The holidays are great for catching up on food, sleep, family, friends... and the latest rankings in college basketball. Specifically UConn basketball! I was pleased to learn that the Husky Men are ranked #9 by ESPN and the women #5. However, several "experts" have left the UConn men out of the Power 16, most likely because we are a young team and have had a relatively easy schedule so far. We'll see what happens! The most important event in the UConn men's future, however, is when they come to Georgia Tech on February 11th, where there will be a DIE-HARD fan waiting to cheer them on! Also of note in the Husky world of news, is that Diana Taurasi has been voted USA Basketball female athlete of the year! All great things (including myself) come from Connecticut!! Except for Lyme Disease, which came from my hometown. Damn Borrelia Burgdoferi has to ruin everything.
Anyways, now my 4 day holiday is complete. GO HUSKIES!!! WOOOO HOOO!!!
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Always under a hundred
I didn't go to a movie last night and instead went bowling with my brother. We bowled three games. He beat me every time. My highest score was 80 something. I had 4 total strikes. I also broke a nail. I've always wanted to say that.
Monday, December 25, 2006
I don't do teeth and I haven't lost weight
Those two damn letters at the end of my name are here to stay for life. This is what I realize everytime I come home, and everytime my parents have people over our house. A couple of nights ago, a friend of the family was over and the first thing he says to me is (in the English equivalent of the Kannada original), "My mouth is paining me, please tell me if it is ok." My dad tries to come to my rescue with, "She's not a dentist" but it doesn't work. The family friend still insists he just wants someone to have a look at it. He just had a tooth extraction and wants to make sure the wound wasn't reinfected.
The other thing that annoys me when I come home are comments about my weight. I have gotten comments about how I seem to get skinnier and skinnier for my whole life (by now I should have a width equivalent to a pencil), and I don't think they'll stop EVER until my metabolism slows down.
"You must not be eating well. You are getting too much thin!"
"Ayyyy yo! She's working too hard. So much weight she has lost!"
This time I answered with, "Well, since my pants don't fit me anymore, I know that's not true." Which is true.
On another note, I'm going to a movie tonight with my bro. Yay! Merry Christmas everyone!!
The other thing that annoys me when I come home are comments about my weight. I have gotten comments about how I seem to get skinnier and skinnier for my whole life (by now I should have a width equivalent to a pencil), and I don't think they'll stop EVER until my metabolism slows down.
"You must not be eating well. You are getting too much thin!"
"Ayyyy yo! She's working too hard. So much weight she has lost!"
This time I answered with, "Well, since my pants don't fit me anymore, I know that's not true." Which is true.
On another note, I'm going to a movie tonight with my bro. Yay! Merry Christmas everyone!!
Sunday, December 24, 2006
The Baggage Handler
I finally made it back to Houston and I'm home for the holidays, but the journey was slighly arduous. After finishing a 14 hour night shift (~20 cross cover calls, 5 admissions, 4 fevers, 1/5 hrs of broken sleep and a partridge and a pear tree), I downed a cup of English Breakfast tea that I stole from the Heme-Onc floor for a caffeine lift, hugged the day people goodbye while simultaneously wishing (and singing) them a Merry Christmas, and made like a baby and head out of the hospital with the intention of driving to Grady, parking there, walking to the MARTA that would take me to the airport in time for my 11:18 flight to H-town. Phew that was a long sentence.
I walked out of the hospital and was greeted with raindrops that were falling on my head. I looked up and scoffed at the sky. HA! Did the heavens honestly believe that they were going to dampen my day (pun intended)? Hell no! It was pretty wet outside though, and I was careful while driving to avoid the small streams that had gathered by the sides of the roads.
I made it to Grady and parked, and produced my suitcase from my trunk that I had packed in 20 minutes prior to my 5 pm arrival at the hospital the evening before. Then I decided that I should probably empty my bladder, but not in the parking lot at Grady, not at the MARTA station, and definitely not at the airport. The nursery call room was the perfect place.
I walked over to Grady with my suitcase and decided to enter through the revolving doors. Now, this was always a delimma for me. They always make you feel obligated to enter through the revolving doors because there's a huge sign that says something to the effect of "Help Conserve Energy and Use the Revolving Doors." How does this work? If people keep using the other doors that you manually open, this brings the outside air in and messes up the temperature inside the hospital causing the heat/AC to go off more in the hospital. I think. Many people blatantly ignore this sign and simply use the manual doors instead. I have done this many times. On this particular day, however, I chose the revolving doors, neglecting, in my post-call stupor, to calculate that the width of my suitcase was too large to fit. Yes my friends, I got stuck in the revolving doors. It was pretty embarassing. Luckily, I extracted myself from the gnarly clutches of the revolving doors (somehow!!!) and made it inside the hospital where I took care of some business in the call room.
After saying goodbye to more people whom I ran into, I headed for the MARTA. The train. It was only a five minute walk to the train. It was during this walk that I realized I had made a mistake. I felt a buzzing noise in my purse and realized that my pager just went off. I decided to look at it and call the number back. After taking care of that and cursing the fact that I hadn't left my pager in my car, I turned the damn thing off and paid for my MARTA ticket at the lil kiosk. (Truthfully, I almost missed the parking kiosks at the Texas Medical Center that scream "Pleeeease pay for parking! Your parking fee is ten dollars!" at you.)
Here's the thing about the MARTA. It literally stinks. It smells so bad. I have no idea why. I have no idea what smells. I almost feel like it's due to some rare form of excrement that's only produced on the MARTA. Iit's almost unbearable. And it's not really the North-South line... it's the East-West line. Oh man... Anyhow, I endured the train ride and made it to the airport. At this point, I was feeling the effects of having been up for close to 20 hours straight. I put some lip gloss on with the hopes of looking less like a zombie and proceeded to check my baggage. There was no line at the check-in where the MARTA station connects to the airport! How awesome was that!
I checked my bag in and was practically skipping along to the security check, which nearly made my jaw drop. At Atlanta Hartsfield airport, there's only one security check that every single passenger flying through the airport has to go through. This is because there is a single train (that runs frequently) that takes every single passenger to his/her respective terminal (A,B,C,D). The line was so long that it ran through the general lobby area where people can lounge on couches and stare at the random Tyranosaurus Rex skeleton. This was the longest line I had ever seen at an airport before. I was glad I was really early.
Luckily, the line seemed to move along... I spent probably 20 minutes waiting before I got the chance to take off my shoes and hope to God that something on me wouldn't set off of the metal detector (I always carry this small amount of fear with me EVERY time! call me paranoid. underwire can do it, ladies!!! it HAS happened to me before!). I made it through ok and entered the little terminal train and made a beeline for the seat at the end of the train that's supposed to be reserved for senior citizens. I saw no such people in sight. Honestly, I didn't look.
I got off at Terminal C and went to the newstand. I usually treat myself to a magazine whenever I fly, even though this time around I was carrying some O'Henry Prize short stories with me that I checked out of the Decatur public library. At the newstand, I settled for Yoga magazine. What sold me on this particular magazine was the picture of the staring actress in the future The Namesake movie. She had her eyes closed and was covered in a white piece of cloth that I think was supposed to look like a sari of somesort. She looked relaxed. I wanted to be her, so I bought it.
Then I decided I was hungry. I saw Moe's to my right. There are a million Moe's in Atlanta, and I hadn't ever been to one before. I decided to try it. There were breakfast burritos, and I figured they could substitute the eggs for beans or something. I went up to the lady. "Could I have the 'Baggage Handler' please and could I substitue the eggs for something else?" The lady peered at me from under her visor, determined to make this difficult for me. "No," she said. "Fine, I'll just get it without eggs please," I said, not having energy to put up a fight, like I would normally do. "You want it without eggs?" she asked in disbelief. What did I just say?? Am I talking to the human equivalent of a wall? I assumed she had never made a Baggage Handler breakfast burrito without eggs before. I decided to be nice. "Yes." I got my Baggage Handler without eggs and with guacamole and sour cream. I ended up having to pay extra for a burrito without the main ingredient because I ordered guacamole and sour cream. I was so mad. I convinced myself that it was ok, that I was a working woman now and could afford the extra buck and a half. It's just the principle of the whole thing!! I vowed to write a letter to Moe's wanting to know why they treat their vegan customers like shit.
I ate my overpriced, underserviced burrito while reading Yoga. I learned that the movie The Namesake will be markedly different from the book. The main difference? The main character in the book is the boy, Gogol, growing up and coming to terms with his identity, whereas the main character in the movie is his mother. I wonder how that will work out. I'm thinking, though, that Mira Nair probably knows what she's doing...
After finishing my burrito, I head over to gate C7. I spot three empty chairs, put myself in one, my bag on another and attempt to fall asleep, which successfully happens. I wake up I have no idea how much later and notice that CNN is on TV. They're covering the Miss Nevada story. Then the weather. A big green blob is headed towards Atlanta. Lucky us.
Finally we board, and I feel that my luck is improving a little when I realize that there's no one in the seat next to me. Perfect for falling asleep, which again happens successfully. I'm awoken again to the sounds of undersized pretzel bags crunching open. I decide that I want the 8 pretzels that have come along with my $300 ticket.
Finally, I get to Houston, and I see my dad. I'm really happy to see him, but it's hard to have the energy to get cranial nerve VII to activate and move my muscles of facial expression (YES, i'm a big nerd and I'm proud of it, dammit). I get my bag and we head over to the car. Here's the clincher. My father has realized that he's LOCKED THE KEYS IN THE CAR!!!
I begin to laugh. It really was funny. I was so tired, that I was amused by the situation. My father actually locked the keys in the car! He's never done anything like that before! And he decides to do it on a day when I'm super tired! How much funnier can it get! I call my mom, and I'm honestly laughing when I tell her that she has to come bail us out. "Are you joking?" she asks. "Do I sound like I'm joking?" I say, trying to stifle my laughter, knowing very well that it does sound like I'm joking. My mom says she's on her way.
Then come the tears. Now, I didn't burst into tears. I didn't even sniffle or sob. My eyes did, however, well up with tears and down they came rolling along my cheeks. My father sees this and he feels really really bad. Then I feel really bad. I didn't mean to cry, it just happened. And to my defense, I did laugh about it first.
To make the long story finally come to an end, I made it home ok. I made it home, my mom fed me and she ran her fingers through my hair as I put my head in her lap. And that made it all better.
I walked out of the hospital and was greeted with raindrops that were falling on my head. I looked up and scoffed at the sky. HA! Did the heavens honestly believe that they were going to dampen my day (pun intended)? Hell no! It was pretty wet outside though, and I was careful while driving to avoid the small streams that had gathered by the sides of the roads.
I made it to Grady and parked, and produced my suitcase from my trunk that I had packed in 20 minutes prior to my 5 pm arrival at the hospital the evening before. Then I decided that I should probably empty my bladder, but not in the parking lot at Grady, not at the MARTA station, and definitely not at the airport. The nursery call room was the perfect place.
I walked over to Grady with my suitcase and decided to enter through the revolving doors. Now, this was always a delimma for me. They always make you feel obligated to enter through the revolving doors because there's a huge sign that says something to the effect of "Help Conserve Energy and Use the Revolving Doors." How does this work? If people keep using the other doors that you manually open, this brings the outside air in and messes up the temperature inside the hospital causing the heat/AC to go off more in the hospital. I think. Many people blatantly ignore this sign and simply use the manual doors instead. I have done this many times. On this particular day, however, I chose the revolving doors, neglecting, in my post-call stupor, to calculate that the width of my suitcase was too large to fit. Yes my friends, I got stuck in the revolving doors. It was pretty embarassing. Luckily, I extracted myself from the gnarly clutches of the revolving doors (somehow!!!) and made it inside the hospital where I took care of some business in the call room.
After saying goodbye to more people whom I ran into, I headed for the MARTA. The train. It was only a five minute walk to the train. It was during this walk that I realized I had made a mistake. I felt a buzzing noise in my purse and realized that my pager just went off. I decided to look at it and call the number back. After taking care of that and cursing the fact that I hadn't left my pager in my car, I turned the damn thing off and paid for my MARTA ticket at the lil kiosk. (Truthfully, I almost missed the parking kiosks at the Texas Medical Center that scream "Pleeeease pay for parking! Your parking fee is ten dollars!" at you.)
Here's the thing about the MARTA. It literally stinks. It smells so bad. I have no idea why. I have no idea what smells. I almost feel like it's due to some rare form of excrement that's only produced on the MARTA. Iit's almost unbearable. And it's not really the North-South line... it's the East-West line. Oh man... Anyhow, I endured the train ride and made it to the airport. At this point, I was feeling the effects of having been up for close to 20 hours straight. I put some lip gloss on with the hopes of looking less like a zombie and proceeded to check my baggage. There was no line at the check-in where the MARTA station connects to the airport! How awesome was that!
I checked my bag in and was practically skipping along to the security check, which nearly made my jaw drop. At Atlanta Hartsfield airport, there's only one security check that every single passenger flying through the airport has to go through. This is because there is a single train (that runs frequently) that takes every single passenger to his/her respective terminal (A,B,C,D). The line was so long that it ran through the general lobby area where people can lounge on couches and stare at the random Tyranosaurus Rex skeleton. This was the longest line I had ever seen at an airport before. I was glad I was really early.
Luckily, the line seemed to move along... I spent probably 20 minutes waiting before I got the chance to take off my shoes and hope to God that something on me wouldn't set off of the metal detector (I always carry this small amount of fear with me EVERY time! call me paranoid. underwire can do it, ladies!!! it HAS happened to me before!). I made it through ok and entered the little terminal train and made a beeline for the seat at the end of the train that's supposed to be reserved for senior citizens. I saw no such people in sight. Honestly, I didn't look.
I got off at Terminal C and went to the newstand. I usually treat myself to a magazine whenever I fly, even though this time around I was carrying some O'Henry Prize short stories with me that I checked out of the Decatur public library. At the newstand, I settled for Yoga magazine. What sold me on this particular magazine was the picture of the staring actress in the future The Namesake movie. She had her eyes closed and was covered in a white piece of cloth that I think was supposed to look like a sari of somesort. She looked relaxed. I wanted to be her, so I bought it.
