Third year funny moment of the day:
A patient started going off on how she can't stand this guy she dated because he's a democrat. She went on and on about how anyone who voted for Obama is a total idiot blah blah blah and she hoped that I didn't vote for Obama cause I'm gonna be sorry.
See, wuh had happuned wuz, I did vote for Obama.
Hooray for awkward moments.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Day 3 of third year:
New attending, longer day, very nice!
Saw less patients today but did more stuff. I'm getting less shaky when I do the physical exam, but I still have no clue what I'm looking at in the fundoscopic exam. Slowly, third year is growing on me.
Today we diagnosed a woman with depression and I watched as my attending convinced her to take medication. She was not pushy, but she was persistent and took the extra time to explain depression to the patient and the implications of taking medication. It was very inspiring to see the respect and admiration that the patients have for this particular physician. She is a mother of three, which gives me hope that I can be a good doctor, have a life, have a family, and still look like a woman after all that (she looks great!)
So today was a good day, and not once did I bemoan the idea of med school or dread the upcoming fiery hoops that I must jump through. I believe this is acceptance, and possibly even embracement (SO not a word) of the path ahead of me.
But, I've gotta wonder... is it too early to begin counting down till fourth year???
New attending, longer day, very nice!
Saw less patients today but did more stuff. I'm getting less shaky when I do the physical exam, but I still have no clue what I'm looking at in the fundoscopic exam. Slowly, third year is growing on me.
Today we diagnosed a woman with depression and I watched as my attending convinced her to take medication. She was not pushy, but she was persistent and took the extra time to explain depression to the patient and the implications of taking medication. It was very inspiring to see the respect and admiration that the patients have for this particular physician. She is a mother of three, which gives me hope that I can be a good doctor, have a life, have a family, and still look like a woman after all that (she looks great!)
So today was a good day, and not once did I bemoan the idea of med school or dread the upcoming fiery hoops that I must jump through. I believe this is acceptance, and possibly even embracement (SO not a word) of the path ahead of me.
But, I've gotta wonder... is it too early to begin counting down till fourth year???
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Third year commences...
"Well well well, missy, isn't this exactly why you came to med school? To work with patients? To talk to people? This is exactly why you abandoned the idea of a career in basic science research. You idealized it but never felt quite right sitting in the lab all day and entering intimate personal data about islet cell transplant patients, because you wanted to KNOW those patients, not just their data." That's what the person inside of me is saying. But I'm still not excited yet. And yes, the person inside of me calls me "missy." She's pretty condescending if you ask me.
To be fair, during my first two days of official real life third year rotations, I saw some really cool stuff, and got to do what I love in this whole realm of medicine- talk to patients about health. I saw mycosis fungoides, gout (and diagnosed it, too!), an incredible rash, a girl with extreme pelvic pain not yet diagnosed, and of course, the "bread and butter" of primary outpatient care: hypertension and diabetes. Ironic, bread and butter might not be the best diet for these patients. But I digress... I got to do a pelvic exam, my hands still not quite graceful with a speculum as I'd like them to be, but with the observation that with every patient I'm getting better. I got to sit with a patient diagnosed with "pre-diabetes" and explain to her the importance of weight reduction and the different diet alterations she could make. I told her to google information on diabetes and what kind of foods are right for her, because we all know that the human attention span is limited, and anything I told her then and there would likely not stick. That's what pamphlets are for. I'm particularly excited by this case, because I love the idea of patient empowerment and education. Physicians and we as future physicians cannot simply ask everyone to change and expect it to happen just because we wear white coats. They must *want* to change. And while I would love to function as a physician, nutritionist, life coach, and psychologist, I have learned the perils of spreading oneself too thin. So I hope to "teach a man to fish" and allow the patient to take control, because 20 minutes per patient is not enough.
While I have been enjoying myself in every single patient encounter since I started med school, a part of me feels hopelessly lost when it comes to actually choosing a career in medicine. Forget figuring out which specialty I like, I don't envision myself as a physician, period. It makes it harder to deal with the bullshit when you think you're not in the right career. However, I'm open to all possibilities. I may find a specialty that I fall in love with this year (dear God please). I am keeping an open mind and open heart.
The other part of me that's not excited is the part of me that is jumping through hoops. There are grades and there are requirements and most other rotations leave you with little energy and time, as evidenced by the misery of my classmates. There is Match day, where you make a list and schools make a list and a computer program makes ONE decision and that's where you're going for the next 3-5 years no questions asked. Then residency where your first year HAS to be hell for most specialties because that's how it is. And while the past is behind us, I will never forget second year and studying for the Step 1 exam. I have an aversion to this system of education for future physicians. Why must it be this way? "This is the way it's been for years now" is not a sufficient explanation, in my humble opinion, because communication and access to information has NOT been this way for years. Changes in these realms should allow for a different style of curriculum, a more practical way of delivering the knowledge and skills needed to become a competent physician. But what do I know? This might be necessary. I just don't like it. Blah.
I suppose the hoops and loops and bullshit is also bothering me of late because I have been subjected to being separated from my dear boyfriend. Call me weak, but it SUCKS to do long distance. Period. Web cam helps. I would easily fly up there as much as possible, but hey, guess who's on a student salary of NEGATIVE forty thousand bucks a year? I am! And if I were a rich girl, then the next barrier to boyfriendland is schedule. His first year intern schedule SUCKS and my third year med school student SUCKS. So yeah, I should just SUCK it up. I'm working on that.
My complain-o-meter has now overheated. I should end with some positives: I have met some amazing friends in med school. I have learned so much and continue to learn every day. I am fortunate enough to be pursuing a career whose main goal is to take care of people. I am surrounded by love and have wonderful people in my life. And, even though he's far, I'm lucky to be in a good relationship with solid communication and a wonderful, mutual sense of adventure. I will graduate with job security (hey, in this economy, ya gotta think about that). And, even if I went through all of this, and decided it was the wrong career, I can still pursue my other goals in health care (that's a whole other blog entry, honey!)
"Well well well, missy, isn't this exactly why you came to med school? To work with patients? To talk to people? This is exactly why you abandoned the idea of a career in basic science research. You idealized it but never felt quite right sitting in the lab all day and entering intimate personal data about islet cell transplant patients, because you wanted to KNOW those patients, not just their data." That's what the person inside of me is saying. But I'm still not excited yet. And yes, the person inside of me calls me "missy." She's pretty condescending if you ask me.
To be fair, during my first two days of official real life third year rotations, I saw some really cool stuff, and got to do what I love in this whole realm of medicine- talk to patients about health. I saw mycosis fungoides, gout (and diagnosed it, too!), an incredible rash, a girl with extreme pelvic pain not yet diagnosed, and of course, the "bread and butter" of primary outpatient care: hypertension and diabetes. Ironic, bread and butter might not be the best diet for these patients. But I digress... I got to do a pelvic exam, my hands still not quite graceful with a speculum as I'd like them to be, but with the observation that with every patient I'm getting better. I got to sit with a patient diagnosed with "pre-diabetes" and explain to her the importance of weight reduction and the different diet alterations she could make. I told her to google information on diabetes and what kind of foods are right for her, because we all know that the human attention span is limited, and anything I told her then and there would likely not stick. That's what pamphlets are for. I'm particularly excited by this case, because I love the idea of patient empowerment and education. Physicians and we as future physicians cannot simply ask everyone to change and expect it to happen just because we wear white coats. They must *want* to change. And while I would love to function as a physician, nutritionist, life coach, and psychologist, I have learned the perils of spreading oneself too thin. So I hope to "teach a man to fish" and allow the patient to take control, because 20 minutes per patient is not enough.
