Green for medicine, orange for Texas.
The last thing I ever made in my Dallas kitchen.
What you need:
-4 years that fly by
-the perfect ballpoint pen
-countless hours in the carrels, library, Starbucks, and hospital hallways
-smiles, laughter, hugs, tears
-births, deaths, weddings, breakups
-lives saved, lives lost, patients and families of all ages, race, and walks of life
-humility and wonderment at being blessed with this opportunity at all
-amazing friends and loved ones to travel the journey with you
What you do:
1. Begin medical school in a strange new city with absolutely no idea what you're getting yourself into.
2. Be lucky enough to meet the most generous, strong, beautiful, intelligent, and loving people along the way.
3. Find yourself --- in the midst of zero hours of sleep, at 4am on call, with people dying all around.
4. Have faith that beginning residency --- in a strange new city with only a vague idea of what you're getting yourself into --- will bring just as much adventure and growth.
5. Bake bittersweet cupcakes. Frost, then top with an upside-down mini-Reese's peanut butter cup, a Ghirardelli chocolate square, and an M&M. Anchor with frosting.
6. Share with friends, and know that this isn't "goodbye," it's "see you later."
Labels: food, medicine, musing
America's interstates really do all look the same. Mom and Dad driving ahead of me.
...2 days of driving later. One hand/eye on the wheel, the other trying to capture this moment at 85 mph.
Downstairs.
View from the loft upstairs. 
-new degree