Then I decided I was hungry. I saw Moe's to my right. There are a million Moe's in Atlanta, and I hadn't ever been to one before. I decided to try it. There were breakfast burritos, and I figured they could substitute the eggs for beans or something. I went up to the lady. "Could I have the 'Baggage Handler' please and could I substitue the eggs for something else?" The lady peered at me from under her visor, determined to make this difficult for me. "No," she said. "Fine, I'll just get it without eggs please," I said, not having energy to put up a fight, like I would normally do. "You want it without eggs?" she asked in disbelief. What did I just say?? Am I talking to the human equivalent of a wall? I assumed she had never made a Baggage Handler breakfast burrito without eggs before. I decided to be nice. "Yes." I got my Baggage Handler without eggs and with guacamole and sour cream. I ended up having to pay extra for a burrito without the main ingredient because I ordered guacamole and sour cream. I was so mad. I convinced myself that it was ok, that I was a working woman now and could afford the extra buck and a half. It's just the principle of the whole thing!! I vowed to write a letter to Moe's wanting to know why they treat their vegan customers like shit.
I ate my overpriced, underserviced burrito while reading Yoga. I learned that the movie The Namesake will be markedly different from the book. The main difference? The main character in the book is the boy, Gogol, growing up and coming to terms with his identity, whereas the main character in the movie is his mother. I wonder how that will work out. I'm thinking, though, that Mira Nair probably knows what she's doing...
After finishing my burrito, I head over to gate C7. I spot three empty chairs, put myself in one, my bag on another and attempt to fall asleep, which successfully happens. I wake up I have no idea how much later and notice that CNN is on TV. They're covering the Miss Nevada story. Then the weather. A big green blob is headed towards Atlanta. Lucky us.
Finally we board, and I feel that my luck is improving a little when I realize that there's no one in the seat next to me. Perfect for falling asleep, which again happens successfully. I'm awoken again to the sounds of undersized pretzel bags crunching open. I decide that I want the 8 pretzels that have come along with my $300 ticket.
Finally, I get to Houston, and I see my dad. I'm really happy to see him, but it's hard to have the energy to get cranial nerve VII to activate and move my muscles of facial expression (YES, i'm a big nerd and I'm proud of it, dammit). I get my bag and we head over to the car. Here's the clincher. My father has realized that he's LOCKED THE KEYS IN THE CAR!!!
I begin to laugh. It really was funny. I was so tired, that I was amused by the situation. My father actually locked the keys in the car! He's never done anything like that before! And he decides to do it on a day when I'm super tired! How much funnier can it get! I call my mom, and I'm honestly laughing when I tell her that she has to come bail us out. "Are you joking?" she asks. "Do I sound like I'm joking?" I say, trying to stifle my laughter, knowing very well that it does sound like I'm joking. My mom says she's on her way.
Then come the tears. Now, I didn't burst into tears. I didn't even sniffle or sob. My eyes did, however, well up with tears and down they came rolling along my cheeks. My father sees this and he feels really really bad. Then I feel really bad. I didn't mean to cry, it just happened. And to my defense, I did laugh about it first.
To make the long story finally come to an end, I made it home ok. I made it home, my mom fed me and she ran her fingers through my hair as I put my head in her lap. And that made it all better.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Mushroom Me
I'm sitting in the conference room of my continuity clinic, plotting the height and weight of a newborn I'm about to see when all of a sudden, my pager goes off. "Going to a hip-hop class at Dance 101 from 7-8 tonight! Me and R are going. Let me know if you want to come." I momentarily forget the world of percentiles, birth weights and maternal GBS statuses and enter the realm of booty shaking, soul and rhythm. A smile creeps onto my face, and I toss my pager to D, who happens to be in my clinic that day. I see her white pearlies and realize that she, too, has entered within my realm: we're all going to get down tonight!
Unfortunately, I didn't have time to run home, change and be at the dance studio by 7 pm. I ask J to bring a t-shirt for me. As for pants... well, my work pants are cotton... I think I can dance in them. Plus I have my Dansko's. I resolved to make 'em move tonight more than they ever have on call.
I enter the dance studio and am somewhat blinded by its bright lights and toned bodies sporting leggings and tank tops, many girls also with fancy black shoes that I notice are on sale on the wall behind the front desk. There are some serious dancers in this joint. I look down at my Limited pants and black clogs and cringe. I stick out like a sore thumb, pardon the cliche.
After I've paid my fee, I walk onto the beige shiny floor of room 3 and the music blares over the speakers. There are mostly women in the room aside from one African American male who lets it known to the whole room that he can move... he starts shakin his booty before the music had even begun.
The class begins. Warm-ups. Side to side and a kick, and a walk-two-three-stop and a walk-two-three-stop. And stretch. And other side. And arms-two-three-four and hold. I can barely see the instructor from way in the back where me and my 3 girlfriends are hiding. We're all anxious, and try and add some soul into our moves... most of us are Indian. I mean come on... they did put rhythm into our genes, didn't they? Haven't y'all seen us come Garba time? Hip hop is a joke compared to that!
Oh boy were we wrong. Well maybe J kept up ok... she's a trained dancer. I sure couldn't keep up! The moves were fast and pumping and I could see the instructor and I would forget what move came after which move in the coreographed dance she was teaching up. What was most humbling was that most of the people in the room seemed like they were able to keep up well.
Finally, at one point, I leaned over to R and said, "Some of these guys make me feel like I have as much rhythm as a mushroom."
The mushroom me made it through the hour long class. Honestly, I had a great time and I want to go back and try and strut my stuff again. But first up: belly dancing tomorrow night at Dance 101. Let's work those abs! I've also noted that they're holding dance auditions for Beyonce's world tour in early December. I might have a chance...
Unfortunately, I didn't have time to run home, change and be at the dance studio by 7 pm. I ask J to bring a t-shirt for me. As for pants... well, my work pants are cotton... I think I can dance in them. Plus I have my Dansko's. I resolved to make 'em move tonight more than they ever have on call.
I enter the dance studio and am somewhat blinded by its bright lights and toned bodies sporting leggings and tank tops, many girls also with fancy black shoes that I notice are on sale on the wall behind the front desk. There are some serious dancers in this joint. I look down at my Limited pants and black clogs and cringe. I stick out like a sore thumb, pardon the cliche.
After I've paid my fee, I walk onto the beige shiny floor of room 3 and the music blares over the speakers. There are mostly women in the room aside from one African American male who lets it known to the whole room that he can move... he starts shakin his booty before the music had even begun.
The class begins. Warm-ups. Side to side and a kick, and a walk-two-three-stop and a walk-two-three-stop. And stretch. And other side. And arms-two-three-four and hold. I can barely see the instructor from way in the back where me and my 3 girlfriends are hiding. We're all anxious, and try and add some soul into our moves... most of us are Indian. I mean come on... they did put rhythm into our genes, didn't they? Haven't y'all seen us come Garba time? Hip hop is a joke compared to that!
Oh boy were we wrong. Well maybe J kept up ok... she's a trained dancer. I sure couldn't keep up! The moves were fast and pumping and I could see the instructor and I would forget what move came after which move in the coreographed dance she was teaching up. What was most humbling was that most of the people in the room seemed like they were able to keep up well.
Finally, at one point, I leaned over to R and said, "Some of these guys make me feel like I have as much rhythm as a mushroom."
The mushroom me made it through the hour long class. Honestly, I had a great time and I want to go back and try and strut my stuff again. But first up: belly dancing tomorrow night at Dance 101. Let's work those abs! I've also noted that they're holding dance auditions for Beyonce's world tour in early December. I might have a chance...
Saturday, November 18, 2006
3 A.M. Neural Processing
I have come to the somewhat startling (but not surprising, nonetheless) conclusion during the last day of month 5 of residency that I was wholly in denial of what a 3 A.M admission truly feels like when I applied for residency.
Another random current neural processing: We have these new phones in the hospital with many ringtones, one of which is super obnoxious, making it a prime weapon for scaring the crap out of people. The ring tone has no nice chimes, bells, chirps or any other kind of lulling melody. It's the sound of a man's voice screaming, "Are you there???!! Are you there??!!!" over and over again. It is of my esteemed opinion that the creator of this particular ring "tone" (and a ring "tone" it is NOT, my friends) must have had schizophrenia if not psychotic tendencies at the very least.
Y'all have a good morning. Oh right. Most people in the world are sleeping at this hour dreaming of how they suddenly fell off a cliff while strolling in the park and discovering their newfound ability to sprout wings and fly through the clouds hovering in a pale, blue sky. Sigh.
Another random current neural processing: We have these new phones in the hospital with many ringtones, one of which is super obnoxious, making it a prime weapon for scaring the crap out of people. The ring tone has no nice chimes, bells, chirps or any other kind of lulling melody. It's the sound of a man's voice screaming, "Are you there???!! Are you there??!!!" over and over again. It is of my esteemed opinion that the creator of this particular ring "tone" (and a ring "tone" it is NOT, my friends) must have had schizophrenia if not psychotic tendencies at the very least.
Y'all have a good morning. Oh right. Most people in the world are sleeping at this hour dreaming of how they suddenly fell off a cliff while strolling in the park and discovering their newfound ability to sprout wings and fly through the clouds hovering in a pale, blue sky. Sigh.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Favorite moments at Intern Retreat 2006
1. E winning Twister with some athletic ass moves.
2. M and K shakin' it to Baby got Back.
3. B chuckin' the smily face kickball at M, A and M. The violence towards women MUST stop.
4. C trying to fit into a bunny suit during the "nursery" race.
5. Rooming with A :)
6. Reading S's two truth's and a lie. They made me laugh so hard. I didn't know he could knit!!
7. E sitting on D's lap during the ride up to Anna Ruby falls to help prevent her from being car sick, and then the guard at the falls asking us if we were all over 16.
8. Learning that C is actually an introvert!!
9. Watching S getting down on the dance floor with E.
10. Playing "volleyball" with the chili pepper.
11. Singing to the Indigo Girls at the apex of my lungs with E and the Chief.
12. Overall, I loved sleeping, eating, hanging out with everyone in the beautiful Georgia mountains. The trees were GORGEOUS... almost as good looking as my intern class :) Thanks to our chiefs, our program director and for my colleagues for help making some great memories!!!
2. M and K shakin' it to Baby got Back.
3. B chuckin' the smily face kickball at M, A and M. The violence towards women MUST stop.
4. C trying to fit into a bunny suit during the "nursery" race.
5. Rooming with A :)
6. Reading S's two truth's and a lie. They made me laugh so hard. I didn't know he could knit!!
7. E sitting on D's lap during the ride up to Anna Ruby falls to help prevent her from being car sick, and then the guard at the falls asking us if we were all over 16.
8. Learning that C is actually an introvert!!
9. Watching S getting down on the dance floor with E.
10. Playing "volleyball" with the chili pepper.
11. Singing to the Indigo Girls at the apex of my lungs with E and the Chief.
12. Overall, I loved sleeping, eating, hanging out with everyone in the beautiful Georgia mountains. The trees were GORGEOUS... almost as good looking as my intern class :) Thanks to our chiefs, our program director and for my colleagues for help making some great memories!!!
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Disclaimer
Just for the record, I have not and will not say anything negative about anyone in my residency program including my colleagues, upper levels, chief residents and, of course, attendings. I just wanted to make that completely clear. I'm really happy where I have ended up at residency. I love the people I work with, and my blog is not a place where I will criticize anything about the program. Just for the record... Sorry for the serious post. I'll make up for that later.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
The Gruesome Bet
It was great working in a children's hospital on Halloween. There were random people dressed up as clowns and Raggedy Ann handing out candy to the staff, as well as some residents who contributed to the Halloween spirit by dressing up (Mat was a punk rock Margi Gras.... he looked great and apparently didn't scare any of the kids over at Egleston despite his heavy makeup and skull necklace). I really wanted to dress up today, but didn't get my act together in time. In my frantic searh for something this morning in my closet, I uncovered a pair of fake, gliterry eyelashes that just wouldn't stay on my eyelids. They would have been perfect!
My chance to get into the spirit came during my afternoon clinic. It started off when I offered to trade patients with Akemie since her first was Spanish speaking and mine wasn't. I looked at the chart - it was a 5 day old newborn.
I walked into the room and a bundle resting in a Hispanic woman's arms. After getting the history, I picked up the baby from the mother and brought her to the examination table. She looked up at me with these beautiful icteric eyes and golden yellow face. What a great looking jaundiced Halloween baby, I thought. She looked like a jack-o-latern, peering at me with lit up eyes.
After examining the baby, I went to sign out to the great Dr. Berkowitz. I love Dr. Berkowitz. He's initially on the intimidating side with his thick South African accent and ridiculous fund of knowledge, but I love the fact that he's super cultured. He's one of those types that will look up someone's hometown on the world map just to know more about a certain culture or geographical location. I explained to Dr. B that I thought the baby was jaundiced, but not excessively so. We needed to check the baby's bilirubin level.
Now, I feel like I've been able to get along with Dr. B, despite when he yells at me for not checking a kid's retina or for not hearing the S2 split properly. But I didn't expect for him to examine this baby, come out of the room, and say, "You want to place a bet on what this kid's bilirubin level is?"
This was my chance to go one up on Dr. Berkowitz.
"Of course, I do!"
"What shall we bet on?"
Ooooh the possibilities. Money. Candy. Baby needs a new pair of shoes.
"How about a soda?" he says. I can deal with that. It'll a soda that I wouldn't have had otherwise.
"Ummm..."
"Oh, you don't want to place a bet, Dr. Rao?"
"I'll bet you a soda that this kid's bilirubin level is 10," I say with a big smile of my face.
"Ten, you say?" Yikes. Maybe I should go a little lower.
"Ok, 9 is my final answer."
"Alright, nine. I'm going to say his bilirubin is 7."
The bilirubin came back 9.9. Tne minutes later, Dr. Berkowitz hands me a Vault. I'd never had one of these before, but it's a damn good lime soda :) A pretty good Halloween trick or treat, if I do say so myself! Thanks to my gruesome little bili baby bet.
My chance to get into the spirit came during my afternoon clinic. It started off when I offered to trade patients with Akemie since her first was Spanish speaking and mine wasn't. I looked at the chart - it was a 5 day old newborn.