While I have been enjoying myself in every single patient encounter since I started med school, a part of me feels hopelessly lost when it comes to actually choosing a career in medicine. Forget figuring out which specialty I like, I don't envision myself as a physician, period. It makes it harder to deal with the bullshit when you think you're not in the right career. However, I'm open to all possibilities. I may find a specialty that I fall in love with this year (dear God please). I am keeping an open mind and open heart.
The other part of me that's not excited is the part of me that is jumping through hoops. There are grades and there are requirements and most other rotations leave you with little energy and time, as evidenced by the misery of my classmates. There is Match day, where you make a list and schools make a list and a computer program makes ONE decision and that's where you're going for the next 3-5 years no questions asked. Then residency where your first year HAS to be hell for most specialties because that's how it is. And while the past is behind us, I will never forget second year and studying for the Step 1 exam. I have an aversion to this system of education for future physicians. Why must it be this way? "This is the way it's been for years now" is not a sufficient explanation, in my humble opinion, because communication and access to information has NOT been this way for years. Changes in these realms should allow for a different style of curriculum, a more practical way of delivering the knowledge and skills needed to become a competent physician. But what do I know? This might be necessary. I just don't like it. Blah.
I suppose the hoops and loops and bullshit is also bothering me of late because I have been subjected to being separated from my dear boyfriend. Call me weak, but it SUCKS to do long distance. Period. Web cam helps. I would easily fly up there as much as possible, but hey, guess who's on a student salary of NEGATIVE forty thousand bucks a year? I am! And if I were a rich girl, then the next barrier to boyfriendland is schedule. His first year intern schedule SUCKS and my third year med school student SUCKS. So yeah, I should just SUCK it up. I'm working on that.
My complain-o-meter has now overheated. I should end with some positives: I have met some amazing friends in med school. I have learned so much and continue to learn every day. I am fortunate enough to be pursuing a career whose main goal is to take care of people. I am surrounded by love and have wonderful people in my life. And, even though he's far, I'm lucky to be in a good relationship with solid communication and a wonderful, mutual sense of adventure. I will graduate with job security (hey, in this economy, ya gotta think about that). And, even if I went through all of this, and decided it was the wrong career, I can still pursue my other goals in health care (that's a whole other blog entry, honey!)
Sunday, June 07, 2009
During my re-entry into the blog world, I realize I wrote a LOT about med school during the first year, and never wrote one thing second year. That's *good* because it sucked.
So here's second year in a nutshell:
You're in class from 8-5 pm on many days.
You are supposed to study every single day (which, of course, I didn't do)
Your extra-curricular activities begin to feel like chores instead of fun stuff.
You being to rot from the inside and out.
You begin to question your decision about med school more frequently and with more "umph"
You tell first year med students that they shouldn't complain, because second year is 4 billion times worse.... (then you go back and read your old blog entries from first year and realize that you complained like crazy).
All joking aside, the second year was pretty awful. I have never seen so many people become depressed, struggle with anxiety and sleep, etc. I mean, we're not at WAR here, we're supposed to be learning. Why should it be torture?
And the crazy thing is, I was one of the people who was able to maintain *some* balance. I didn't care about grades enough to study all the time. I worked out regularly, cooked regularly, spent quality time with those I care about, and traveled (California, scattered locations throughout Florida, Morocco, Dominican Republic). And despite all that wonderfulness in my life, I was still absolutely miserable at times.
Seeing the toll that med school took on my classmates and myself makes me wonder what they're doing wrong. I am not just a negative bitch. There is something inherently wrong with this system.
So here's second year in a nutshell:
You're in class from 8-5 pm on many days.
You are supposed to study every single day (which, of course, I didn't do)
Your extra-curricular activities begin to feel like chores instead of fun stuff.
You being to rot from the inside and out.
You begin to question your decision about med school more frequently and with more "umph"
You tell first year med students that they shouldn't complain, because second year is 4 billion times worse.... (then you go back and read your old blog entries from first year and realize that you complained like crazy).
All joking aside, the second year was pretty awful. I have never seen so many people become depressed, struggle with anxiety and sleep, etc. I mean, we're not at WAR here, we're supposed to be learning. Why should it be torture?
And the crazy thing is, I was one of the people who was able to maintain *some* balance. I didn't care about grades enough to study all the time. I worked out regularly, cooked regularly, spent quality time with those I care about, and traveled (California, scattered locations throughout Florida, Morocco, Dominican Republic). And despite all that wonderfulness in my life, I was still absolutely miserable at times.
Seeing the toll that med school took on my classmates and myself makes me wonder what they're doing wrong. I am not just a negative bitch. There is something inherently wrong with this system.
Daily reflection... an attempt at a concise blog entry.
A toast:
To great communication between two people who have decided to spend a lot of time together.
A grievance:
About people who go to the library and are obnoxiously loud while you're trying to study for the most important exam of your life.
Some gratitude:
For my attitude, which allows me to convey a million words with just one stare... directed at those loud assholes at aforementioned library.
Honorable mention:
To those friends who let you know it's about time to take a shower.
A toast:
To great communication between two people who have decided to spend a lot of time together.
A grievance:
About people who go to the library and are obnoxiously loud while you're trying to study for the most important exam of your life.
Some gratitude:
For my attitude, which allows me to convey a million words with just one stare... directed at those loud assholes at aforementioned library.
Honorable mention:
To those friends who let you know it's about time to take a shower.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
When one of my classmates posted a link to his blog on facebook... it brought me back to the good old days of blogging it up. Oh the catharsis.
Perhaps I'll start up again once third year rotations begin (for those non-medically immersed, that means I'll be out of the classroom and in the CLINIC and HOSPITAL and interacting with REAL PATIENTS!)
But, since the last time I blogged until now, the only thoughts I care to write down is HOLY SHIT SECOND YEAR OF MED SCHOOL SUCKS.
And, as I prepare for the USMLE Step 1 exam, I'm realizing what I have (and have not) learned in the past two years. Preparing for this exam is a daily adventure, wherein I spend 8-12 hours a day studying, with some breaks to use the restroom, waste time on facebook, nap, and acknowledge that nagging voice asking me why the hell I came to med school when I damn well know how much I dislike the following: studying, blood & guts, annoying people, and being trapped in a bullshit system where you really have very little control over the next 7-15 years of your life. I do love people, and helping people, and science is kinda neat. And I've met some amazing people in the last 2 years.
Ok back to the grind. *Yay* med school...
*sobs*
Perhaps I'll start up again once third year rotations begin (for those non-medically immersed, that means I'll be out of the classroom and in the CLINIC and HOSPITAL and interacting with REAL PATIENTS!)
But, since the last time I blogged until now, the only thoughts I care to write down is HOLY SHIT SECOND YEAR OF MED SCHOOL SUCKS.
And, as I prepare for the USMLE Step 1 exam, I'm realizing what I have (and have not) learned in the past two years. Preparing for this exam is a daily adventure, wherein I spend 8-12 hours a day studying, with some breaks to use the restroom, waste time on facebook, nap, and acknowledge that nagging voice asking me why the hell I came to med school when I damn well know how much I dislike the following: studying, blood & guts, annoying people, and being trapped in a bullshit system where you really have very little control over the next 7-15 years of your life. I do love people, and helping people, and science is kinda neat. And I've met some amazing people in the last 2 years.
Ok back to the grind. *Yay* med school...
*sobs*
Monday, July 21, 2008
Gambia Pictures, part one: THE JOURNEY
JFK airport: We still smell okay at this point, and we don't want to gouge our eyes out yet. Really, we have no idea what we're in for.
Dakar, Senegal: two flights and a billion hours later, we arrived in Dakar. We stopped at this home to eat and rest for the long bus journey ahead. This is before we were attacked by approximately 400 village children (slight exaggeration).
...after the village kids heard about the 8 Toubabs. It was insane!
Our new Senegalese friends made us dinner! Nonspecific red meat with greasy rice. It was delicious! With full bellies, we boarded the bus and headed toward the border.
