Yeah, so I kinda realized it has been a while since I have posted on here -- 92 days to be exact. A lot can happen in 92 days -- you can travel around the world once with 12 days to spare (which I believe would put you somewhere over Azerbaijan), birth 3 litters of rabbits (gestation of approximately 33 days in case you were wondering), or get a ripped set of abs with the Power 90X system. I, however, have done none of those things (as evident by my lack of passport, bunnies, and six-pack). Here's a quick run down of the highlights....
1. Completed my Medicine AI -- Somewhere between stealing mini-cans of Coke at 3 am, doing the robot during morning report (yes, I did break out that dancing gem from the '80s in front of 3 attending physicians), "discharging" patients to the ICU or the grave (I'm scared that these were the 2nd and 3rd most common way I got my patients off my service), or intentionally walking slowly to codes so I don't beat my team there (because seriously, do you really want the guy with the least amount of CPR training showing up there first?), I kinda fell in love with internal medicine. Plus more than anything else, I realized this is something at which I'm pretty good.
2. Decided to a pursue a career in Med-Peds -- Literally, its the best of both worlds (much like that Hanna Montana tour for which I still do not understand the nationwide obsession). I honestly don't know why I didn't pick up on this decision long before. It was staring me in the face much like PP stares down potential dates in the library (only not in a sexually predatory way). For those of you who still don't know about this specialty, I get double boarded in internal medicine and pediatrics in 4 years for the 6 years it would take to do both individually. That's right 3+3=4 (much like the math skills of TF's students). Come to think of it, this specialty may earn its own post later on.
3. Turned 25 years old -- yes, I am old. Somehow within days of turning 25 I went from young to old. This was most evident when I went to a college party as Penn State with CK (see item #5 below) where I realized "Hmmm, drinking hard alcohol out of a Rubbermaid bucket using a turkey baster does not seem like a good idea." (I will point out, however, that thinking it is not a good idea and not actually doing it are 2 different things). Nonetheless, I can take solace in the fact that I'm not turning 26 like some people (MKS, DK, SB, and KK just to name a few) -- now that's old!
4. Attended 2 Penn State football games in luxury boxes -- I have become spoiled to watching football games in person (much like $60 sushi a day in Los Angeles spoiled KK to dinner). There is no better way to watch a football game than on the 40 yard line in an air conditioned box while eating steak and lasagna (just like God intended). In addition, I had the opportunity to meet the great Franco Harris during one of these games. If you don't understand the transcendental experience of touching the hands that made the Immaculate Reception (much like touching the hem of Jesus' robes), you are definitely "on notice." However, the best part of the whole thing is knowing that even when I am in my mid-50s I can still act like a fool with my friends as evident by my dad and his friends sticking around the game 2 hours after it ended getting drunk and singing the full version of "American Pie" a capella (just ask CK, she saw it).
5. Moved to Pittsburgh for a month -- Ah, Pittsburgh, where the three rivers combine to form a heavenly glow of black and gold. I went there to do a rotation in pediatric heme/onc -- kids with cancer and bleeding disorders for the non-medically inclined. Yes I realize it sounds about as upbeat as well, kids with cancer and bleeding disorders. However, I had an amazing experiencing working there and currently Pitt is at the top of my list for interviews (see item #7 below). Furthermore, I ran into The Troy Polamalu in the halls of the hospital. Much like the ancient Greeks who stared into the wild haired Medusa, I froze when I stared at the wild haired Polamalu. However, he had an aura of peace surrounding him much like Jesus. (Yes, I realized I compared two Steelers players to Jesus in this blog but I think it is more than appropriate -- especially because if I meet one more I may very well die.) Most importantly, while in Pittsburgh I stayed with the amazingly fabulous CK. Thanks to lets just say due to a "dead to me list"-worthy series of circumstances, I ended up crashing on her couch for a month, but trust me, it was definitely for the best. We bonded over our mutual affinity for iPod commercials, Trader Joe's hummus, dancing to the clicks from Sheetz gas pumps, Penn State football, and secret knowledge of certain mutual members of The Circle.
6. Spent a rotation in the NICU -- This was by far one of the most haphazard rotations I have ever done -- whether it was missing days for interviews (see item #7 below -- don't you love the cross-referencing?), realizing "preemies" are a world apart from "babies" (something scary about needing literally every function for survival monitored), or having overnight call when you are not actually called (finally a rotation where the nurses realize that when you can't write orders, it is not worth calling you -- yes, I'm useless until I graduate). Either way, it should be a good learning experience (I pray) considering I have 3 months of it in residency (sarcastic "yay!").
7. Started residency interviews -- Three and half years of hard work all boils down to this. My final location for the next 4 years will be revealed on March 20th aka Match Day (insert scary ominous music here). Just to save you all from asking, here is where I am interviewing (in no particular order and a few may be added or removed depending on how I'm feeling): Christiana, Duke, Case Western, Rochester, UNC, Brown, Pitt, Georgetown, Yale. If you are a member of The Circle, I hope you like at least one of these locations because odds are I am going to convince said group to move wherever I match (and if you think I'm kidding, you obviously don't know me well).
8. Began a 10 week break from school -- That's right, Georgetown finally did something nice for me. I have until the New Year off for interviews (ie I'm sleeping in every day until at least noon and watching bad TV marathons on E!, VH1, and Bravo -- don't even ask how many times I have seen reruns of "I Love New York 2") and then I'm taking January off to study for the boards (so yes, there will be some work involved). With this much free time, I now know what KY (I just realized your initials are a little creepy) feels like when she goes to work. That being said, I'm currently held up in Punxs'y, which is very scary considering it is hunting season and about 94% of the population is wearing camouflage (because apparently you never know when you need to outwit a deer in the bank or Walmart).
Well, I hope that kinda catches you up where I have been in the last 92 days. As always, I respond to intimidating messages that politely (but threateningly) urge me to blog (as evident by TF and PP's posts).
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Lessons at 4:35 AM
Last night I had my first overnight call as a medicine AI (acting intern) -- not to be confused with that creepy robot movie starring that kid from the Sixth Sense (what ever happened to him anyways? Let's just hope puberty was kinder to him that that kid from Jerry Maguire). Anyways, the point of this rotation is to treat you like you're a real intern (think of it as being a doctor with training wheels), and as such, you take overnight call every fourth day. Maybe it was not as bad as I thought it was, maybe I was touched by the caduceus (don't pretend you know what it is, just look it up) of the med school gods, or maybe it was the fact that I was pretty delirious from only getting 25 minutes of sleep in 30+ hours, but I definitely gained some extra insight before the sun rose. Here's a little bit of what I picked up on from my overnight call....
1. I look hot in scrubs. Don't even try to question it. If I walked in with my blue scrubs, white coat, cool green kicks (its like saying, yeah I'm professional but I have fun), and stethoscope draped around my neck, you would swoon. Let alone when I have my sexy tuberculosis exposure max on, and all you can focus on are my hazel eyes.
2. Graham crackers and those freakishly tiny cans of pop (on which I think hospitals have a monopoly) are an excellent source of nutrition. True, that assumes you are housing them down 3 at a time (not that I would know anything about that), but they will get you threw the night. However, this only applies if you can sneak them by the nurses station (much like street parking, I'm pretty sure the "For Patient Only" signs no longer apply after 7 pm).
3. If I needed any additional validation that I am JD from Scrubs, last night did it. Literally, the number of scenes from season 1 of Scrubs that I unintentionally reinacted was frightening.
4. It may be hard to tell, I'm a big fan of sarcasm (if you don't understand the beauty of that line, just stop reading now and delete this link from your browser). That being said, I'm totally digging the "politely F-off" nature of many notes written in the charts. My new favorite line is "appreciate." For example, "Appreciate pulmonolgy recommendations" i.e. I am going to politely say I see what you wrote down but keep right on doing what I was planning on doing anyways. So, be leary of, "Yes, TF, I really appreciate what you want to do this weekend."
5. You know you should either persue a career in infectious disease or get serious psychological help when you hear things like "I think this person has Lyme Disease facial nerve palsy" and your first response is "Awesome Lyme Disease!". Or, they say, "This person may very well have TB," and your first response is to want to run to the room (Note: When someone has TB, I would probably advise not wanting to spend extra time breathing in whatever they are putting out.) However, I must say, I did both of these things (please insert nerd/tool/whatever joke here).
6. Blimpie's is not as good as Subway. Just throwing that out there.
7. I am fairly confident I can convince people to do anything. Case in point, I had to do three rectal exams yesterday (yes, giggle like a little school girl), which is incidently 3 more than I did all of last year (to understand how shocking it is to make it through 3rd year without doing one is like the equivalent of PP going into J.Crew and not buying anything, or MKS saying "You know what, I'm going to stay in a loving, committed relationship.") That being said, I was able to convince people that this exam would make or break them. Example, patient has difficulty chewing, if it were me, I would not necessarily think i need a rectal exam, but hey, after a few choice words, the patient was sure this would help provide the answer (I am just that damn good).
8. Stemming from item 7, patients trust me more than they trust real doctors. There were numerous times that the residents would ask the patients questions and then the patients would turn to me to answer. While this is awesome, I couldn't even pay attention to what they were saying cause all I was thinking was "Um, you definitely are betting on the wrong horse here."
9. You know you have lived a sheltered existence whenever you are impressed by call rooms. "This one has hard wood floors, its own bathroom, and a TV! This is nicer than my apartment!".
10. Despite the long hours, crazy patients, and tons of work, I actually thought all the stuff was really fun. In fact, I was both scary and uplifting at the same time. Oh yeah, that's why I decided to do this med school thing in the first place. That being said, I think we are lining up the ducks for med-peds.
Well, that's enough for now. Sorry for leaving you hanging for, um, almost 2 months. But, I do it all again Sunday morning, so I'm sure I will have a story or two for you then.
1. I look hot in scrubs. Don't even try to question it. If I walked in with my blue scrubs, white coat, cool green kicks (its like saying, yeah I'm professional but I have fun), and stethoscope draped around my neck, you would swoon. Let alone when I have my sexy tuberculosis exposure max on, and all you can focus on are my hazel eyes.
2. Graham crackers and those freakishly tiny cans of pop (on which I think hospitals have a monopoly) are an excellent source of nutrition. True, that assumes you are housing them down 3 at a time (not that I would know anything about that), but they will get you threw the night. However, this only applies if you can sneak them by the nurses station (much like street parking, I'm pretty sure the "For Patient Only" signs no longer apply after 7 pm).
3. If I needed any additional validation that I am JD from Scrubs, last night did it. Literally, the number of scenes from season 1 of Scrubs that I unintentionally reinacted was frightening.
4. It may be hard to tell, I'm a big fan of sarcasm (if you don't understand the beauty of that line, just stop reading now and delete this link from your browser). That being said, I'm totally digging the "politely F-off" nature of many notes written in the charts. My new favorite line is "appreciate." For example, "Appreciate pulmonolgy recommendations" i.e. I am going to politely say I see what you wrote down but keep right on doing what I was planning on doing anyways. So, be leary of, "Yes, TF, I really appreciate what you want to do this weekend."
5. You know you should either persue a career in infectious disease or get serious psychological help when you hear things like "I think this person has Lyme Disease facial nerve palsy" and your first response is "Awesome Lyme Disease!". Or, they say, "This person may very well have TB," and your first response is to want to run to the room (Note: When someone has TB, I would probably advise not wanting to spend extra time breathing in whatever they are putting out.) However, I must say, I did both of these things (please insert nerd/tool/whatever joke here).
6. Blimpie's is not as good as Subway. Just throwing that out there.
7. I am fairly confident I can convince people to do anything. Case in point, I had to do three rectal exams yesterday (yes, giggle like a little school girl), which is incidently 3 more than I did all of last year (to understand how shocking it is to make it through 3rd year without doing one is like the equivalent of PP going into J.Crew and not buying anything, or MKS saying "You know what, I'm going to stay in a loving, committed relationship.") That being said, I was able to convince people that this exam would make or break them. Example, patient has difficulty chewing, if it were me, I would not necessarily think i need a rectal exam, but hey, after a few choice words, the patient was sure this would help provide the answer (I am just that damn good).
8. Stemming from item 7, patients trust me more than they trust real doctors. There were numerous times that the residents would ask the patients questions and then the patients would turn to me to answer. While this is awesome, I couldn't even pay attention to what they were saying cause all I was thinking was "Um, you definitely are betting on the wrong horse here."
9. You know you have lived a sheltered existence whenever you are impressed by call rooms. "This one has hard wood floors, its own bathroom, and a TV! This is nicer than my apartment!".
10. Despite the long hours, crazy patients, and tons of work, I actually thought all the stuff was really fun. In fact, I was both scary and uplifting at the same time. Oh yeah, that's why I decided to do this med school thing in the first place. That being said, I think we are lining up the ducks for med-peds.
Well, that's enough for now. Sorry for leaving you hanging for, um, almost 2 months. But, I do it all again Sunday morning, so I'm sure I will have a story or two for you then.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Oh Simple Thing, Where Have You Gone?
Note: I feel this post may be a little different than my usual flare, and I need a little help from you, but I still tried to make it fun. Enjoy.
So, what are you going to do with your life? This question is (pun intended) unquestionably the bane of my existence. And much like herpes, it never goes away -- you think you may have beat it, but it always resurfaces, particularly in times of stress. Where are you going to college? Bucknell. What are you going to major in? Biology. Why? Cause science is awesome (And if you don't believe that, see the "Dead to Me" list). What are you going to do with that for a career? Medicine. What do you want to your residency in? Where do you want to go for it? Are you going to do a fellowship (less like Frodo and LOTR and more like additional years with crappy pay)? Where are you going to set up your practice? Private practice, group, or hospital? Therefore, I posit (oh yeah, I just posited something, stick that in your liberal arts pipe and smoke it), "Oh simple thing, where have you gone???". When did wanting to be a doctor become not enough? Where is the proverbial Valtrex to treat this question??
