31 July, 2008

Strangest Date I've Ever Had

In a week, I have a date, of sorts. I will meet a person who will be very important to me for the next few months. We've never met before; in fact, that's generally the way you want it. On our first meeting, they will be naked, although I may not see all of them at once. This person, who I have never met before, is giving me a gift.

They are my cadaver. At some point during their life, they decided that donating their body to my school after their death was the right thing for them. They didn't have to do it, no one forced them to (this does supposedly happen in other countries). They have no assurance that I will treat their gift with respect (I will).

It is very humbling to receive such an intimate gift from a complete stranger. My aunt, who went to medical school at age 30, still remembers her cadaver. She says that she loved him, that she thinks of him every day. I don't know if I'll think of them every day for the rest of my life, but I do think I will develop a deep appreciation for the gift they're giving me.

I wonder if this person will be watching, from wherever they are now. I think that bodies are just containers, albeit containers that we get very attached to for about eighty years, plus or minus.

30 July, 2008

The Great Hearafter

I'm afraid. It's the kind of person I am. If I were to be another creature, it would be a prey animal with an anxiety disorder. Instead, I'm a human with an anxiety disorder. Being afraid or worried is in my nature. Generally, there's something I can do about it. Talking to husband helps, as does seeing a psychiatrist. Other times, I can go on a walk or do one of my kick boxing videos (today, I've done both, even though it's 85 degrees with 60% humidity). Recently, though, I've found something that I can't do much about. I've been thinking about the nature of living and dying. Not so much the "how" part; that's going to be different for everyone, and I'm hoping for either passing while sleeping or while on the toilet. Rather, I've been thinking about the after part. What happens after we die? Anything? Nothing? Do we just decay?

Bodily, I sort of assume that we decay. I mean, our bodies don't merely disintegrate into nothingness (I will become very aware of this next week, during my first anatomy lab). There's something else, though, something "other" about all creatures. It's pretty difficult to look at my husband, who I love dearly, and think that his quirky personality is only due to chemical reactions taking place deep within his skull. Similarly, my cats are just completely ridiculous, but they clearly have some sort of character that makes them who they are. So what happens to that essence of being, that spark of personality, the sense of consciousness, the soul? Calvin and Hobbes have the following exchange to offer.

Calvin: Hobbes, what do you think happens to us when we die?
Hobbes: I think we play saxophone for an all-girl cabaret in New Orleans.
Calvin: So you believe in heaven?
Hobbes: Call it what you like.

I...am not sure what I believe. I only know that I have this deep certainty that there is something else after this world. My problem is that I desire proof, beyond a doubt, of what comes next. It's pretty hard to scientifically prove whether or not there is an afterlife, especially since bodies decay so willingly when left unattended. I am currently reading Spook by Mary Roach. She goes out looking for evidence to prove or debunk the notion of an afterlife. She says, in the beginning, that she very much wants there to be a place for the soul to hang out in after we're done here. She then quips, "will there be a place to plug in my laptop?" It should be an interesting read. Maybe it'll help my worrying.

All I know is that I watched The Bucket List the other night and bawled my eyes out (I know, not the best movie choice for an existential crisis).



28 July, 2008

Miscellaneous

Husband and I are now officially broke. Until my loans come in, that is. Then, we're living off of future money. That actually freaks me out more than being broke. Maybe it shouldn't. All I know is that when husband sat down to pay the bills, there wasn't a whole lot left. We're used to there being an "oh shit" buffer and it's just not there. We can rebuild it, but it's scary.

Orientation and classes start next week. I'm apprehensive and excited. It should be quite a journey. My main concern, though, isn't the material (yet). It's that orientation apparently comes along with a dress code of business casual. I've worked in the non profit world for a year and a half, and prior to that, I was in college. I have no idea what business casual means, but it sure better involve khaki pants and maybe some sort of blouse thing or else I'm screwed. I don't even know if I still have the blouse thing. I'd really like to be able to show up in a tank top and my capris, but both my capris and tank tops are borderline...gross looking. Most of my tee-shirts are those cheap knit things from Old Navy or involve comic book characters or jokes (and in one rare instance, both!). Clearly, in a few years, I will be an excellent candidate for What Not to Wear on TLC. Pretty much the only dressy things I own are the suit I wore for med school interviews (hot, right?) and the bridesmaid dress I wore for my sister-in-law's wedding this past May. Admittedly, the dress is actually wearable and the suit makes me look a little like K.D. Lang, so it's not a complete wash. Unless, of course, you don't like K.D. Lang.

I know that I'll have to, eventually, get used to dressing in a non-schleppy manner, but I was hoping to put it off for a few years, so I could pick a specialty wherein I could wear scrubs all of the time. Also, I was hoping not to have to acquire decent clothes as we're, y'know, broke.

27 July, 2008

Dog Days of Summer

Generally, the end of August is referred to as being the "dog days of summer." I think this is because the end of August is seen as the last hurrah of summer, the time that you have to squeeze in all of your extra fun before it's too late.