Hours later, we had crossed the border, switched buses, and made it to the North bank of the Gambia river. Ferry time! This is our bus (aka "gele gele") on the ferry, with all of our luggage on top.
As if we really needed another test of patience, the bus' front axle broke on the ferry. Add 2 hours to journey.
We arrived at the hotel hours after the gele-gele tragedy.
And were greeted by monkeys!
more pics to come!
JFK airport: We still smell okay at this point, and we don't want to gouge our eyes out yet. Really, we have no idea what we're in for.
Dakar, Senegal: two flights and a billion hours later, we arrived in Dakar. We stopped at this home to eat and rest for the long bus journey ahead. This is before we were attacked by approximately 400 village children (slight exaggeration).
...after the village kids heard about the 8 Toubabs. It was insane!
Our new Senegalese friends made us dinner! Nonspecific red meat with greasy rice. It was delicious! With full bellies, we boarded the bus and headed toward the border.
Hours later, we had crossed the border, switched buses, and made it to the North bank of the Gambia river. Ferry time! This is our bus (aka "gele gele") on the ferry, with all of our luggage on top.
As if we really needed another test of patience, the bus' front axle broke on the ferry. Add 2 hours to journey.
We arrived at the hotel hours after the gele-gele tragedy.
And were greeted by monkeys!
more pics to come!
I'm back in the U S and A!
The journey back was long and tiring, starting with an extremely frightening plane ride from Banjul to Dakar at 6 pm Gambia time (2 pm Florida time) on Wednesday. The plane was small but clean and modern looking. I'm sure there are scarier planes out there, but relatively speaking, this was the scariest plane I've ever been in. 30 minutes later we were in Dakar, Senegal.
The rest of the trip:
Dakar to Brussels: 6 hour flight
Brussels airport for 6 hours
Brussels to New York: 7 hour flight (I think)
JFK airport: NINE AND A HALF HOURS!
Our flight to Miami was delayed. So close, yet so far! It was frustrating. Our patience worn thin, we ran out of things to do, card games to play. We did some yoga at the gate (we looked psychotic).
We finally got to Miami International Airport at about 1 am or so. 36 glorious hours of traveling. The rest of the group had it worse, however, since they still had to drive to their homes in Tampa, Sarasota, and Orlando afterward. Sheesh!
And now it's time to enjoy air conditioning, warm water, fresh vegetables. It's time to enjoy not being the only white people around. It's time to miss the pungent odor of Gambian armpits, and the aroma of fly-covered-fish in the marketplace.
Despite the nasty stuff, It was an amazing experience, and I do plan on revisiting the Gambia sometime in the future. In my future visit, however, I can count on this past experience there to guide me. I now know that I can trade old t-shirts and crappy watches for paintings and carvings at the marketplace. I know now that based on the color of my skin, I will get charged prices that are up to 15 times the actual amount. I now know that the only way to travel is via bush taxi, but that I should anticipate a very hot journey that will take about 4 times as long as it should, and that I will likely encounter something stinky everywhere I go.
Other valuable nuggets of knowledge:
-The Gambians believe that fish are part of the food group "vegetables." The vegetarian in the group learned this the hard way when, even though he had been told the dish he was about to eat was "vegetarian," he found pieces of fish and a nice fish bone in his okra.
-Medicine is highly valued, even when they don't know what it does. A man at the craft market nearly gave me his left leg for the container of tums I had in my bag. I got a nice painting instead.
-Gambian children often assume that white people poo money out. On more than one occasion, I was approached by a little snot monster who exclaimed "Toubab, give me five dalasi!" Translation: White person, give me 25 cents. At first it was kind of cute, but quickly became annoying.
-The Gambians are a reasonably happy group of people, and violence doesn't seem to really be an issue there. Nice!
-Gambians LOVE the United States. They are obsessed with American clothing, Barak Obama, and Fifty Cent (do they call him 10 Dalasi? Bad joke!)
That's all I can think of for now.
The journey back was long and tiring, starting with an extremely frightening plane ride from Banjul to Dakar at 6 pm Gambia time (2 pm Florida time) on Wednesday. The plane was small but clean and modern looking. I'm sure there are scarier planes out there, but relatively speaking, this was the scariest plane I've ever been in. 30 minutes later we were in Dakar, Senegal.
The rest of the trip:
Dakar to Brussels: 6 hour flight
Brussels airport for 6 hours
Brussels to New York: 7 hour flight (I think)
JFK airport: NINE AND A HALF HOURS!
Our flight to Miami was delayed. So close, yet so far! It was frustrating. Our patience worn thin, we ran out of things to do, card games to play. We did some yoga at the gate (we looked psychotic).
We finally got to Miami International Airport at about 1 am or so. 36 glorious hours of traveling. The rest of the group had it worse, however, since they still had to drive to their homes in Tampa, Sarasota, and Orlando afterward. Sheesh!
And now it's time to enjoy air conditioning, warm water, fresh vegetables. It's time to enjoy not being the only white people around. It's time to miss the pungent odor of Gambian armpits, and the aroma of fly-covered-fish in the marketplace.
Despite the nasty stuff, It was an amazing experience, and I do plan on revisiting the Gambia sometime in the future. In my future visit, however, I can count on this past experience there to guide me. I now know that I can trade old t-shirts and crappy watches for paintings and carvings at the marketplace. I know now that based on the color of my skin, I will get charged prices that are up to 15 times the actual amount. I now know that the only way to travel is via bush taxi, but that I should anticipate a very hot journey that will take about 4 times as long as it should, and that I will likely encounter something stinky everywhere I go.
Other valuable nuggets of knowledge:
-The Gambians believe that fish are part of the food group "vegetables." The vegetarian in the group learned this the hard way when, even though he had been told the dish he was about to eat was "vegetarian," he found pieces of fish and a nice fish bone in his okra.
-Medicine is highly valued, even when they don't know what it does. A man at the craft market nearly gave me his left leg for the container of tums I had in my bag. I got a nice painting instead.
-Gambian children often assume that white people poo money out. On more than one occasion, I was approached by a little snot monster who exclaimed "Toubab, give me five dalasi!" Translation: White person, give me 25 cents. At first it was kind of cute, but quickly became annoying.
-The Gambians are a reasonably happy group of people, and violence doesn't seem to really be an issue there. Nice!
-Gambians LOVE the United States. They are obsessed with American clothing, Barak Obama, and Fifty Cent (do they call him 10 Dalasi? Bad joke!)
That's all I can think of for now.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
My time here is coming to an end...
And by "here" I mean both the internet cafe and Gambia.
We have stopped working and are now just being tourists, and it's been fantastic.
We will leave on Wednesday, July 16.
I will miss this place, I will miss the people, I will miss our beautiful hotel. I will miss actually being able to do medical stuff (back to the classroom and library... poo).
I am, however, ready to go home and process what I have learned, medically, culturally, and spiritually.
I bought a lot of nice artwork to hang up in my room and future new apartment, and it will help me remember the amazing time I had here.
And by "here" I mean both the internet cafe and Gambia.
We have stopped working and are now just being tourists, and it's been fantastic.
We will leave on Wednesday, July 16.
I will miss this place, I will miss the people, I will miss our beautiful hotel. I will miss actually being able to do medical stuff (back to the classroom and library... poo).
I am, however, ready to go home and process what I have learned, medically, culturally, and spiritually.
I bought a lot of nice artwork to hang up in my room and future new apartment, and it will help me remember the amazing time I had here.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
The fourth of July- in Gambia
Friday was the 4th of July, and it was coincidentally a day that really made me appreciate our country. I spent the day in the maternity ward at one of the bigger clinics, Birkama.