Why is it when stepping up to the counter of the medical Baskin Robbins, I feel like I keep choosing vanilla? I enviously look on at those who have not only chose the chocolate chip cookie dough of medical specialties but are also getting it in a waffle cone! MKS lives for the holes of the head in ENT. NP is going to take people to the bank diagnosing acne in dermatology. RD is making the life choice to stand next to lethal energy waves everyday for radiology. CS is dedicated to the senile and, well, the very senile in geriatrics. These people all have got their free mini-spoon taste and now are packing it down their throats by the scoop. Yet, I press my face against the glass of the freezer with the longing eyes of a fat, diabetic, lactose-intolerant 8 year old.
Now I come to the point of my frustration. The medicine gods have deemed that I must embark on the vision quest that is choosing a residency program beginning with choosing a field of medicine and ending with Match Day. (Or should I say Bid Day -- trust me, they are the same thing and I'll talk about the process at a different post, but I'm pretty sure the only difference is that there is just a less glitter and chanting involved with Match Day). Thus by some point in September (the earlier the better), I must choose a medical specialty, and I'm avoiding this commitment like MKS avoids....um, commitment? I hear the clock ticking in the background. I shouldn't say ticking -- its F**in POUNDING.
So, this is where you come into play. Make the decision for me. Its that plain and simple. I'm throwing myself upon the suggestions of you, my loyal readers. You may be asking yourself, "But WC, what's in it for me?" (cause I know I would be). If I actually follow your advice, I will provide you and your immediate family free care in the field I go into. Example, you have 10 kids, I do pediatrics, bring me all the inner ear infections you can for free. You get knocked up, I do OB/GYN, I rip the sucker out for free (assuming you don't care I have to stare at your bajingo at the same time). You drink enough to kill a small elephant (um, TW, I'm talking to you), I do GI, I'll hook you up with a new liver for free. However, odds are if you know me well enough, I'm probably going to hook you up for free anyways (and if you have to think whether or not this includes you, it probably means it does not).
I will provide you with a little guidance however (emphasis on little because I really want to see what you come up with). I hate surgery with the firey passion of a thousand suns burning on top of a nuclear explosion (enough said). No matter how hard I would try to relate so someone complaining about irregular vaginal bleeding, it is never going to happen. Finally, if you ask what I'm currently leaning towards, it would be pediatrics. However, as my debt accrues my desire to help people has become inversely proportional to the salary I hope to achieve. Is it better to be rich but miserable or poor (well, relatively doctor speaking poor) and happy?
So, take a moment, step back, analzye what you know about WC Anderson III and where you think I should fit in life. And help me once again find that oh so simple thing.
So, what are you going to do with your life? This question is (pun intended) unquestionably the bane of my existence. And much like herpes, it never goes away -- you think you may have beat it, but it always resurfaces, particularly in times of stress. Where are you going to college? Bucknell. What are you going to major in? Biology. Why? Cause science is awesome (And if you don't believe that, see the "Dead to Me" list). What are you going to do with that for a career? Medicine. What do you want to your residency in? Where do you want to go for it? Are you going to do a fellowship (less like Frodo and LOTR and more like additional years with crappy pay)? Where are you going to set up your practice? Private practice, group, or hospital? Therefore, I posit (oh yeah, I just posited something, stick that in your liberal arts pipe and smoke it), "Oh simple thing, where have you gone???". When did wanting to be a doctor become not enough? Where is the proverbial Valtrex to treat this question??
Why is it when stepping up to the counter of the medical Baskin Robbins, I feel like I keep choosing vanilla? I enviously look on at those who have not only chose the chocolate chip cookie dough of medical specialties but are also getting it in a waffle cone! MKS lives for the holes of the head in ENT. NP is going to take people to the bank diagnosing acne in dermatology. RD is making the life choice to stand next to lethal energy waves everyday for radiology. CS is dedicated to the senile and, well, the very senile in geriatrics. These people all have got their free mini-spoon taste and now are packing it down their throats by the scoop. Yet, I press my face against the glass of the freezer with the longing eyes of a fat, diabetic, lactose-intolerant 8 year old.
Now I come to the point of my frustration. The medicine gods have deemed that I must embark on the vision quest that is choosing a residency program beginning with choosing a field of medicine and ending with Match Day. (Or should I say Bid Day -- trust me, they are the same thing and I'll talk about the process at a different post, but I'm pretty sure the only difference is that there is just a less glitter and chanting involved with Match Day). Thus by some point in September (the earlier the better), I must choose a medical specialty, and I'm avoiding this commitment like MKS avoids....um, commitment? I hear the clock ticking in the background. I shouldn't say ticking -- its F**in POUNDING.
So, this is where you come into play. Make the decision for me. Its that plain and simple. I'm throwing myself upon the suggestions of you, my loyal readers. You may be asking yourself, "But WC, what's in it for me?" (cause I know I would be). If I actually follow your advice, I will provide you and your immediate family free care in the field I go into. Example, you have 10 kids, I do pediatrics, bring me all the inner ear infections you can for free. You get knocked up, I do OB/GYN, I rip the sucker out for free (assuming you don't care I have to stare at your bajingo at the same time). You drink enough to kill a small elephant (um, TW, I'm talking to you), I do GI, I'll hook you up with a new liver for free. However, odds are if you know me well enough, I'm probably going to hook you up for free anyways (and if you have to think whether or not this includes you, it probably means it does not).
I will provide you with a little guidance however (emphasis on little because I really want to see what you come up with). I hate surgery with the firey passion of a thousand suns burning on top of a nuclear explosion (enough said). No matter how hard I would try to relate so someone complaining about irregular vaginal bleeding, it is never going to happen. Finally, if you ask what I'm currently leaning towards, it would be pediatrics. However, as my debt accrues my desire to help people has become inversely proportional to the salary I hope to achieve. Is it better to be rich but miserable or poor (well, relatively doctor speaking poor) and happy?
So, take a moment, step back, analzye what you know about WC Anderson III and where you think I should fit in life. And help me once again find that oh so simple thing.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Randomness Vol. 3
I would like to say that I can post now because I finally have free time after finishing the incredibly strenuous 4 weeks of my family medicine rotation. However, I feel the fact that I only worked about 12 days during that time and most of those days I worked to about noon would probably beg to differ. So, let's get down to it.
1. One thing Punxs'y is not known for is a keen fashion sense (unless of course you count the combination of top hats and camouflage). Therefore, I decided I would make my own contest of "best" shirt seen around downtown Punxs'y (and by "downtown" I mean like the 5 blocks of stores not yet completely crushed by the mega Wal-Mart). There were many contenders including heavy set woman wearing black and white giant tiger head t-shirt and elderly man wearing Brady Bunch-inspired dress shirt. However, the winner by far was 50 year old man wearing "Gulf War Support our Troops" sweatshirt with the arms torn off. I really think you need to pause to consider the majesty that is this shirt. First, it easily has to be 16 years old and still a part of his regular clothing rotation. Second, he thought to himself "hmm, if only I could wear this in the summer" and thereby cut off the sleeves. Third, even though the Gulf War is long in the books, he wants to make sure we all know who won. I salute you sir and look forward to seeing your "Operation Iraqi Freedom" t-shirt converted into a tank top in 13 years.
2. I decided that at least once in my life I want to march into a room or down a hall with a posse and a sweet ass theme song blaring -- along the lines of Lucy Liu with the crazy 88 in "Kill Bill Vol. 1" or the Plastics down the hall in "Mean Girls." You have to recognize how awesome that would be (and if not, please see my "Dead to Me" list). You walk into a bar and everyone has to recognize. I feel like I'm almost there. All I need is a song and to teach TF, PP, DK, and SB to walk in formation.
3. My possibilities for entertainment in Punxs'y include hanging out in front of McDonalds, visiting the Groundhog Zoo (see post from 2/2/07), or watching television. That being said, I have easily logged 90+ hours of MTV in the last 4.5 weeks, and I came to realize that every person on their shows is younger and in better shape than me (damn you Real World casts!). The combination of the Inferno, Exposed, and the like (yes, I understand that I am but weeks away from turning 25 and still watching this crap and I've come to accept that) have perfectly aligned to cause body image doubt like a 12 year old girl flipping through Vogue. Therefore, I decided to start jogging on a regular basis. Yes, yes, you may be saying "Wait, doesn't that violate your rules on running?" (For those of you who don't know, there are only 2 reasons to run. First, to win an Olympic gold medal. You heard me WIN, if you are getting silver you may as well sit at home with your arm elbow deep in Haagen-Dazs. Second, to escape a bear or other predatory woodland creature.) Despite breaking my own oath on running, it is actually turning out fairly well. While I feel like dying at times during the run, after it I feel pretty good about what I have done (and have actually dropped a couple pounds thus far). We'll see if I keep this up upon my return to the District -- I'll have to check the MTV fall schedule first.
4. Today I was brushing my teeth in my mom's bathroom (as my sisters have permanently taken over the main bathroom in a manner similar to the USA's Manifest Destiny over North America), when I noticed something somewhat unusual. Among the various beauty products on the countertop was what appeared to be a black tube of something with the words "Paris Hilton" on it in huge pink letters. Now, I don't know what this stuff is, where it came from, or what my Catholic- community health secretary-mother of 3 is doing with it. All I know is I'm scared. Very scared. I'm half expecting to see Nicole Richie non-stick cooking spray show up in the pantry.
5. I'm worried about the state of my precious precious Circle. Now, I understand the irony of someone who has deserted it for all intensive purposes for over a month talking about the necessity of preserving its integrity, but I feel that it is still on my mind shows my dedication to the subject. Members and accessory members are leaving left and right. JMS is now in the 'Burgh being a professional and KK is in LA doing whatever it is she does on the East coast now on the West (at some point in time, I WILL understand her job). Therefore, I am announcing an emergency "Retain and Recruit" plan. As such, the remaining fragments will be held on with my dear life, and I am enlisting TF to help in this vital measure (as I know he is imprisoned working with kids for the next year). The second part is recruitment, as we now have openings available. In this regard, I am recruiting PP to be our rush chair, as I have come to realize he is probably the most social of all of us (plus, starting a new school, he is more likely to be exposed to new people). The process to be accepted will be hard and rigorous necessitating a 2/3rds majority vote of voting members. Or, the candidate can just buy us a round of beers and be instantaneously in.
6. This past weekend I went to the DuBois (pronounced Do-Boys) Community Days festival. It was like Mecca for hill-folk. Some of the choice things I saw there include the following...
-An inflatable sinking Titanic slide for kids. (If you don't see how horrible this is, just wait for the Hiroshima ride).
-Grown men with rat tails (Yes, rat tails. Mullets are a dime a dozen but the rat tail is the quarter in the penny jar).
-A "Come Play with God" booth sponsored by some local church. (I have no clue what was in there but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a "Whack-a-Heathen" game).
-The headling band was called "Vocal Trash" ("Guys, we need some name that really encapsulates our music, but what should we choose?")
Well, that's all the randomness for now. District soon.
1. One thing Punxs'y is not known for is a keen fashion sense (unless of course you count the combination of top hats and camouflage). Therefore, I decided I would make my own contest of "best" shirt seen around downtown Punxs'y (and by "downtown" I mean like the 5 blocks of stores not yet completely crushed by the mega Wal-Mart). There were many contenders including heavy set woman wearing black and white giant tiger head t-shirt and elderly man wearing Brady Bunch-inspired dress shirt. However, the winner by far was 50 year old man wearing "Gulf War Support our Troops" sweatshirt with the arms torn off. I really think you need to pause to consider the majesty that is this shirt. First, it easily has to be 16 years old and still a part of his regular clothing rotation. Second, he thought to himself "hmm, if only I could wear this in the summer" and thereby cut off the sleeves. Third, even though the Gulf War is long in the books, he wants to make sure we all know who won. I salute you sir and look forward to seeing your "Operation Iraqi Freedom" t-shirt converted into a tank top in 13 years.
2. I decided that at least once in my life I want to march into a room or down a hall with a posse and a sweet ass theme song blaring -- along the lines of Lucy Liu with the crazy 88 in "Kill Bill Vol. 1" or the Plastics down the hall in "Mean Girls." You have to recognize how awesome that would be (and if not, please see my "Dead to Me" list). You walk into a bar and everyone has to recognize. I feel like I'm almost there. All I need is a song and to teach TF, PP, DK, and SB to walk in formation.
3. My possibilities for entertainment in Punxs'y include hanging out in front of McDonalds, visiting the Groundhog Zoo (see post from 2/2/07), or watching television. That being said, I have easily logged 90+ hours of MTV in the last 4.5 weeks, and I came to realize that every person on their shows is younger and in better shape than me (damn you Real World casts!). The combination of the Inferno, Exposed, and the like (yes, I understand that I am but weeks away from turning 25 and still watching this crap and I've come to accept that) have perfectly aligned to cause body image doubt like a 12 year old girl flipping through Vogue. Therefore, I decided to start jogging on a regular basis. Yes, yes, you may be saying "Wait, doesn't that violate your rules on running?" (For those of you who don't know, there are only 2 reasons to run. First, to win an Olympic gold medal. You heard me WIN, if you are getting silver you may as well sit at home with your arm elbow deep in Haagen-Dazs. Second, to escape a bear or other predatory woodland creature.) Despite breaking my own oath on running, it is actually turning out fairly well. While I feel like dying at times during the run, after it I feel pretty good about what I have done (and have actually dropped a couple pounds thus far). We'll see if I keep this up upon my return to the District -- I'll have to check the MTV fall schedule first.
