now. I went to work thanking God for little miracles like that and thinking that it was going to be a fabulous day.

. . . Apparently the universe or God or whatever decided I did not deserve a stand-alone small miracle and took it upon Itself to even things out for me. As some of you probably know, my aunt lives in California and lets me stay in her house and drive her car rent-free. Well, she emailed me today saying she had gotten a letter today from the Seattle Photo Enforcement Program. Apparently, I got caught on candid camera running a red light on March 12th at 10:48pm, and because the car is registered to my aunt, they issued the ticket to her. If it was my car, my ticket, etc., I would have been irritated, but just taken care of it. But this is her car, and she's being generous enough to let me borrow it, and I put her driving record and her insurance premiums in jeopardy. So in addition to being irritated, I feel guilty and embarrassed. Fortunately, it won't be a part of her driving record and will be processed as a parking infraction. She's sending it to me so I can pay it. I sent her a profusely apologetic email.

I'm pretty sure I remember when this happened, oddly enough. I don't remember the date, but I know that one night a few weeks ago, I was driving home from Kristine's and came to the big intersection of 45th Street and 35th Ave (right near the Tully's and the Safeway by U-Village) just as the light was turning yellow. It was late, there was no one around, so I just gunned through it. The light was definitely red by the time I made it to the other side . . . I had underestimated how long it would take me to actually get across the intersection. The weird part was that as I was crossing, I saw/heard something flash. I thought "I hope that isn't a traffic camera, because technically I just ran that light." I guess it was a traffic camera.

I am really irritated, though. It was late at night, there was no one around, I put nobody in danger (not even myself). I didn't even flat-out run the light (I never do that). I just cut it too close on a yellow light. If it had been a real live cop instead of a camera, I probably wouldn't have gotten a ticket.

Oh, as a side note, would you like to guess how much I now owe the city of Seattle?

$124. One hundred and twenty-four American dollars. For running a light at 11:00 at night when no one was around.

FUCK.

Wisdom Teeth

I had my wisdom teeth out yesterday. Despite the fact that anything involving large sharp objects in your mouth is kind of a bummer, and having four wisdom teeth, three of which are impacted, removed, is anything but fun, I was kind of intrigued going into surgery yesterday. It was the first time I've ever had any remotely significant medical procedure done, because I've been very lucky my whole life, and the wanna-be-doctor part of me was curious. But perhaps more interesting than the surgery was what happened in the waiting room before I went in . . .

My grandmother drove me to the oral surgeon's office. Now, just as a disclaimer, I love my grandmother dearly; she's a sweet lady, and has done a lot for me my whole life, including taking great care of me the past couple of days. But sometimes, her grasp on reality is not as tight as might be ideal. This isn't an age thing either, just her personality. But anyway, we were chilling in the waiting room and this young woman walked in with an adorable little baby and sat down near us. Grandmother and I both love babies, so we started making small talk, and then the baby was hungry and the mom went to the corner of the room to nurse her, so Grandmother started telling me about her "spiritual experience" of the other day (she has these at a somewhat alarming frequency). Apparently, she was sleeping on the couch in her living room and woke up suddenly, and saw a "light-black man" in a business suit standing right in front of her, and then he disappeared. For anyone who doesn't know my grandmother, this might seem a little disturbing, but it's actually one of the tamer stories she's told me in recent years. I just said something along the lines of "Oh, really, well, um . . . mmhmm" or something equally brilliant.
By now our waiting room friend was done nursing her baby and popped into the conversation with, "Wow! It was your guardian angel."
Just what my grandmother needed, I thought, someone to egg her on.
"I think it was Barack Obama!" my grandmother said (she's a big Obama fan). "I think he's watching out for me."
Yes, grandmother, I thought. Barack Obama is chilling in your living room while you're sleeping. Also, please, God, when I can I go back to the surgery room and get away from this meeting of the insane minds?
"Well," said the woman to my grandmother, "you believe in the Bible, don't you?"
"Not literally," said my grandmother, "but I think it's a very wise book."
"Well, in Revalations, they say that angels are sent to those who are vessels of salvation."
Whoever comes to take me out of this room will be my vessel of salvation, I thought.
My grandmother looked absolutely fascinated, "Oh, wow!" she said.
"At least you're not seeing the shadows," said the woman. "Those are the ones you have to rebuke."
"Oh, yes," said my grandmother, like this made all the sense in the world.
What? What?! What?!?! I had never been so eager for general anesthesia in my life.

Fortunately, pretty soon after that they called me back to the room, where they had me rinse my mouth out and then got me all set up to go under. The tech put oxygen on my nose, an EKG on my chest/stomach, and an O2 sat moniter on my finger. Then the doctor came in and started an IV in my arm. The last thing I remember is his asking me "Are you starting to feel the medicine yet?" and my saying "I think so, a little bit." After that I was out. I woke up alone in the room, feeling like I'd had the best nap ever. I soon discovered I was still totally numb; my talking, smiling, etc. was far from up to par. Throughout the day I gradually got the feeling back in my upper lip and tongue, but my bottom lip/chin/jaw were still completely numb. The first time I had any pain was when I woke up this morning. It's not so bad, but the Ibu-profin hasn't helped, so I may take one of my painkillers, soon, because, frankly, I'm a little curious to see what they feel like ;).

Overall, this wasn't bad though, compared to the horror stories I've heard from some people. I'll be back at work tomorrow, for sure.