The maternity ward was, to say the least, disgusting. Dirty floors, blood everywhere. Women bring their own sheets to give birth on top of. Often times, they defecate as a result of pushing (this happens everywhere, but is dealt with in a much more sanitary way in developed nations). They also bring the blanket to take their child home in. With no mention of sterility or sanitation, the baby is born, wrapped in a blanket, weighed, then placed in a little basin next to mommy. Was this little basin cleaned out before? Probably not.
I guess it's been done this way for years, and, based on the amount of children running around, it's been working out just fine. It just shocks the spoiled American medical student to see this.
Besides the uncleanliness, one of the cases we saw also turned our stomachs. it was a very sad case I would rather not write about, but it was possibly the most sobering thing I've seen here thus far.
On a brighter note, I saw the births of two baby boys. It was really exciting and cool. First two live births I've ever seen!
For some stark contrast, we saw a private hospital early this afternoon. Beautiful architecture, clean floors, real bathrooms. No air conditioning but still a palace compared to the other places we had seen.
Friday was the 4th of July, and it was coincidentally a day that really made me appreciate our country. I spent the day in the maternity ward at one of the bigger clinics, Birkama.
The maternity ward was, to say the least, disgusting. Dirty floors, blood everywhere. Women bring their own sheets to give birth on top of. Often times, they defecate as a result of pushing (this happens everywhere, but is dealt with in a much more sanitary way in developed nations). They also bring the blanket to take their child home in. With no mention of sterility or sanitation, the baby is born, wrapped in a blanket, weighed, then placed in a little basin next to mommy. Was this little basin cleaned out before? Probably not.
I guess it's been done this way for years, and, based on the amount of children running around, it's been working out just fine. It just shocks the spoiled American medical student to see this.
Besides the uncleanliness, one of the cases we saw also turned our stomachs. it was a very sad case I would rather not write about, but it was possibly the most sobering thing I've seen here thus far.
On a brighter note, I saw the births of two baby boys. It was really exciting and cool. First two live births I've ever seen!
For some stark contrast, we saw a private hospital early this afternoon. Beautiful architecture, clean floors, real bathrooms. No air conditioning but still a palace compared to the other places we had seen.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
More Gambia
There is so much to say about this place. I can't really organize it all in my mind while sweating at this internet cafe, so I'll just recount the events of this past week and work on a "Slice of Gambia" entry later.
Saturday we went to the home of a doctor who has been guiding us at the hospital. We ate some spicy okra with fish. The fish here is not delicious. The okra was doused in oil. I enjoyed it in a weird way.
The fish here, is just... so... fishy. But I'll write more on Gambian cuisine later.
After politely gagging our way through the meal, we got to see a show with drummers and people singing loudly (and a little bit obnoxiously), and then some guys in crazy costumes came out and danced and harassed us for money. Pictures to come.
Anyway, at first, we were excited to be seeing some culture. We were told this was some sort of show for children (and there were tons of children around), and we were like "yeah, Gambian culture!" And then, slowly, we all started to notice that attached to his elaborate costume, one of the dancers had some little stuffed animals and toys attached to his crotch area. He started air humping, we were confused, we laughed a lot, got harassed... it's all a blur kind of. But it was funny as hell. And weird.
Sunday we went with our guide, Sana, to his village, where we were expected to bring medicines and cure everyone's ailments. We were dreading this, mainly because we know so little and couldn't bring much meds. Also, the pressure was just insane. When we got there, they all gathered in a circle, thanked us for what we were doing, and played some music. An elderly woman sang to us in Mandinka (one of the tribal languages here), and made a coughing gesture in the middle of her song to indicate to us that she wanted us to cure the ailments. Talk about PRESSURE.
Then we set up three rooms in a compound and the entire village came through. Name, age, complaint? Written down. Blood pressure and glucose levels tested and recorded. Then the translators helped a few of us find out what was wrong. Then we wrote down the name of one of 4 or 5 drugs we had. Then, the patient came to the pharmacy, which was a table under a tree where we had the meds. We rotated and most of us got to experience all parts of this insane assembly line. There were so many people there that we needed someone to act as a bouncer at the door.
So many people just wanted to take advantage of the clinic despite being perfectly healthy. "I had diarrhea 3 months ago." "My knees hurt." It was like "The doctors from America are here, and they're giving stuff away for freeeee!"
This is not real medicine. This is not true healthcare delivery. We all knew it. But we couldn't help but feel good about what we were doing. Some of it was actually legit, but most of it was placebo.
The people were so grateful, and it felt so nice.
Monday I spent in the ER of the hospital looking through records. Nothing remarkable.
Tuesday I went to the smaller clinic and worked on their records. The handwriting here is terrible. It was very labor intensive.
Some of us spent the second half of Tuesday at a primary school. We came to teach the teachers about common illnesses in children, some tips about what to do when a child is sick, and proper hygiene. The children first greeted us with songs and some of them danced. It was heartwarming. Again, everyone was grateful for what we did, and it felt so nice.
The only downfall of that day was that our bus broke down.
About our bus: Known as a "gele-gele here in Gambia, ours was a certified piece of shit. We were paying about $65 a day for the gele gele to take us to where we needed to be and pick us up. When we arrived in Gambia originally, the gele gele picked us up and then its front axle broke on the ferry, creating a 2 hour delay we really didn't need after spending a million hours traveling.
The axle was fixed but the problems didn't stop there. Every time we needed to go somewhere, 4 or 5 of us had to push the giant gele gele in order to get it started. This was supposedly fixed and then on Tuesday the damn thing just gave up on us. True piece of shit. I would describe the actual gele gele but once I can post pictures you will understand what I cannot put into words.
Wednesday I went to the small remote clinic in Kubuneh. It was a slow day but fulfilling, since this is the place we get to do the most stuff (interview and diagnose patients). Since our wonderful gele-gele was broken, 4 of us took "bush taxis" to get there. It took three taxis, some walking, and a lot of waiting to get there. Total time spent: 2 hours each way. The bush taxis take lots of people, it's like a public bus in the US, except no AC, and 90% of the people are not wearing deodorant.
On the plus side, we got to do some shopping at the market and worked on our haggling skills. I got some nice presents.
And today is Thursday, and we got the day off, kind of. No clinics today, but we're working on our paper. Well, we're supposed to be.
On a personal achievement note: this is the first time I've used the internet since Friday, which means I lasted 6 days without visiting an internet cafe. Part of this was willpower, and part of it was circumstance, but either way, it feels kind of nice to be detached from the world I left behind when I came here.
I do miss warm showers and air conditioning. I miss fresh salads. I miss my friends and family.
This is so worth it, though!
I already see myself returning to the Gambia in the future, hopefully with better medical skills and more knowledge. Also, next time I'll bring more clothes to wear, and perhaps some make up. Days upon days of scrubs, ugly shoes, and messy hair = not really my style. I guess that's what my third year of medical school will be like. Also, it has been kind of nice not having to spend extended amounts of time asking myself "What should I wear?"
And on that note, I've exhausted the Gambia update.
There is so much to say about this place. I can't really organize it all in my mind while sweating at this internet cafe, so I'll just recount the events of this past week and work on a "Slice of Gambia" entry later.
Saturday we went to the home of a doctor who has been guiding us at the hospital. We ate some spicy okra with fish. The fish here is not delicious. The okra was doused in oil. I enjoyed it in a weird way.
The fish here, is just... so... fishy. But I'll write more on Gambian cuisine later.
After politely gagging our way through the meal, we got to see a show with drummers and people singing loudly (and a little bit obnoxiously), and then some guys in crazy costumes came out and danced and harassed us for money. Pictures to come.
Anyway, at first, we were excited to be seeing some culture. We were told this was some sort of show for children (and there were tons of children around), and we were like "yeah, Gambian culture!" And then, slowly, we all started to notice that attached to his elaborate costume, one of the dancers had some little stuffed animals and toys attached to his crotch area. He started air humping, we were confused, we laughed a lot, got harassed... it's all a blur kind of. But it was funny as hell. And weird.
