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| Well, it is time for me too to jump ship from Xanga and move on to greener pastures. I've kept this blog since 2003, and now I'm relocating over to wordpress. Please please please visit me there at the link below. Farewell Xanga.
My new wordpress site:
http://chevaliermalfet.wordpress.com/
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| I'm currently trying to study for an upcoming exam on Nutrition. While I'm not exactly bored to tears . . . it's a near thing. Casting about for a new and novel way to procrastinate (the dishes being done, the desk being cleaned) I decided that maybe it was time for another xanga entry.
Every two weeks I participate in this elective called "The Healer's Art." I thought it would be more of a discussion of why we wanted to become doctors, what it means to be a doctor, etc, but in fact it has been more of a chance to share some of our personal experiences when it comes to loss, staying true to who we are and so on. Somewhere in the course of these discussions I told my little section (3 other first year medical students and a pediatrician) about the old Lowell Crew's latest trip to Monterey. It really took me until then (a good 3 or 4 days after the fact) before I really understood why I had such a great time, and it all sorta came tumbling out in that small group.
The fact of the matter is, I have known these people for a lotta years, some from the first year of high school, and some as far back as the first year of school . . . period. There is so much shared history and experience there, I feel that when I am hanging out with them that I have come to some sort of spiritual 'home.' There is nothing I can do with them that wouldn't be a surprise. I feel like if I were to walk up to these people and tell them that I were gay, or had just eloped and gotten married, or something equally random and strange, they'd blink a few times, assimilate it, and then ask me some appropriate question about whether I've got a picture of the new wife. I guess what I am trying to say is it wouldn't faze them one bit; they know who I am, and there is just about nothing I can do that can change their fundamental image of the person that I am.
In that company there is no need to guard my emotions, to hold things back (yes, up to and including the spanking of certain members of said group). I would gladly tell any one of them anything there is to know about the most private aspects of my life, and I know that my candidness will be met with a thoughtful ear. I think that our relationship is such that we don't even need to speak in full sentences anymore; so many allusions are tossed around that I am sure our conversation is nearly impossible to decipher by passers-by.
But anyway, this all ties into that theme of loss that we were discussing in my small group because I said I was afraid I might lose this amazing connection with these amazing people in the course of becoming a physician (and in the group's own sort of Brownian Motion as they spread out to different parts of the country to chase down their own dreams). I only feel it in small pangs here and there when someone asks me how medical school is going, or what I thought of Gross Anatomy, or of studying or volunteering at my clinic. Usually words are good enough to explain how these things have effected me, but in truth language is a clumsy tool, and sometimes I find myself unable to adequately express how I really feel. My medical school classmates can understand without much stretch of the imagination; we're all doing it together. It is when I am speaking with people outside of this circle that I find myself sometimes drawing up short.
I dunno. This really isn't a big problem now, but I feel like I can see it coming, and I fear the day when that gap becomes too wide to bridge. We do some crazy stuff in medicine, and I am not sure how my inability to share my experiences with those who have not had similar ones themselves will affect our relationship. I mean, a bad day for a plumber and a bad day for a doctor working in an ICU are completely different things. How can one expect to relate to the other? I am afraid as we follow our own little trails through life that their diverging ways will mean we will no longer be able to find that common ground that makes us such a unique and special group of people.
That is what I said to my small group anyway. I dunno. I feel like in a lot of ways, you guys are so important in keeping me sane, and grounded in this world of ours. You guys know me better than just about anyone else I can think of, and more importantly, you guys know me as Jordan-the-friend, and not Jordan-the-doctor. However these coming years (and these months already past!) decide to change me, I feel like you guys are such an important reminder of my humanity. Because you guys know me better than anyone else, and know me before this whole new layer of medical experiences get laid down on me, you remind me (either via the gentle word or the smack across the face . . . whichever works best) to be, well, me. The unadulterated, unsullied me, who rather enjoys taking stupid pictures with anchors, wearing Krispy Kreme hats in the car and staring into tide pools on a windy beach.
Anyhow, I know this all sounds really emo. Honestly, if you look at this the right way, I feel like this might only be a few notches below Kate Winslett's "I'll never let go Jack!" of Titanic infamy. :shrugs: But the fact of the matter is, it worries me. Doctors are not known for being the most well-grounded, intra-personally gifted people.
I guess that the point of all this really is to let you guys know that I really appreciate your friendship. That it ranks among the things I hold most dear to me in all the world. Not everyone is so lucky to have this consistent group of friends, with so many shared memories among each other. It is much more the norm to be friends with one person here, one person there, with no mutual acquaintances. But having this group, this crew of people who have stayed close for so long and who can play, support and lean on each other as the situation demands is so unique and so amazing. I just wanted to let you guys know how much I appreciate this friendship, and say that I hope it never fades.