I walked into the room and a bundle resting in a Hispanic woman's arms. After getting the history, I picked up the baby from the mother and brought her to the examination table. She looked up at me with these beautiful icteric eyes and golden yellow face. What a great looking jaundiced Halloween baby, I thought. She looked like a jack-o-latern, peering at me with lit up eyes.
After examining the baby, I went to sign out to the great Dr. Berkowitz. I love Dr. Berkowitz. He's initially on the intimidating side with his thick South African accent and ridiculous fund of knowledge, but I love the fact that he's super cultured. He's one of those types that will look up someone's hometown on the world map just to know more about a certain culture or geographical location. I explained to Dr. B that I thought the baby was jaundiced, but not excessively so. We needed to check the baby's bilirubin level.
Now, I feel like I've been able to get along with Dr. B, despite when he yells at me for not checking a kid's retina or for not hearing the S2 split properly. But I didn't expect for him to examine this baby, come out of the room, and say, "You want to place a bet on what this kid's bilirubin level is?"
This was my chance to go one up on Dr. Berkowitz.
"Of course, I do!"
"What shall we bet on?"
Ooooh the possibilities. Money. Candy. Baby needs a new pair of shoes.
"How about a soda?" he says. I can deal with that. It'll a soda that I wouldn't have had otherwise.
"Ummm..."
"Oh, you don't want to place a bet, Dr. Rao?"
"I'll bet you a soda that this kid's bilirubin level is 10," I say with a big smile of my face.
"Ten, you say?" Yikes. Maybe I should go a little lower.
"Ok, 9 is my final answer."
"Alright, nine. I'm going to say his bilirubin is 7."
The bilirubin came back 9.9. Tne minutes later, Dr. Berkowitz hands me a Vault. I'd never had one of these before, but it's a damn good lime soda :) A pretty good Halloween trick or treat, if I do say so myself! Thanks to my gruesome little bili baby bet.
Monday, October 23, 2006
The Long Braid
It's Diwali and I'm in the temple room of the Hindu Temple of Atlanta, where families have come together to celebrate the Indian New Year. I'm alone, but strangely enough, I don't feel alone. I can feel India's presence in this one holy place, where the aroma of cocunuts and kumkum powder make me feel at home. I see little girls skipping around their mothers' brightly colored silk saris, the edge of the sari skirting upwards as if accepting an invitation to dance.
At the front of the temple room is where Lord Balaji resides, and today He's covered in freshly garlanded carnations - pink, white and red. The priest approaches the devotees, wanting to know who would like an offering to be made on their behalf. I see one couple step forward. She is striking, with her hair done in a long black braid that reaches far below her knees to her calves. An orange rubber band adorns the end of the braid, perfectly matching the tone of her sari, and the end of the braid ends in a perfect cone shape. As she moves, the braid curves in the opposite direction as if painting a canvas.
Seeing the braid makes me recall a memory from my childhood. I am in the 6th grade, in Mrs. Brown's English class. My hair back then is long, reaching to the small of my back, and my mom has done my hair in a long braid. As the bell rings and I, along with the other students, file out of the classroom, I hear Mrs. Brown's voice along with someone touching my hair. "Wow, Devika, your braid is so thick." She moves her hand along the notches of my braid.
This disturbs me at the time, and I now realize why. I was the only Indian girl in the class, and my hair was notably thicker than everyone else's. Mrs. Brown had picked me out of all the children in the class because I was different, and in middle school, it defintiely wasn't cool to be different.
"No, it's not," I said as I turned away, my hair escaping the clutches of Mrs. Brown's hands. I hastened towards the door, eager to reach my next class. In the hallway, I tore my rubber band away from tip of my braid and ran my fingers through my scalp allowing my black hair to shower down on my shoulders and upper arms.
Seeing this beautiful Indian woman's braid gliding across her back, the blackness of the knots making the yellow silk appear more festive made me wonder why I was ever embarrased about my long hair and how I wore it. Subconsiously, my hands wandered to the back of my scalp, and then to the edges of my ponytail. My hair now rested only a few inches below my shoulders, and I made a promise to grow my hair out like hers, a promise that I knew I wouldn't really keep due to the busy nature of my work. But I was grateful for the opportunity to be in an enviroment that brought me a little piece of India, where I was able to appreciate the beauty of something for which I once had disdain.
At the front of the temple room is where Lord Balaji resides, and today He's covered in freshly garlanded carnations - pink, white and red. The priest approaches the devotees, wanting to know who would like an offering to be made on their behalf. I see one couple step forward. She is striking, with her hair done in a long black braid that reaches far below her knees to her calves. An orange rubber band adorns the end of the braid, perfectly matching the tone of her sari, and the end of the braid ends in a perfect cone shape. As she moves, the braid curves in the opposite direction as if painting a canvas.
Seeing the braid makes me recall a memory from my childhood. I am in the 6th grade, in Mrs. Brown's English class. My hair back then is long, reaching to the small of my back, and my mom has done my hair in a long braid. As the bell rings and I, along with the other students, file out of the classroom, I hear Mrs. Brown's voice along with someone touching my hair. "Wow, Devika, your braid is so thick." She moves her hand along the notches of my braid.
This disturbs me at the time, and I now realize why. I was the only Indian girl in the class, and my hair was notably thicker than everyone else's. Mrs. Brown had picked me out of all the children in the class because I was different, and in middle school, it defintiely wasn't cool to be different.
"No, it's not," I said as I turned away, my hair escaping the clutches of Mrs. Brown's hands. I hastened towards the door, eager to reach my next class. In the hallway, I tore my rubber band away from tip of my braid and ran my fingers through my scalp allowing my black hair to shower down on my shoulders and upper arms.
Seeing this beautiful Indian woman's braid gliding across her back, the blackness of the knots making the yellow silk appear more festive made me wonder why I was ever embarrased about my long hair and how I wore it. Subconsiously, my hands wandered to the back of my scalp, and then to the edges of my ponytail. My hair now rested only a few inches below my shoulders, and I made a promise to grow my hair out like hers, a promise that I knew I wouldn't really keep due to the busy nature of my work. But I was grateful for the opportunity to be in an enviroment that brought me a little piece of India, where I was able to appreciate the beauty of something for which I once had disdain.
Monday, October 16, 2006
The Span of Life
I went to my third yoga class today in Atlanta. I have forgotten how much I love to do yoga. With every class, I move and stretch every single muscle in my body, and I get to slowwww down my breathing. In Ayurveda, breathing is known as prana, or the life force. Basically the less we breathe, the more we prolong our life span. I definitely slow down my respiratory rate during class, so I guess I'm adding more "life onto my span."
So some people who know me well, know that I cannot bend forward with straight knees and touch my toes. Even during high school, when I ran track and spent a ridiculous amount of time before workouts stretching, I could NOT touch my toes. I blame it on my long legs. My legs are so long that I have to freakin sit on a pillow to drive, a fact that is often received with much snickering, even from those near and dear to me (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!!).
Well, I'm pleased to say, that I am getting quite close to touching my toes!! This after only 3 classes. You have no IDEA how much this means to me. Some people have lofty goals in life. These may include to become the best physician ever, or to be the fastest runner, or to be a good parent or a good spouse. One of my goals, and I kid you not, has been to to be able to touch my toes. Who knew that I would get closer to this goal in residency of all the times in my life??? I'm more limber than I've ever been before!!!
Yoga has also helped me become more meditative. I saw this quote on a bumpersticker today and I felt a connection with it. I think that words appearing on a bumpersticker can cheapen the idea or thought behind the words, but this one definitely caught my attention:
"We are not human beings with spiritual experiences, but we are spiritual beings with human experiences."
Dr. Aarons, one of my favorite college professors of all time, taught me to never quote a phrase without proceeding to explain it in your own words, but I think I'd rather just leave this one without any commentary. Hope everyone reading this entry is well!
So some people who know me well, know that I cannot bend forward with straight knees and touch my toes. Even during high school, when I ran track and spent a ridiculous amount of time before workouts stretching, I could NOT touch my toes. I blame it on my long legs. My legs are so long that I have to freakin sit on a pillow to drive, a fact that is often received with much snickering, even from those near and dear to me (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!!).
Well, I'm pleased to say, that I am getting quite close to touching my toes!! This after only 3 classes. You have no IDEA how much this means to me. Some people have lofty goals in life. These may include to become the best physician ever, or to be the fastest runner, or to be a good parent or a good spouse. One of my goals, and I kid you not, has been to to be able to touch my toes. Who knew that I would get closer to this goal in residency of all the times in my life??? I'm more limber than I've ever been before!!!
Yoga has also helped me become more meditative. I saw this quote on a bumpersticker today and I felt a connection with it. I think that words appearing on a bumpersticker can cheapen the idea or thought behind the words, but this one definitely caught my attention:
"We are not human beings with spiritual experiences, but we are spiritual beings with human experiences."
Dr. Aarons, one of my favorite college professors of all time, taught me to never quote a phrase without proceeding to explain it in your own words, but I think I'd rather just leave this one without any commentary. Hope everyone reading this entry is well!
Friday, September 15, 2006
I fight to the finish, cuz I eats me spinach...
What's Popeye gonna do if Bluto is about to beat him up and steal Olive Oyl from him????
Ok, I shouldn't joke around... I know people are dying from E. Coli 0157:H7... I wonder how they know it's spinach specifically...
Ok, I shouldn't joke around... I know people are dying from E. Coli 0157:H7... I wonder how they know it's spinach specifically...
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Maha Kumbhabishekam
I was glancing at the Houston Chronicle's home page and noticed that there are pictures from a religious ceremony occuring at my old temple, the Sri Meenaskhi Temple, in Houston. I was really excited to see the pictures and thought I would share the article with everyone that reads my blog. Here are a couple of pictures, and there are more at this link to the article:
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/life/religion/4173436.html
Friday, September 08, 2006
Top 10 things I tell myself when I'm on call to make myself feel better
I'm on call tonight. This month I'm not q4 because we have a night float system, which makes SUCH a difference even though my day hours are way longer, I still get to sleep in my own bed almost every night this month! Still, call nights aren't fun, and I realize this as I switch my gaze from the computer screen to the glaring night lights that shine through the call room window... alas, how I ache to witness the moon's beauty that's hidden from my view. Um, yeah, so, I present with you the following list.:
1. Yeah, so it's not like I had any other plans for tonight... so why not be on call?
2. Writing out H&P's is perfect for my really cool new pen's debut.
3. I get to watch cable TV while in the call room. This is GREAT cuz I don't get cable at home.
4. I don't have to deal with the Atlanta heat all the time since I get to stay inside the air-conditioned hospital.
5. The on-call rooms have really comfortable matresses that are excellent for back problems such as scoliosis, which I feel like I've developed simply from bending over to review patient charts. I love how residency is therapeutic for the iatrogenic diseases it causes. Was that redundant?
6. You get free food from the hospital meal tickets... It sure beats cooking...
7. I can print out random shit in the call room since they have a really nice laser printer. Has your boarding pass for your next flight ever looked that good from your home printer?
8. It's 30 straight hours of learning as opposed to only 10 when I'm not on call.
9. I may have a hot, romantic, midnight encounter with an extremely good looking individual who happens to be working the same night as me. We'll bond over patients transfered from the ICU while muching away at graham crackers and saltines stolen from the nurses station. Our eyes will meet as we munch away and small crumbs slowly gather on our scrubs and at our clog covered feet.
and last but not least...
10. Randomized control trials have been done that show that interrupted REM sleep increases the speed of neuronal impulses diffusely throughout the cerebral cortex, which therefore increases your IQ, making you more attractive to the opposite sex.
1. Yeah, so it's not like I had any other plans for tonight... so why not be on call?
2. Writing out H&P's is perfect for my really cool new pen's debut.
3. I get to watch cable TV while in the call room. This is GREAT cuz I don't get cable at home.
4. I don't have to deal with the Atlanta heat all the time since I get to stay inside the air-conditioned hospital.
5. The on-call rooms have really comfortable matresses that are excellent for back problems such as scoliosis, which I feel like I've developed simply from bending over to review patient charts. I love how residency is therapeutic for the iatrogenic diseases it causes. Was that redundant?
6. You get free food from the hospital meal tickets... It sure beats cooking...
7. I can print out random shit in the call room since they have a really nice laser printer. Has your boarding pass for your next flight ever looked that good from your home printer?
8. It's 30 straight hours of learning as opposed to only 10 when I'm not on call.
9. I may have a hot, romantic, midnight encounter with an extremely good looking individual who happens to be working the same night as me. We'll bond over patients transfered from the ICU while muching away at graham crackers and saltines stolen from the nurses station. Our eyes will meet as we munch away and small crumbs slowly gather on our scrubs and at our clog covered feet.
and last but not least...
10. Randomized control trials have been done that show that interrupted REM sleep increases the speed of neuronal impulses diffusely throughout the cerebral cortex, which therefore increases your IQ, making you more attractive to the opposite sex.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Mindfulness
Yesterday, I was at continuity clinic in the afternoon. Clinic can be really fun... it's a break from the hustle and bustle of the wards and I can slow down and get to know patients that I'll be following for the next couple of years. The change of pace is quite welcoming :)
I haven't had my continuity clinic as much as my fellow interns because of scheduling reasons, so I'm still getting used to how it works and really just how to be a general pediatrician. I'm also slowly getting used to the nurses who work there. Yesterday, things were slow for me... many of my patients were no-shows, and so I was helping out my co-interns see their patients.
I was waiting around in the conference room when I heard one of the nurses say, "Ok, we'll have to call the Spanish interpreter..." I got up and offered to see the patient since I can do decently well with my Spanish. The nurses were appreciative and it felt good to help out even in this small way that wasn't a big deal to me.
After I saw the patient (a cute lil 3 week old), I started shooting the shit with the nurses... It was the first time in 2+ months of residency that I made an effort to hang out and get to know the nurses. They were so much fun... and I being my goofy self, which was fun. I could tell that they were excited that I was revealing my non-official self to them. Then two things happened. One of the nurses motioned to me, "Hey Dr. Rao, come here for a sec..." I walked over to where she was standing. "You know Dr. Rao, I have to confess." I was worried when she said this. Starting a story in this manner is NEVER good. "When I first saw you, I thought to myself, 'Man, this resident looks really mean.'"