Sunday we went with our guide, Sana, to his village, where we were expected to bring medicines and cure everyone's ailments. We were dreading this, mainly because we know so little and couldn't bring much meds. Also, the pressure was just insane. When we got there, they all gathered in a circle, thanked us for what we were doing, and played some music. An elderly woman sang to us in Mandinka (one of the tribal languages here), and made a coughing gesture in the middle of her song to indicate to us that she wanted us to cure the ailments. Talk about PRESSURE.
Then we set up three rooms in a compound and the entire village came through. Name, age, complaint? Written down. Blood pressure and glucose levels tested and recorded. Then the translators helped a few of us find out what was wrong. Then we wrote down the name of one of 4 or 5 drugs we had. Then, the patient came to the pharmacy, which was a table under a tree where we had the meds. We rotated and most of us got to experience all parts of this insane assembly line. There were so many people there that we needed someone to act as a bouncer at the door.
So many people just wanted to take advantage of the clinic despite being perfectly healthy. "I had diarrhea 3 months ago." "My knees hurt." It was like "The doctors from America are here, and they're giving stuff away for freeeee!"
This is not real medicine. This is not true healthcare delivery. We all knew it. But we couldn't help but feel good about what we were doing. Some of it was actually legit, but most of it was placebo.
The people were so grateful, and it felt so nice.
Monday I spent in the ER of the hospital looking through records. Nothing remarkable.
Tuesday I went to the smaller clinic and worked on their records. The handwriting here is terrible. It was very labor intensive.
Some of us spent the second half of Tuesday at a primary school. We came to teach the teachers about common illnesses in children, some tips about what to do when a child is sick, and proper hygiene. The children first greeted us with songs and some of them danced. It was heartwarming. Again, everyone was grateful for what we did, and it felt so nice.
The only downfall of that day was that our bus broke down.
About our bus: Known as a "gele-gele here in Gambia, ours was a certified piece of shit. We were paying about $65 a day for the gele gele to take us to where we needed to be and pick us up. When we arrived in Gambia originally, the gele gele picked us up and then its front axle broke on the ferry, creating a 2 hour delay we really didn't need after spending a million hours traveling.
The axle was fixed but the problems didn't stop there. Every time we needed to go somewhere, 4 or 5 of us had to push the giant gele gele in order to get it started. This was supposedly fixed and then on Tuesday the damn thing just gave up on us. True piece of shit. I would describe the actual gele gele but once I can post pictures you will understand what I cannot put into words.
Wednesday I went to the small remote clinic in Kubuneh. It was a slow day but fulfilling, since this is the place we get to do the most stuff (interview and diagnose patients). Since our wonderful gele-gele was broken, 4 of us took "bush taxis" to get there. It took three taxis, some walking, and a lot of waiting to get there. Total time spent: 2 hours each way. The bush taxis take lots of people, it's like a public bus in the US, except no AC, and 90% of the people are not wearing deodorant.
On the plus side, we got to do some shopping at the market and worked on our haggling skills. I got some nice presents.
And today is Thursday, and we got the day off, kind of. No clinics today, but we're working on our paper. Well, we're supposed to be.
On a personal achievement note: this is the first time I've used the internet since Friday, which means I lasted 6 days without visiting an internet cafe. Part of this was willpower, and part of it was circumstance, but either way, it feels kind of nice to be detached from the world I left behind when I came here.
I do miss warm showers and air conditioning. I miss fresh salads. I miss my friends and family.
This is so worth it, though!
I already see myself returning to the Gambia in the future, hopefully with better medical skills and more knowledge. Also, next time I'll bring more clothes to wear, and perhaps some make up. Days upon days of scrubs, ugly shoes, and messy hair = not really my style. I guess that's what my third year of medical school will be like. Also, it has been kind of nice not having to spend extended amounts of time asking myself "What should I wear?"
And on that note, I've exhausted the Gambia update.
Friday, June 27, 2008
The Gambia Healthcare experience, take one.
This week I was at the Royal Victoria hospital on Wednesday and today (Friday), and at a small clinic in a remote area known as Kubunheh.
The hospital is impressive considering we are in Africa. There are lots of fancy machines and facilities I did not expect. On the other hand, it is still a hospital in Africa. Sterility? Not so much. Air conditioning? Forget it.
On Wednesday I sat in the Emergency Room. Just like in America, there were lots of people waiting. Just like in America, there were people in there that didn't need to be in there. The only cases I saw were: a woman with hypoglycemia, a woman with hyperglycemia, and a highschooler who appeared to be having a panic attack (or was possibly faking it). So, sugar, insulin, and xanax or something like that were the treatments. *Yawn*
Thursday at the small clinic was completely different. First of all, this clinic is in the middle of NOWHERE, right next to expanse of nothing and field of grass; we arrived there via random dirt road. None of the patients spoke any English (many Gambians in the city do). I saw a child with malaria, two children with Yaws (skin infection common in children here), a pregnant woman who had headaches, a child with bad eczema, a man with a gaping arm wound, and a young boy with a large, infected burn on his right leg that he had gotten several days prior (who knows why he didn't come in sooner). I left the clinic nauseous and doubting my choice of career. I assume I contracted several illnesses from working there just one day. Nothing is clean, nothing is really sterile. I know that I'm a spoiled American who has only seen the over-precautious medicine practiced in developed nations, but this was a bit much for me.
The woman who owns the clinic is a retired British nurse who lives in a compound 10 minutes away on foot. We got to see it, and it was incredible. She had about 30 cats, 5 dogs, 3 birds, a monkey (!), a bunch of donkeys and goats, and some ducks and chickens. I mean, it was a zoo. She retired here and loves her life. Truly remarkable!
Today I spent the half day (it's a half day here on Fridays) at the neonatal unit. Tiny babies with tiny hands and little help or hope. We were told that most children born before 32 weeks gestational age do not make it. There is no surfactant, there are no ventilators. The neonatal unit was far from clean (as is everything here).
Must leave, no more time at internet cafe!
This week I was at the Royal Victoria hospital on Wednesday and today (Friday), and at a small clinic in a remote area known as Kubunheh.
The hospital is impressive considering we are in Africa. There are lots of fancy machines and facilities I did not expect. On the other hand, it is still a hospital in Africa. Sterility? Not so much. Air conditioning? Forget it.
On Wednesday I sat in the Emergency Room. Just like in America, there were lots of people waiting. Just like in America, there were people in there that didn't need to be in there. The only cases I saw were: a woman with hypoglycemia, a woman with hyperglycemia, and a highschooler who appeared to be having a panic attack (or was possibly faking it). So, sugar, insulin, and xanax or something like that were the treatments. *Yawn*
Thursday at the small clinic was completely different. First of all, this clinic is in the middle of NOWHERE, right next to expanse of nothing and field of grass; we arrived there via random dirt road. None of the patients spoke any English (many Gambians in the city do). I saw a child with malaria, two children with Yaws (skin infection common in children here), a pregnant woman who had headaches, a child with bad eczema, a man with a gaping arm wound, and a young boy with a large, infected burn on his right leg that he had gotten several days prior (who knows why he didn't come in sooner). I left the clinic nauseous and doubting my choice of career. I assume I contracted several illnesses from working there just one day. Nothing is clean, nothing is really sterile. I know that I'm a spoiled American who has only seen the over-precautious medicine practiced in developed nations, but this was a bit much for me.
The woman who owns the clinic is a retired British nurse who lives in a compound 10 minutes away on foot. We got to see it, and it was incredible. She had about 30 cats, 5 dogs, 3 birds, a monkey (!), a bunch of donkeys and goats, and some ducks and chickens. I mean, it was a zoo. She retired here and loves her life. Truly remarkable!