4. Today I was brushing my teeth in my mom's bathroom (as my sisters have permanently taken over the main bathroom in a manner similar to the USA's Manifest Destiny over North America), when I noticed something somewhat unusual. Among the various beauty products on the countertop was what appeared to be a black tube of something with the words "Paris Hilton" on it in huge pink letters. Now, I don't know what this stuff is, where it came from, or what my Catholic- community health secretary-mother of 3 is doing with it. All I know is I'm scared. Very scared. I'm half expecting to see Nicole Richie non-stick cooking spray show up in the pantry.
5. I'm worried about the state of my precious precious Circle. Now, I understand the irony of someone who has deserted it for all intensive purposes for over a month talking about the necessity of preserving its integrity, but I feel that it is still on my mind shows my dedication to the subject. Members and accessory members are leaving left and right. JMS is now in the 'Burgh being a professional and KK is in LA doing whatever it is she does on the East coast now on the West (at some point in time, I WILL understand her job). Therefore, I am announcing an emergency "Retain and Recruit" plan. As such, the remaining fragments will be held on with my dear life, and I am enlisting TF to help in this vital measure (as I know he is imprisoned working with kids for the next year). The second part is recruitment, as we now have openings available. In this regard, I am recruiting PP to be our rush chair, as I have come to realize he is probably the most social of all of us (plus, starting a new school, he is more likely to be exposed to new people). The process to be accepted will be hard and rigorous necessitating a 2/3rds majority vote of voting members. Or, the candidate can just buy us a round of beers and be instantaneously in.
6. This past weekend I went to the DuBois (pronounced Do-Boys) Community Days festival. It was like Mecca for hill-folk. Some of the choice things I saw there include the following...
-An inflatable sinking Titanic slide for kids. (If you don't see how horrible this is, just wait for the Hiroshima ride).
-Grown men with rat tails (Yes, rat tails. Mullets are a dime a dozen but the rat tail is the quarter in the penny jar).
-A "Come Play with God" booth sponsored by some local church. (I have no clue what was in there but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a "Whack-a-Heathen" game).
-The headling band was called "Vocal Trash" ("Guys, we need some name that really encapsulates our music, but what should we choose?")
Well, that's all the randomness for now. District soon.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Bowling and Bullet Holes
Before I left for exotic Punxs'y, I made a pledge to myself (along the lines of a "Give me liberty or give me death") that I would make the most of my last weekend in The District. While I had an absolute blast (yes, I understand that sounds like I stepped straight out of of 1954--"neat-o"), somehow my "making the most" pledge fell kinda short (more along the lines of "The Prom Promise"). Instead, I went to some random ass bars, brunch (expertly prepared by KK -- much thanks!), bowling, and a Book-It style pizza party (much thanks to TF and DK). However, if you were to have asked me at which of these activities I would have most feared for my life (and seriously, I know that's the first thing you think of when anyone tells you what they did over the weekend), I would not have guessed it would have been bowling. However, it was CLEARLY the front runner. You may ask, how can a simple game of 10-pin be frightful? Well, I would respond that it is not the game, but arriving at the destination in which the danger lies.
So, when not hanging out with my precious "Circle" (yes, yes, I am shocked as you are that I spend time away from them, and would probably have my doubts that I'm currently lying), I associate with the few, clearly not proud nor elite, Georgtown Med students. And one of our favorite past times (and by favorite past times, and by that I mean I went like twice before and it was fun) is bowling. We have only 2 requirements for our bowling adventures. First, they must have "glow bowling" or "rock 'n bowl" or the like (what can I say, we need a little Top 40 and black lights to get into it). Secondly, it must be somewhat inexpensive (as med students, we must use the money we get from selling our stem cells efficiently). When choosing a locale, I would guess the majority of people would check out Google or the Yellow Pages to find a bowling alley. I, of course, did not pursue that track.
When I wanted the foremost of bowling locations in the greater DC metropolitan area, I went to my local neighborhood surgical pathologist for advice. Yes, you heard me right, a pathologist. While most pathologist are recognized as having a social life that would be expected of one who would rather work with microscope slides and corpses as opposed to, uh let's just say, "the living," this pathologist is a little different. As a 30 something year-old mother of 5 children (all between the ages of like 11 and 4 -- SCARY!) and native of one of Punxs'y's neighboring towns, I take pretty good stock in her advice on benign social activites (more like ice cream socials than places to score cocaine). So, I listened when she came up with a quick and enthusiastic recommendation--Fort Meyer.
Now let's just pause for a moment. For those of you not familiar with this DC institution, Fort Meyer is a U.S. military base located on the other side of the Potomac. The soliders at Fort Meyer are most well known for guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Solider at Arlington Cemetery. What you may not know is that these soliders are also trained to be the first line to establish martial law in The District in the case of an attack. Therefore, while they are twirling their guns for the happy tourists, they are deep down wanting to set up a bunker with an AK-47 on M and Wisconsin. Hence, some apprehension existed on my part in entering their relm.
Despite my worries, I figured "Hey, it will be just me and EC, what's to worry about." Obviously, that's when things go horribly wrong. When I went to go pick up my friend EC at her apartment complex (where like half of my med school class lives), she informed me that there was a "small rooftop party" there earlier in the night and a "few" other people might want to come along. Okay, I thought, I can deal with that, and the more the merrier, right? However, when I pulled up to the entrance, EC came along with 4 (my care seats only 5) other of her very intoxicated friends. So let me recap, I am now cruising in my 2002 Dodge Stratus at over-capacity of drunkards with the destination of a US military base. Yeah, needless to say I was a bit worried.
As I pulled up to the gates, I prayed that this would not be my one way ticket to Guantanamo Bay. You can imagine that prison conversation -- What you in for? Threatening to bomb the U.S. How about you? I just wanted to go bowling (followed by me breaking into tears). Hesitantly, I pulled up to the gates with my clown car of drunkards. Seeing the soliders in the not so distance, a cold sweat developed between my palms and the steering wheel. Meanwhile, my passangers continued to chatter about everything from Justin Timberlake to colonics. Suddently, I snapped into my training as a summer counselor of high school students. With a swift "Be quiet, pay attention, and keep your eyes forward", I commanded the attention of the car.
After going through the gate with a polite but stearn "What's your business?" from the guards, I was allowed to proceed through. Wow, I thought to myself, this is going to be easier than DK getting thrown in the drunk tank. Rolling up through the military campus, however, I was summoned to check point number 2.
There in an omniously lit open air hanger my car was stopped by no less than three soliders, my "favorite" of which held a semi-automatic weapon that was about the same size as he was. This is it I thought. My life had a pretty good ride up to this point. I'll be bowling in heaven with Jesus and my childhood pets tonight! Now, guurd number 1 asked for my ID and requested that I open all the car doors, and pop my trunk and hood. Guard 2 requested that we all file out of the car and stand at least 5 feet away. Meanwhile, guard 3 stood there eyeing up this group of future doctors while gently stroking the trigger of his gun. With everything open and at a safe distance, the gaurds then proceded to scan every inch of my car. My mind raced, "Do I have anything in there that could be mistaken for a bomb? I know I don't own a gun but could someone have left one in there? Do I have any anti-Bush stuff in there? If they question anything, say you love freedom, support the troops, and just run."
Despite my worry, we were give the seal of approval and allowed to proceed to our final destination (yet, that guard 3 did not put his weapon down once..hmm). Surprisingly, in the end, I HIGHLY recommend the Fort Meyer bowling alley. They have excellent music, great facilities, and some kick ass rock 'n bowl for dirt cheap ($4/game including shoes). So, if you like bowling but also want the same treatment one would get smuggling heroine across international lines, Fort Meyer's is the place to go.
So, when not hanging out with my precious "Circle" (yes, yes, I am shocked as you are that I spend time away from them, and would probably have my doubts that I'm currently lying), I associate with the few, clearly not proud nor elite, Georgtown Med students. And one of our favorite past times (and by favorite past times, and by that I mean I went like twice before and it was fun) is bowling. We have only 2 requirements for our bowling adventures. First, they must have "glow bowling" or "rock 'n bowl" or the like (what can I say, we need a little Top 40 and black lights to get into it). Secondly, it must be somewhat inexpensive (as med students, we must use the money we get from selling our stem cells efficiently). When choosing a locale, I would guess the majority of people would check out Google or the Yellow Pages to find a bowling alley. I, of course, did not pursue that track.
When I wanted the foremost of bowling locations in the greater DC metropolitan area, I went to my local neighborhood surgical pathologist for advice. Yes, you heard me right, a pathologist. While most pathologist are recognized as having a social life that would be expected of one who would rather work with microscope slides and corpses as opposed to, uh let's just say, "the living," this pathologist is a little different. As a 30 something year-old mother of 5 children (all between the ages of like 11 and 4 -- SCARY!) and native of one of Punxs'y's neighboring towns, I take pretty good stock in her advice on benign social activites (more like ice cream socials than places to score cocaine). So, I listened when she came up with a quick and enthusiastic recommendation--Fort Meyer.
Now let's just pause for a moment. For those of you not familiar with this DC institution, Fort Meyer is a U.S. military base located on the other side of the Potomac. The soliders at Fort Meyer are most well known for guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Solider at Arlington Cemetery. What you may not know is that these soliders are also trained to be the first line to establish martial law in The District in the case of an attack. Therefore, while they are twirling their guns for the happy tourists, they are deep down wanting to set up a bunker with an AK-47 on M and Wisconsin. Hence, some apprehension existed on my part in entering their relm.
Despite my worries, I figured "Hey, it will be just me and EC, what's to worry about." Obviously, that's when things go horribly wrong. When I went to go pick up my friend EC at her apartment complex (where like half of my med school class lives), she informed me that there was a "small rooftop party" there earlier in the night and a "few" other people might want to come along. Okay, I thought, I can deal with that, and the more the merrier, right? However, when I pulled up to the entrance, EC came along with 4 (my care seats only 5) other of her very intoxicated friends. So let me recap, I am now cruising in my 2002 Dodge Stratus at over-capacity of drunkards with the destination of a US military base. Yeah, needless to say I was a bit worried.
As I pulled up to the gates, I prayed that this would not be my one way ticket to Guantanamo Bay. You can imagine that prison conversation -- What you in for? Threatening to bomb the U.S. How about you? I just wanted to go bowling (followed by me breaking into tears). Hesitantly, I pulled up to the gates with my clown car of drunkards. Seeing the soliders in the not so distance, a cold sweat developed between my palms and the steering wheel. Meanwhile, my passangers continued to chatter about everything from Justin Timberlake to colonics. Suddently, I snapped into my training as a summer counselor of high school students. With a swift "Be quiet, pay attention, and keep your eyes forward", I commanded the attention of the car.
After going through the gate with a polite but stearn "What's your business?" from the guards, I was allowed to proceed through. Wow, I thought to myself, this is going to be easier than DK getting thrown in the drunk tank. Rolling up through the military campus, however, I was summoned to check point number 2.
There in an omniously lit open air hanger my car was stopped by no less than three soliders, my "favorite" of which held a semi-automatic weapon that was about the same size as he was. This is it I thought. My life had a pretty good ride up to this point. I'll be bowling in heaven with Jesus and my childhood pets tonight! Now, guurd number 1 asked for my ID and requested that I open all the car doors, and pop my trunk and hood. Guard 2 requested that we all file out of the car and stand at least 5 feet away. Meanwhile, guard 3 stood there eyeing up this group of future doctors while gently stroking the trigger of his gun. With everything open and at a safe distance, the gaurds then proceded to scan every inch of my car. My mind raced, "Do I have anything in there that could be mistaken for a bomb? I know I don't own a gun but could someone have left one in there? Do I have any anti-Bush stuff in there? If they question anything, say you love freedom, support the troops, and just run."
Despite my worry, we were give the seal of approval and allowed to proceed to our final destination (yet, that guard 3 did not put his weapon down once..hmm). Surprisingly, in the end, I HIGHLY recommend the Fort Meyer bowling alley. They have excellent music, great facilities, and some kick ass rock 'n bowl for dirt cheap ($4/game including shoes). So, if you like bowling but also want the same treatment one would get smuggling heroine across international lines, Fort Meyer's is the place to go.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Homeward Bound -- I wish I was??
At the start of this academic year, I was informed that I would be able to do my family medicine rotation at an away site if I chose to do so. Having heard some of the true horror stories of family medicine rotations here at Georgetown (ranging from having to drive 2 hours to a site to being "assigned" to babysit a doc's kid instead of getting a lunch hour), I decided it may be best to get out of here. But where to go? That's when I discovered you can go to an area that is rural and underserved medically. Hmmmm...rural and underserved but still located in the continental US -- do places like that even exist? These must be desolate areas where the weak are eaten by rabid animals and the barter system is still practiced. Where have I heard of places like that before?? Oh yeah, HOME!
Therefore, I made arrangements to work with a family friend in Punxs'y. Apparently, this doc's dad and my grandfather were physicians together back in the day. So, I thought this would be a great idea -- some free food, free laundry, and 4 weeks of relaxing. That's until I went home for Easter. Having spent all of 48 hours in Punxs'y, I realized there is a reason why I moved away. So while still hoping for the best, I leave on May 22nd to spend a minimum of 4 weeks in exotic western Pennsylvania. That being the case, I felt like I should give you some insight into what I am about to experience compared to Washington, DC. Prepared to be enjoyed and mildly horrified (emphasis on the later of those two).
-The District is the capital of the US of A. Punxs'y is the "weather capital of the world." Clearly one is more influential than the other on the world stage, but I just can't place my finger on it.
