word cloud

I found a site that generates word clouds from your blog. The idea is that the font size reflects the frequency of word usage. Telling, isn't it?

world is still tiny

Got an email today from the Princeton '04 alum who came to one of my shows back in September. I will admit that I am slightly flattered that he remembered me. And actually contacted me. I had misplaced all his contact info almost immediately without any intention of actually following up with him (attractive blond preppy football players intimidate me socially. Just a little bit.) Invited me to his apartment for his 25th bday blowout on Saturday. For all my avoidance of the meeting-of-people-in-random-places, this really adds to my recent (unintentional) trend of extending myself outside of the med school social circuit. I haven't decided yet whether I have the confidence to actually show up.

I scrolled through the attached message to see if I knew anyone else on his guest list (just one other Princeton '05er). A sampler of the other people on this list includes a combination of the following names (scrambled around for privacy, but their first/last names are apparently interchangeable anyway): Blair, Cameron, Labatt, Putnam, Fleming, Pierce, and a whole lot of Roman numerals. I'm not even kidding. I get the feeling there could be a lot of hot preppy boys at this party...

thankful

I originally meant to update about the excessive eating and shopping I did over Thanksgiving break, but then something happened today that put everything in perspective. I had to come back up to Dallas a day early yesterday to see a patient today. While I wasn't dreading having to see a patient, I wasn't exactly thrilled to cut my break 25% short for medically-related purposes.

Though I knew before walking into the room that my patient had cystic fibrosis, I was completely unprepared for what happened in the next hour or so. For as much as I knew about the damn chloride channels and the 1 in 2500 prevalence and the CFTR del. F508 mutation and the pink-staining fibrosis on the glass slide; for as much as I was prepared for the clinical findings and organ failure; for as much as my history and physical revealed an almost textbook presentation of CF: I was shocked at how much this REAL person affected me. You can read and study for hours on end (and we do), but I didn't realize until today how much the words we study are only abstractions. We throw around all kinds of words for disease manifestations and don't even bat an eye when discussing terminal illness, yet somehow in the sterile safe world of the lecture hall and the carrels it all seems so far removed from humanity.

And then this afternoon, my patient broke my heart. He is only slightly older than me, but the CF has already progressed to advanced stages with multiple organ involvement/transplant. He looked much sicker than I expected. In the next hour, we discussed everything. Everything. I wondered if any of the doctors before me had had the time to learn about him as a person, not just his disease. He hadn't been able to finish high school, work, meet people his age, or experience a normal life. He spends most of his time these days watching TV at home, waiting to succumb to a disease that, years ago, already claimed one of his younger siblings. By the time I finished the history and performed his physical exam, I wanted to cry and felt stupid that there was nothing I could say or do to make anything any better. There was nothing that medicine could do to make anything any better, other than prolong his life and maybe quality of life. We can only hope to make a difference sometimes. Today all I could do was listen to him pour out his life story.

He loves Sean-Connery-era James Bond movies and "Law and Order." I know it would be inappropriate for me to go back and visit him in the next few days and give him a DVD or two. I know he would hate the "sympathy." And yet I can't stop thinking about him and the damn DVDs.

I hope I never forget what this feels like. I hope that the next time the sleep deprivation and stress get me down, I will remember that this is why I chose to study medicine. And most of all, I hope I remember to be thankful for all the blessings in my own life.

MS2 hypochondria

-mildly/subclinically bipolar (diff dx: study-induced moodiness)
-iron-deficiency anemia (diff dx: study-onset fatigue)
-pre-hypertension (diff dx: noncalibrated sphygmanomometer and/or P's lack of clinical skill)
-ADHD (diff dx: study-related boredom)
-blurry vision (diff dx: study-onset delirium)
-back pain (diff dx: study-related sitting for too many hours)
-night chills (diff dx: heat currently nonfxnal at apt)
-tremors (diff dx: caffeine overload)
-pectus excavatum (diff dx: being drunk when I convinced myself)

i have hilarious friends

That is all.

outside perspective

Why is it so easy to know exactly what to do, as long as it isn't you? To be fair, that's not entirely correct; I think even then, you know exactly what you should do, but intrinsic extenuating circumstances [read: emotions] make it impossible for you to do so. And instead you spend (countless) hours trying to rationalize your obviously irrational choices. Imagine how great it would be if we were able to step outside ourselves and actually follow our own advice.