I burst out laughing when she said this and the other nurses joined in with me. I would say I know myself pretty well and I really try hard and make eye contact with even strangers I pass by in the hall and smile and say hi. And when I'm being myself, I usually have a goofy grin planted on my face. How could this nurse think I looked mean? It dawned on me that thus far while working, I probably have looked super serious, focused and haven't paid attention to much other than trying to get my work done and trying to look like I knew what I was doing. It is definitely quite possible that I had been mean and inconsiderate of the nurses I was working with.
This particular nurse who originally thought was I mean was chuckling when she told me this, as if to say that she now realized how crazy this original thought was. We all had a good laugh.
The second interesting/nice moment that happened was that before I left, one of the nurses, Faye, approached me and said, "Dr. Rao, great job today!" And then she gave me a great big hug. "You helped us out a lot!" I was grateful for the genuine hug and human touch, knowing that I really hadn't done a whole lot other than make the effort to get to know the nurses.
I think I'll always remember this, even though it's such a small moment in the grand scheme of things. It just reminds me to be mindful of those around me, and even though residency is tough to say the very least and I'm slowly getting used to having chronic feelings of inadequacy (I feel like I'm getting my butt kicked at times now that I'm on the general wards and running around without a clue as to what's going on), there are others around me who are trying to work with me in helping care for the patients.
I haven't had my continuity clinic as much as my fellow interns because of scheduling reasons, so I'm still getting used to how it works and really just how to be a general pediatrician. I'm also slowly getting used to the nurses who work there. Yesterday, things were slow for me... many of my patients were no-shows, and so I was helping out my co-interns see their patients.
I was waiting around in the conference room when I heard one of the nurses say, "Ok, we'll have to call the Spanish interpreter..." I got up and offered to see the patient since I can do decently well with my Spanish. The nurses were appreciative and it felt good to help out even in this small way that wasn't a big deal to me.
After I saw the patient (a cute lil 3 week old), I started shooting the shit with the nurses... It was the first time in 2+ months of residency that I made an effort to hang out and get to know the nurses. They were so much fun... and I being my goofy self, which was fun. I could tell that they were excited that I was revealing my non-official self to them. Then two things happened. One of the nurses motioned to me, "Hey Dr. Rao, come here for a sec..." I walked over to where she was standing. "You know Dr. Rao, I have to confess." I was worried when she said this. Starting a story in this manner is NEVER good. "When I first saw you, I thought to myself, 'Man, this resident looks really mean.'"
I burst out laughing when she said this and the other nurses joined in with me. I would say I know myself pretty well and I really try hard and make eye contact with even strangers I pass by in the hall and smile and say hi. And when I'm being myself, I usually have a goofy grin planted on my face. How could this nurse think I looked mean? It dawned on me that thus far while working, I probably have looked super serious, focused and haven't paid attention to much other than trying to get my work done and trying to look like I knew what I was doing. It is definitely quite possible that I had been mean and inconsiderate of the nurses I was working with.
This particular nurse who originally thought was I mean was chuckling when she told me this, as if to say that she now realized how crazy this original thought was. We all had a good laugh.
The second interesting/nice moment that happened was that before I left, one of the nurses, Faye, approached me and said, "Dr. Rao, great job today!" And then she gave me a great big hug. "You helped us out a lot!" I was grateful for the genuine hug and human touch, knowing that I really hadn't done a whole lot other than make the effort to get to know the nurses.
I think I'll always remember this, even though it's such a small moment in the grand scheme of things. It just reminds me to be mindful of those around me, and even though residency is tough to say the very least and I'm slowly getting used to having chronic feelings of inadequacy (I feel like I'm getting my butt kicked at times now that I'm on the general wards and running around without a clue as to what's going on), there are others around me who are trying to work with me in helping care for the patients.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Farewell, Andre Agassi
Andre Agassi has been a huge reason why I've loved watching tennis all of my life. I love his style, his passion for the game, his famous backhand returns, and his famous comeback from 2 sets down wins. I loved him when I saw him lose to Andrei Medvedev at the New Haven Volvo Tournament when I was fifteen - he had the long hair, earrings and hideous outfits. I believe that he threw his racket along the sidelines twice during that game, and cracked jokes during Medvedev's faults. I watched him as he won Wimbledon way back when. I watched him when he played Sampras during Sampras's last US O
pen... Agassi lost during that class match in 2001. Watching tennis will not be the same without him. Thanks, Agassi, for all the great memories and for the passion and personality and class that you brought to the game. I'll definitely miss you!
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Random thoughts after watching Crash
I just finished watching the movie Crash. I haven't seen it before and decided to get it off of my Netflix. I cannot believe how good that movie was. I haven't cried and laughed during a movie like I did during Crash in a long time... maybe never have. I mean there were some parts I was crying like a baby... when the locksmith's daughter gets shot, when the police officer rescues the black woman he molested just the day prior, when the mother recognizes her son in the morgue, and when Ludacris lets the immigrants free in Chinatown.
I think the word "love" was uttered twice in the movie... when the director tells his wife that he loves her and when Sandra Bullock's character tells her husband that she loves him. And there were a 1000 more moments when you could feel love between characters, but the words were not uttered, like when Sandra Bullock is hugging her maid. I'm not sure what that really means, but I'm pretty sure it's reflective of the world that we live in... in the movie there's so much hatred, either conscious or subconscious that comes out in various forms, and there's love too, even if it's not expressed verbally.
Somehow it's so painful to utter these beautiful words, "I love you," probably because it makes you very vulnerable. Someone told me once that when you love somone, you make yourself vulnerable to getting hurt by that person because of that attachment. Yes, I think that's true in a sense, but there's no way I would want to stop loving or caring for people. And in the movie, every single character cannot help but love, no matter how awful their situation is. There's the love between the Persian store owner and his daughter... and eventually he realizes that the Hispanic locksmith has that same love for his own daughter, a love that he almost physically destroyed with his gun.
Every character in the movie has love for someone, and has compassion no matter what their outward actions reveal, and I think that this is true about real human life. Unfortunately, the flip side is true in this movie, which is what I think made this movie even better and even sadder. Ryan Phillipe's character... he was so pure and almost innocent as a young police officer, wanting to do the right thing. You knew in the beginning that he was going to come crashing down, and that's exactly what he did. He gave a ride to a black hitchhiker, who, I might add was probably one of the most adorable, fun, and likeable characters in the movie, and the fear of his fellow brethren eventually came out in that fatal car ride.
I felt that this movie was a commentary on how our actions are motivated by fear. How much is this really true? I don't know... Is it fear that motivates us to make certain friends, to end certain relationships, to choose our careers? What would the world be like if we made choices based on love? Ok, that's a very vague question.... I'm not even sure if I understand what I just wrote. Anyways, I'm allowed... it's my blog!!!
Regardless, we all have our own stories to tell, stories about love and hate. And about getting hurt and hurting people even though we didn't really mean to. Ok, I'm being vague again.... sorry.
I watched this movie alone and definitely wish I had seen it with someone, maybe even a special someone. Someone who could hold me and tell me that at least he was not going to be a source of fear and confusion. But the next best thing for me is to write about it, even though I'm pretty sure that right now my thoughts are incredibly disorganized, but whatever.
This movie reminds me of all the different kinds of people I happen to see in the hospital, and how it's by chance that they have a medical problem that I'm supposed to help them with, and therefore, we meet. And they all have their own stories, and it's my job to get their story from hearing them speak, and from doing a physical exam so I can help them the best I can. (Funny how we as physicians have to listen to the patient's story, but also listen to the patient's body during the exam)
It makes me glad that I'm in the medical field, and that I'm able to train in a place like Emory in Atlanta so I can get to know the stories of people from all different kinds of situations in life. Like the little boy in the hospital with abdominal pain whose father calls his mother a whore in front of him. Like the 9 month old baby whose mother was a prostitute for awhile, and the mother now has a boyfriend who think the baby is too fat and that she could feel him 1/2 as often. Or like that father I wrote about in a previous blog who named his son "Fifty." Or the 18 year old mother whose baby has meningitis... she has two other children at home. And so many more stories... So many stories, and somehow, I, as a pediatrician, am woven into their lives. I guess when I think about it this way, how it's by chance that I'm the one providing care for my patients, I feel motivated to work harder as a physician so that at least I can make that small portion of their lives a little bit better instead of crashing into them.
I think the word "love" was uttered twice in the movie... when the director tells his wife that he loves her and when Sandra Bullock's character tells her husband that she loves him. And there were a 1000 more moments when you could feel love between characters, but the words were not uttered, like when Sandra Bullock is hugging her maid. I'm not sure what that really means, but I'm pretty sure it's reflective of the world that we live in... in the movie there's so much hatred, either conscious or subconscious that comes out in various forms, and there's love too, even if it's not expressed verbally.
Somehow it's so painful to utter these beautiful words, "I love you," probably because it makes you very vulnerable. Someone told me once that when you love somone, you make yourself vulnerable to getting hurt by that person because of that attachment. Yes, I think that's true in a sense, but there's no way I would want to stop loving or caring for people. And in the movie, every single character cannot help but love, no matter how awful their situation is. There's the love between the Persian store owner and his daughter... and eventually he realizes that the Hispanic locksmith has that same love for his own daughter, a love that he almost physically destroyed with his gun.
Every character in the movie has love for someone, and has compassion no matter what their outward actions reveal, and I think that this is true about real human life. Unfortunately, the flip side is true in this movie, which is what I think made this movie even better and even sadder. Ryan Phillipe's character... he was so pure and almost innocent as a young police officer, wanting to do the right thing. You knew in the beginning that he was going to come crashing down, and that's exactly what he did. He gave a ride to a black hitchhiker, who, I might add was probably one of the most adorable, fun, and likeable characters in the movie, and the fear of his fellow brethren eventually came out in that fatal car ride.
I felt that this movie was a commentary on how our actions are motivated by fear. How much is this really true? I don't know... Is it fear that motivates us to make certain friends, to end certain relationships, to choose our careers? What would the world be like if we made choices based on love? Ok, that's a very vague question.... I'm not even sure if I understand what I just wrote. Anyways, I'm allowed... it's my blog!!!
Regardless, we all have our own stories to tell, stories about love and hate. And about getting hurt and hurting people even though we didn't really mean to. Ok, I'm being vague again.... sorry.
I watched this movie alone and definitely wish I had seen it with someone, maybe even a special someone. Someone who could hold me and tell me that at least he was not going to be a source of fear and confusion. But the next best thing for me is to write about it, even though I'm pretty sure that right now my thoughts are incredibly disorganized, but whatever.
This movie reminds me of all the different kinds of people I happen to see in the hospital, and how it's by chance that they have a medical problem that I'm supposed to help them with, and therefore, we meet. And they all have their own stories, and it's my job to get their story from hearing them speak, and from doing a physical exam so I can help them the best I can. (Funny how we as physicians have to listen to the patient's story, but also listen to the patient's body during the exam)
It makes me glad that I'm in the medical field, and that I'm able to train in a place like Emory in Atlanta so I can get to know the stories of people from all different kinds of situations in life. Like the little boy in the hospital with abdominal pain whose father calls his mother a whore in front of him. Like the 9 month old baby whose mother was a prostitute for awhile, and the mother now has a boyfriend who think the baby is too fat and that she could feel him 1/2 as often. Or like that father I wrote about in a previous blog who named his son "Fifty." Or the 18 year old mother whose baby has meningitis... she has two other children at home. And so many more stories... So many stories, and somehow, I, as a pediatrician, am woven into their lives. I guess when I think about it this way, how it's by chance that I'm the one providing care for my patients, I feel motivated to work harder as a physician so that at least I can make that small portion of their lives a little bit better instead of crashing into them.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Charting Lost Cars while Swirling to Houston
A few thoughts:
1) I'm going home today for a week vacation. It still hasn't hit me that I'm going home... I have a feeling that this week will go by fast. There's so many people that I want to see! I hope I get to see them all.
2) Yesterday I was post call and so was Rima. We had to see 15 newborns and get out by 1 pm. The morning included transferring a sick newborn to the intermediate nursery. We managed to get out in time. However, when I got to the parking garage, I had NO IDEA where I had parked my car. This has never happened to me before. I always have at least some idea where I have parked my car, but yesterday it was like a blank slate. That's what being post call does to you.
3) Before starting residency, I was worried about starting and adjusting. Now I'm worried about handling the rest of residency. Why? Term nursery is actually one of the more chill rotations. It is Q4, but it's still relatively chill when you're not on call. I know that my counterparts are working much harder than me... at the same time, they're also learning a lot. So that is definitely something to look forward to. At the same time, I'm still scared of getting to the point where my body is chronically exhausted. Why does it have to be that way?
4) Cinnamon Swirls (the Kroger version of Cinnamon toast crunch) is really quite good! I highly recommend it.
5) I hope that I always remember what it's like to be a medical student. Right now we have really cute 3rd years rotating with us, fresh off of basic sciences and taking their Step 1. They're very eager to do a good job... it totally reminds me of when I was in that position as a 2nd year med student... not really knowing what was going on.... where to show up and when and what to do and how fast.. I remember picking up a chart on psych (my first rotation) and having no idea what to do with it. I would flip through the tabs and hope that information would somehow magically jump out at me that I could later pass on to my upper levels and attendings. That's definitely a strong memory engrained in my mind and so I've been trying to show my students how to look at a chart as a part of the orientation process. They seem to really appreciate that. Anyways, the point is... I hope that I'll always remember where I came from. Yikes. Isn't that a line from an old J-lo song?
That's all for today. My next post will be written from.... HOME!!! I'm getting more and more excited about going back to Houston :)
1) I'm going home today for a week vacation. It still hasn't hit me that I'm going home... I have a feeling that this week will go by fast. There's so many people that I want to see! I hope I get to see them all.
2) Yesterday I was post call and so was Rima. We had to see 15 newborns and get out by 1 pm. The morning included transferring a sick newborn to the intermediate nursery. We managed to get out in time. However, when I got to the parking garage, I had NO IDEA where I had parked my car. This has never happened to me before. I always have at least some idea where I have parked my car, but yesterday it was like a blank slate. That's what being post call does to you.