-In the District, businesses of all kinds flurish. In Punxs'y, the three main businesses you will find downtown are banks, auto part stores, and beer distributors. Clearly one of those three are incompatible with the other two.
-The District is home to the Smithsonian Institutions, a gathering of some of the most revered museums in the world where one can see everything from the Hope Diamond to the works of Monet. Punxs'y has a weather museum housed in the old post office. Enough said.
-The District has one of the best public transportation systems on the East coast including the metro, buses, and taxis. Punxs'y has one bus that's used exclusively to get the elderly to the grocery store and Walmart, that (last time I checked) is driven by my 4th grade band teacher.
-In the District, summer social events range from concerts to plays to professional sporting evets. In Punxs'y, summer social events pretty much includes the carnival coming to town, where you debate whether or not the carnie running the bumper cars was that kid who dropped out of high school and no one has seen since. Side Note: My sisters and I are SCARED to go to the carnival. Yes, scared. The carnival is like a lighthouse directing the strangest of the strange to its funnel-cake shores.
-In the District, young professionals dress nicely to do such simple things as walk down M Street. In Punxs'y, people wear Steeler jerseys to Sunday mass. Side Note: My aunt and uncle came to visit me once and we drove through Arlington during the lunch hour and my aunt was shocked by the number of people wearing "dress shirts."
-The District has numerous bar scenes including Adams Morgan where the young party until 3 am. Punxs'y has one bar with red shag carpeting on the walls, and if you go you will be hit on by the likes of which include your recently divorced high school math teacher.
-The District is a blend of people from all walks of life and all cultures forming a microcosm of the world. Punxs'y includes the Amish as the majority of our "diversity." Side Note: To give you an idea of the cultural sheltering I am talking about here, people find it interesting (in the exotic way) that my sister and I have Jewish friends.
-In the District no building can be taller than the Washington Monument. In Punxs'y we have the "world's largest groundhog" -- a testament of plywood located in the parking lot of the (wait for it) combination ice cream shop/shoe repair store. At this point, honestly, I WISH I was making this stuff up.
-The District is home to some of the best restaurants displaying cuisine from across the world. Punxs'y's fine dining includes McDonalds (which only opened when I was in 9th grade) and Sheetz (where my sister went to eat before the prom one year).
-In the District, people are on the whole culturally-progressive and liberal. In Punxs'y, people have "W" stickers on their trucks while flying the Confederate flag and making entirely logical (in their minds) connections between abortion, gay marriage, and terrorism.
-Last and certainly not least, the mayor of The District is Adrian Fenty, a lawyer and councilman. The mayor of Punxs'y is the owner of the local hardware/animal feed store and is best known as "Snake." Yes, you heard me right, our mayor's name is Snake. If that does not embody everything, I don't know what does.
All that being said, I still love my little hamlet in the Appalachian foothills. And there are some positive things about the town too (but common on, you know you don't want to hear them). You are always more than welcome to come visit to experience all this on your own. However, I realize that the odds of that happening are on par with Punxs'y believing in evolution (I'm pretty sure they think God created humans and groundhogs right before Jesus showed up). With a little over a week left at my home (far, far) away from home, give me a shout so I can make the most of my limited time in the District.
Therefore, I made arrangements to work with a family friend in Punxs'y. Apparently, this doc's dad and my grandfather were physicians together back in the day. So, I thought this would be a great idea -- some free food, free laundry, and 4 weeks of relaxing. That's until I went home for Easter. Having spent all of 48 hours in Punxs'y, I realized there is a reason why I moved away. So while still hoping for the best, I leave on May 22nd to spend a minimum of 4 weeks in exotic western Pennsylvania. That being the case, I felt like I should give you some insight into what I am about to experience compared to Washington, DC. Prepared to be enjoyed and mildly horrified (emphasis on the later of those two).
-The District is the capital of the US of A. Punxs'y is the "weather capital of the world." Clearly one is more influential than the other on the world stage, but I just can't place my finger on it.
-In the District, businesses of all kinds flurish. In Punxs'y, the three main businesses you will find downtown are banks, auto part stores, and beer distributors. Clearly one of those three are incompatible with the other two.
-The District is home to the Smithsonian Institutions, a gathering of some of the most revered museums in the world where one can see everything from the Hope Diamond to the works of Monet. Punxs'y has a weather museum housed in the old post office. Enough said.
-The District has one of the best public transportation systems on the East coast including the metro, buses, and taxis. Punxs'y has one bus that's used exclusively to get the elderly to the grocery store and Walmart, that (last time I checked) is driven by my 4th grade band teacher.
-In the District, summer social events range from concerts to plays to professional sporting evets. In Punxs'y, summer social events pretty much includes the carnival coming to town, where you debate whether or not the carnie running the bumper cars was that kid who dropped out of high school and no one has seen since. Side Note: My sisters and I are SCARED to go to the carnival. Yes, scared. The carnival is like a lighthouse directing the strangest of the strange to its funnel-cake shores.
-In the District, young professionals dress nicely to do such simple things as walk down M Street. In Punxs'y, people wear Steeler jerseys to Sunday mass. Side Note: My aunt and uncle came to visit me once and we drove through Arlington during the lunch hour and my aunt was shocked by the number of people wearing "dress shirts."
-The District has numerous bar scenes including Adams Morgan where the young party until 3 am. Punxs'y has one bar with red shag carpeting on the walls, and if you go you will be hit on by the likes of which include your recently divorced high school math teacher.
-The District is a blend of people from all walks of life and all cultures forming a microcosm of the world. Punxs'y includes the Amish as the majority of our "diversity." Side Note: To give you an idea of the cultural sheltering I am talking about here, people find it interesting (in the exotic way) that my sister and I have Jewish friends.
-In the District no building can be taller than the Washington Monument. In Punxs'y we have the "world's largest groundhog" -- a testament of plywood located in the parking lot of the (wait for it) combination ice cream shop/shoe repair store. At this point, honestly, I WISH I was making this stuff up.
-The District is home to some of the best restaurants displaying cuisine from across the world. Punxs'y's fine dining includes McDonalds (which only opened when I was in 9th grade) and Sheetz (where my sister went to eat before the prom one year).
-In the District, people are on the whole culturally-progressive and liberal. In Punxs'y, people have "W" stickers on their trucks while flying the Confederate flag and making entirely logical (in their minds) connections between abortion, gay marriage, and terrorism.
-Last and certainly not least, the mayor of The District is Adrian Fenty, a lawyer and councilman. The mayor of Punxs'y is the owner of the local hardware/animal feed store and is best known as "Snake." Yes, you heard me right, our mayor's name is Snake. If that does not embody everything, I don't know what does.
All that being said, I still love my little hamlet in the Appalachian foothills. And there are some positive things about the town too (but common on, you know you don't want to hear them). You are always more than welcome to come visit to experience all this on your own. However, I realize that the odds of that happening are on par with Punxs'y believing in evolution (I'm pretty sure they think God created humans and groundhogs right before Jesus showed up). With a little over a week left at my home (far, far) away from home, give me a shout so I can make the most of my limited time in the District.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Randomness Vol. 2
Today as I was staring a slides of colon biopsies (yes, that will essentially be the next 2 weeks of my life) pretending not to fall asleep (the trick is that if you get your eyes close enough to the eye piece the docs can't tell that the they are actually closed), I let my mind wander as it naturally does, and I kinda realized that there is still a hell of a lot of randomness rolling around in there. So, I figured this maybe a good way to get some of it out (hopefully this way, when they ask me what the diagnosis is, this way I won't blurt out a random song lyric or the like.) Side note: The entire time I am typing this my "t" key is sticking and starting to piss the hell out of me.
1. I feel everyone knows I have an unhealthy obsession with Scrubs (case in point, instead of originally typing "Scrubs" right there, I typed "my friends" -- Freudian slip), but I am starting to realize it myself. For example, I'm starting to identify my feelings based on characters on Scrubs -- and not just characters, but time frame of characters. For example, early Elliot is failing despite always trying, insecure about herself, and pretty OCD about things in life that people shouldn't obsess over. On the other hand, later Elliot, is still OCD and has numerous qwerks, but is a hell of a lot more confident about those things. And I really feel the icing on the cake for my level of self-identification with J.D. happened this last week when (if you didn't see it, I dont' know why because you are obviously missing the best show on television) Elliot got egaged and he realized at the very end it should have been with him instead of with Keith. At which point, I teared up a little and thought to myself "Oh my lord how many things have I let slip through my hands in the past?" (Okay, yes, I have what is known in the medical community as "The Crazies.")
2. British female songwriters are popping up everywhere. Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm saying I like Amy Whinehouse. And in fact, I feel her song "Rehab" should be a theme song for The Circle (a name I am trying to have catch on for our friends in DC primarily based on how we all originally knew each other but also kinda for our unwillingness to mingle with others at social events). Let me quote (think of it as written spoken word), "They said go to rehab, and I said 'No, No, No'." In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if we acually had this conversation with someone one day (DK, KK, PP, MS, TF, and on and on).
3. I feel if I had to rank the things that I think will kill me, but are unlikely to do so, I would have to put "Accident involving my iPod" in the top 3. Understand I f*in love my iPod, however sometimes I let it take a hold of me a little too much. Two cases in point. The first occurred when driving back to Punxs'y a few weeks back when on a stretch of highway a little song by Journey called "Don't Stop Believing" came on my iPod. Needless to say, I started to sing along in my car (as I am fairly convinced I get amazing acoustics off my dashboard) and start to not so much pay attention to my odometer. By the time the chorus comes along (feel free to sing it in your head as you are reading), I look down and I'm going about 93 in a 55 area)...oops. Second example, today when I was walking to the hospital, The All American Rejects came on and be the self-convinced inner rockstar that I am (trust me, that's a blog onto itself), I actually had to stop myself from picking up my iPod and using it as a microphone as I crossed the entrance to the hospital, where there was uh, I don't know, about 10 cars pulling in and out). So, in the likelihood my body surfaces somewhere, don't be surprised if my iPod is clenched in my hand cold dead hand.
4. While I feel I may raise this topic numerous times in the future, I'll introduce it here -- I'm getting a little terrified about what to do with my life. I literally have to make this decision in the matter of a few weeks to months, and its really starting to press on me. I'm now getting to the point of asking random strangers what to do for a career. I'm currently leaning towards Adolescent Medicine, and I encourage you to read this article about it. Quite literally if I had to write a manifesto on this subject, this would be it. (Much thanks to KK for pointing this out to me). http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/24/health/24teen.html?ex=1178683200&en=f5624369d10dff6d&ei=5070 PLEASE feel free to give me unsolicited advice about career choices whether they be "W.C. I think that's a great idea" to "You are on mescaline right?"
5. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that "Mean Girls" is one of the greatest movies ever made. ("Uh, Bill, I'm starting to really question your judgement." "No, no, just give me a chance.") Okay, now that it has been airing on TNT like every other weekend, I've started to analyze it (like everything else in my life). It has a funny story that you can somewhat relate to, it is extremely quotable, and pretty funny. And for some of you guys out there that I may have not have sold yet, it has Rachel McAdams (and that also applies for some girls, I know JMS has a girl crush on her). So do yourself a favor and watch it -- it will be so fetch! By the way I feel like I identify with Gretchen Weiner (and not just because I like toaster stroodle) namely because she is not the center of the clique but lives on the side and tries to know everything about everyone (but obviously my hair is not big enough to be filled with that many secrets).
Okay, that's about it for now, I hope this satisfied your blog withdrawal (and you are no longer sitting in a corner shaking). Maybe I'll come out with something again soon cause lord knows I'm not doing anything on Surg Path.
1. I feel everyone knows I have an unhealthy obsession with Scrubs (case in point, instead of originally typing "Scrubs" right there, I typed "my friends" -- Freudian slip), but I am starting to realize it myself. For example, I'm starting to identify my feelings based on characters on Scrubs -- and not just characters, but time frame of characters. For example, early Elliot is failing despite always trying, insecure about herself, and pretty OCD about things in life that people shouldn't obsess over. On the other hand, later Elliot, is still OCD and has numerous qwerks, but is a hell of a lot more confident about those things. And I really feel the icing on the cake for my level of self-identification with J.D. happened this last week when (if you didn't see it, I dont' know why because you are obviously missing the best show on television) Elliot got egaged and he realized at the very end it should have been with him instead of with Keith. At which point, I teared up a little and thought to myself "Oh my lord how many things have I let slip through my hands in the past?" (Okay, yes, I have what is known in the medical community as "The Crazies.")
2. British female songwriters are popping up everywhere. Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm saying I like Amy Whinehouse. And in fact, I feel her song "Rehab" should be a theme song for The Circle (a name I am trying to have catch on for our friends in DC primarily based on how we all originally knew each other but also kinda for our unwillingness to mingle with others at social events). Let me quote (think of it as written spoken word), "They said go to rehab, and I said 'No, No, No'." In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if we acually had this conversation with someone one day (DK, KK, PP, MS, TF, and on and on).
3. I feel if I had to rank the things that I think will kill me, but are unlikely to do so, I would have to put "Accident involving my iPod" in the top 3. Understand I f*in love my iPod, however sometimes I let it take a hold of me a little too much. Two cases in point. The first occurred when driving back to Punxs'y a few weeks back when on a stretch of highway a little song by Journey called "Don't Stop Believing" came on my iPod. Needless to say, I started to sing along in my car (as I am fairly convinced I get amazing acoustics off my dashboard) and start to not so much pay attention to my odometer. By the time the chorus comes along (feel free to sing it in your head as you are reading), I look down and I'm going about 93 in a 55 area)...oops. Second example, today when I was walking to the hospital, The All American Rejects came on and be the self-convinced inner rockstar that I am (trust me, that's a blog onto itself), I actually had to stop myself from picking up my iPod and using it as a microphone as I crossed the entrance to the hospital, where there was uh, I don't know, about 10 cars pulling in and out). So, in the likelihood my body surfaces somewhere, don't be surprised if my iPod is clenched in my hand cold dead hand.