My New Job

This week, I started doing clinical training for my new job (in addition to Bright Horizons) as a medical scribe at an ER near Seattle. The word "scribe" makes it sound like my job should involve a large and fancy quill pen, but alas, it does not (how sweet would that be, seriously?). What a scribe does is follow a doctor around over the course of one of their shifts and do most of their charting for them. The goal of this is to minimize the amount of time the docs have to spend on paperwork and maximize the amount of face-to-face time they can have with their patients (e.g., a doctor who has a scribe can actually sit and listen to a patient's explanation of what's wrong, when their symptoms started, etc., rather than clacking away at the computer the whole time so they don't forget any information that might be important later. I get to clack away at the computer instead).

It's going pretty well, so far. Before I started I was warned that it could be a very fast-paced, hectic job, but clearly the people who warned me about that have never taught preschool. I'm still kind of intimidated by the doctors, not gonna lie. During one of my training shifts, this one doctor called me "Bernice" the entire time, and I couldn't even bring myself to correct him, which was highly amusing to the girl who was training me. I just figured as long as I was making a good impression he could call me whatever he wanted. It's really cool to see the different doctors with their patients, though. In particular, the doctor who calls me Bernice has an amazing bedside manner with kids. He can literally get a screaming, justifiably pissed-off two-year-old with an ear infection to stop crying and sit calmly while he looks in their ears. He does all the regular tricks, like shining the light in his own ears first, so they can see it doesn't hurt, but I've seen other doctors do that without the same effect. It's mostly just something in his personality, or tone of voice, or something else; I don't know what. Talk about a useful skill for a would-be pediatrician . . . if I learn one thing doing this job, I want it to be how he does that.

I like writing HPIs (history of present illness); it's kind of fun jotting down all the random things that a patient says and then trying to form it all into a succinct but informative, professional-sounding summary of why this person is in the ER. And sometimes the reasons are pretty hilarious, which sounds really insensitive, but if you are going to do something like punch a tree and then come to the hospital because the hand you punched the tree with hurts, then I am sorry, but my sensitivity for you is going to be in short supply. That was the funniest thing I've seen in my three shifts at the ER; this dude hurt his hand punching a tree (he was okay, it wasn't broken or anything, I'd feel slightly bad making fun of a guy with a broken hand). I was standing in the room listening to the doctor interviewing the patient and trying not to laugh. I greatly enjoyed writing the sentence "Insert Name Here is an x-year old male who presents with contusion-abrasions and pain in the left hand following a physical altercation with a tree."

Sixteen Things I Want to Do Before I Die

. . . the alternative title of this post is: "I So Desperately Want to Avoid Studying for My Chemistry Exam that I am Horribly Unprepared for and Will Most Likely Fail That I am Finding Every Excuse on the Planet to Keep Myself from Putting my Ass in Gear and Getting to Work."

Anyways, given that I've not yet even reached the ripe old age of twenty, I don't think about my impending death very often. But every now and then I do, and I wonder what it would take to enable me to go quietly and contentedly to face whatever comes next knowing that I'd lived my life fully and well. So, in the interest of turning that line of thinking into something fun rather than just something morbid, I decided to make a list of things I wanted to do before I die. I wanted to do twenty-seven things, because that's my favorite number, but I could only come up with sixteen. Some are big things, and some are little, random things. Now, once again, I'm not even twenty yet, so this is by no means a final draft. It'll probably change. It'll probably change a lot. But here it is:

1. Become a doctor

2. Spend at least a year living in a foreign country.

3. Learn at least one foreign language fluently.

4. Ride in a hot air balloon.

5. Drive cross-country.

6. Have some writing of mine published somewhere of significance. A medical journal, magazine, newspaper, whatever. This is kind of a subjective goal; it's hard to really define "significance" but I suppose I'll recognize it when I've done it.

7. Get married (and stay married, happily).

8. Have a child (or, even better, children).

9. Become a good cook.

10. Be at my ideal body weight.

11. Participate in some big athletic event (e.g. a triathalon or the Seattle-to-Portland bike ride).

12. Have a blog that lots of people read. Quite a goal for the girl whose blog currently has one follower (yay Megan)! :)

13. Become an organized person.

14. Save someone's life. Again, this a subjective goal. I don't have to be the one holding the paddles yelling "Clear!" while intense television drama music plays in the background or whatever. But I'd like to know that I gave someone a chance to live who didn't have one otherwise. Obviously, this doesn't mean I'm in favor of people being sick or in danger . . . I'm not. But, for the foreseeable future, people are going to get sick, and people are going to be in danger, and I'd just like to know I've played a vital role in helping people in that situation.

15. Own at least one cat and at least one dog, not necessarily at the same time.

16. Teach my own class of something. Anything, really.

. . . and I think that's it. Have a good night, everyone, and wish me luck on my test tomorrow.

Even blogger isn't safe from memes, apparently

This sounds like it might be fun:

1) Go to "Pictures" on your computer.
2) Go to your sixth folder.
3) Find your sixth picture and post it with an explanation.





This is a picture of my friend Daisy. It's from November 1st, 2008, when she cooked our group of friends a big spaghetti dinner with pumpkin pie for dessert. It was a fun evening, and I think this is a really good picture of her.

You're supposed to tag people to do this after you, but I say whoever wants to do it, just go for it! :)