Ecstatic

I am selfishly writing this post as an exclamation of my extreme joy at having completed the only month of fourth year I actually dreaded. The most valuable outcome of the surgical subspecialties rotation is the confirmation that, of all the paths of medicine I could take, orthopedics would be the last one.

1,2,3 Fight!

Item! Since I no longer watch Jerry Springer, I find the McLaughlin Group a viable alternative. The incendiary contensions flying between suited intellectuals. The title character interrupting heated diatribes with those of his own. It becomes a war of who has the loudest voice. I am still looking forward to the day John Mclaughlin puts Pat Buchanan in a head lock. What fun!

I think I'm paranoid

Love me, like me,
Come ahead and fight me
Please me, tease me
Go ahead and leave me
- Paranoid; Garbage.

In view of the present circumstances I found these words so terribly touching, as I was churning out my 5th mile at the gym.

More thoughts in the OR

It occured to me that surgery is a lot like flying.

Thank you for choosing Delta airlines, we will be flying non-stop from the first incision to the removal of your prostate. We ask that you remain strapped until after takeoff and refrain from moving your head too much as we attempt to intubate you. Feel free to use our on-board pillows and blankets; we have a wide array of sterile sheets and drapes in every shade of blue. During the flight, please enjoy your complementary peanuts and keep warm under the comfort of our Bair Hugger.

We are experiencing some onboard turbulence -- please fasten your seatbelts as we try to stablize your bleeding and give you more doses of propofol...

It is currently 70 degrees and sunny in FL, please remain seated as we make for a smooth landing and we gently extubate you. Please check that none of your baggage is left behind and your dressings are properly secured to your operative wound site. For your ease and comfort we ask that you dine at any of our fine airport restaurants and feel free to administer morphine as needed for your pain.

Again, thank you for flying Delta Airlines and hope you choose us again the next time you need anything removed!

Nice Day

This is the view outside the Children's Hospital as I sat and waited in the foyer before the next urology case. It was a lovely day.

Write or Wrong.

In my fantasy life I am a writer. And by writer I mean someone who writes well, by her own and others' accounts, or on an objective basis, if "well" can be so defined. But over the past few years I have been collecting reasons on why I do not write more. Observe:

1. I have a mild, perhaps subclinical, case of ADD (self-diagnosed, and unabated by my non-medically approved trial of Strattera) such that I have difficulty finishing the task at hand. I would like to point out that Da Vinci only completed eight paintings in his lifetime. But I have yet to write a treatise on painting that has revolutionized the art world. In time...

2. I don't know much. In fact, much of my good writing in college were based on biochemistry and biology -- relating them to real life. The one attempt to escape this ended miserably. We do not talk about that essay today, as I have eliminated all evidence. I keep hoping that keeping up with current events and trying to force an interest in history/politics/social studies will give me more material. It probably will. But reason 1 gets in the way.

3. I am neurotic -- a perfectionist. That said, I take for granted the fact that my writing will fail. To muster up the courage to write, despite the risk of disappointment, is still an aspiration.

4. I am a medical student. Enough said.

But these are excuses. I realize this. And perhaps all I require is inspiration (and the potential of fame; I am, after all a Leo). Who knows? I may find my muse yet.

¿De donde eres?

Yesterday in eye clinic a bespeckled Asian man craned his head into the examining room where I was sitting to ask if I were Korean. I suppose I should consider this refreshing, given that all other queries have been based on the assumption that I was Chinese. What is interesting is that unfailingly, there is this look of immense satisfaction when I corroborate their conjecture. As if this in someway attested to their cultural competency. And if conversation continued, it would inevitably veer toward a discussion on which Chinese food starting with "chow" is truly the best.

Maybe I should try out this game sometimes. See how good my cultural competency is. ¿Tu eres mexicano? ¿Te gusta comer los tacos?

P.S. Can you tell?