Today I spent the half day (it's a half day here on Fridays) at the neonatal unit. Tiny babies with tiny hands and little help or hope. We were told that most children born before 32 weeks gestational age do not make it. There is no surfactant, there are no ventilators. The neonatal unit was far from clean (as is everything here).
Must leave, no more time at internet cafe!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Greetings from The Gambia!
Things are... sweaty! I'm sitting in an air-conditioned internet cafe, however. Air conditioning is rarer here than 8 American medical students + one premed + one faculty advisor.
When we walk through the markets people stare at us, a huge group of people in scrubs, sweating like hell.
Some background:
The group consists of 6 of my classmates and myself, one fourth year medical student, one pre-med, and our faculty advisor. My classmates and I are here for two main things. 1- To conduct research on the emergency care here and try to create and execute a plan to improve it. 2- To bring medical supplies and our clinical skills (which are almost nothing) to a place that is full of people less fortunate than ourselves. We are also going to be doing some arts in medicine work, which involves helping patients, mainly children, feel better by bringing them art supplies and helping to distract them from their pain/boredom. The art supplies, which include origami and lots of crayons, have already proven useful outside of the clinical setting. When we stopped in Senegal to rest, our guide here brought us to a neighborhood where we were swarmed by about 40 children, yelling "Too-bab" (means white person). We origamied our lives away, and they absolutely loved it.
That's it for background. The trip thus far has been incredible in so many ways.
The journey to get here was really long, but served as a good primer for the next 30 days of hanging out with the same people. We all talked a lot, learned about each other, laughed, and slept. The flights were: Miami to New York to Brussels to Dakar (Senegal). I don't remember how many hours that was. Then we had to take a bus from Senegal to The Gambia. First, we stopped at the neighborhood with the 40 children and ate some delicious meat and rice. We were exhausted and stinky. The rest of the journey involved a very bumpy ride from Dakar to the Gambian border, which took a good 7 hours. At the border we did all that official government bullcrap that took another hour. Then about 2 hours from the border to the north part of the river, then a 30 minute ferry, then the axel of our bus broke and was stuck on the ferry and we waited an hour, then another hour to get to the hotel. Needless to say, we were exhausted. And cranky.
The sight of the hotel helped us breathe one big collective sigh of relief. Although far from the Hilton, this place looked pretty decent to us, despite our exhaustion.
We've got one "villa" where 6 people are staying now and one bungalow where the other 4 of us reside; the villa has a kitchen and living room. It's almost like a home back in the US, except there's no microwave, no air conditioning, and drinking water from the sink may very well be the end of you. The bungalow is smaller, like an apartment.
The hotel is *really* nice, though. I guess it's a resort by Gambian standards. Will post pics soon enough. There are beautiful trees and flowers everywhere, and you can see the beach from the roof of the villa. Coolest part of it all: there are MONKEYS everywhere.
Besides the monkeys, this is not what one would expect from Africa. But once you drive for about 10 minutes and leave the tourist area, you see the real Africa. You also SMELL the real Africa.
Speaking of the real Africa, there's no toilet paper anywhere.
So far, besides wandering around looking for food, we've seen one medical center as well as the hospital we will be working at. I'm still unable to put into words the vast difference between these locations and what we are used to back home.
We also walked around some of the markets in some extreme heat, which hindered our ability to appreciate most of the sights.
Everywhere we go, people ask us for money, as though the color of our skin indicates wealth and riches. Once we say we're American, this effect is amplified 10-fold. We're not really "white," though. There are two Indian girls, and Indian guy, one half-Indian/half-Palestinian, two middle Easterns (myself and my future roomate), a Vietnamese guy, and that leaves only 3 real-life whites. What a multicultural group! Either way, white or not, the people can tell we're all not-from-around here, which automatically means we must have money I guess.
The food is delicious but pretty heavy. Lots of rice and meat dishes. I haven't had a fresh veggie in what feels like ages. We've been cooking back at the hotel, but still not crazy enough to toss a fresh garden salad.
For now I must leave the internet cafe, because I only paid for 30 minutes and spent most of the time emailing. Will write again soon.
I'm so grateful to be here.
With love,
A very sweaty, stinky, Mariana
Things are... sweaty! I'm sitting in an air-conditioned internet cafe, however. Air conditioning is rarer here than 8 American medical students + one premed + one faculty advisor.
When we walk through the markets people stare at us, a huge group of people in scrubs, sweating like hell.
Some background:
The group consists of 6 of my classmates and myself, one fourth year medical student, one pre-med, and our faculty advisor. My classmates and I are here for two main things. 1- To conduct research on the emergency care here and try to create and execute a plan to improve it. 2- To bring medical supplies and our clinical skills (which are almost nothing) to a place that is full of people less fortunate than ourselves. We are also going to be doing some arts in medicine work, which involves helping patients, mainly children, feel better by bringing them art supplies and helping to distract them from their pain/boredom. The art supplies, which include origami and lots of crayons, have already proven useful outside of the clinical setting. When we stopped in Senegal to rest, our guide here brought us to a neighborhood where we were swarmed by about 40 children, yelling "Too-bab" (means white person). We origamied our lives away, and they absolutely loved it.
That's it for background. The trip thus far has been incredible in so many ways.
The journey to get here was really long, but served as a good primer for the next 30 days of hanging out with the same people. We all talked a lot, learned about each other, laughed, and slept. The flights were: Miami to New York to Brussels to Dakar (Senegal). I don't remember how many hours that was. Then we had to take a bus from Senegal to The Gambia. First, we stopped at the neighborhood with the 40 children and ate some delicious meat and rice. We were exhausted and stinky. The rest of the journey involved a very bumpy ride from Dakar to the Gambian border, which took a good 7 hours. At the border we did all that official government bullcrap that took another hour. Then about 2 hours from the border to the north part of the river, then a 30 minute ferry, then the axel of our bus broke and was stuck on the ferry and we waited an hour, then another hour to get to the hotel. Needless to say, we were exhausted. And cranky.
The sight of the hotel helped us breathe one big collective sigh of relief. Although far from the Hilton, this place looked pretty decent to us, despite our exhaustion.
We've got one "villa" where 6 people are staying now and one bungalow where the other 4 of us reside; the villa has a kitchen and living room. It's almost like a home back in the US, except there's no microwave, no air conditioning, and drinking water from the sink may very well be the end of you. The bungalow is smaller, like an apartment.
The hotel is *really* nice, though. I guess it's a resort by Gambian standards. Will post pics soon enough. There are beautiful trees and flowers everywhere, and you can see the beach from the roof of the villa. Coolest part of it all: there are MONKEYS everywhere.
Besides the monkeys, this is not what one would expect from Africa. But once you drive for about 10 minutes and leave the tourist area, you see the real Africa. You also SMELL the real Africa.
Speaking of the real Africa, there's no toilet paper anywhere.
So far, besides wandering around looking for food, we've seen one medical center as well as the hospital we will be working at. I'm still unable to put into words the vast difference between these locations and what we are used to back home.
We also walked around some of the markets in some extreme heat, which hindered our ability to appreciate most of the sights.
Everywhere we go, people ask us for money, as though the color of our skin indicates wealth and riches. Once we say we're American, this effect is amplified 10-fold. We're not really "white," though. There are two Indian girls, and Indian guy, one half-Indian/half-Palestinian, two middle Easterns (myself and my future roomate), a Vietnamese guy, and that leaves only 3 real-life whites. What a multicultural group! Either way, white or not, the people can tell we're all not-from-around here, which automatically means we must have money I guess.
The food is delicious but pretty heavy. Lots of rice and meat dishes. I haven't had a fresh veggie in what feels like ages. We've been cooking back at the hotel, but still not crazy enough to toss a fresh garden salad.
For now I must leave the internet cafe, because I only paid for 30 minutes and spent most of the time emailing. Will write again soon.