3) Before starting residency, I was worried about starting and adjusting. Now I'm worried about handling the rest of residency. Why? Term nursery is actually one of the more chill rotations. It is Q4, but it's still relatively chill when you're not on call. I know that my counterparts are working much harder than me... at the same time, they're also learning a lot. So that is definitely something to look forward to. At the same time, I'm still scared of getting to the point where my body is chronically exhausted. Why does it have to be that way?
4) Cinnamon Swirls (the Kroger version of Cinnamon toast crunch) is really quite good! I highly recommend it.
5) I hope that I always remember what it's like to be a medical student. Right now we have really cute 3rd years rotating with us, fresh off of basic sciences and taking their Step 1. They're very eager to do a good job... it totally reminds me of when I was in that position as a 2nd year med student... not really knowing what was going on.... where to show up and when and what to do and how fast.. I remember picking up a chart on psych (my first rotation) and having no idea what to do with it. I would flip through the tabs and hope that information would somehow magically jump out at me that I could later pass on to my upper levels and attendings. That's definitely a strong memory engrained in my mind and so I've been trying to show my students how to look at a chart as a part of the orientation process. They seem to really appreciate that. Anyways, the point is... I hope that I'll always remember where I came from. Yikes. Isn't that a line from an old J-lo song?
That's all for today. My next post will be written from.... HOME!!! I'm getting more and more excited about going back to Houston :)
Friday, July 28, 2006
Gandhi Bazaar v. Walmart
I just read on CNN that Walmart is looking into expanding its business in India. This is awful news to me. I can't imagine what Walmart would do to India.
When I was in India this past April, I loved going to the markets. My favorite market is Gandhi Bazaar in Bangalore... what a beautiful place! Fresh vegetables, fresh flowers of every color woven into long beautiful garlands, open shops everywhere with shopkeepers trying to keep your business... it's such a vibrant place with an energy that cannot be found in any retail store anywhere in the world. There's also Loi Bazaar in Vrindavan, which is SUPER cool. In that bazaar, you can find beautiful silver shops, people making fresh sweets in the streets in huge vats of oil, and saris of every style.
When I was in Delhi, my cousin took me shopping and the first places she took me were to some of the new malls that had opened close by. I would walk into these malls and for a split second, I would completely forget that I was in India... they looked exactly like an American mall. The only difference was that these malls carried Indian clothes in some departments... they even played American music at these malls like Nelly Furtado and the theme song from The Breakfast Club!
I hated these malls. To make matters worse, they were completely overpriced.
Towards the end of my stay in Delhi, my cousin finally took me to the local market, where you walk into a clothing store and the shopkeeper shows you his merchandise according to your budget and taste. The best thing about shopping in these small stores is that you walk up to a table in front of the shopkeeper and the table is clean and empty. And then all of a sudden, the shopkeeper pulls fabrics from the shelves behind him, unravelling them before your eyes and spreading them across the table in front of you. And it's fabric after fabric after fabric. Silk and cotton, then a cotton-silk mix and synthetic, and finally chiffon. There's skirts, and salwars and sarees, layered on top of each other. At the end you have a pile of color that measures a foot high.
I have to admit that this is not always the most efficient way for a customer to choose her wares, but boy it is fun for me. I told this to my cousin and she said, "Oh why didn't you say that before... I thought you would prefer the malls!" That couldn't be far from the truth.
When I hear that Walmart might go to India, I just hope that this big, ugly corporate giant of American doesn't ruin the experience of market shopping in India.
When I was in India this past April, I loved going to the markets. My favorite market is Gandhi Bazaar in Bangalore... what a beautiful place! Fresh vegetables, fresh flowers of every color woven into long beautiful garlands, open shops everywhere with shopkeepers trying to keep your business... it's such a vibrant place with an energy that cannot be found in any retail store anywhere in the world. There's also Loi Bazaar in Vrindavan, which is SUPER cool. In that bazaar, you can find beautiful silver shops, people making fresh sweets in the streets in huge vats of oil, and saris of every style.
When I was in Delhi, my cousin took me shopping and the first places she took me were to some of the new malls that had opened close by. I would walk into these malls and for a split second, I would completely forget that I was in India... they looked exactly like an American mall. The only difference was that these malls carried Indian clothes in some departments... they even played American music at these malls like Nelly Furtado and the theme song from The Breakfast Club!
I hated these malls. To make matters worse, they were completely overpriced.
Towards the end of my stay in Delhi, my cousin finally took me to the local market, where you walk into a clothing store and the shopkeeper shows you his merchandise according to your budget and taste. The best thing about shopping in these small stores is that you walk up to a table in front of the shopkeeper and the table is clean and empty. And then all of a sudden, the shopkeeper pulls fabrics from the shelves behind him, unravelling them before your eyes and spreading them across the table in front of you. And it's fabric after fabric after fabric. Silk and cotton, then a cotton-silk mix and synthetic, and finally chiffon. There's skirts, and salwars and sarees, layered on top of each other. At the end you have a pile of color that measures a foot high.
I have to admit that this is not always the most efficient way for a customer to choose her wares, but boy it is fun for me. I told this to my cousin and she said, "Oh why didn't you say that before... I thought you would prefer the malls!" That couldn't be far from the truth.
When I hear that Walmart might go to India, I just hope that this big, ugly corporate giant of American doesn't ruin the experience of market shopping in India.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
The premature flash of blood
So it turns out that having Dr. Yonker quiz me on the structure of succinylcholine in the bleak, blood-stained halls of Ben Taub's OR right before I intubated the right main bronchus under his direction was completely worth it today. I, Devika Rao, just finished placing an IV in a premature newborn! I'm really excited about this because a premie's veins are small. And I don't just mean small, but SMALL, even though I just wrote that in capital letters, ironically... When I mean small, I mean draw-a-line-using-a-pen-and-measure-the-width-of-that-line SMALL.
Ok, so I better explain so that I, the writer, do not lose my reader: I learnt how to start a bunch of IV's on my 2 weeks of anesthesiology (and I believe there's even a former blog entry regarding this experience), and today, I drew upon that experience to start this IV on the premie I admitted to the intermediate care nursery. Because I had some experience, I felt pretty confident doing it today... and that makes a world of a difference! I wasn't timid with the catheder or with gripping the baby's wrist. I wasn't discouraged if I didn't see a flash of blood right away when I first advanced the catheder, but I just kept trying different angles until I got my flash. I'm so happy! This sure is a good way to end my first month of residency. I hope it's a good omen of things to come in my next 35 months that I have left :)
I suppose it sounds a bit trivial that I'm writing about just starting an IV, but my attitude with this experience today is that it just makes me more confident about myself and my career choice and my abilities as a pediatrician. I'm going to try and be more proactive and make myself available and willing to do more procedures around the nursery so I can get better and better at this stuff.
Ok, so I better explain so that I, the writer, do not lose my reader: I learnt how to start a bunch of IV's on my 2 weeks of anesthesiology (and I believe there's even a former blog entry regarding this experience), and today, I drew upon that experience to start this IV on the premie I admitted to the intermediate care nursery. Because I had some experience, I felt pretty confident doing it today... and that makes a world of a difference! I wasn't timid with the catheder or with gripping the baby's wrist. I wasn't discouraged if I didn't see a flash of blood right away when I first advanced the catheder, but I just kept trying different angles until I got my flash. I'm so happy! This sure is a good way to end my first month of residency. I hope it's a good omen of things to come in my next 35 months that I have left :)
I suppose it sounds a bit trivial that I'm writing about just starting an IV, but my attitude with this experience today is that it just makes me more confident about myself and my career choice and my abilities as a pediatrician. I'm going to try and be more proactive and make myself available and willing to do more procedures around the nursery so I can get better and better at this stuff.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Quote of the day
"I've never had a baby before, but I say go for it!"
Famous last words from my colleague and former Renesselaer Polytechnic Institute cheerleader Dr. Emily DeBoer who told me about a first time mother who was afraid to clean the vernix off of her daughter (vernix is that nasty wax-like substance that covers newborns after they're born) because she was afraid of hurting the baby. Emily, on the other hand, would not have a problem cleaning off the vernix of her non-existent daughter.
You ROCK Emily!!!
Famous last words from my colleague and former Renesselaer Polytechnic Institute cheerleader Dr. Emily DeBoer who told me about a first time mother who was afraid to clean the vernix off of her daughter (vernix is that nasty wax-like substance that covers newborns after they're born) because she was afraid of hurting the baby. Emily, on the other hand, would not have a problem cleaning off the vernix of her non-existent daughter.
You ROCK Emily!!!
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Let's Rock-et with Rudy
Whoa. So I'm a little behind the times, but I just realize that I have a huge reason to root for the Rockets now. I know I've been living in Houston for 4 years, TX resident for 8, but I never really got into any of the TX NBA teams including the Rockets. But now, I have a GREAT reason. I just read that on June 28th, Rudy Gay of UConn was drafted 8th by the Rockets!!! How exciting is that! Now I miss Houston even more :( Hopefully I can get to see him play sometime when I go home in the next year. That would be AWESOME.
On another note... we have a mother of a baby on the service who only speaks Bengali. This made me think about the time if we ever got a patient who only spoke my mother tongue, Kannada. I wonder if I would be able to take a good history in my own mother tongue. I definitely know that it would be a struggle to consent a mother for her baby's circumcision in Kannada... hmmm yeah, that would be problematic.
I'm on call today and my throat hurts and I'm tired. I'm going to try and have a decent attitude so I can get through the night. I think I want to find out the name of the Hindu God of sleep so I can doing some serious kissing up.
On another note... we have a mother of a baby on the service who only speaks Bengali. This made me think about the time if we ever got a patient who only spoke my mother tongue, Kannada. I wonder if I would be able to take a good history in my own mother tongue. I definitely know that it would be a struggle to consent a mother for her baby's circumcision in Kannada... hmmm yeah, that would be problematic.
I'm on call today and my throat hurts and I'm tired. I'm going to try and have a decent attitude so I can get through the night. I think I want to find out the name of the Hindu God of sleep so I can doing some serious kissing up.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Oh what a night... MARE!
I had a horrible dream last night. I dreamt that I was really really late for my day on call. In my dream, I got up an hour late, and I getting ready to go to work, but everything kept getting delayed. I almost headed out the door and I realized I wasn't wearing scrubs and hadn't taken a shower. I put some scrubs on, took a shower, and finally got to my car and was driving and realized I left my pager at home. For some reason I was driving to the MARTA station (ATL's version of the light rail), and then I realized I was driving to the wrong station. So all these things kept happening and eventually it became 11:30 in the morning and I still hadn't gotten to the hospital. Five seconds later it was somehow 12:30 pm, and I got a page from the ER attending (even though i'm not in the ER this month... my mind is a lil nuts as you can already tell). So then i decide to fake sickness. I'm in general, a pretty good actressso I told the attending that I had been vomiting up blood and that's why I didn't make it in this morning.
In retrospect, I think it would be mildly amusing if I had said that I started 2 large bore IV's in m yself, but oh well I can't always be witty during nightmares. Anyhoo, the attending was super nice and said they would contact the backup intern on call. The weird thing was that when I was talking to the attending, I was at my temple (God knows why... pun intended) and there was a TON of noise in the background and I was worried that I would be caught. Finally, the attending got back to me later and said they caught an intern who had only worked 40 hours this week to cover for me. The attending said this intern had been lying about his hours, and so it was only fair for him to cover for me since I was sick.
That was my nightmare. Maybe it doesn't sound that bad, but I felt so anxious and worried and really paranoid that somewhere, somehow a patient was dying because of my inability to make it to work on time. This dream has definitely been mirroring my feelings after I come home from work... sometimes I worry that I forgot to do something crucial for one of my patients...
Sometime after my nightmare ended, I woke up to my alarm, took a few sighs of relief, and jumped into the shower for a clean, superlicious call day. I made it on time to work, thank god. I'm thinking about signing up for some yoga classes to try and calm my mind down.
In retrospect, I think it would be mildly amusing if I had said that I started 2 large bore IV's in m yself, but oh well I can't always be witty during nightmares. Anyhoo, the attending was super nice and said they would contact the backup intern on call. The weird thing was that when I was talking to the attending, I was at my temple (God knows why... pun intended) and there was a TON of noise in the background and I was worried that I would be caught. Finally, the attending got back to me later and said they caught an intern who had only worked 40 hours this week to cover for me. The attending said this intern had been lying about his hours, and so it was only fair for him to cover for me since I was sick.
That was my nightmare. Maybe it doesn't sound that bad, but I felt so anxious and worried and really paranoid that somewhere, somehow a patient was dying because of my inability to make it to work on time. This dream has definitely been mirroring my feelings after I come home from work... sometimes I worry that I forgot to do something crucial for one of my patients...
Sometime after my nightmare ended, I woke up to my alarm, took a few sighs of relief, and jumped into the shower for a clean, superlicious call day. I made it on time to work, thank god. I'm thinking about signing up for some yoga classes to try and calm my mind down.
Friday, July 14, 2006
10 things that make me smile during residency
There's a lot that doesn't make me smile in residency, but there are things that definitely DO make me smile. I have left out the obvious, which are the kids that make everything worth it.
So without further ado, I give you 10 things that make me smile during residency:
1. When I meet a nurse who speaks Kannada (like me!) and who offers to bring me puris (fried flatbread) for me on Monday. Can you say SCORE!!!!
2. When I write for an order on a patient who actually needed that order to be written. This makes me feel smart and happy.
3. When the attending tells me that I should go and eat lunch. Boy is it fun to eat :)
4. When the mother of a patient (in sickle cell clinic) tells me, "I'm really glad that you're seeing my son. Last time wasn't fun because first a medical student came in, and then a physician's assistant, and THEN the doctor. It's very nice to meet you Dr. Rao." Little does she know how much closer I am to being a medical student than anything else... but still this somehow made me smile.
5. When the lecturer this morning for Acute Care Symposium inserts farting noises into his power point presentation on Diabetic Ketoacidosis. This made me smile AND kept me awake. I think it kept Stan awake too, and he's a night float this month!
6. When I actually hit REM during call nights.
7. When the Nurse Practioner on call with me brings me cake the day of my birthday (yes, I was post-call the day of my birthday).