My dog days of summer are occurring now. Why? Well, school starts the first week of August, and may I say that it is really strange to start school so early. During grade school, I never started school before the last week in August; often, I didn't start until after Labor Day. High school was pretty similar. The college I went to didn't start classes til the third week of September.

This past week, we had a friend from Jersey visit us. We've known her for quite a while; I met her in 1996 in seventh grade algebra and my husband met her in 1998 in 9th grade German. She's the kind of friend who actually knew you when you had a retainer and went through your poser/grunger/punk rock/backstreet boys/other phase. The kind of friend who has not only met your parents but has possibly done work for your parents. The kind of friend who has way too much dirt on you for you to ever consider running for public office. The kind of friend who has cheated off of your math homework, but you've returned the favor. It was a fun week. We didn't do a whole lot, but we enjoyed ourselves nevertheless. She was entertained by our new home (it's like "Gilmore Girls" sometimes, I swear) and we were regaled by her tales of being a nanny. Luckily, she now works for a lovely family, but she went through some real lemons a few years ago. Some families, it seems, don't want a nanny so much as they want a slave.

There was a foray into NH to see The Dark Knight, which was excellent. I wasn't expecting to like it as much as I did. This has been happening a lot lately. Husband wants to go see a movie based upon a comic he read in his youth and I go along, feeling pretty much neutral. Then, I see the movie and really like it. This means that it's probably good that I didn't read comic books as a kid; I clearly would have gotten even less done at school. I would have been the kid that stared out of the window all of the time as opposed to only about half of the time.

18 July, 2008

Whoa

In a little over two months, I will be 25 years old. This is strange to me. Not necessarily because it's old, per se (although I am a year or two older than about half of my classmates), but because my life as it is now is nothing like the life I envisioned for myself ten or twelve years ago. Med school? No way. Living 3000+ miles away from my entire family? Not a chance. About the only thing that I accurately predicted was that I would be married and have cats. Yessir, life at nearly a quarter century old is nothing like what I expected. If you'd have told me that I would go to medical school even five years ago, I would have laughed. I didn't even get the idea of medical school until I was 21. It was an accident (literally; my mom's car rolled over and she had excellent health care within minutes). Getting here has been a pain. It took two years of classes, several cracks at the MCAT, and two application cycles. This is probably because the first cycle, I didn't really know what I was doing. I pretty much looked up the top twenty medical schools and applied to those. I didn't look at much information outside of their ranking, so these were research heavy schools. Second time around, I was smarter about it. I read up on all the schools I applied to, looked at their programs, and picked ones that I knew I would be happy attending. Actually, I found my school on accident; I saw its name mentioned in passing on a pre-med message board and looked it up. Funny, how things happen.

So life at 25? It's really weird and completely unexpected. And that's a good thing, I think, as this life is quite a bit more interesting than that which I could dream up on my own.

17 July, 2008

Reason 101 to wear sunscreen

Apparently, you can get sunburned on your eyelids. This seems like it would be the most excruciating pain ever.

Also, downtown Portland (Maine) is awesome, in much the same way that downtown Portland (Oregon) is awesome. We went and saw some live music and went exploring. It was a much needed excursion from the apartment, which is really, really, hot right now.

I lack intelligent statements.

15 July, 2008

She's got balls

Part of me has always wondered what it would be like to be super morbidly obese (yes, that is the medical term). I'm not sure why, exactly. I don't want to be overweight or unhealthy. It is a rare person indeed who does wish themselves ill health. I suppose I've always wondered if being obese would be as frustrating as I imagine it to be. Everyone assumes you eat poorly, are lazy and don't care about your health. It is difficult to find stylish clothing in your size. The summer's heat is perhaps even more unbearable. I've also often wondered what happens to people when they get so large. Are they able to clean themselves? Walk? Play? This blogger has something to say about all of this. She's chronicled her journey to the decision to have weight loss surgery and written very well about the surgery and aftermath.

Damn, that girl's got serious cojones. Damn.

09 July, 2008

To my neighbors

Dear Neighbors with a pool (i.e. not the neighbors who seem to hate cats for some reason),

I have noticed that you have a pool. I have also noticed that it is 90 degrees with 75% humidity. Now, I am a bit shy, but I would like to suggest myself as an excellent partner in pool shenanigans. I cite the following reasons.
  • I have a huge collection of sunscreen since I am terrified of UVA and UVB rays.
  • I can do really awesome things with seltzer water and a little juice (vodka/gin optional).
  • I'm pretty funny most of the time.
  • I have double jointed thumbs and elbows. While this is of little use to you, it is entertaining.
  • I have all the Harry Potter books, as well as a fairly large collection of comic books that I would be willing to share.
  • I'm new in town, and thus have not been poisoned against anyone (except the cat-hating neighbors), so you could mold me as you see fit.
  • I'm a med student, so after August 1st, you might not see me again. Minimal effort on your part for a pretty awesome friend.
Won't you invite me over to your pool? I promise to bring tasty cherries.