I'm so grateful to be here.
With love,
A very sweaty, stinky, Mariana
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
You know you're really busy when...
There are things on your to do list that you don't even understand anymore.
My to-do list says "email Mike"
In other news, and probably the reason my to-do list has been ridiculous lately:
The Gambia, actually. We will be spending one month there, providing medical services and supplies, and just hanging out with sick, poor people. It's not quite backpacking in Europe, but when else would I get the chance to go to Africa?!
I'm in a state of excitement/fear/nausea. It's great. I would love to say "I'll post pictures while I'm there" or "I'll blog while I'm there" but chances are their local Starbucks doesn't have wireless.
Ok, time to go run around doing last minute things at the last minute.
Smallest country in Africa, here I come.
There are things on your to do list that you don't even understand anymore.
My to-do list says "email Mike"
Who is Mike, and why should I email him? I know about 2084 guys named Mike.
In other news, and probably the reason my to-do list has been ridiculous lately:
I'm going to Gambia tomorrow!
The Gambia, actually. We will be spending one month there, providing medical services and supplies, and just hanging out with sick, poor people. It's not quite backpacking in Europe, but when else would I get the chance to go to Africa?!
I'm in a state of excitement/fear/nausea. It's great. I would love to say "I'll post pictures while I'm there" or "I'll blog while I'm there" but chances are their local Starbucks doesn't have wireless.
Ok, time to go run around doing last minute things at the last minute.
Smallest country in Africa, here I come.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
I thought I was coming back into the blog world...
I was wrong.
Life is busy lately, and it's very challenging to keep up with everything. Such is life. Such is medical school...
I just want to write one thing down, a piece of advice I received from a good friend. It's simple, and it's kind of Tony Robbins-esque. It sounds so foolishly simple, and kind of cliche, but it works:
Every morning, wake up, and say to yourself, "Today will be a great day!"
It's easy to do it and even easier to forget to do it.
The idea is, when you think negatively about something ie,"This class is terrible", it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I'm not cognizant enough right now to explain it well, but I promise, it makes sense.
I'm trying to tell myself "this week will be good" even though it's pre-test week and I've dug myself into a hole so deep that I'm more than halfway to China.
On that note... back to studying!
I was wrong.
Life is busy lately, and it's very challenging to keep up with everything. Such is life. Such is medical school...
I just want to write one thing down, a piece of advice I received from a good friend. It's simple, and it's kind of Tony Robbins-esque. It sounds so foolishly simple, and kind of cliche, but it works:
Every morning, wake up, and say to yourself, "Today will be a great day!"
It's easy to do it and even easier to forget to do it.
The idea is, when you think negatively about something ie,"This class is terrible", it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I'm not cognizant enough right now to explain it well, but I promise, it makes sense.
I'm trying to tell myself "this week will be good" even though it's pre-test week and I've dug myself into a hole so deep that I'm more than halfway to China.
On that note... back to studying!
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Beer!
We had a "case race" last night. Sometimes I wonder what parts of my life I'll leave out when I talk to my children.
Yes kids, in her first year of medical school, your mommy participated in a mindless drinking game that inevitably leads to bloating, stupor, and, of course, drunkeness.
But man it was fun!
It's fun to do stupid things and act like a stupid kid again. I wonder when I'll stop (or if I'll stop).
We got second place, because one of our teammates failed to mention that he has severe GI problems until 3 beers into the race. Sigh. What can ya do?
We had a "case race" last night. Sometimes I wonder what parts of my life I'll leave out when I talk to my children.
Yes kids, in her first year of medical school, your mommy participated in a mindless drinking game that inevitably leads to bloating, stupor, and, of course, drunkeness.
But man it was fun!
It's fun to do stupid things and act like a stupid kid again. I wonder when I'll stop (or if I'll stop).
We got second place, because one of our teammates failed to mention that he has severe GI problems until 3 beers into the race. Sigh. What can ya do?
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Portuguese word of the day:
janela
It means "window"
And I feel like it's in every single Brazilian song.
I wonder if it's in so many songs because it sounds so pretty, or if it's just a common word to use in songs.
As of right now, "Come to my Window" by Melissa Ethridge is the only song that comes to mind. Meh, not so great.
Speaking of Melissa Ethridge, Relay for Life happened yesterday here in Gainesville, and I couldn't participate because of the stupid ass exams we have tomorrow. (Melissa Ethridge had cancer, Relay for Life = American Cancer Society fund-raiser).
Anyway, that was the Portuguese word of the day. Good night, or shall I say Boa Noite.
I wonder if it's in so many songs because it sounds so pretty, or if it's just a common word to use in songs.
As of right now, "Come to my Window" by Melissa Ethridge is the only song that comes to mind. Meh, not so great.
Speaking of Melissa Ethridge, Relay for Life happened yesterday here in Gainesville, and I couldn't participate because of the stupid ass exams we have tomorrow. (Melissa Ethridge had cancer, Relay for Life = American Cancer Society fund-raiser).
Anyway, that was the Portuguese word of the day. Good night, or shall I say Boa Noite.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Two things that have improved my academic life greatly (and that I really appreciate today):
1) Pandora radio. I've been using it for more than a year now. It cures musical boredom, and is great for studying (except for the occasional song that provides something confusing or interesting and thus sends me into curious google mode).
2) Facebook removal therapy. I gave my roommate my facebook password, and had her change it. She is not allowed to give me the new password until AFTER our two exams on Monday. This has increased productivity to at least 200%.
How sad is it that I had to go to such drastic measures in order to not waste endless hours playing Scrabulous and Attack and reconnecting with old friends and looking at people's profiles for no good reason?
Blogging used to be one of the distraction-devices I used when I was stressed out, but I really lost all inspiration when someone accused me of talking about medical school too much.
I don't want medical school to define me, but since it takes up about 95% of my time while awake (and is the subject of 40-60% of my dreams, depending on how stressed I am that week), I really have nothing else to talk about most of the time. Also, no time to talk about it, even if I did have something to talk about.
But here I am, talking (writing, whatever).
Whenever I hang out with non-med school friends (ie when I go back home), I find myself to be possibly the most boring person ever.
Hopefully, I can do something amazing this summer and have something to talk about for a while. Hey everyone, listen to me, I'm interesting again! Woo-hoo!
What exacerbates the whole situation is the fact that I live in Gainesville. Although I am starting to grow fond of this little city, it really doesn't provide much excitement.
Allow me to elaborate...
(((Before I do, I must point out that I completely recognize that using blogging as an excuse not to study now that Facebook's gone. It's like, blogging is Nicorette and Facebook was the pack of cigarettes. Or something like that. Hey at least writing is cathartic. Facebook is just an abysmal waste of time.)))
Anyway... as I was saying, Gainseville is not so hot.
The city demographics:
Almost 100,000 undergraduates, all drunk and living the American college experience.
A couple thousand Grad students, all drunk and suffering the American Grad school experience
Old people
That's it. Really.
The night life:
Oh, what's that? An entire 1.5 mile stretch on an avenue, littered with bars, clubs, and tiny restaurants to eat at when you're drunk at 2 am? WOW! Yes, the bars in Gainesville can be fun occasionally, but they're all in the same place. Yeah, that 1.5 mile stretch on an avenue. Namely, University Avenue. The part of it that's North of campus is called "midtown" and then east of that it's called "downtown" and that's pretty much all there is to it. The clubs play bad music and the ones that are semi-decent try to make you wait outside as though it were South Beach and Paris Hilton was stripping inside. Drinks are cheap, though.
Let me interject my overwhelming whining and negativity with an important note: I have had a LOT of fun going out in Gainesville. But that's just because I know how to have fun, and I know fun people. And alcohol helps.