8. When I get text messages from Gonzo.
9. When I see my colleagues. This doesn't happen often, but when it does, I get happy to see them. Examples: During morning conference, noon conference, during the in-service exam, and today afternoon during continuity clinic.
10. When you get a lecture by an attending who includes the phrase "smart ass medical student" and you realize that it's allll in your past.
So without further ado, I give you 10 things that make me smile during residency:
1. When I meet a nurse who speaks Kannada (like me!) and who offers to bring me puris (fried flatbread) for me on Monday. Can you say SCORE!!!!
2. When I write for an order on a patient who actually needed that order to be written. This makes me feel smart and happy.
3. When the attending tells me that I should go and eat lunch. Boy is it fun to eat :)
4. When the mother of a patient (in sickle cell clinic) tells me, "I'm really glad that you're seeing my son. Last time wasn't fun because first a medical student came in, and then a physician's assistant, and THEN the doctor. It's very nice to meet you Dr. Rao." Little does she know how much closer I am to being a medical student than anything else... but still this somehow made me smile.
5. When the lecturer this morning for Acute Care Symposium inserts farting noises into his power point presentation on Diabetic Ketoacidosis. This made me smile AND kept me awake. I think it kept Stan awake too, and he's a night float this month!
6. When I actually hit REM during call nights.
7. When the Nurse Practioner on call with me brings me cake the day of my birthday (yes, I was post-call the day of my birthday).
8. When I get text messages from Gonzo.
9. When I see my colleagues. This doesn't happen often, but when it does, I get happy to see them. Examples: During morning conference, noon conference, during the in-service exam, and today afternoon during continuity clinic.
10. When you get a lecture by an attending who includes the phrase "smart ass medical student" and you realize that it's allll in your past.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Third time's a charm, baby?
It's my third night on call. I just came back from a delivery. What a smelly baby! She was covered in some smelly meconium (baby poop that's black and tarry, which is normal)... not a huge fan of meconium, by the way. She also had bilateral palmar creases, wide set nipples and syndactly (some fused toes). I hope she doesn't have any underlying syndrome to explain her anatomical findings. The parents were Spanish speaking only, so I had to explain to them "este problema con sus pies." I hope I did ok... there were no interpreters around at 12:30 in the morning.
So this week is also my first experience in having medical students, which is scary because I feel like I'm not capable of teaching them anything since I don't know much. They're SUPER helpful though, and I didn't realize how helpful med students are until you are on the other side. Plus they konw more about the Emory system than I do (how to check for radiology reports, where the films are actuallly located). Although one of the students kinda scared me today. Apparently during afternoon rounds, one of them asked the attending about "female circumcision" of newborns. I can't believe someone would actually ask an attending about this. My colleague told me that the attending's response was something like, "We..... don't... do.... those. They're.... ILLEGAL."
The reason I wasn't at rounds this afternoon is because I was taking an in-service exam... to check my baseline knowledge of pediatrics. It doesn't "count for anything." I would argue for the contrary. There a lot of potential fo rme to embarrass my alma mater quite badly. The exam was 200 questions and took me about 3 hours. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, but that doesn't mean that I aced it. I was joking around with Bheru before the exam that I was going to ace it... that I was going to get every question right. Doing that reminded me of something Chirag Parghi would say before an exam to ease the tension :) Miss you Chirag! Oh, and here's a shout out to Chirag and Anu... I got an email from one of my co-interns who regretfully wrote that he wouldn't be able to attend my birthday festivities. And he addressed me as "Devo"!! I thought that was awesome. I still haven't told my co-interns about my blog. Maybe I'll do that soon :) Poor Camden didn't make the exam today cuz he misplaced his male purse and his keys. I hope they'll let him take it tomorrow...
Other thoughts... I hope my attending doesn't think I'm a moron.
So this week is also my first experience in having medical students, which is scary because I feel like I'm not capable of teaching them anything since I don't know much. They're SUPER helpful though, and I didn't realize how helpful med students are until you are on the other side. Plus they konw more about the Emory system than I do (how to check for radiology reports, where the films are actuallly located). Although one of the students kinda scared me today. Apparently during afternoon rounds, one of them asked the attending about "female circumcision" of newborns. I can't believe someone would actually ask an attending about this. My colleague told me that the attending's response was something like, "We..... don't... do.... those. They're.... ILLEGAL."
The reason I wasn't at rounds this afternoon is because I was taking an in-service exam... to check my baseline knowledge of pediatrics. It doesn't "count for anything." I would argue for the contrary. There a lot of potential fo rme to embarrass my alma mater quite badly. The exam was 200 questions and took me about 3 hours. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, but that doesn't mean that I aced it. I was joking around with Bheru before the exam that I was going to ace it... that I was going to get every question right. Doing that reminded me of something Chirag Parghi would say before an exam to ease the tension :) Miss you Chirag! Oh, and here's a shout out to Chirag and Anu... I got an email from one of my co-interns who regretfully wrote that he wouldn't be able to attend my birthday festivities. And he addressed me as "Devo"!! I thought that was awesome. I still haven't told my co-interns about my blog. Maybe I'll do that soon :) Poor Camden didn't make the exam today cuz he misplaced his male purse and his keys. I hope they'll let him take it tomorrow...
Other thoughts... I hope my attending doesn't think I'm a moron.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Six times four equals...??
I know others have commented on this in their blogs and have spoken about this to me on the phone or in person, but it still does not cease to amaze me when I write an order and it gets done without a cosignature.
Yesterday, I was finishing up some paperwork in the term nursery and a nurse rushes up to me and says, "Are you the resident here today?"
I've gotten to the point 5 days into residency where I don't catch myself starting to stay, "No, I'm just the medical student." Instead I say, "Yes, that's me" while thinking, "Oh God, what's next..."
"This baby's mom is HIV+," the nurse says, "and there haven't been any meds ordered..."
Yikes. Well, it wasn't that bad actually because I actually knew the dose for AZT in newborns: 2 mg/kg q6 hours.
"I think I can write for that," I say. And then I decide to make sure that I have the right dose. We were given Newborn Nursery manuals the first day which coveres pretty much all the protocols for anything. I look under Infectious Disease and HIV. It says 8 mg/kg/day. Unfortunately, it has been about 6 years since I took Calc II in college and it took me about 5 minutes to figure out that this was the same thing as 2 mg/kg q6 hours. This was after I wrote for AZT and after the nurse convinced me that the pharmacy would call me if it wasn't written for correctly. I think I might try and find a Mathematics for Dummies book next time I'm in a bookstore.
Yesterday, I was finishing up some paperwork in the term nursery and a nurse rushes up to me and says, "Are you the resident here today?"
I've gotten to the point 5 days into residency where I don't catch myself starting to stay, "No, I'm just the medical student." Instead I say, "Yes, that's me" while thinking, "Oh God, what's next..."
"This baby's mom is HIV+," the nurse says, "and there haven't been any meds ordered..."
Yikes. Well, it wasn't that bad actually because I actually knew the dose for AZT in newborns: 2 mg/kg q6 hours.
"I think I can write for that," I say. And then I decide to make sure that I have the right dose. We were given Newborn Nursery manuals the first day which coveres pretty much all the protocols for anything. I look under Infectious Disease and HIV. It says 8 mg/kg/day. Unfortunately, it has been about 6 years since I took Calc II in college and it took me about 5 minutes to figure out that this was the same thing as 2 mg/kg q6 hours. This was after I wrote for AZT and after the nurse convinced me that the pharmacy would call me if it wasn't written for correctly. I think I might try and find a Mathematics for Dummies book next time I'm in a bookstore.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
One down, 87098275 to go...
My first day of residency and my first night of call are over. I'm glad I got it over with, and I'm glad I'm still in one piece. It wasn't bad, except for the last stat C-section we got called to go to this morning at 7 am... the baby came out limp, not breathing, not crying... covered in meconium (baby poop). It was not fun... for reasons I may expound upon at a later time. But right now... I just want to sleep and dream of pretty flowers, sunshine, brilliant stars and if my mind wants to throw in a cute boy, then that's fine too. Peace out from Hotlanta.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
My first day as a pediatrician
It's 11 pm EST, and I'm on call at Grady Memorial Hospital for the first time of my life as a real pediatrician. Well at least, that's what I'm supposed to be, but in many ways, I definitely still feel like a medical student. I've been paged and called about a lot of minor issues already, and I usually tell 'em, "I'll call back and let you know." I then ask my upper level (who is really awesome by the way!) and then call the page back.
Earlier I had my first beep of the delivery pager... that was pretty exciting. Peds got called for a baby being delivered by a mother with intrapartum fever, which increases the risk of sepsis and infection in the baby. We were all ready for the worst, but the baby looked fantastic. The best part was seeing the father's face after we completed our exam - he had the biggest smile for us as the pediatricians after we put the baby in his arms. I was definitely really excited to be on "our side" rather than the OB-Gyn's side - I know that everyone has their preference, but that was definitely mine. Later on in the evening, I got to tell a hispanic family (in spanish! go me!) that their baby's bilirubin was good enough so that the baby could go home. That was fun too. Of course, right now, everything is a bit exciting for me as a first-day fresh intern. I wonder how long it will take for me to get jaded, if I will get jaded...
One irritating thing about today!! We were getting oriented to our service - term nursery which basically involves healthy babies with only minor issues if any issues are present at all. Ohhhh baby.... we rounded till 2:30 and didn't break for lunch. I don't think I've EVER done that as a med student, even when I was on surgery. I always was able to grab a bite to eat, and would often times be told by the attending to get something to eat. I couldn't believe that the first time that I wasn't "allowed" to get lunch was on pediatrics... term nursery, no less where we have to make sure that our patients are feeding and growing! I guess there is a first for everything. Finally, I had my "lunch" at 4:30. I was really happy to open my 'lil tupperware container (dubba as we say in Kannada) because I spent a couple of hours yesterday evening making massive amounts of sambar and cauliflower, potato, and peas vegetable. It was yummy.
Another thing, and this is super important! I never believed in jinxing myself till today. I think of myself as a non-gunner, good lil resident. Don't know how the following words came out of my mouth, but it was around 6 pm, and my delivery pager had only gone off once and there were already 10 babies born the whole day according to the database online. I began to worry like an intern on her first day should, that somehow my pager wasn't working and I was supposed to be at deliveries I didn't know about. My upper level was in the room, and I expressed my thoughts out loud, being the dumbass intern I guess I'm supposed to be on my first day.
My upper level said, "Don't jinx us!!!"
What happened next? You guessed it! Not 60 seconds elapsed before my delivery pager went off.
"See! You jinxed us!" shouted my upperlevel.
I felt like such an idiot, like I guess I'm supposed to be on my first day of internship.
We ran to the delivery and while getting the equipment ready for the baby at the bedside, the delivery pager went off AGAIN.
"See! You jinxed us!" shouted my upper level. I felt like more of an idiot. I am now a FULL true blue believer in what every one has ALWAYS said about talking about quietness when it's perfectly quiet. Why ruin a good thing?
I usually have a theme, a thread, if you will, when I write these blog entries. I guess I don't have anything super creative to add today, but I'm hoping the drama of my first day carries this entry through. For all my former classmates reading this, I miss you guys a lot and I definitely think about how y'all are doing. I have another 12 hours to go on my first night of call, and I'm making it better than I thought I would... of course the night is still young... But, if I can do it, I'm positive that any of my classmates are pulling through with flying colors. Today was my first day introducing myself as "Dr. Rao", which is CRAZY when I hear it coming out of my mouth. I hope I haven't let anyone down.
One last thing... I promise. I realize that I love medicine. I have been doing NOTHING for the past several months, and today I've been busy all day pretty much till now. And I'm having a great time seeing, examining babies, even making sure labs are ok, and following up on issues. I do feel that this is what I'm meant to do, and that is a great feeling, one that I hope will carry me through the next 3 years.
Earlier I had my first beep of the delivery pager... that was pretty exciting. Peds got called for a baby being delivered by a mother with intrapartum fever, which increases the risk of sepsis and infection in the baby. We were all ready for the worst, but the baby looked fantastic. The best part was seeing the father's face after we completed our exam - he had the biggest smile for us as the pediatricians after we put the baby in his arms. I was definitely really excited to be on "our side" rather than the OB-Gyn's side - I know that everyone has their preference, but that was definitely mine. Later on in the evening, I got to tell a hispanic family (in spanish! go me!) that their baby's bilirubin was good enough so that the baby could go home. That was fun too. Of course, right now, everything is a bit exciting for me as a first-day fresh intern. I wonder how long it will take for me to get jaded, if I will get jaded...
One irritating thing about today!! We were getting oriented to our service - term nursery which basically involves healthy babies with only minor issues if any issues are present at all. Ohhhh baby.... we rounded till 2:30 and didn't break for lunch. I don't think I've EVER done that as a med student, even when I was on surgery. I always was able to grab a bite to eat, and would often times be told by the attending to get something to eat. I couldn't believe that the first time that I wasn't "allowed" to get lunch was on pediatrics... term nursery, no less where we have to make sure that our patients are feeding and growing! I guess there is a first for everything. Finally, I had my "lunch" at 4:30. I was really happy to open my 'lil tupperware container (dubba as we say in Kannada) because I spent a couple of hours yesterday evening making massive amounts of sambar and cauliflower, potato, and peas vegetable. It was yummy.
Another thing, and this is super important! I never believed in jinxing myself till today. I think of myself as a non-gunner, good lil resident. Don't know how the following words came out of my mouth, but it was around 6 pm, and my delivery pager had only gone off once and there were already 10 babies born the whole day according to the database online. I began to worry like an intern on her first day should, that somehow my pager wasn't working and I was supposed to be at deliveries I didn't know about. My upper level was in the room, and I expressed my thoughts out loud, being the dumbass intern I guess I'm supposed to be on my first day.
My upper level said, "Don't jinx us!!!"
What happened next? You guessed it! Not 60 seconds elapsed before my delivery pager went off.
"See! You jinxed us!" shouted my upperlevel.
I felt like such an idiot, like I guess I'm supposed to be on my first day of internship.
We ran to the delivery and while getting the equipment ready for the baby at the bedside, the delivery pager went off AGAIN.
"See! You jinxed us!" shouted my upper level. I felt like more of an idiot. I am now a FULL true blue believer in what every one has ALWAYS said about talking about quietness when it's perfectly quiet. Why ruin a good thing?