On an related note, now would be a good time to stop being so damn egocentric. Starving children! AIDS! Darfur! Okay so I'm in a self-indulgent slump. Work on that.

food = love

Made-from-scratch romantic dinner for two. Two girls that is.


-mixed greens salad with Bosc pear and Gorgonzola
-grilled filet mignon
-cream cheese + buttered mashed potatoes
-roasted lemon pepper asparagus
-sliced strawberries in balsamic syrup + vanilla swiss almond ice cream

blah

I want to crawl in a hole and bury myself. And then shoot myself. And then crawl into a deeper hole to die.

Okay I think I have been sufficiently overdramatic.

boudoir

I LOVE post-test wkds!! Such an obvious statement but I can't get over it. Continuous drinking + eating + shopping (esp for tote bags and shoes) = happy Jo. I am disturbingly predictable.

Summary of weekend in pictures:





(not pictured: Nine West merlot leather tote)
(also not pictured: Kraft sharp cheddar cheese block, which made up the "cheese" component of the "wine and cheese" night the boys planned.)

The shoes deserve their own story...
After trying them on jokingly at the Max Azria outlet in Allen, I accidentally fell in lust. Who ever thought I'd end up coveting black satin, feathered-and-beaded, 4-inch boudoir stiletto slingbacks? On sale and an additional 30% off to boot! I really did need new black heels, but this was the equivalent of the bad-boy rocker crush: sexy, impractical, wild, and drives you just a little bit insane. We left Allen before I could do any more damage to my credit card, but like any great infatuation, I couldn't stop thinking about them all night... and let's face it, bad-boy rocker crushes are fun. I was never one for the clean-cut type. ;)

Fast forward 2 hours. Post-dinner, back at home. Still thinking about the shoes. While talking to A, she googles them and finds them even cheaper online! (NB: The online description reads "TICKLE YOUR FANCY WITH THESE SATIN BOUDOIR HIGH-HEELED SHOES." I'm not sure I want to tickle my fancy.) We decide it must be fate, and I end up ordering them that very night. These shoes scream "take me home tonight." Will update later on how well that works out (I kid).

This post was made possible by A, who I might let take me home the night I wear the shoes. Bonus points if she is wearing her new sexy soft-as-butter leather biker babe jacket.

dream jobs

In case this med school thing doesn't pan out (which, considering my lack of focus during cardio block, it may well not...), I've given some thought as to the alternative paths I would like to try.

In order of preference:
1) rock star
2) gourmet chef
3) full-time freelance musician

Let's compare to my actual job experience, shall we?
1) math/reading tutor
2) part-time freelance musician
3) *very* part-time hair model

Damn. I'm 23 with minimal real-world work experience and no marketable skills.

confession

It pains me greatly to admit it, but here goes anyway: I am trouble. This thought is quite unsettling.

Unrelated note:
How is it possible to be simultaneously in worse drinking shape AND worse physical shape now than in college? You'd think the two would be inversely correlated. Oh and also worse "mentally stable" shape, if that counts.

ode to cheez-its

A has dutifully and observantly noted that I live my life in terms of boxes of Cheez-its. Inspired by her comments, I looked back at my blog over the last year and realized that I am in an entirely different place than I was just one year ago. A lot more medical knowledge, to be sure, but also a lot more understanding of myself and how my experiences/relationships have shaped me. Not saying I'm totally there yet, but a little closer.

The big constant through all of this has been Cheez-its. From exam to exam, through tears and stress and laughter...ahh Cheez-its, my one true love. You will never leave me.

=)

Thanks for all the kind thoughts and wishes everyone. Only in bizarro world does it feel normal to go out on Tues/Thurs and then proceed to spend literally the entire wkd in the library/carrel.