Back to the negativity: Everything closes at 2 am. This is stupid, because it only means people will be more drunk when they drive home. Furthermore, taxis are a JOKE, and so is public transportation. Basically, driving on a Friday or Saturday night is a death wish, because there are stupid drunk kids driving around because the damn clubs closed at 2 and no one even thinks taxis exist in this city.
Ok, that's it for night life.
Other:
The restaurants here SUCK. I'm spoiled; DC had so many great places to eat, with so many cultural options... Ethiopian, Thai, Middle Eastern, Turkish, Indian, Latin, etc etc etc... Gainesville is littered with chain restaurant after chain restaurant. Chili's, Fridays, Applebees... I guess this has been good for my health , my cooking skills, and my wallet, but I sure do miss the delight of eating strange food.
Anything at a Salon is 4x more expensive and 10x lower quality than Miami. Yes, I know, I shouldn't keep comparing Gainesville to Miami and DC. But I will. I would sooner have my 3 year old cousin cut my hair than risk getting it done at a Salon here. Ok, I'm exaggerating. But that's what stressed out women do. We exaggerate.
Oh, wait, the one *great* thing to eat here is some good ol' BBQ. There are BBQ pits everywhere, and they're all cost effective, tummy gratifying, and artery clogging, as they should be.
On that positive note, let me mention what's great about Gainesville...
The University of Florida:
It's GREAT to be a Florida Gator. Period. The campus is gorgeous, and it's just an amazing school overall. And hopefully, I'll match in whatever residency I want, wherever I want, like they all promised. Maybe not if I keep slacking off instead of studying.
The scenery:
I don't function particularly well in the great outdoors, nor do I have much experience in being one with nature, but I can appreciate beautiful nature when I see it. Gainesville is puuuurty. There are nice trees and stuff. Exploring the surrounding areas on a nice sunny afternoon has proven to be wonderful and has helped me appreciate the great Florida Outdoors.
CHEAP RENT:
I can't wait to move into a brand-new luxury condo in August with my current roommate and a new one, paying less than half of what I paid for a one bedroom apartment in DC.
OK, I've wasted a sufficient amount of time to feel motivated to hit the books again.
1) Pandora radio. I've been using it for more than a year now. It cures musical boredom, and is great for studying (except for the occasional song that provides something confusing or interesting and thus sends me into curious google mode).
2) Facebook removal therapy. I gave my roommate my facebook password, and had her change it. She is not allowed to give me the new password until AFTER our two exams on Monday. This has increased productivity to at least 200%.
How sad is it that I had to go to such drastic measures in order to not waste endless hours playing Scrabulous and Attack and reconnecting with old friends and looking at people's profiles for no good reason?
Blogging used to be one of the distraction-devices I used when I was stressed out, but I really lost all inspiration when someone accused me of talking about medical school too much.
I don't want medical school to define me, but since it takes up about 95% of my time while awake (and is the subject of 40-60% of my dreams, depending on how stressed I am that week), I really have nothing else to talk about most of the time. Also, no time to talk about it, even if I did have something to talk about.
But here I am, talking (writing, whatever).
Whenever I hang out with non-med school friends (ie when I go back home), I find myself to be possibly the most boring person ever.
Hopefully, I can do something amazing this summer and have something to talk about for a while. Hey everyone, listen to me, I'm interesting again! Woo-hoo!
What exacerbates the whole situation is the fact that I live in Gainesville. Although I am starting to grow fond of this little city, it really doesn't provide much excitement.
Allow me to elaborate...
(((Before I do, I must point out that I completely recognize that using blogging as an excuse not to study now that Facebook's gone. It's like, blogging is Nicorette and Facebook was the pack of cigarettes. Or something like that. Hey at least writing is cathartic. Facebook is just an abysmal waste of time.)))
Anyway... as I was saying, Gainseville is not so hot.
The city demographics:
Almost 100,000 undergraduates, all drunk and living the American college experience.
A couple thousand Grad students, all drunk and suffering the American Grad school experience
Old people
That's it. Really.
The night life:
Oh, what's that? An entire 1.5 mile stretch on an avenue, littered with bars, clubs, and tiny restaurants to eat at when you're drunk at 2 am? WOW! Yes, the bars in Gainesville can be fun occasionally, but they're all in the same place. Yeah, that 1.5 mile stretch on an avenue. Namely, University Avenue. The part of it that's North of campus is called "midtown" and then east of that it's called "downtown" and that's pretty much all there is to it. The clubs play bad music and the ones that are semi-decent try to make you wait outside as though it were South Beach and Paris Hilton was stripping inside. Drinks are cheap, though.
Let me interject my overwhelming whining and negativity with an important note: I have had a LOT of fun going out in Gainesville. But that's just because I know how to have fun, and I know fun people. And alcohol helps.
Back to the negativity: Everything closes at 2 am. This is stupid, because it only means people will be more drunk when they drive home. Furthermore, taxis are a JOKE, and so is public transportation. Basically, driving on a Friday or Saturday night is a death wish, because there are stupid drunk kids driving around because the damn clubs closed at 2 and no one even thinks taxis exist in this city.
Ok, that's it for night life.
Other:
The restaurants here SUCK. I'm spoiled; DC had so many great places to eat, with so many cultural options... Ethiopian, Thai, Middle Eastern, Turkish, Indian, Latin, etc etc etc... Gainesville is littered with chain restaurant after chain restaurant. Chili's, Fridays, Applebees... I guess this has been good for my health , my cooking skills, and my wallet, but I sure do miss the delight of eating strange food.
Anything at a Salon is 4x more expensive and 10x lower quality than Miami. Yes, I know, I shouldn't keep comparing Gainesville to Miami and DC. But I will. I would sooner have my 3 year old cousin cut my hair than risk getting it done at a Salon here. Ok, I'm exaggerating. But that's what stressed out women do. We exaggerate.
Oh, wait, the one *great* thing to eat here is some good ol' BBQ. There are BBQ pits everywhere, and they're all cost effective, tummy gratifying, and artery clogging, as they should be.
On that positive note, let me mention what's great about Gainesville...
The University of Florida:
It's GREAT to be a Florida Gator. Period. The campus is gorgeous, and it's just an amazing school overall. And hopefully, I'll match in whatever residency I want, wherever I want, like they all promised. Maybe not if I keep slacking off instead of studying.
The scenery:
I don't function particularly well in the great outdoors, nor do I have much experience in being one with nature, but I can appreciate beautiful nature when I see it. Gainesville is puuuurty. There are nice trees and stuff. Exploring the surrounding areas on a nice sunny afternoon has proven to be wonderful and has helped me appreciate the great Florida Outdoors.
CHEAP RENT:
I can't wait to move into a brand-new luxury condo in August with my current roommate and a new one, paying less than half of what I paid for a one bedroom apartment in DC.
OK, I've wasted a sufficient amount of time to feel motivated to hit the books again.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Roses are red
Violets are pretty
Medical school
Is getting quite shitty
No time for fun
No time for life
Three more years?
Pass me the knife
Study all day
Worry all night
Never feel good
This can't be right
No patient will ask
How you did in that class
So why get an A
When you can just pass?
To be a Neurosurgeon
You must get the grades
But that's not for me
No surgery, no blades.
So all I should do
Is pass and be happy
I'll have much more time
Life won't be so crappy
But I can't just stop caring
I've tried many times
So maybe I should go to bed
And stop these dumb rhymes.
Violets are pretty
Medical school
Is getting quite shitty
No time for fun
No time for life
Three more years?
Pass me the knife
Study all day
Worry all night
Never feel good
This can't be right
No patient will ask
How you did in that class
So why get an A
When you can just pass?
To be a Neurosurgeon
You must get the grades
But that's not for me
No surgery, no blades.
So all I should do
Is pass and be happy
I'll have much more time
Life won't be so crappy
But I can't just stop caring
I've tried many times
So maybe I should go to bed
And stop these dumb rhymes.
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