4. While I feel I may raise this topic numerous times in the future, I'll introduce it here -- I'm getting a little terrified about what to do with my life. I literally have to make this decision in the matter of a few weeks to months, and its really starting to press on me. I'm now getting to the point of asking random strangers what to do for a career. I'm currently leaning towards Adolescent Medicine, and I encourage you to read this article about it. Quite literally if I had to write a manifesto on this subject, this would be it. (Much thanks to KK for pointing this out to me). http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/24/health/24teen.html?ex=1178683200&en=f5624369d10dff6d&ei=5070 PLEASE feel free to give me unsolicited advice about career choices whether they be "W.C. I think that's a great idea" to "You are on mescaline right?"
5. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that "Mean Girls" is one of the greatest movies ever made. ("Uh, Bill, I'm starting to really question your judgement." "No, no, just give me a chance.") Okay, now that it has been airing on TNT like every other weekend, I've started to analyze it (like everything else in my life). It has a funny story that you can somewhat relate to, it is extremely quotable, and pretty funny. And for some of you guys out there that I may have not have sold yet, it has Rachel McAdams (and that also applies for some girls, I know JMS has a girl crush on her). So do yourself a favor and watch it -- it will be so fetch! By the way I feel like I identify with Gretchen Weiner (and not just because I like toaster stroodle) namely because she is not the center of the clique but lives on the side and tries to know everything about everyone (but obviously my hair is not big enough to be filled with that many secrets).
Okay, that's about it for now, I hope this satisfied your blog withdrawal (and you are no longer sitting in a corner shaking). Maybe I'll come out with something again soon cause lord knows I'm not doing anything on Surg Path.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Three Greek Letters
Note: This one goes out to my loyal Bucknell readers (aka S.B. - one of my favorite DG's) but I feel my other readers may still enjoy it (aka T.F.- one of my favorite GDI's).
As all Bucknellians know, you can know everything you need to know about someone in just 3 letters. Alright, this sounds fairly shallow (and probably rightly so) but it is a way of life. And for that matter, a way of life that I kinda like (maybe cause there is some sort of judging there, but who knows). Keep this all in mind.
So, as you may or may not know, the only "flare" I wear on my white coat is my Bucknell alumni pin. (Alright, that may have been a sharp turn from the previous paragraph but stay with me friends). A small golden oval with an touch of orange that hovers above my heart to remind me of a better time and happier place that helped me become the person I am today. (Mock all you want, but if you went to Bucknell and dont' find pride in that please refer to the "dead to me" list.) Beyond a tiny symbol of all that is good in this world, I also wear my Bucknell alumni pin for a second, more covert reason. As a signal to other Bucknellians.
In the same way I feel that Bucknell bumper stickers are designed to hunt down other Bucknellians (and don't say you haven't done the whole "OMG! I wonder who that is? Maybe I know them??"), I feel my flare is to do the same. I just sit there waiting for the day for that other Bucknellian to see it, realize what it is, and become my best friend. Thus, brings me to my current rotation, psychiatry. Yes, my friends psychiatry where the psychotic, the depressed, and the crazies rub elbows.
So about a week and a half ago, I was called down to the ER to admit a patient. As I turn the corner in this maze of bleeding extremities and screaming children, I see one man sitting quietly properly dressed in his Polo-Ralph Lauren collored shirt (unpopped, I should add). This patient quite unfortunately was diagnosed with schizophrenia having heard commanding voices for several years now.
Talking to this man, while very nice, you can tell something is not right there. His mind is clearly not a crystal vase (pronounced vazz) but rather that weird glass tile you sometimes see in hotel bathrooms that you can't quite see through but see the blur of the naked person on the other side. Despite all this, in the midst of questions about family history and voices in his head, the patient stops talking mid sentence and just stares at me. "Did you go to Bucknell?," I hear.
Yes, my alumni flare worked, and this time I hooked a crazy (said with affection). This schizophrenic patient was a Bucknellian. Instantenously his mind cleared like a downtown party when the cops show up. And, after answering "yes", what were the very first words out of his mouth? "What fraternity were you in?" I literally had to stop myself from laughing. Having been separated by about 20 years AND a deficit of mental health, this Bucknellian fell into the EXACT patterns I do even today. By the way, in case you were wondering, he was a Sig Chi (but by no means the stereotype we have all come to know).
However, my story does not end there. So about one week later, I'm sitting behind the nursing area on the psych floor studying. (The nursing area where the staff hangs out is separated from where the patients hang out by a waist-high, unlocked door. Obviously a safe, inpenetrable barrier reminisent of the Great Wall of China if a patient wanted to hurt someone). I hear someone walk up the station and clear their throat to get some attention, but I don't respond figuring one of the nurses will take care of it. After about 20 seconds without a response I hear "Hey Phi Psi!". Literally this hit me out of left field like K.K. hitting a bottle of tequilla.
Quite literally, this "shout out" made my week. The fact that after about a week of working with this Bison patient, he may not have remembered my name, but he remembered the ALL too important distinction of which fraternity to which I belonged. It just proves to me that the more I think my ways will change as I get older (by the way, total side bar, but I LOVE the title of P.P.'s facebook photo album "Some day we will grow up, thank god its not today"), the more they won't. So Bucknellians, embrace your three greek letters because sad but true, someday it may be all for which you are known.
As all Bucknellians know, you can know everything you need to know about someone in just 3 letters. Alright, this sounds fairly shallow (and probably rightly so) but it is a way of life. And for that matter, a way of life that I kinda like (maybe cause there is some sort of judging there, but who knows). Keep this all in mind.
So, as you may or may not know, the only "flare" I wear on my white coat is my Bucknell alumni pin. (Alright, that may have been a sharp turn from the previous paragraph but stay with me friends). A small golden oval with an touch of orange that hovers above my heart to remind me of a better time and happier place that helped me become the person I am today. (Mock all you want, but if you went to Bucknell and dont' find pride in that please refer to the "dead to me" list.) Beyond a tiny symbol of all that is good in this world, I also wear my Bucknell alumni pin for a second, more covert reason. As a signal to other Bucknellians.
In the same way I feel that Bucknell bumper stickers are designed to hunt down other Bucknellians (and don't say you haven't done the whole "OMG! I wonder who that is? Maybe I know them??"), I feel my flare is to do the same. I just sit there waiting for the day for that other Bucknellian to see it, realize what it is, and become my best friend. Thus, brings me to my current rotation, psychiatry. Yes, my friends psychiatry where the psychotic, the depressed, and the crazies rub elbows.
So about a week and a half ago, I was called down to the ER to admit a patient. As I turn the corner in this maze of bleeding extremities and screaming children, I see one man sitting quietly properly dressed in his Polo-Ralph Lauren collored shirt (unpopped, I should add). This patient quite unfortunately was diagnosed with schizophrenia having heard commanding voices for several years now.
Talking to this man, while very nice, you can tell something is not right there. His mind is clearly not a crystal vase (pronounced vazz) but rather that weird glass tile you sometimes see in hotel bathrooms that you can't quite see through but see the blur of the naked person on the other side. Despite all this, in the midst of questions about family history and voices in his head, the patient stops talking mid sentence and just stares at me. "Did you go to Bucknell?," I hear.
Yes, my alumni flare worked, and this time I hooked a crazy (said with affection). This schizophrenic patient was a Bucknellian. Instantenously his mind cleared like a downtown party when the cops show up. And, after answering "yes", what were the very first words out of his mouth? "What fraternity were you in?" I literally had to stop myself from laughing. Having been separated by about 20 years AND a deficit of mental health, this Bucknellian fell into the EXACT patterns I do even today. By the way, in case you were wondering, he was a Sig Chi (but by no means the stereotype we have all come to know).
However, my story does not end there. So about one week later, I'm sitting behind the nursing area on the psych floor studying. (The nursing area where the staff hangs out is separated from where the patients hang out by a waist-high, unlocked door. Obviously a safe, inpenetrable barrier reminisent of the Great Wall of China if a patient wanted to hurt someone). I hear someone walk up the station and clear their throat to get some attention, but I don't respond figuring one of the nurses will take care of it. After about 20 seconds without a response I hear "Hey Phi Psi!". Literally this hit me out of left field like K.K. hitting a bottle of tequilla.
Quite literally, this "shout out" made my week. The fact that after about a week of working with this Bison patient, he may not have remembered my name, but he remembered the ALL too important distinction of which fraternity to which I belonged. It just proves to me that the more I think my ways will change as I get older (by the way, total side bar, but I LOVE the title of P.P.'s facebook photo album "Some day we will grow up, thank god its not today"), the more they won't. So Bucknellians, embrace your three greek letters because sad but true, someday it may be all for which you are known.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
On Names (aka Why My Children Will Hate Me)
(Note: This turned out to be kinda long, but considering I haven't written anything in 20 days, I figure its acceptable.)
So it seems to me like there has been a lot of talk amongst various circles recently about relationships. That being said, please realize that I do NOT think in a straight forward manner but rather entirely in terms of the transitive property. Therefore: relationships --> marriage --> kids --> my kids --> my kid's names. Thus the topic of today's talk.
I'll be honest. I feel like I have put a lot of thought into it (even though when you see what I have come up with you won't believe me). On a personal level, I think it comes from my own thoughts on my name. I will admit that I think William Carl Anderson III is a pretty sweet name, and it has come to my advantage in the past. In fact, I had a philosophy teacher in college who said he thought even before reading my papers that they were going to be better than everyone else's simply via my name on the cover. And being the Bucknell elitist that I am, I love the hint of aristocracy that comes with "the third." However, "Bill" is by far one of the most boring names on the face of the earth (possibly only superceded by "Bob"). Each time I hear it the potential mediocrity it inspires cuts me like D.K./M.S./T.F. talking about girls at the Brass Monkey.
When it comes down to it, Bill is not even a name -- its either something that costs you money and the thought of it pisses you off once a month (I know it certainly does for me) or its legislation. Quick side bar, that being said, I still do like the School House Rock Song "I'm just a Bill sitting here on Capitol Hill..." and definitely want to reinact that at least once before I leave DC. Anyways, I still feel like my name is super boring. I feel like at this point in my life it be pretty damn hard to go with something else. Therefore, I do what I can to make things slightly better for myself. For example, I sign all my charts in the hospital "W.C. Anderson" (yes, I understand how sad that is but as a med student you need to hold on to what you got.)
Myself being essentially a lost cause, I decided to look to the future. And where (as a science nerd) of all the places in the world did I find my inspiration -- microanatomy class senior year of course! As I studied various structures that can never be seen with the naked eye, I came across 2 names. Henle and Huxley. (Okay, I will let you stop now, compose yourself whether it be to stop laughing, to question whether you really know me, or to prepare to judge.) Two perfect names ever paired together in (or should I say on) everyone of us. (I'm not going to tell you where they are or what they are. I'm leaving that up to you as the assignment for today.)
Yes, I understand these are strange names to say the least (and will most likely not tell my children their origin until my death bed). However, I think they f**kin rock. They have style, they have class, they have a hint of superiority. No one will ever have these same names! (unless any of you out there decide to steal them from me, in which case I will be ever so pissed and be forced to shank you). They have the opportunity to be completely unique individuals. With these names you can be anything they want from artist to CEO. Side bar number 2 -- don't say that names don't make a difference when it comes to careers! You will never ever have heard "Chief Justice BOOMER Esiason." He was pretty much stuck with football.
Yes, I understand the many and not so "potential" beatings they will incure during recess, and the subsequently directed hatred towards me because of it. However, I feel I'm going to do plenty of other things to screw them up so what's one more. Plus, I feel they will appreciate them when they are my age. Or at least it will make me happy for the entirity of their lives..haha!
Now some of you may be asking "Wait, you are the third, you are surely not going to let that die?" Well, I came up with a plan for that as well. I am thinking of also having a William Carl Anderson IV. However, I have had waay too many phone calls directed the wrong way and mail lost to having 2 people with the same name in the same house (my dad is Bill as well). Therefore, my son will not be William or Bill or even Will for that matter. Currently, I'm going with Liam. "Wait, Liam? I dont' get it?" Just look a little beyond the obvious -- wil-LIAM. If people can me named f-in "Topher" for Christopher, I can certainly go with Liam.
So now that I have most likely revealed way to much about myself and my future family, its about time to wrap this up. Yes, I understand the underlying "technicality" of having to have a mother involved to have these children and she (while unfortunate) will probably want some input on their names as well. But I have thought of at least 2 back ups for that. One, I can either adopt and cut out the middle woman. Or two, at the rate I'm going relationship-wise, I figure by the time comes for me to have kids, modern science would have invited a way that I can get a kid without the required "egg" or "uterus" (and I DON'T mean me getting pregnant a la the Schwarzenegger classic "Junior").
I ask you to think about your own name today, where has it gotten you so far, what has it inspired you to do, and how will you use it to warp your own children.
Oh, by the way, don't think I'm not above incorporating "Bucknell" into their names in one way or another. ;-)
So it seems to me like there has been a lot of talk amongst various circles recently about relationships. That being said, please realize that I do NOT think in a straight forward manner but rather entirely in terms of the transitive property. Therefore: relationships --> marriage --> kids --> my kids --> my kid's names. Thus the topic of today's talk.