I usually have a theme, a thread, if you will, when I write these blog entries. I guess I don't have anything super creative to add today, but I'm hoping the drama of my first day carries this entry through. For all my former classmates reading this, I miss you guys a lot and I definitely think about how y'all are doing. I have another 12 hours to go on my first night of call, and I'm making it better than I thought I would... of course the night is still young... But, if I can do it, I'm positive that any of my classmates are pulling through with flying colors. Today was my first day introducing myself as "Dr. Rao", which is CRAZY when I hear it coming out of my mouth. I hope I haven't let anyone down.
One last thing... I promise. I realize that I love medicine. I have been doing NOTHING for the past several months, and today I've been busy all day pretty much till now. And I'm having a great time seeing, examining babies, even making sure labs are ok, and following up on issues. I do feel that this is what I'm meant to do, and that is a great feeling, one that I hope will carry me through the next 3 years.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Saying Goodbye
While having lunch with some friends at Morningside Thai on Tuesday, Chirag discovered that I don't wear contact lenses and therefore he recruited me to participate in his study of "corneal topography." So I made a date to meet with him at Smith Tower today to be his guinea pig. Aside from technical difficulties with one of the instruments, which prevent my corneal topographical measurements to be revealed to the public, it was a really fun afternoon. Chirag measured my visual acuity which was 20/15 in the right eye (OD I believe?? is that right, Aheelers?) and 20/30 in my left eye. I was really excited about the 20/15 in my right eye, but Chirag told me that it was that good because I was squinting. I decided that that probably means my right eye is 20/20, based on... well, nothing really...
So getting back to my point. Chirag and I had lunch, and then we went to my place where he kindly helped me move out some of the last remaning items in my apartment.
Now, I'm writing this after he has left. I'm sitting in an empty bedroom, on the carpet, decorated with vacuum cleaner induced stripes. The blinds are closed to my window, and I can hear the hum of the air-conditioning unit. My silver lamp sits in a corner, and it serves as a gentle reminder that I still have possession of my house. But, it's all coming to an end very soon, and I'm really sad.
I have so many memories in this apartment of late night study sessions, coming back from call at the VA at 2 am, Ahila's suprise birthday party, my birthday party that I threw for myself last year. I remember my parents coming over one time on their wedding anniversary because I wasn't able to go home due to an upcoming exam. I think I made them peppermint tea and fed them fancy cookies. I remember all the times Ahila and Yasmin came over, and we just goofed off to the music of "Dancing Queen." I remember having philosophical talks with Tibor... most likely with some sort of Tibor-ish food involved.
I have aching memories of a love lost, but I also have memories of that ache being gradually replaced with warm feelings of hope and and a sense of comfort. I remember one night, my father came over and I cried like a baby with my head in his lap.
I remember those nights that I spent time getting ready to go out with friends... We would always agree to meet at say 9:45 or so, but it would end up that we'd meet at 10:30 and get to the agreed destinated much later than planned. How did that happen almost every single time?! I would pick out an outfit, put on some fun makeup, and leave my home, pepper spray in hand. I remember how every Sunday I would leave my apartment in either a sari or salwar kameez to go to the temple. I would return the same evening from the temple with the same sari, perhaps a little more wrinkled, and with an extra plate of YUMMY prasadam in hand. At the temple, they know I'm a med student so they would always give me extra.
I remember when my AC unit busted during the first year of med school while it was 100 degrees outside, and I spent the night with Liz when she still lived here.
I remember those lazy Sunday mornings, how I would often spend them on my balcony with the pages of the New York Times magazine and a cup of chamomile tea, and the breeze would comb through my hair if the weather was nice. If the weather was really nice, I would sometimes meditate on my balcony. I remember how every year in the spring, I would enjoy watching the baby buds of the tree in front of my balcony spring open with bright green leaves, gradually changing to a darker shade in summer, then to a yellow color in the autumn.
I know that the carpet in my house contains remnants of tears shed - those belonging to me as well as those of my friends. I know for sure that those tears amplify the special quality of my home.
I remember one time Tibor came over unexpectedly and I didn't know it... He knocked at my door and covered the eyepiece just to be funny and disguised his voice. I refused to open the door because I'm an ultra-paranoid single female. When I finally realized it was him, I opened the door and chewed him out! Can you imagine... me chewing out someone as sweet as Tibor!!! That still makes me smile. I'm glad he's still friends with me :)
I remember Ahila coming over once and we practiced our physical exams skills before a test during first year. We had to remember to use the bell of the stethoscope to listen to the mitral valve.
I remember taking walks from my apartment to that park off of Morningside with Ahila, Yasmin and Bunmi on several different occasion. I have renamed that park "The Devi Park." There's really fun swings over there and really cute kids that play there... there's even this cute FOB family :)
I remember Match Day, what I wore and when Yasmin came to pick me up in her 'rolla. She looked really cute that day, as usual.
I remember the day of Baylor prom, and the three of us are getting ready in my bathroom. I was so happy when I found out that Yasmin was coming over that evening, despite the fact that she was super exhausted from her day. Sameer "Boot" Bootwala taught me some rugged Gujurati that night. "Eh boobeck.... pani apso ki nehi?!!" Hey dorkus, are you gonna get me some water, or what?!
All these memories, and so many more that I don't want to say goodbye to, but I will. I hope and pray that many more wonderful memories are waiting to be made in Atlanta.
I have this book called "Creating Sacred Space with Feng Shui" and there's a part in it that recommends that you call your home by a name, any name that you choose. According to Feng Shui, there's a life force contained in the home, and in this way, the home is a kind of living entity of its own. In the book it said how when you come home after being out, you can greet your home by the name you have chosen. When I first read this I thought that this was kind of silly (although the rest of the book was really interesting). But as the moving out date approaches, I realize that I feel like I will be saying goodbye to an old friend, someone that has been with me during one of the most exciting, most stressful, most difficult periods of my life.
It will be a difficult goodbye.
So getting back to my point. Chirag and I had lunch, and then we went to my place where he kindly helped me move out some of the last remaning items in my apartment.
Now, I'm writing this after he has left. I'm sitting in an empty bedroom, on the carpet, decorated with vacuum cleaner induced stripes. The blinds are closed to my window, and I can hear the hum of the air-conditioning unit. My silver lamp sits in a corner, and it serves as a gentle reminder that I still have possession of my house. But, it's all coming to an end very soon, and I'm really sad.
I have so many memories in this apartment of late night study sessions, coming back from call at the VA at 2 am, Ahila's suprise birthday party, my birthday party that I threw for myself last year. I remember my parents coming over one time on their wedding anniversary because I wasn't able to go home due to an upcoming exam. I think I made them peppermint tea and fed them fancy cookies. I remember all the times Ahila and Yasmin came over, and we just goofed off to the music of "Dancing Queen." I remember having philosophical talks with Tibor... most likely with some sort of Tibor-ish food involved.
I have aching memories of a love lost, but I also have memories of that ache being gradually replaced with warm feelings of hope and and a sense of comfort. I remember one night, my father came over and I cried like a baby with my head in his lap.
I remember those nights that I spent time getting ready to go out with friends... We would always agree to meet at say 9:45 or so, but it would end up that we'd meet at 10:30 and get to the agreed destinated much later than planned. How did that happen almost every single time?! I would pick out an outfit, put on some fun makeup, and leave my home, pepper spray in hand. I remember how every Sunday I would leave my apartment in either a sari or salwar kameez to go to the temple. I would return the same evening from the temple with the same sari, perhaps a little more wrinkled, and with an extra plate of YUMMY prasadam in hand. At the temple, they know I'm a med student so they would always give me extra.
I remember when my AC unit busted during the first year of med school while it was 100 degrees outside, and I spent the night with Liz when she still lived here.
I remember those lazy Sunday mornings, how I would often spend them on my balcony with the pages of the New York Times magazine and a cup of chamomile tea, and the breeze would comb through my hair if the weather was nice. If the weather was really nice, I would sometimes meditate on my balcony. I remember how every year in the spring, I would enjoy watching the baby buds of the tree in front of my balcony spring open with bright green leaves, gradually changing to a darker shade in summer, then to a yellow color in the autumn.
I know that the carpet in my house contains remnants of tears shed - those belonging to me as well as those of my friends. I know for sure that those tears amplify the special quality of my home.
I remember one time Tibor came over unexpectedly and I didn't know it... He knocked at my door and covered the eyepiece just to be funny and disguised his voice. I refused to open the door because I'm an ultra-paranoid single female. When I finally realized it was him, I opened the door and chewed him out! Can you imagine... me chewing out someone as sweet as Tibor!!! That still makes me smile. I'm glad he's still friends with me :)
I remember Ahila coming over once and we practiced our physical exams skills before a test during first year. We had to remember to use the bell of the stethoscope to listen to the mitral valve.
I remember taking walks from my apartment to that park off of Morningside with Ahila, Yasmin and Bunmi on several different occasion. I have renamed that park "The Devi Park." There's really fun swings over there and really cute kids that play there... there's even this cute FOB family :)
I remember Match Day, what I wore and when Yasmin came to pick me up in her 'rolla. She looked really cute that day, as usual.
I remember the day of Baylor prom, and the three of us are getting ready in my bathroom. I was so happy when I found out that Yasmin was coming over that evening, despite the fact that she was super exhausted from her day. Sameer "Boot" Bootwala taught me some rugged Gujurati that night. "Eh boobeck.... pani apso ki nehi?!!" Hey dorkus, are you gonna get me some water, or what?!
All these memories, and so many more that I don't want to say goodbye to, but I will. I hope and pray that many more wonderful memories are waiting to be made in Atlanta.
I have this book called "Creating Sacred Space with Feng Shui" and there's a part in it that recommends that you call your home by a name, any name that you choose. According to Feng Shui, there's a life force contained in the home, and in this way, the home is a kind of living entity of its own. In the book it said how when you come home after being out, you can greet your home by the name you have chosen. When I first read this I thought that this was kind of silly (although the rest of the book was really interesting). But as the moving out date approaches, I realize that I feel like I will be saying goodbye to an old friend, someone that has been with me during one of the most exciting, most stressful, most difficult periods of my life.
It will be a difficult goodbye.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
I'm scared
You'd suspect, after reading the title of this particular blog entry, that I'm about to expound upon my fears of being an intern and actually having responsiblity of children's lives. Yes, I do have fears about this upcoming initiation into the world of internhood, but that's not what this is about. This is about my dream last night.
I just happened to remember -- and I know it's weird that it just happened, but this is how life often works... you happen to remember your dreams at weird moments such as 11:37 on a Tuesday night -- what I dreamt of last night. I dreamt that I was friends with Ashlee Simpson and that she was actually really cool. And the reason why I thought she was cool was because she had a cool wardrobe - she took me on a tour of her closet. Is there a psychiatrist in the house, because I'm scared.
I just happened to remember -- and I know it's weird that it just happened, but this is how life often works... you happen to remember your dreams at weird moments such as 11:37 on a Tuesday night -- what I dreamt of last night. I dreamt that I was friends with Ashlee Simpson and that she was actually really cool. And the reason why I thought she was cool was because she had a cool wardrobe - she took me on a tour of her closet. Is there a psychiatrist in the house, because I'm scared.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Oops, I graduated again
I'm really not obsessed with Britney or anything, although several of my blog entries appear contrary to that statement. However, after having graduated from medical school on May 23rd, I am now forced to release my persona of "Not a med student, not yet a physician" into the arena known as "personal history," and replace it with a new blog phrase, which for the time being, is now "Oops, I graduated again." This is true! I did graduate "again" for the 3rd time in my life. And the "oops" reveals not only how the past four years seem to have flown by (time flies when you're having fun), but also of "ohhhh shit what am I getting myself into for the next three years (i.e. residency)."There's also that other phrase that comes to mind, one that has graced our personal storage of cliches since time immemorial: The third time's a charm, baby!!! And this graduation was certainly just that: charming! I enjoyed this graduation more than any other, for obvious and not so obvious reasons. My classmates and I were genuinely proud of each other - you could feel it in those moments when we were lining up, filling through snake lines behind stage just before parading to our seats in Jones Hall. Backstage, Jones Hall transformed into the baseball dugout that I remember from elementary school, where we'd slap eachother high fives before stepping up to bat. We applauded each other, knowing exactly of the choices that we've made to enter medical school, get through medical school and not just, in the words of an infamous President Emeritus, smash our pagers against the wall and apply for a job at Old Navy. This attitude permeated throughout the ceremony and reached its climax when John Rapp began to call each of our names, calling us to receive our diplomas (and receive our diplomas we did! The diploma covers were NOT empty!). I applauded for each and every one of my classmates, maybe a little louder for some, conjoined with a little hollering for those that will forever occupy special places in my heart. This felt so good, to be proud of all my classmates, and of course, to hear my own name called without a pronunciation error.
So this very fact, the lack of pronunciation error, is also reason why the third times a charm. They have BOTCHED my name at every single one of my graduations in the past. In high school, I questioned as to whether it was really me who was up next to walk across the stage. In college, it wasn't so bad, but enough to make me smirk at how large the world still is and wonder how many sets of Indian parents in the audience were thinking, "They will never pronounce our names correctly." But at my medical school graduation, John Rapp got it perfectly. After he said it, I hesitated a bit, wanting to soak in the moment of "the third time's a charm." Not only am I about to graduate from medical school, but they just pronounced my name right! Can it get better than this?!
And then there was meeting up with my parents after graduation. And this also was unlike any other graduation. They actually had tears in their eyes. It was very emotional for them, something that I may understand only if my own child graduates from medical school or receives a PhD or something like that.
The morning after graduation, I must confess, I sat in the prayer room of our house and I opened up my diploma and traced its letters with my index finger. The only words that were not palpable were the letters of my name, printed on the diploma, the diploma that will grace my future office walls.
So, yeah: Oops, I graduated again, but this one was mighty special.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Me went straight to NBA but me speaking English real good
I found this lovely quote by Kobe Bryant that is a bit LOL-inducing in my opinion:
“He didn't like my toneage, if that's a word. He's the decider. Is that a word, decider? ”
— Kobe Bryant
On being tossed by an official from a game against the Phoenix Suns, after complaining that a foul should have been called flagrant.
