Tire tracks

It's as if God has sprinkled green-colored chalk dust all over Atlanta. But it's not chalk, it's pollen. This morning, I was driving to work and realized that my tires were leaving tracks in the pollen that has gathered on the parking lot pavement. I arrived at work and happened to pass by the newspaper that was resting at the nursing station. March madness, it said, has arrived in the form of allergies. There was a picture of a man standing outside with a face mask on. The article explained that a high pollen count would be greater than 250. The measured pollen count yesterday was 5,023! When I first moved to Texas from CT, I was introduced to the concept of seasonal allergies, but this take things to a whole new level.


But it's not ALL ridiculous. Accompanying this obnoxiously high pollen count are are the flowering trees that have greeted us with Spring! There's all the dogwood trees that do not escape a single street. There's other flowering trees too... I don't know all the names. It's a beautiful sight! It makes me not miss the Texas wildflowers too much. I think the Indigo Girls definitely called it when they wrote the song "Southland in the Springtime."

I guess we'll see if all the visitors for the Final Four see the beauty of Atlanta in the Springtime... that is if they're not hacking up a lung from all the pollen in the air. Bring your flonase with you Ahila!!

Flashes of Friends

I'm on vacation! WOOO HOO!! I spent the first part of my vacation back home with my folks, which was wonderful. Eating my mom's cooking is the equivalent of heaven on Earth for me. I also got to spend time with old friends last Tuesday night at Cafe Brasil. We only spent a few hours together, but I got to relive my friends' subtle (and not so subtle!) quirks that make me miss them.

Chirag, with his ever pervasive inappropriate comments that still manage to shock us. Ahila, with her blunt way of characterizing people followed with a beaming smile of shy guilt. Frieda, with her hilarious dry humor and wit... and fashion sense! Erica... she's cute and corny and photogenic! Hana, with her spunky attitude... and new sophisticated earrings :) Bunmi, with her jaw-dropping sense of style and wise, gentle spirit. Ashwini, still a social butterfly, bringing 3 of her fellow 4th years along with her. Liz, my song-bird turned brilliant med-pedi friend... her dorkiness rules! Kate, with her sweet English vegan demeanor. Laura... one day we WILL get Libi to acknowledge our 2nd violin bad-assness :) Dornechia... she appears as collected and calm as ever with the perfect touch of spice. Gonzo... he still makes me chuckle and smile as much he ever did. I ended the night stopping by at Tibor's. He was my neighbor for 4 years so I got to do a drive by of my old place. We had some tea together and it definitely felt like I had never left in so many ways. Here are some pics from the night.

Me and Ahila

I like this one of Gonzo

Liz, Dornechia and Ahila (I think Liz is talking about her 16 hour days at the VA)

Reunion of the oh-sixers! Ahila, Bunmi, Erica, Dornechia, me and G-lo. You can see a couple examples of a middle school art exhibit on display at Cafe Brasil. Some of the pieces were extremely clever... making not so subtle jabs at the marketing industry and pop culture.

Frieda, me and Hana

Me, Ahila and Bunmi.

Me and Tibor at Briargreen with the Texas Medical Center off in the distance.

Emergency Masala

I've been in the ER this past month and I've realized that I'm not made to be an ER physician. It drives me nuts... all the kids that come in with such minor complaints... I don't understand! It's ironic because it's in my ER month that I'm getting better at diagnosing ear infections. That's not an emergency.

There have been some good things about ER though. I get to do a lot of procedures. I'm getting a heck of a lot better at blood draws and IV's. And then there are lacs. I haven't done laceration repairs since my Surgical ER rotation where we would frequently sew up adults without any supervision. Those skills definitely came in handy during this rotation.

Two nights go, I felt my dislike of the ER come to a climax with one particular patient. These African American parents (I only mention the race because it becomes relevant later) brought their child to the ER for vomiting and diarrhea (we've been seeing so much acute gastroenteritis!) and the kid was truly dehydrated. I was bolusing the child with IV fluids and reassessing him over several hours. Finally at 3 am, I was pretty tired, and this is when they decide to bring in the twin brother who was at home with the aunt. The twin brother is, unlike the first twin, doing great, although he's had a few episodes of vomiting. I was trying to get this second story out of the parents and it was like pulling teeth. They just didn't want to cooperate with my questions, and I was getting very frustrated.

Finally at one point during the interview, the father decides to change the subject altogether. "Do you have any pakoras around here?" I couldnt believe my ears.

"What did you say?"

"Do you have any pakoras for us?" Ok, so I get VERY irritated at this question. I can't really describe in words exactly why this question irritated me. Maybe it's because he was making assumptions about my race by making a really dumb joke. Maybe it's because I felt that his question was too tongue and cheeky. Maybe it's because I just wanted to get the dumb exam over with so I could move on and not speak to him for another second. Maybe I was hungry and mad that I didn't have any pakoras.

"No, we don't have any pakoras here."

"I could use some pakoras right now, man."

And then from out of nowhere, this comes out of me: "How do you know I'm Indian? I could be Hispanic."

"Well, I just know. I'm pretty good at guessing." There he was, the quintessential expert on race, right before my very eyes.

Later I was talking with a friend, who suggested that I should have said, "No we don't have any pakoras. But do you have any fried chicken for me?"

But then maybe I would have gotten fired. Or beat up. Or both.