I'll be honest. I feel like I have put a lot of thought into it (even though when you see what I have come up with you won't believe me). On a personal level, I think it comes from my own thoughts on my name. I will admit that I think William Carl Anderson III is a pretty sweet name, and it has come to my advantage in the past. In fact, I had a philosophy teacher in college who said he thought even before reading my papers that they were going to be better than everyone else's simply via my name on the cover. And being the Bucknell elitist that I am, I love the hint of aristocracy that comes with "the third." However, "Bill" is by far one of the most boring names on the face of the earth (possibly only superceded by "Bob"). Each time I hear it the potential mediocrity it inspires cuts me like D.K./M.S./T.F. talking about girls at the Brass Monkey.
When it comes down to it, Bill is not even a name -- its either something that costs you money and the thought of it pisses you off once a month (I know it certainly does for me) or its legislation. Quick side bar, that being said, I still do like the School House Rock Song "I'm just a Bill sitting here on Capitol Hill..." and definitely want to reinact that at least once before I leave DC. Anyways, I still feel like my name is super boring. I feel like at this point in my life it be pretty damn hard to go with something else. Therefore, I do what I can to make things slightly better for myself. For example, I sign all my charts in the hospital "W.C. Anderson" (yes, I understand how sad that is but as a med student you need to hold on to what you got.)
Myself being essentially a lost cause, I decided to look to the future. And where (as a science nerd) of all the places in the world did I find my inspiration -- microanatomy class senior year of course! As I studied various structures that can never be seen with the naked eye, I came across 2 names. Henle and Huxley. (Okay, I will let you stop now, compose yourself whether it be to stop laughing, to question whether you really know me, or to prepare to judge.) Two perfect names ever paired together in (or should I say on) everyone of us. (I'm not going to tell you where they are or what they are. I'm leaving that up to you as the assignment for today.)
Yes, I understand these are strange names to say the least (and will most likely not tell my children their origin until my death bed). However, I think they f**kin rock. They have style, they have class, they have a hint of superiority. No one will ever have these same names! (unless any of you out there decide to steal them from me, in which case I will be ever so pissed and be forced to shank you). They have the opportunity to be completely unique individuals. With these names you can be anything they want from artist to CEO. Side bar number 2 -- don't say that names don't make a difference when it comes to careers! You will never ever have heard "Chief Justice BOOMER Esiason." He was pretty much stuck with football.
Yes, I understand the many and not so "potential" beatings they will incure during recess, and the subsequently directed hatred towards me because of it. However, I feel I'm going to do plenty of other things to screw them up so what's one more. Plus, I feel they will appreciate them when they are my age. Or at least it will make me happy for the entirity of their lives..haha!
Now some of you may be asking "Wait, you are the third, you are surely not going to let that die?" Well, I came up with a plan for that as well. I am thinking of also having a William Carl Anderson IV. However, I have had waay too many phone calls directed the wrong way and mail lost to having 2 people with the same name in the same house (my dad is Bill as well). Therefore, my son will not be William or Bill or even Will for that matter. Currently, I'm going with Liam. "Wait, Liam? I dont' get it?" Just look a little beyond the obvious -- wil-LIAM. If people can me named f-in "Topher" for Christopher, I can certainly go with Liam.
So now that I have most likely revealed way to much about myself and my future family, its about time to wrap this up. Yes, I understand the underlying "technicality" of having to have a mother involved to have these children and she (while unfortunate) will probably want some input on their names as well. But I have thought of at least 2 back ups for that. One, I can either adopt and cut out the middle woman. Or two, at the rate I'm going relationship-wise, I figure by the time comes for me to have kids, modern science would have invited a way that I can get a kid without the required "egg" or "uterus" (and I DON'T mean me getting pregnant a la the Schwarzenegger classic "Junior").
I ask you to think about your own name today, where has it gotten you so far, what has it inspired you to do, and how will you use it to warp your own children.
Oh, by the way, don't think I'm not above incorporating "Bucknell" into their names in one way or another. ;-)
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Your Homework
Alright, I need to make this the quickest post ever (well, maybe not ever, but fairly short). If you are like me (and fortunately most of you are not), you are swamped with a lot of work right now that is sucking the fun out of your life. For me, I have to write a "mega" history and physical on my patient with transient left sided hemiparesis and aphasia (extra bonus points for the first person to respond with what this could be). So, I decided to give you an assignment of your own, albeit a fun one.
You need to go to http://www.bucknell.edu/x33182.xml and download the document called "Game Notes vs. Holy Cross." It is 47 pages of Bucknell Basketball procrastination-filled bliss. Read it, memorize it, become inspired by it. You should have it completed by 4:30 pm on Friday, March 9th. You are permitted to work in groups to complete it. Bonus points if you wear orange and blue as you are doing it.
'Ray Bucknell!
Funny side note: You know that people know that you are obsessed when you have the following conversation;
Me: "I have to get out of work early on Friday, I have a VERY important event I need to attend."
Med Student #1: "Really? What is it?"
Me: "Well, what do you think?"
Med Student #2: "Its not another Bucknell Happy Hour, is it?!"
You need to go to http://www.bucknell.edu/x33182.xml and download the document called "Game Notes vs. Holy Cross." It is 47 pages of Bucknell Basketball procrastination-filled bliss. Read it, memorize it, become inspired by it. You should have it completed by 4:30 pm on Friday, March 9th. You are permitted to work in groups to complete it. Bonus points if you wear orange and blue as you are doing it.
'Ray Bucknell!
Funny side note: You know that people know that you are obsessed when you have the following conversation;
Me: "I have to get out of work early on Friday, I have a VERY important event I need to attend."
Med Student #1: "Really? What is it?"
Me: "Well, what do you think?"
Med Student #2: "Its not another Bucknell Happy Hour, is it?!"
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Little Apartment on the Potomac
In the past few days, with whom do you most identify? Oh, that's a easy one. Laura Ingalls Wilder. Yes, you heard me right, Laura f-in Ingalls Wilder! I can honestly say I thought that I would never say that (and I have said a lot of crazy shit in my time). Here, let me explain...
So for the last few weeks my apartment has had issues with hot water. And by issues, I mean instead of hot water coming out of my shower, remnants of the last remaining glaciers on Earth would come out, and I swear I saw an small Inuit man with a pack of sled dogs fly past my toilet. It has been "tolerable" for the past few weeks but this weekend, I reached my breaking point with this subzero shower. On Saturday, I went to shower before meeting my dearest Bucknell DC friends at JMS's Law Revue (by the way, great show despite being mildly disturbed by the number of songs related to wanting to make lots of money and willing to do anything to do it --- hmmm wonder why they went into law school? To help their fellow man perhaps?). Unfortunately the water never got warm and only got colder and colder until I am pretty sure had I had some cherry flavoring, I could have made a snow cone with the shaved ice coming out of the shower head. Thus fearing for the safety of my own flesh, I decided I must forgo the shower, and go to the show relatively unkempt. Thus my apologizes for DK and PP who were sitting next to me if I was exuding any body odor.
So I awoke Sunday morning thinking obviously the hot water must be fixed by now. However, it was even WORSE, so much so that I almost decided to skip church for fear of getting looks from the fellow parishioners. Yet, my prayers went answered and St. Steamy McSoapy (just in case you don't belive me, he was 18th century Monk from Scotland who helped clean the poor) intervened and I got one shot at hot water.
Now you may be asking, where the hell does Little House on the Prarie fit in with this rant? Well, odds are you aren't thinking about that, but rather just happy you aren't working right now and reading this instead. So, Monday morning when I had to go to work, push came to straw and I broke. I awoke. Cold water. Lots of swearing. Angry call to my building manager. Then panic about how I am going to have to get ready for work. Suddenly, my pioneer ancestors' ingenuity came to mind on how to solve my dilemma. Boil the water! That's right, I filled up my biggest pot and put it on the stove. I then preceded to pour the water into the basin that was my bathroom sink and then used a washcloth to give myself a pseudo-sponge bath.
Now I must admit it must have been a funny site, well funny but sexy because it is ME (why are you silently laughing to yourself??). However, that has been the way I have been cleaning myself for the last 2 days and most likely will have to tomorrow as well.
Praise the Lord, they are "apparently" coming to fix the hot water tomorrow afternoon, but honestly I won't be surprised if it is another week of boiled water and desheveled appearances (which I am sure doesn't make my patients question trusting me with their lives at all). So, Laura Ingalls Wilder, I salute you, and I realize if I lived in late 19th century America I would have shot myself with a musket.
So for the last few weeks my apartment has had issues with hot water. And by issues, I mean instead of hot water coming out of my shower, remnants of the last remaining glaciers on Earth would come out, and I swear I saw an small Inuit man with a pack of sled dogs fly past my toilet. It has been "tolerable" for the past few weeks but this weekend, I reached my breaking point with this subzero shower. On Saturday, I went to shower before meeting my dearest Bucknell DC friends at JMS's Law Revue (by the way, great show despite being mildly disturbed by the number of songs related to wanting to make lots of money and willing to do anything to do it --- hmmm wonder why they went into law school? To help their fellow man perhaps?). Unfortunately the water never got warm and only got colder and colder until I am pretty sure had I had some cherry flavoring, I could have made a snow cone with the shaved ice coming out of the shower head. Thus fearing for the safety of my own flesh, I decided I must forgo the shower, and go to the show relatively unkempt. Thus my apologizes for DK and PP who were sitting next to me if I was exuding any body odor.
So I awoke Sunday morning thinking obviously the hot water must be fixed by now. However, it was even WORSE, so much so that I almost decided to skip church for fear of getting looks from the fellow parishioners. Yet, my prayers went answered and St. Steamy McSoapy (just in case you don't belive me, he was 18th century Monk from Scotland who helped clean the poor) intervened and I got one shot at hot water.
Now you may be asking, where the hell does Little House on the Prarie fit in with this rant? Well, odds are you aren't thinking about that, but rather just happy you aren't working right now and reading this instead. So, Monday morning when I had to go to work, push came to straw and I broke. I awoke. Cold water. Lots of swearing. Angry call to my building manager. Then panic about how I am going to have to get ready for work. Suddenly, my pioneer ancestors' ingenuity came to mind on how to solve my dilemma. Boil the water! That's right, I filled up my biggest pot and put it on the stove. I then preceded to pour the water into the basin that was my bathroom sink and then used a washcloth to give myself a pseudo-sponge bath.
Now I must admit it must have been a funny site, well funny but sexy because it is ME (why are you silently laughing to yourself??). However, that has been the way I have been cleaning myself for the last 2 days and most likely will have to tomorrow as well.
Praise the Lord, they are "apparently" coming to fix the hot water tomorrow afternoon, but honestly I won't be surprised if it is another week of boiled water and desheveled appearances (which I am sure doesn't make my patients question trusting me with their lives at all). So, Laura Ingalls Wilder, I salute you, and I realize if I lived in late 19th century America I would have shot myself with a musket.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Randomness Vol. 1
First off, I am apparently not doing well with my own promise to update this more than once per week. And trust me, it is definitely not because I have been doing work all this time (as will be evident below). Nonetheless, threats of my friends being overcome by boredom at work if I don't update this have twisted my arm into updating more often (which honestly makes me question the productivity of our nation's workforce as well as our children's future considering one of the most vocal readers is an elementary school teacher who does this at work!).
So, this week I decided to take a break from medical stories for a little bit of random observations that have been swirling around my head for the last week or so.
1) I've decided my newest ambition is to end up on Best Week Ever within the next 3 years (or at least on "I Love the '00s" whenever that comes out). Think of it -- Michael Ian Black, Hal Sparks and the like comment on what's going on in pop culture and cut down famous people. I do that now and don't even get paid for it! Plus I feel my ability to exploit the misfortunes of my closest friends for my own personal enjoyment is pretty good practice. Furthermore, most of the people on these shows started out with a popular website as a launching pad. So, do your part to help me by spreading my blog and if possible, pass it along to the execs at VH1 (which by the way has relegated music videos to 1 countdown show a week -- how did VH1 become a pop culture showcase and MTV become soft-core porn for high school students?)
2) MAE's "The Everglow" is officially one of my favorite albums of all time (much thanks to JMS and KK for introducing me to it). Do yourself a favor and download it, steal it, rip it, and love it. And if you don't like it, welcome to the "dead to me" list.
3) In the spirit of Valentine's Day, I'm pretty sure everyone I know is currently in a relationship train wreck. And like all accidents, you don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself. They range from trying to clean a slate of old weird hook-ups, enlisting your friends in group stalking in the hopes of dating someone, being the third corner of a love triangle that rivals most soap stories, dating someone who is slowly drinving you insane, or just being completely alone (and don't even try to kid yourselves, you all know exactly who you are too!). The best part about all these mini-relationship-Katrinas is despite each person's shortcomings, we give each other relationship advice -- AND actually listen to it! Thus we are ensuring ourselves many countless years of blissful disaster. (I would say we need to stop listening to each other, but then you don't get the enjoyment of the ensuing emotional scarring).
4) On the lines of relationships, today not only did I suggest but also I totally made inappropriate jokes about using the morning after pill with one of my friends. Now I'm debating about whether I will actually be going to hell for telling this person that she should "definitely" use it or where and how to get it. Ah, Catholic guilt mixed with advanced medical science knowledge -- its the best way to go. By the way for my promiscuous readers out there, in case you are in need of Plan B but don't want to go to CVS only to have the 45-year old, heavy-set, ultra-Christian employee silently judging you as a whore with her eyes, you can simply take 2 birth control pills, wait 12 hours, and take 2 again. Happy aborting!