An attending goes organic
I was walking to my car today at Whole Foods and who happens to pass me by? None other than the infamous morning report trash talking attending, Dr. Graham himself! (Don't get me wrong here... I'm a big fan of Dr. Graham! I like him because he loves teaching medical students... and I also get a kick out of how he hates evidence based medicine) I did a double-take and turned around to get a good look and make sure it was Dr. Graham... and sure enough it was. I was really surprised to see him at Whole Foods. Why? I'm not really sure. I guess I thought of this man as someone who represents super hard core medicine... someone who doesn't mess around with his fluids and electrolytes... someone who isn't hippie enough to want organic vegetables to grace his dinner plate. But I guess I was wrong!! The funny thing is what I must have looked like when I saw Dr. Graham in the parking lot. To the innocent bystander, it probably appeared that I was checking out a graying, balding man. I promise this isn't true. Of course, if it was Dr. Bala I saw in the parking lot at Whole Foods, that innocent bystander would be absolutely correct :)
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
We'll dot the "i" in red, make the "M" maroon and take over the world!
It's Monday evening and I'm flying home from Atlanta, fresh off a successful apartment hunting trip. They tell me on the overhead speaker to sit back, relax and enjoy the flight and I gladly oblige - the joy of knowing shelter exists in your immediate future allows one to enjoy the trip home just a little bit more than you would think. I get comfortable in what little square footage airlines allow you these days, and I happen to glace at the seat pocket in front of me that contains the airline safety card - I remember reading these cards profusely when I was younger, but now I think of myself as too learned, too wise - if you will - to give the safety card the time of day. But, today it catches my eye, because of the Air Tran logo that I see:
I stare at the logo and wonder: Why the italicized "air"? Why the red dotted "i"? And why does this make Air Tran something else? Why? Why? Why?
And then in those seconds, I have deja vu, recalling a similar tension at viewing a logo... a logo that has graced our presence only for the past year at Baylor College of Medicine.
Why the maroon M? How much difference does a maroon "M" and a red dot on the "I" really make? These are the unanswered questions of our time.
I stare at the logo and wonder: Why the italicized "air"? Why the red dotted "i"? And why does this make Air Tran something else? Why? Why? Why?
And then in those seconds, I have deja vu, recalling a similar tension at viewing a logo... a logo that has graced our presence only for the past year at Baylor College of Medicine.
Why the maroon M? How much difference does a maroon "M" and a red dot on the "I" really make? These are the unanswered questions of our time.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Quote of the Day
Ahila just came over and said, "Devi, you look so brown... Did you get a tan?"
I hope others are amused by this as well.
I hope others are amused by this as well.
Monday, May 01, 2006
You don't talk like a duck - Part 2
I'm back from India and I definitely miss it as I anticipated! And I could use a little less of this jet lag, for SURE!
I talked to my family in India over the phone the other day. The highlight of my conversations was when I talked to my niece, Aarti, who asked, "Devika Didi, where are you calling from?" I think she thought that I may be calling from the moon. I decided to tell her the truth. "Hi, Aarti! I'm calling from the U.S."
And then she says, "Devika Didi, I know you are not an alien!"
So she figured out that I'm actually not from the moon. I think one of her textbooks for school convinced her of this sad fact. I saw that her science textbook said, "Human beings breathe air. Humans need air in order to live and survive. This is why no one can live on the moon."
Stupid textbooks. They leave kids with no room for creativity!!
I talked to my family in India over the phone the other day. The highlight of my conversations was when I talked to my niece, Aarti, who asked, "Devika Didi, where are you calling from?" I think she thought that I may be calling from the moon. I decided to tell her the truth. "Hi, Aarti! I'm calling from the U.S."
And then she says, "Devika Didi, I know you are not an alien!"
So she figured out that I'm actually not from the moon. I think one of her textbooks for school convinced her of this sad fact. I saw that her science textbook said, "Human beings breathe air. Humans need air in order to live and survive. This is why no one can live on the moon."
Stupid textbooks. They leave kids with no room for creativity!!
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
My last day in India!!
Today is my last day in India. I'm feeling a bit homesick for my parents and friends and Houston (i know... can you believe it???), but I know that when I'm back in the U.S., I will miss India a lot. I'll miss trying to fake being compltely India. I'll miss all the energy in the streets, the fresh vegetables and flowers, the beautiful temples everywhere, and listening to people speak Kannada all around me. I'll miss that wonderful ancient India smell too! Hmmm... it really has been a good time for me. I know that when I get back, I'll have to face moving to ATL, and graduation... Well, India, thanks for being so kind to me and I hope to see you again soon!!
Today is my last day in India. I'm feeling a bit homesick for my parents and friends and Houston (i know... can you believe it???), but I know that when I'm back in the U.S., I will miss India a lot. I'll miss trying to fake being compltely India. I'll miss all the energy in the streets, the fresh vegetables and flowers, the beautiful temples everywhere, and listening to people speak Kannada all around me. I'll miss that wonderful ancient India smell too! Hmmm... it really has been a good time for me. I know that when I get back, I'll have to face moving to ATL, and graduation... Well, India, thanks for being so kind to me and I hope to see you again soon!!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
You know you're in India and lovin' it when...
You know you're in India and lovin' it when...
1. You see a sign in a kiddie park that says "Children under 10 years of age are not allowed to have a swinging time in this park."
2. You love it that the major mode of transportation involves something that only has 3 wheels.
3. They serve you a mini masala dosa with upma and masala tea on the domestic flights.
4. You spontaneously begin to shake your head horizontally in order to convey the message "Yes, yes" to others. Just like Ahila!!! HA HA HA HA (and yes, ahila, ducks ARE from the moon)
5. It's the highlight of your day whenever you realize that you don't have to shit in a hole. In other words, I've been able to avoid having to be a squat shitter!!! Ok, maybe that was too much information for some of you...
6. Here's a really fun one for me: You get to wear fresh Jasmine flowers in your hair everyday for only a penny! Who needs perfume?
7. You go to McDonalds and you order a Paneer Masala Salsa Wrap (as opposed to the McChicken Maharaja of course).
There may be more to come... stay tuned!
1. You see a sign in a kiddie park that says "Children under 10 years of age are not allowed to have a swinging time in this park."
2. You love it that the major mode of transportation involves something that only has 3 wheels.
3. They serve you a mini masala dosa with upma and masala tea on the domestic flights.
4. You spontaneously begin to shake your head horizontally in order to convey the message "Yes, yes" to others. Just like Ahila!!! HA HA HA HA (and yes, ahila, ducks ARE from the moon)
5. It's the highlight of your day whenever you realize that you don't have to shit in a hole. In other words, I've been able to avoid having to be a squat shitter!!! Ok, maybe that was too much information for some of you...
6. Here's a really fun one for me: You get to wear fresh Jasmine flowers in your hair everyday for only a penny! Who needs perfume?
7. You go to McDonalds and you order a Paneer Masala Salsa Wrap (as opposed to the McChicken Maharaja of course).
There may be more to come... stay tuned!
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
You look like a duck and walk like a duck, but don't TALK like a duck?
Wow, I haven't posted in almost a month!! As many of you know, I'm in India! WOO HOOO! I love India. It's so much fun being here and already in the past 2 weeks I've had life altering experiences. (One of them being the fact that my cousin actually has DSL in his house... who woulda thunk?!!)
Anyhoo, I was inspired by everyone's favorite psychiatrist (and mine) to post today. Of course, G-lo has no idea that he was my inspiration. Well maybe he has some idea as soon as he realizes that someone in Gurgaon, India looked at his blog.
So the funny thing about being in India is that I've turned into the FOB! And I have plenty of little kids around me to make fun of me for it. My cousin's daughter (i call her my niece since we consider our cousins to also be our brothers and sisters) - her name is Aarti - she 7 and she has many friends who come visit her. One of her friends is name Avanika (yes it rhymes with my name). Here's what Avanika decided she thought of me when she met me, "You have an Indian name and you look like an Indian, but you sound like a foreigner. How is that?" So this type of jabber kept going on for awhile, and I began to get really annoyed and decided to mess with her a little bit (I know, I'm going to be a GREAT pediatrician someday HA HA HA HA).
"Actually, Avanika, I'm from the moon," I told her.
"How are you from the moon? People can't live on the moon," she says.
"Ahhh yes, but I have a special spacesuit and so I can live there."
"Show me your spacesuit!!" she says with a huge pout on her face.
"I can't show you, " I say.
"WHYYYY NOT??!!!" she says, still pouting.
"Because you don't believe that I'm from the moon... why should I show you?"
This went on for awhile. Somehow in the middle of me explaining to her that I was from the moon, I threw in that I had an alien husband, and that French people also lived on the moon (i had a friend named Franc.) I think I also starting talking about the two-headed people that live in America. I had successfully captivated my audience.
After awhile, Avanika's little friend, Arushi, decided she believed I was from the moon. She's only 6. Her reasoning: "She is having all these big big bags! (Referring to my luggage) Of course she is from the moon!" Bless Arushi's little soul!
So this went on all evening, even when we all went out to eat. My cousin and his wife joined in on the fun. My cousin Prakash added that I can't show them my spacesuit because the weather is too hot and it'll melt if I remove it from its special covering (and yes, I acknowledge that this theory actually makes no sense). My cousin's wife Aparna added that if I show them my spacesuit, they'll touch it, and that'll cause them to blast off to the moon (this comment drew wide-eyes!!).
Finally, the next day I decided I was going to have to manufacture a make shift spacesuit or else I'll make my little niece cry from not being able to show her my space costume. This was quite difficult considering the lack of materials I hadto work with. So I decided instead to "send the spacesuit to my collegue who needs it immediately." This has seemed to satisfy Aarti, Avanika and Arushi.
Finally yesterday evening, Avanika came up to me and said, "Devika Didi (didi = sister), ok, I believe that you are from moon!" Good girl!
Although... I got a very tempting suggestion from a friend today: maybe I should end the story by telling the kids that "the mothership has landed" and it's time for me to leave. This of course would occur around the time that I leave for Bangalore.
******************************************************************************
Another "not a med student, not yet a physician moment": Aparna Akka (akka also = sister) told me the other day that the maid has worms. Prakash Dada (dada = brother in kannada, but yes, I know in oher languages it means grandfather) asks me, "What should we do for her?" I say, "Take her to the doctor?" Well it was either saying that or the word "ivermectin," which for some reason popped into my brain!
Another "You know you've been studying too hard for the Step 2" moment: I swear to God, that I saw a Prometric center in the marketplace the other day. It almost made me cry to see this. For you non-medical anomalies, Prometric is the place where we take our Step exams. They offer various other liscensing exams at Prometric also.
Ok, that's all for now. Hope everyone is well! I hope people still check my blog!! :)
Anyhoo, I was inspired by everyone's favorite psychiatrist (and mine) to post today. Of course, G-lo has no idea that he was my inspiration. Well maybe he has some idea as soon as he realizes that someone in Gurgaon, India looked at his blog.
So the funny thing about being in India is that I've turned into the FOB! And I have plenty of little kids around me to make fun of me for it. My cousin's daughter (i call her my niece since we consider our cousins to also be our brothers and sisters) - her name is Aarti - she 7 and she has many friends who come visit her. One of her friends is name Avanika (yes it rhymes with my name). Here's what Avanika decided she thought of me when she met me, "You have an Indian name and you look like an Indian, but you sound like a foreigner. How is that?" So this type of jabber kept going on for awhile, and I began to get really annoyed and decided to mess with her a little bit (I know, I'm going to be a GREAT pediatrician someday HA HA HA HA).
"Actually, Avanika, I'm from the moon," I told her.
"How are you from the moon? People can't live on the moon," she says.
"Ahhh yes, but I have a special spacesuit and so I can live there."
"Show me your spacesuit!!" she says with a huge pout on her face.
"I can't show you, " I say.
"WHYYYY NOT??!!!" she says, still pouting.
"Because you don't believe that I'm from the moon... why should I show you?"
This went on for awhile. Somehow in the middle of me explaining to her that I was from the moon, I threw in that I had an alien husband, and that French people also lived on the moon (i had a friend named Franc.) I think I also starting talking about the two-headed people that live in America. I had successfully captivated my audience.
After awhile, Avanika's little friend, Arushi, decided she believed I was from the moon. She's only 6. Her reasoning: "She is having all these big big bags! (Referring to my luggage) Of course she is from the moon!" Bless Arushi's little soul!
So this went on all evening, even when we all went out to eat. My cousin and his wife joined in on the fun. My cousin Prakash added that I can't show them my spacesuit because the weather is too hot and it'll melt if I remove it from its special covering (and yes, I acknowledge that this theory actually makes no sense). My cousin's wife Aparna added that if I show them my spacesuit, they'll touch it, and that'll cause them to blast off to the moon (this comment drew wide-eyes!!).
Finally, the next day I decided I was going to have to manufacture a make shift spacesuit or else I'll make my little niece cry from not being able to show her my space costume. This was quite difficult considering the lack of materials I hadto work with. So I decided instead to "send the spacesuit to my collegue who needs it immediately." This has seemed to satisfy Aarti, Avanika and Arushi.
Finally yesterday evening, Avanika came up to me and said, "Devika Didi (didi = sister), ok, I believe that you are from moon!" Good girl!
Although... I got a very tempting suggestion from a friend today: maybe I should end the story by telling the kids that "the mothership has landed" and it's time for me to leave. This of course would occur around the time that I leave for Bangalore.
******************************************************************************
Another "not a med student, not yet a physician moment": Aparna Akka (akka also = sister) told me the other day that the maid has worms. Prakash Dada (dada = brother in kannada, but yes, I know in oher languages it means grandfather) asks me, "What should we do for her?" I say, "Take her to the doctor?" Well it was either saying that or the word "ivermectin," which for some reason popped into my brain!
Another "You know you've been studying too hard for the Step 2" moment: I swear to God, that I saw a Prometric center in the marketplace the other day. It almost made me cry to see this. For you non-medical anomalies, Prometric is the place where we take our Step exams. They offer various other liscensing exams at Prometric also.
Ok, that's all for now. Hope everyone is well! I hope people still check my blog!! :)
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