07 July, 2008

CRNA vs. Anesthesiologist

Recently, in the medical blogging world, there's been a lot of chatter about Nurse Practitioners, Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetists, and "Doctor" Nurses versus actual MDs or DOs. I do not really know what I think about all of this. I have received care from NPs on multiple occasions and never had any problem with it. Additionally, a close family friend of ours is a CRNA, and she certainly seems competent, like she takes her job very seriously. That said, there's a lot of concern that to the common healthcare consumer, NPs are starting to look more and more like MDs or DOs. Indeed, there are a lot of nurses who are working very hard in the fields of primary care, who are taking on more and more of the responsibilities previously held by doctors. It's happening with PAs too. This is due to the fact that most med students look at their massive amount of debt and think, "There's no way I can pay this off and go into primary care." Also, anyone who gets into medicine for patient contact may find that lacking in family practice, where Medicare reimburses the physician for 15 minutes of his/her time. Yikes.

I am too inexperienced to provide much insight in this whole nurse practictioner versus doctor thing. I do know that I would prefer to be put under by an anesthesiologist, but can't quite identify why. The fellow at The Chloroform Rag (a first year anesthesiology resident) provides some interesting thoughts on this. He is understandably perplexed by the fact that some CRNAs see themselves as being just as competent as a doctor. What I find interesting, though, is that he is just now grappling with an issue that has plauged family practitioners for quite a while. This is not a new issue, unique to anesthesiologists. Frankly, it is one issue that I'd like to avoid. As such, I'll probably be eschewing fields such as family practice in favor of ones like psychiatry, pediatrics, internal meds. In the meantime, I've been being both entertained and horrified by the hubris of some of the posters in the message board for this article. The article by itself is interesting, if somewhat insubstantial. The comments are where the real entertainment is.

On that note, it is far too hot here. I am going to go drink seltzer water and think about all the things that I ought to be doing.

02 July, 2008

Doctor Who

This is completely non-science, non-medicine related. Well, it might be related, if you count the title "Doctor." Anyway, in recent years, I have fallen in love with "Doctor Who." So has husband. We have fallen so hard that we briefly toyed with the idea of painting our car blue so that we could name it "The TARDIS." Then we found out that it would cost $2ooo or more. We named the car "The Debt-mobile." That works too.

Anyway, we just watched the episode, "The Stolen Earth," and may I say that it was quite good. I loved how they incorporated Davros, who first appeared in "Genesis of the Daleks" in the 1970s. That was brilliant. The look of shock when David Tennant saw Davros was nothing short of brilliant. It had even more impact if you had, like us, actually watched the 1970s mini-series.

What I find most interesting about "Doctor Who" is not the plot, the twists and turns, or the illusions to other historical events being orchestrated by the Doctor. It's that the latest incarnation is intended to be a children's program. Either Americans are wusses or the Brits really like to mess with their children, because some of these episodes would have really scared me silly as a child. I mean, I'm still frighted when I hear the all too familiar and eerie exclamation of "EXTERMINATE." The episode "Blink" from a few seasons back effectively gave me a fear of garden statuary. It really makes me wonder about what, exactly, constitutes a children's show. When I was little, they were fairly obvious. Pretty much any cartoon was a children's show. Then, of course, "The Simpsons" came along and blurred the line a little. But that was on during prime time. It was a fairly hard and fast rule that anything on after the 6 o'clock news was going to be adult programming. That's all changed now. The Cartoon Network actually premieres new cartoons in the early evening, cartoons that my husband and I watch. Now, too, there are more cartoons intended for adults. They play directly after the cartoons for children. Sure, they're grouped under the title "Adult Swim," indicating that they're not for children, but the line is blurred. When I worked in social services, I often had pre-teen clients who wanted to talk about the latest episode of "Family Guy" or "South Park." It always gave me pause, as I don't believe in censorship, but the content of these shows tends toward the more mature.

I have the same questions about young adult fiction too. When I was a kid, this genre barely existed. It was made up of, principally, "Goosebumps" books by R. L. Stein. I read a few of them on a camping trip. They were entertaining enough, but I wanted to read other things too, and so moved right along to adult fiction. Now, a scant twelve years later, the young adult genre is exploding with books that I would, and have, read. Books like "Little Brother" by Cory Doctorow and the "Uglies" series by Scott Westerfeld are all fairly sophisticated stuff for kids. I would have loved these books as a kid, and my mom wouldn't have had the control of them the way she did tv. I distinctly remember, for instance, when she fast forwarded through the racy scene betwen Forrest and Jenny in "Forrest Gump." At that same age, I was reading adult fiction, studying Shakespeare. It struck me as hilarious then. I couldn't watch it on tv, but I could read about it at great length. It's still funny, actually.

Basically, what designates something as being for young adults versus actual adults?