5) This weekend I realized that my life has officially reached a new low of boredom/completely nerdiness/procrasinaton. I watched 5 straight hours of an 8 hour documentary on the Presidents on the History Channel. While this may seem bad to start out with, I've actually seen this documentary not once, but yes, twice before. That's right, for a total of about roughly 20 hours of Presidential trivia. Yes, mock at liberty, but I bet I know more about Washington through FDR than you do (yes, my life is very very sad).
6) I've recognized that I spend approximately 60% of my waking hours on Facebook. If you update something on Facebook, I know about it even before it makes the "News Feed." While this is a crippling and quite possibly grade-affecting addiction, I will probably not be stopping anytime soon, for it is the most supreme advancement in stalking technology to date. Fortunately today I realized I am not alone on this one when I noticed while at the med school library, 5 out of 5 future doctors sitting around me were on Facebook as well. Thus setting up 10 years from now having patients wait in the waiting room while your physician checks out that "its complicated" with someone you are seeing and that "Braveheart" was one of your favorite movies.
That's about all I got for now. I definitely feel like there were a few more things I wanted to say, but I can save that for Vol. 2.
So, this week I decided to take a break from medical stories for a little bit of random observations that have been swirling around my head for the last week or so.
1) I've decided my newest ambition is to end up on Best Week Ever within the next 3 years (or at least on "I Love the '00s" whenever that comes out). Think of it -- Michael Ian Black, Hal Sparks and the like comment on what's going on in pop culture and cut down famous people. I do that now and don't even get paid for it! Plus I feel my ability to exploit the misfortunes of my closest friends for my own personal enjoyment is pretty good practice. Furthermore, most of the people on these shows started out with a popular website as a launching pad. So, do your part to help me by spreading my blog and if possible, pass it along to the execs at VH1 (which by the way has relegated music videos to 1 countdown show a week -- how did VH1 become a pop culture showcase and MTV become soft-core porn for high school students?)
2) MAE's "The Everglow" is officially one of my favorite albums of all time (much thanks to JMS and KK for introducing me to it). Do yourself a favor and download it, steal it, rip it, and love it. And if you don't like it, welcome to the "dead to me" list.
3) In the spirit of Valentine's Day, I'm pretty sure everyone I know is currently in a relationship train wreck. And like all accidents, you don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself. They range from trying to clean a slate of old weird hook-ups, enlisting your friends in group stalking in the hopes of dating someone, being the third corner of a love triangle that rivals most soap stories, dating someone who is slowly drinving you insane, or just being completely alone (and don't even try to kid yourselves, you all know exactly who you are too!). The best part about all these mini-relationship-Katrinas is despite each person's shortcomings, we give each other relationship advice -- AND actually listen to it! Thus we are ensuring ourselves many countless years of blissful disaster. (I would say we need to stop listening to each other, but then you don't get the enjoyment of the ensuing emotional scarring).
4) On the lines of relationships, today not only did I suggest but also I totally made inappropriate jokes about using the morning after pill with one of my friends. Now I'm debating about whether I will actually be going to hell for telling this person that she should "definitely" use it or where and how to get it. Ah, Catholic guilt mixed with advanced medical science knowledge -- its the best way to go. By the way for my promiscuous readers out there, in case you are in need of Plan B but don't want to go to CVS only to have the 45-year old, heavy-set, ultra-Christian employee silently judging you as a whore with her eyes, you can simply take 2 birth control pills, wait 12 hours, and take 2 again. Happy aborting!
5) This weekend I realized that my life has officially reached a new low of boredom/completely nerdiness/procrasinaton. I watched 5 straight hours of an 8 hour documentary on the Presidents on the History Channel. While this may seem bad to start out with, I've actually seen this documentary not once, but yes, twice before. That's right, for a total of about roughly 20 hours of Presidential trivia. Yes, mock at liberty, but I bet I know more about Washington through FDR than you do (yes, my life is very very sad).
6) I've recognized that I spend approximately 60% of my waking hours on Facebook. If you update something on Facebook, I know about it even before it makes the "News Feed." While this is a crippling and quite possibly grade-affecting addiction, I will probably not be stopping anytime soon, for it is the most supreme advancement in stalking technology to date. Fortunately today I realized I am not alone on this one when I noticed while at the med school library, 5 out of 5 future doctors sitting around me were on Facebook as well. Thus setting up 10 years from now having patients wait in the waiting room while your physician checks out that "its complicated" with someone you are seeing and that "Braveheart" was one of your favorite movies.
That's about all I got for now. I definitely feel like there were a few more things I wanted to say, but I can save that for Vol. 2.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Adventures in Sigmoidoscopy
So, let me first start off by apologizing for being away for a week. I honestly had no idea that my blog became such a key part of people's everyday procrastination. I was thinking of making it up to you by giving you like 2 posts at once, but then I realized that if I made them 2 separate posts on different days, that will give you twice the procrastination (I dont' know if that made sense when I explained it, but it certainly did in my head). Plus I realized I actually have to study occassionally.
Just to update you, I have been working for the last 2 weeks with a gastroenterologist (digestive system doctor) at his private practice. He is a real nice guy and is ALL about the teaching. In fact, there have been numerous times where he has handed patients several week-old People magazines (currently the ones featuring the late Anna Nicole Smith when she had her baby and Jessica Simpson when she started dating John Mayer, which I think is hilarous that he recommends these) and left the patients in the room for like 15 minutes at a time so he can show me other patient's charts who are not even alive! Also, I feel I should mention he is a small Filipino man who laughs like Pai Mei from Kill Bill Vol.2 (if you have yet to see this movie, do yourself a favor and rent it NOW).
Anyways, being a GI doc (abbreviation for gastroenterologist), my doc performs all kinds of colonoscopies (up the butt), endoscopies (down the mouth), and flexible sigmoidoscopies (like a colonoscopy but can be done in the office). So the other day we had a patient come in who need a flex sig; however, she had no insurance and was low income so it was designated a "charity case" to be done free of charge. Evidently, "charity case" is equivalent in my doctor's mind to "great teaching opportunity with high potential for disaster but low potential for a lawsuit." Thus about 30 seconds before the patient walks in the door my doctor told me that I would be doing this whole flex sig MYSELF.
Okay, lets just stop a moment and see what this really entails. I, a third year med student (NOT a certified doctor), will be placing about 2 feet of 1 inch diameter electronic tubing up a complete strangers ass unassisted while the patient is completely conscious. Obviously, only good can come of this situaton. And best of all, we are apparently not going to inform the patient of this fact until after we have started.
Well, once we have the patient facing the wall (so she can convienently not see who is actually doing the work), I lube up the flex sig and was instructed to "go for it." It is pretty much a video game with little knobs that let you see in all directions, but instead of being Link looking for the triforce in the Legend of Zelda, you are a medical student looking for a crazy mass in a colon -- same diff. For the first five minutes I blindly fed this tubing into this patient's lower GI tract pretending to know what I was doing all the while talking confidently like I have done this a million times. I should mention that I have become unbelieveably good at convincing patient's into trusting me even though I am the LAST person they should.
Suddenly, as I made a corner with a turn of the knob, everything came into view like one of those Magic Eye posters where you stare at it forever and finally see that damn rocketship. I was then able to guide the flex sig down to the transverse colon with the accuracy and speed of one of Legolas's arrows into an orc (come on, when you saw that in LOTR, you tell me you didn't want to take up archery....or am I alone on this one?). I must say I was quite proud of myself because 1) I did it and 2) my patient did not scream in horrible pain (always a good thing when practicing the art of medicine).
Anyways, my doctor was thoroughly impressed with my work -- seriously, he went on about if for the rest of the day. I think he thinks I have a real gift while meanwhile it was a whole crap load of luck. In fact, I got a pretty "delicious" reward for my good work....but we will leave that interesting adventure until the next blog (hopefully tomorrow).
So, class what did we learn today.....
1. When a doctor leaves you in the room in your underwear because "he has another patient to see" or "has some results to check out" be highly suspect -- most likely it has nothing to do with that and he is exploiting your ignorance.
2. When getting a procedure peformed, ask EVERY question you can think of and take NOTHING for granted, even the doctor doing the procedure (oh, there have been times when I was in surgery and the "surgeon" was not even in the room for the procedure!).
3. When you see a medical student in the room, be afraid, be very very afraid because at that point you turn from "patient" to "test dummy A."
4. While medical students wear the white coat and know the lingo, they are in fact NOT doctors -- remember that fact especially when they come near you with something that may look uncomfortable if it was jabbed in an oriface.
Just to update you, I have been working for the last 2 weeks with a gastroenterologist (digestive system doctor) at his private practice. He is a real nice guy and is ALL about the teaching. In fact, there have been numerous times where he has handed patients several week-old People magazines (currently the ones featuring the late Anna Nicole Smith when she had her baby and Jessica Simpson when she started dating John Mayer, which I think is hilarous that he recommends these) and left the patients in the room for like 15 minutes at a time so he can show me other patient's charts who are not even alive! Also, I feel I should mention he is a small Filipino man who laughs like Pai Mei from Kill Bill Vol.2 (if you have yet to see this movie, do yourself a favor and rent it NOW).
Anyways, being a GI doc (abbreviation for gastroenterologist), my doc performs all kinds of colonoscopies (up the butt), endoscopies (down the mouth), and flexible sigmoidoscopies (like a colonoscopy but can be done in the office). So the other day we had a patient come in who need a flex sig; however, she had no insurance and was low income so it was designated a "charity case" to be done free of charge. Evidently, "charity case" is equivalent in my doctor's mind to "great teaching opportunity with high potential for disaster but low potential for a lawsuit." Thus about 30 seconds before the patient walks in the door my doctor told me that I would be doing this whole flex sig MYSELF.
Okay, lets just stop a moment and see what this really entails. I, a third year med student (NOT a certified doctor), will be placing about 2 feet of 1 inch diameter electronic tubing up a complete strangers ass unassisted while the patient is completely conscious. Obviously, only good can come of this situaton. And best of all, we are apparently not going to inform the patient of this fact until after we have started.
Well, once we have the patient facing the wall (so she can convienently not see who is actually doing the work), I lube up the flex sig and was instructed to "go for it." It is pretty much a video game with little knobs that let you see in all directions, but instead of being Link looking for the triforce in the Legend of Zelda, you are a medical student looking for a crazy mass in a colon -- same diff. For the first five minutes I blindly fed this tubing into this patient's lower GI tract pretending to know what I was doing all the while talking confidently like I have done this a million times. I should mention that I have become unbelieveably good at convincing patient's into trusting me even though I am the LAST person they should.
Suddenly, as I made a corner with a turn of the knob, everything came into view like one of those Magic Eye posters where you stare at it forever and finally see that damn rocketship. I was then able to guide the flex sig down to the transverse colon with the accuracy and speed of one of Legolas's arrows into an orc (come on, when you saw that in LOTR, you tell me you didn't want to take up archery....or am I alone on this one?). I must say I was quite proud of myself because 1) I did it and 2) my patient did not scream in horrible pain (always a good thing when practicing the art of medicine).
Anyways, my doctor was thoroughly impressed with my work -- seriously, he went on about if for the rest of the day. I think he thinks I have a real gift while meanwhile it was a whole crap load of luck. In fact, I got a pretty "delicious" reward for my good work....but we will leave that interesting adventure until the next blog (hopefully tomorrow).
So, class what did we learn today.....
1. When a doctor leaves you in the room in your underwear because "he has another patient to see" or "has some results to check out" be highly suspect -- most likely it has nothing to do with that and he is exploiting your ignorance.
2. When getting a procedure peformed, ask EVERY question you can think of and take NOTHING for granted, even the doctor doing the procedure (oh, there have been times when I was in surgery and the "surgeon" was not even in the room for the procedure!).
3. When you see a medical student in the room, be afraid, be very very afraid because at that point you turn from "patient" to "test dummy A."
4. While medical students wear the white coat and know the lingo, they are in fact NOT doctors -- remember that fact especially when they come near you with something that may look uncomfortable if it was jabbed in an oriface.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Medical Student Hypochondria
For those of you who don't know, there is an actual medical term called "Medical Student Hypochondria" (personally one of my favorite psych terms right up there with "word salad"). The stats say that anywhere from 75 to 90% of medical students are afflicted with this condition at one point or another during their medical careers. And of course, being the worrier that I am, am of no exception.
Losely defined, a medical student hears about a disease, convinces themselves that they have it no matter how rare it may be (ie "Why yes, I do feel like I may be getting Dengue Fever despite the fact that I haven't been hanging out with mosquitos in Southeast Asia."), until another disease comes along to take the place of that one (ie "What was I thinking? Of course it is not that, my leg pain is obviously due to some kind of osteosarcoma"). Some of my personal "favorites" that I have diagnosed myself with thus far are TB, spontaneous pneumothorax (okay, read about this one and you'll see how absurd it is -- and I have actually tried to listen to my own chest with my own stethoscope to rule it out), and pretty much every lymphoma/leukemia out there ("obviously its a cancer and not the 4.5 hours of sleep I got last night that is making me so tired").
So anyways, back to my point. So this morning as I was nursing my ginger ale (somehow still dehydrated and nauseous from this past weekend's activities), I felt like everything on which the doctor lecturing was somehow directed at me. We were talking of all things after a weekend of Super Bowl food and alcohol consumption -- nutrition and hyperlipidemia (facey word for high cholesterol). As we rattled off the risk factors including lack of exercise (check), binge drinking (check), and fatty foods (check), I swear I felt to start get an unusual pain in my heart that seemed to be radiating down my left arm.
Now mind you, I am only 24, and 24 year olds dont' get heart attacks, right?........well, that's what I thought until we got to the next lecture. Then our resident started talking about a form of hyperlipidemia that gives people heart attacks in their early 20s. That was pretty much the go ahead to place a major crack in the dam holding back all of the crazies in my head....