Well, that's my melodramatic schpiel for the evening. Nutrition calls. Take care everyone, and hope to see y'all sooner rather than later.
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| I've already seen a few endorsements for candidates out there, and I figure that with Super Tuesday coming up tomorrow it's time to throw my own hat into the ring. Before getting into that now, it is worth noting that my voting record hasn't been a particularly lucky one. Among some of the past candidates that have received my vote to
ill-effect have been Gray Davis
(against the recall), John Kerry (we all know how that ended) and Gus for school president (he wasn't even on the
official ballot - we had to write him in ourselves).
That said, I'm batting 0-3, and in baseball they would say that means
I'm due.
On my tiny little soap box today, I stand up to endorse Barack Obama to be the presidential candidate for the Democratic Party. Now I am no pundit; I can't recall his voting record during his brief time in the Senate, and I figure I'm doing a pretty good job when I can remember he is from Illinois. But what perspective I do offer here in this green-tinted blog is that of an idealistic young man who believes that politics can be more than people making big statements that mean nothing. Maybe I've drank too much of the Kool-Aid or watched one too many West Wing episodes, but I feel like government can be more than the address to which you send your taxes. John F. Kennedy wrote a book once about courage and idealism in the senate, describing men who turned their backs on their political careers rather than compromise their sense of what is right. These men made politics an honorable profession, with their high ideals and strong oratory.
Maybe it is because I've bought the hype, but I believe that Mr. Obama has the idealistic quality I feel has been missing from the federal government for the last eight years. This is not a race thing or a gender thing, this is a personality thing. I feel that Ms. Clinton is a politician in the loaded sense of the word; she would rather be on the winning side rather than the right one. Mr. Obama is young, and I hope uncorrupted by the dictates of politics. Some might say that in order to be a successful politician, you need to compromise and bargain, to pick your battles. But too often that is all politics is; when it comes down to a hard choice, you find yourself picking the one that will get you re-elected, not the one that you know to be right. The point of getting re-elected is no longer to be around to participate in important decisions down the line, but simply to get re-elected for its own sake. I think that Ms. Clinton would make the popular choice, not the right one.
That is my primary criticism of Ms. Clinton and the basis of my endorsement of Mr. Obama. I feel that government can be principled, and I am willing to endorse a candidate who will bring that quality to the White House even if I don't agree with all of his issues. I want someone who believes in what he is doing not because the poll data says so, but because he thinks it is right. I want a President who will fight for an unpopular cause for no other reason than it is the right one. I want a President whom I can respect, and I believe Mr. Obama to be that person.
Forgive me if this entry comes off a little preachy; I'm sitting in the med school common room right now and between the background chatter and the fooseball game, it's a little hard to edit out some of the more cliched and off color comments. That and getting smacked around by the quiz we just took probably doesn't make a recipe for literary success.
As for a quick update on myself, life is pretty good here in medical school. The classes are interesting, the people are great, and once in a while I even get to play doctor. That said, I managed to break my right hand (my 5th metacarpal for those of you who are anatomically inclined) and am currently in a cast that prevents me from writing or typing with any degree of efficiency. But that's life and seriously, one has to go big or go home. Hope all is well with everyone else out there!
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| It is Christmas Eve, a rare quiet night in the house, and the lights of southern San Francisco are particularly pretty this evening. On top of just having finished my first block of medical school, I think now is as good a time as any to reflect in general, but tonight on giving in particular.
They always say it is better to give rather than receive; that there is more joy in making someone else happy than in simply being the recipient of some worldly item. I had to make a run down to Stonestown today to pick up a last minute gift as an errand for my mother. It was a quick in and out operation, but I lingered for a while, and basically just wandered about people watching. I got to thinking as I meandered around the mall about all the gifts that these people are buying, and how tomorrow morning there will be droves of happy children, spouses, parents, friends and relatives gleefully tearing open an assortment of gaily wrapped presents as the purchasers look on. But then Boxing Day rolls around, and the 27th and 28th and January and February and March, and people start taking those gifts for granted, plucking their gifted clothes from the wardrobe or cashing in their gift cards without a thought as to how it came to be in their possession in the first place. I'm not trying to make a judgment (lord knows, I'm lucky if I can remember who gave me what long enough to fire off the thank you cards), but an observation of how these gifts that we receive soon blend into our other possessions, and thus lose the transient luster conferred upon an item carefully selected, gift wrapped, and given in love or friendship.
However, there are always exceptions, times when you get ready to put on that wrist watch your mother gave you two years ago at Christmas, or pull on the battered baseball glove from your 19th birthday (yes, I know that most normal people get baseball gloves when they are like seven, but I was a bit behind the curve). You get these items out and you pause, and you remember and appreciate not just the gift, but the person who gave it.