When was the last time I had my cholesterol checked? Have I ever had my cholesterol checked?? Okay, no one in my family has high cholesterol, but what if somehow it went unnoticed until it strikes me??? Oh lord, what if this is the big one?? Jesus, Mr. Rogers, and the Croc Hunter, what are you all doing here ?!?!?
Okay, needless to say I did not bite the big one, and somehow my heart pain magically disappeared by the time lecture had ended -- but it was a scary 5 minutes nonethless for your average paraonid med student. Following my "ordeal" of the day, I realized i obviously need to take some "drastic" measures. So, I went to Subway, and got a delicious sub with 6 grams of fat or less --- because after all, I am apparently high risk. ;-)
P.S. I was informed over the weekend that my blog is spreading around and has surpassed my expected readership of 1 person. Thanks, and I hope not to disappoint too much..ha.
Losely defined, a medical student hears about a disease, convinces themselves that they have it no matter how rare it may be (ie "Why yes, I do feel like I may be getting Dengue Fever despite the fact that I haven't been hanging out with mosquitos in Southeast Asia."), until another disease comes along to take the place of that one (ie "What was I thinking? Of course it is not that, my leg pain is obviously due to some kind of osteosarcoma"). Some of my personal "favorites" that I have diagnosed myself with thus far are TB, spontaneous pneumothorax (okay, read about this one and you'll see how absurd it is -- and I have actually tried to listen to my own chest with my own stethoscope to rule it out), and pretty much every lymphoma/leukemia out there ("obviously its a cancer and not the 4.5 hours of sleep I got last night that is making me so tired").
So anyways, back to my point. So this morning as I was nursing my ginger ale (somehow still dehydrated and nauseous from this past weekend's activities), I felt like everything on which the doctor lecturing was somehow directed at me. We were talking of all things after a weekend of Super Bowl food and alcohol consumption -- nutrition and hyperlipidemia (facey word for high cholesterol). As we rattled off the risk factors including lack of exercise (check), binge drinking (check), and fatty foods (check), I swear I felt to start get an unusual pain in my heart that seemed to be radiating down my left arm.
Now mind you, I am only 24, and 24 year olds dont' get heart attacks, right?........well, that's what I thought until we got to the next lecture. Then our resident started talking about a form of hyperlipidemia that gives people heart attacks in their early 20s. That was pretty much the go ahead to place a major crack in the dam holding back all of the crazies in my head....
When was the last time I had my cholesterol checked? Have I ever had my cholesterol checked?? Okay, no one in my family has high cholesterol, but what if somehow it went unnoticed until it strikes me??? Oh lord, what if this is the big one?? Jesus, Mr. Rogers, and the Croc Hunter, what are you all doing here ?!?!?
Okay, needless to say I did not bite the big one, and somehow my heart pain magically disappeared by the time lecture had ended -- but it was a scary 5 minutes nonethless for your average paraonid med student. Following my "ordeal" of the day, I realized i obviously need to take some "drastic" measures. So, I went to Subway, and got a delicious sub with 6 grams of fat or less --- because after all, I am apparently high risk. ;-)
P.S. I was informed over the weekend that my blog is spreading around and has surpassed my expected readership of 1 person. Thanks, and I hope not to disappoint too much..ha.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
It's Groundhog Day! (well, almost)
So, tomorrow is February 2nd better known as Groundhog's Day. As you may know, I am from Punxsutawney, PA the thriving metropolis of 6000 people were this holiday takes place. And, if you don't know this about me either you never spoke to me before or are possibly dead to me. I figured I would impart some wisdom upon you about Punxsutawney and this holiday of holidays upon which my entire town's economy survives (and I'm by NO means making an exaggeration here). So, take these fun facts and impress (or in most cases horrify) your co-workers and fellow students tomorrow....
-Punxsutawney is a Native American word for "Town of the Sandflies" -- yes, it is built on swampy land around a creek.
-If you want to blend in with the locals (and for god sakes, who doesn't??), don't call it Punxsutawney but rather Punxs'y (pronounced Punks-ee).
-The holiday actually began in Germany as "Candlemas Day" on which they looked for a badger to predict the weather. Having found no badgers in Western PA when the immigrated here, they used the next best thing, a groundhog (ah, the Germans, just another thing for which you can thank these fun loving people)
-When the holiday was "revived" by some "businessmen" in the late 1800s, they actually took the day to hunt and EAT the groundhog (apparently it tastes like chicken). Luckily, they soon realized that it would maybe be a better holiday if it didn't center around eating a large squirrel.
-The guy that pulls Phil out of his stump is named Bill and he is a mortician (no, really I'm serious).
-Phil tells his forcast by speaking in "Groundhog-ese". I would tell you what this sounds like however, I am not fluent in this melodic language.
-The only way to become a member of the Inner Circle (the guys with the top hats) is to have someone die or retire. Its pretty much like the Supreme Court except the Supreme Court has had 2 more woman on it than in the history of the Inner Circle.
-The place where Phil's stump is known as "Gobbler's Knob" and is about 1/2 mile from my house (you can actually hear the festivities from my front lawn at 4:45 am). So, funny story side bar.... My senior year of high school I hosted a foreign exchange student for one day (yes, one day) for Groundhog's Day. Essentially we ship them in from all around the area to show them the great American festivity of Groundhog Day (what a great way to taint their view of the USA). Anyways, when I told him about "Gobbler's Knob" there was an awkward conversation that followed regarding how it has nothing to do with the sexual euphanisms both of those words imply. Ah, the beauty of American slang gone horribly wrong.
-The other 364 days of the year, Phil lives with his wife Phyllis in the Groundhog Zoo located conveniently in the public library. For some reason I am the only one who doesn't find this horribly strange.
-Every summer there is a Groundhog Picnic where they give Phil a "Groundhog Punch" to make him live longer. Essentially, they get the groundhog drunk. Shhh, don't tell PETA!
-On a personal note, I actually had a pet groundhog as a child. They gave one to each family of the Inner Circle members (of whom my dad used to be one). Ah, this is a great idea, children and wild animals -- rabies anyone??? Anyways, his name was Buddy but unfortunately we had to give him back because he was not eating well. My sisters actually cried on this day.
-The movie was filmed in Woodstock, Illinois NOT Punxs'y. So NOTHING looks like it does in the move, so GET OVER IT! Funny side bar #2....They had a special premiere for the movie for our town. However, our town did not have a movie theater to show it so we had to have it at the closest theater -- 20 miles away!
-The same way NYC had those cows all over the place and DC had the pandas/elephants/donkeys, we have giant groundhogs. Most actually look pretty nice and when we get a new one it literally makes the front page of the newspaper.
-Incidently Groundhog's Day is about 6 weeks from the first day of Spring. So don't go ruining this scam for us!
That's all I can come up with for now, but there are probably countless other stories. I hope this gives you more insight into both Groundhog Day and me. Now can you see how I turned out coming from a town where there is an image of a groundhog every 5 feet, where you get your groceries at the Groundhog Plaza, where the high school mascot is the Punxs'y Chuck (short for woodchuck), and where I have attended this event every year from 5th to 12th grade and then once in college.
-Punxsutawney is a Native American word for "Town of the Sandflies" -- yes, it is built on swampy land around a creek.
-If you want to blend in with the locals (and for god sakes, who doesn't??), don't call it Punxsutawney but rather Punxs'y (pronounced Punks-ee).
-The holiday actually began in Germany as "Candlemas Day" on which they looked for a badger to predict the weather. Having found no badgers in Western PA when the immigrated here, they used the next best thing, a groundhog (ah, the Germans, just another thing for which you can thank these fun loving people)
-When the holiday was "revived" by some "businessmen" in the late 1800s, they actually took the day to hunt and EAT the groundhog (apparently it tastes like chicken). Luckily, they soon realized that it would maybe be a better holiday if it didn't center around eating a large squirrel.
-The guy that pulls Phil out of his stump is named Bill and he is a mortician (no, really I'm serious).
-Phil tells his forcast by speaking in "Groundhog-ese". I would tell you what this sounds like however, I am not fluent in this melodic language.
-The only way to become a member of the Inner Circle (the guys with the top hats) is to have someone die or retire. Its pretty much like the Supreme Court except the Supreme Court has had 2 more woman on it than in the history of the Inner Circle.
-The place where Phil's stump is known as "Gobbler's Knob" and is about 1/2 mile from my house (you can actually hear the festivities from my front lawn at 4:45 am). So, funny story side bar.... My senior year of high school I hosted a foreign exchange student for one day (yes, one day) for Groundhog's Day. Essentially we ship them in from all around the area to show them the great American festivity of Groundhog Day (what a great way to taint their view of the USA). Anyways, when I told him about "Gobbler's Knob" there was an awkward conversation that followed regarding how it has nothing to do with the sexual euphanisms both of those words imply. Ah, the beauty of American slang gone horribly wrong.
-The other 364 days of the year, Phil lives with his wife Phyllis in the Groundhog Zoo located conveniently in the public library. For some reason I am the only one who doesn't find this horribly strange.
-Every summer there is a Groundhog Picnic where they give Phil a "Groundhog Punch" to make him live longer. Essentially, they get the groundhog drunk. Shhh, don't tell PETA!
-On a personal note, I actually had a pet groundhog as a child. They gave one to each family of the Inner Circle members (of whom my dad used to be one). Ah, this is a great idea, children and wild animals -- rabies anyone??? Anyways, his name was Buddy but unfortunately we had to give him back because he was not eating well. My sisters actually cried on this day.
-The movie was filmed in Woodstock, Illinois NOT Punxs'y. So NOTHING looks like it does in the move, so GET OVER IT! Funny side bar #2....They had a special premiere for the movie for our town. However, our town did not have a movie theater to show it so we had to have it at the closest theater -- 20 miles away!
-The same way NYC had those cows all over the place and DC had the pandas/elephants/donkeys, we have giant groundhogs. Most actually look pretty nice and when we get a new one it literally makes the front page of the newspaper.
-Incidently Groundhog's Day is about 6 weeks from the first day of Spring. So don't go ruining this scam for us!
That's all I can come up with for now, but there are probably countless other stories. I hope this gives you more insight into both Groundhog Day and me. Now can you see how I turned out coming from a town where there is an image of a groundhog every 5 feet, where you get your groceries at the Groundhog Plaza, where the high school mascot is the Punxs'y Chuck (short for woodchuck), and where I have attended this event every year from 5th to 12th grade and then once in college.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Here's the Deal
So, I don't know why, but it dawned on me the other day to come up with a blog of my own like every other person in the world (or at least on Facebook). Well, scratch that. I actually know why I decided to do this. I felt that even if no one in the entire world reads it, it may be a little cathartic to say what I'm thinking every once in a while. So, as of now, I don't really have a theme for this thing, just what is going on in my life -- ranging from what I'm up to now, funny stories from the hospital, and just pretty much anything I feel like.
I saw on MSNBC that the average readership of a blog is 1 person. So if you are reading this -- congratulations and thanks because you are my whole base!
So, I figure it best to start these things by letting you know a little about me, and by little I mean more than "I'm a med student" .....
I am obsessed with all things Bucknell. My stream of thought is based entirely on the transitive property. I have convinced myself that I was somehow the inspiration for J.D. on Scrubs. I freakin' love my kelly green kicks. I frequently place things on the "Dead to Me" list. I know more about the Simpsons than anyone else I know. I think internet stalking is an art. I have a touch of a superiority complex. I think Stephen Colbert is a genius. I would wear a casual blazer everyday if I had my choice. I'm a perpetual procrastinator that somehow questions where all my time has gone. I'm not in a relationship, but I would like to have one. I will always order tiramisu at an Italian restaurant. I consider myself to be a pretty nice guy but I'll cut you down if the opportunity presents itself for a laugh. I own a piano but I hardly get a chance to play it. I cheer on and criticize the Steelers every week. I think "Bill" is about the most boring permutation of "William" ever. I find my friends and I saying "I love us" maybe a little too much but I would never disagree. I watch Hardball for fun. I sing in public only when drunk or at church. I probably can rattle this list on for several more pages but I'm getting kind of tired.
Alright, that's it for now. Hopefully I did not bore you, too much. If you ever want to a post a reply, go for it. Talk to you later!
I saw on MSNBC that the average readership of a blog is 1 person. So if you are reading this -- congratulations and thanks because you are my whole base!
So, I figure it best to start these things by letting you know a little about me, and by little I mean more than "I'm a med student" .....
I am obsessed with all things Bucknell. My stream of thought is based entirely on the transitive property. I have convinced myself that I was somehow the inspiration for J.D. on Scrubs. I freakin' love my kelly green kicks. I frequently place things on the "Dead to Me" list. I know more about the Simpsons than anyone else I know. I think internet stalking is an art. I have a touch of a superiority complex. I think Stephen Colbert is a genius. I would wear a casual blazer everyday if I had my choice. I'm a perpetual procrastinator that somehow questions where all my time has gone. I'm not in a relationship, but I would like to have one. I will always order tiramisu at an Italian restaurant. I consider myself to be a pretty nice guy but I'll cut you down if the opportunity presents itself for a laugh. I own a piano but I hardly get a chance to play it. I cheer on and criticize the Steelers every week. I think "Bill" is about the most boring permutation of "William" ever. I find my friends and I saying "I love us" maybe a little too much but I would never disagree. I watch Hardball for fun. I sing in public only when drunk or at church. I probably can rattle this list on for several more pages but I'm getting kind of tired.
Alright, that's it for now. Hopefully I did not bore you, too much. If you ever want to a post a reply, go for it. Talk to you later!
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