Last week, on Tuesday the 18th, we took our Anatomy final and I saw my cadaver for the last time. Unfortunately I missed my chance to pay my last respects to him before he was sent off to be cremated. To be honest, I felt quite guilty about having missed my chance, which I attribute to not properly honoring the amazing gift that the body donor had made. I imagine that it is not an easy thing to give up your body to science, to allow the remaining physical husk of the person that you once were to be picked at and prodded by medical students with good intentions but unpracticed hands. Even so, it cannot be reiterated enough just how amazing a gift the donors give
to us; through their donation they not only teach us anatomy in the
most basic sense (the head bone is connected to the neck bone . . . )
but also a whole spectrum of valuable lessons that are generally not
contained in textbooks.
They have given me the gift of wonder at holding a human brain in my hands, they've taught me how to work in a stressful situation with a team, why you insert a chest tube above a rib rather than below it, as well as that no matter how lifeless, mutilated and cold the body was on the table, that the instinct to hold his hand was always subtly present. I bring all this up because I want to thank whomever it was who donated his body for that amazing gift, for allowing me the chance to learn these amazing lessons. I sincerely hope that as I continue my medical carrer that, like a well-appreciated present, I will remember this gift and the person who gave it. When I place a femoral catheter on the medial side of the femoral pulse, I hope I will not forget, and still be able to pause from time to time and remember the amazing gift that has taught me that and innumerable other lessons.
This is certainly the season for giving, but it is also the season for valuing the gifts that you have received, and recognizing the people who have given them to you. It is thus in this spirit that I wish to say thank you to my cadaver for the use of his body, and to reassure him that his sacrifice will not be forgotten.
I hope that is not too morbid for you guys, especially now on Christmas Eve (well, Christmas Day now, but whatever). At anyrate, merry Christmas everyone, and best wishes to all of you in the new year.
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| Perhaps this entry is coming about a year or so too late; after all, I am in medical school now. But back in those pre-med days it was all about the hypothetical. Now I've gotten to experience some of it, and I can finally speak to some of my motivations for becoming a doctor in a concrete sense, without being forced to extrapolate my reasons for making this effort.
The best way to explain this might be with a small scenario I watched play out at a clinic I volunteered at last weekend. At this particular clinic, one often sees sex workers, drug users and the like, and this particular patient had gotten an enormous abscess from using a needle that was not sterile. An abscess is basically a huge pimple under your skin; it is the result of some infection, and over time if it is not treated you find yourself with a compartment under your skin filled with pus, blood and general unpleasantness. The way one deals with this is first to numb the area, lance (puncture) the abscess, and drain the fluid out.
Being about the most junior medical student at the clinic that day, I got to watch as the second year medical student, under the supervision of our preceptor, prepared to cut open the abscess with a scalpel. I've sat here and tried to do my best to recreate the scene in prose, but I think the situation is best described by a small poem I wrote shortly after watching the scene (please forgive my sad, limping poetic abilities, but it was better than anything else I could come up with). For want of a better title, I think "The Student" will suffice.
A sterile field, gloves and face shield on,
The student prepares to lance an abscess.
She’s never done this before and she’s nervous,
But this is medicine; you must learn some things by doing.
Her face is collected and composed,
But behind her eyes she is awash in trepidation.
The doctor yields to the student,
And she comes forward and looks to her task.
She takes the syringe and touches it to the patient’s skin,
But her hands betray her composed exterior;
They tremble.
Hopefully that communicates my thoughts better than plain writing. I suppose that the real moral of the story is that this was an incredibly human moment that I got to observe. They told us in one of our inspirational, "welcome to medical school" lectures that as physicians we will gain "a unique view into the human condition." I have gotten the impression that in some of my most memorable experiences with medicine, this has truly come to pass.
I want to be a doctor because it means that I will get to feel. These feelings may not always be happy or sad, but the one thing I feel I can count on is that they will be intense. As a doctor, I think you are privy to some of life's greatest triumphs and tragedies. And more than simply observe this drama, you get to participate. Already, I feel like so much has happened. I'd never seen a mastectomy before Tuesday, but after shadowing an oncologist that morning, I had seen and felt at least a dozen, and got to speak to the brave women who live with them. I got to see the courage of these people who have sacrificed a very physical piece of themselves to cancer, while still living under the constant fear of a fresh relapse. And on a much smaller, but perhaps more personal level, I got to see the strength of that second year medical student as she tried to master her apprehension and go forward with her task.
Here I have done pelvic exams, prostate exams, successfully drawn blood, and have spoken with people who knew they were going to die. Not all of these things are happy things, but they have all been profound, and that is why I want to be a doctor. This is all something of an adventure, where I get to learn about the world around me, as well as myself. I don't know how I will react when someday I will find myself standing over a real human being with a scalpel in my hand, or when I am trying to resuscitate a patient who may or may not die under my treatment, but I do know that I will get to do these things. And that, I feel, really makes this line of work particularly interesting.
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