Block 6 Week 1: Something New Every Day

So last week, huh? Apparently a lot of people read last week's post (well, more than usual anyway). I had a lot of feedback from the post, and I appreciate the encouragement that you all gave. I also heard a lot of stories that were way too similar to mine. I pray that those of you that have had similar experiences are able to find a place of peace and protection.

This week has been a hard one, honestly. School hasn't been a problem at all, though. Last Sunday a really close family friend and fellow church member passed away. This week has been full of preparing to say a final goodbye and comforting everyone who is feeling the loss. I wanted to be a lot more available to help out, but on Tuesday I came down with a horrible stomach bug, and I was down for the count for about two days. With that and keeping up with school, I've not been as helpful as I would have liked. Today we had the funeral and burial, and there were so many people who came together and leaned on each other for comfort. 

I don't know if everyone else does this, but when I attend a funeral, I start thinking about loved ones that I've lost. I don't think of it as depressing or sad, though. I just like to reflect on people that I miss. One of the biggest losses I think I've experienced is that of my paternal grandfather. He died in a car accident about three weeks after HB and I got married. He's been gone more than 25 years, but I still feel a huge empty hole where he is supposed to be. I used to go to yard sales with Poppa and Granny on Saturday mornings sometimes, and I spent the night at their house all the time.  I remember watching Wheel of Fortune and Family Feud with them in their living room. They were a very big influence on my life as a kid, and my Poppa especially taught me a lot of cool things. One of his favorite things to say (usually after I goofed up something) was, "You learn something new every day." He often said it sarcastically, but he was absolutely right. Sometimes I think of how many days it has been since he died and how many things I've learned on those days. I wish I could sit and talk to him about all the things I've learned.

There's this silly thing that I've done for almost my whole life that I can't believe I'm going to share with you guys. So there's this cute little picture of Aubie (War Eagle!) that I've always thought looks like my Poppa. He looks like this:

It's like if Poppa were a tiger, this would be his face. Yes, it's silly. I have a huge sticker like this on the back window of my car (2007 Ford Mustang, YES!). But whenever I look in my rearview mirror and see Aubie's face, I think about Poppa and I kinda feel like he's keeping an eye on me. I think when we miss people really bad, there are little things that can bring comfort and a reminder of how much you love them, even in their absence. I don't know if it makes it sting worse or it softens it a bit, maybe a little of both at different times. But whenever I feel like the world is really hard, I just think about Poppa watching and I hope he's proud. 

There's a song that I hear sometimes, and it still busts me up pretty bad. It's called Beam Me Up, and it's about losing someone, and what you would do if you had a minute to see them again. I don't know what I'd say if I could talk to Poppa for just a minute, but I'd sure love the chance. I wouldn't feel the need to tell him I loved him the whole time because we said it to each other all the time, and he knew it. I don't have any regrets with our relationship, just that it ended too quickly. But the lyrics to the song are:

Beam me up

Give me a minute,

I don't know what I'd say in it.

I'd probably just stare

Happy just to be there holding your face.

Beam me up

Let me be lighter,

I'm tired of being a fighter.

I think a minute's enough...

Could you beam me up?

OK OK Now that I'm sobbing like a baby, I promise next week's post should be a little bit lighter. Have a good week!

Ciao!

Block Break 5: Keeping silent is what they count on

I wanted to use my block break blog post to tell you all about my awesome block break. It was going to be all happy and awesome and smiley. HB and I went to St. Augustine for the first part of the week and stayed in an AirBnB, and we had a blast. But I really can't fill this blog with details about my awesome week. Because Trump.

I'm not sure what kind of world you guys live in, but today I'm going to tell you a little bit about mine. Perhaps that will explain the visceral reaction that I had yesterday when I turned on the news. I apologize for using my med school blog to be political. I'm not political, not in the least. But staying silent is what they count on. Who? The ones who perpetrate the ideal that women are to blame for men's rotten behavior towards them.

I remember very vividly the first time a member of the opposite sex violated my personal boundaries. I was seven years old, and a little boy in my class who had never spoken a single word to me reached out and grabbed my crotch. If the first thing that comes to your mind is that I must have been wearing something or doing something to draw that kind of attention, just get out. Close the window and go. Or scroll up and read again. Seven. Years. Old. I was probably wearing jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers. You might say that some adult taught him this, or he was just a curious child acting out, or whatever kind of trash that people say here. It's not a comfortable subject to discuss, and it's the ugly underbelly of throwing thirty kids into a classroom with one adult to keep the peace. You might even think that it wasn't a big deal, and compared to the crimes that women have endured at the hands of sick perverts, it's less than a 1 on a scale to 10.

But what that incident did to me as a child, as an individual, as a female -- it was devastating. I did not enjoy it or welcome it. But I did not tell anyone. Why? Because as a seven year-old child, I already knew that these kinds of revelations made people uncomfortable, and it wasn't something that people wanted to discuss. So I tried to behave differently so that that kind of thing wouldn't happen again. I stayed far away from that particular kid, and I kept my eyes open. But it wasn't enough.

I rode the bus to school when I was in 4th grade. I was probably about 10 or 11 years old. I learned very quickly to just grab a seat as far toward the front of the bus as possible, because if you walked all the way to the back, there were boys that sat on the edge of the seats on the aisle and would put their hands on you as you walked past. The first time that happened to me, I was groped all the way to the fourth row. You better believe I was behind the bus driver for the rest of the year. I also figured out that if someone was clutching their nose while it was gushing blood that they wouldn't grab your butt. I learned quickly if you gave a boy a bloody nose on the bus you'd end up in detention no matter what they did. I tried explaining to the principal that a boy pinched my behind and I punched him in the nose, and he gave me the boys will be boys talk. So I also learned that it was my fault.

The school bus is the absolute worst place for a girl. Once, I got off at my stop which was right in front of my house. I was a latch-key kid, so no one was home. Another boy got off at my stop (it wasn't his stop) and followed me to my house. I wouldn't open the door, so he pushed me up against the wall in the carport and groped me. I slapped him so hard my hand hurt for days, but thankfully he was more worried about me messing up his face than forcing his way into my house. The next day I got off at my friend's stop so he wouldn't try the same thing again. I got into trouble with my parents because they had to come get me from her house. I'm not sure why I didn't tell them what happened. Maybe it's because I learned in 4th grade that it was my fault.

It's really hard to explain to men what it is like to live in their world. A majority of men have never been thrown around against their will by someone twice as strong as they are, and it doesn't compute that cat-calling feels more like a threat than a compliment. But most women live in a world where they need permission to just be safe. Don't wear this, don't be at this place, don't behave in a way that draws any attention to you as a woman. What people don't realize is that it doesn't matter what you are wearing, where you are, or what you are doing, if a man has the intention, he's going to do it.

You might be surprised to hear that women wearing sweatpants with no makeup and with no alcohol in their system still get raped. Little girls sleeping in their beds at night get kidnapped and murdered through no action or fault of their own. The fault does not lie in a woman's appearance or actions, it lies at the feet of the perpetrator of the crimes against them. I'm not saying that a woman should not seek to protect herself from being in a situation where bad things could happen. But when the first question that comes to your mind when a woman is victimized is whether she was wearing something or behaving in a certain way that asks for it, you are what's wrong. You are perpetrating a culture that excuses horrible behavior by someone who knows better by laying that responsibility at the feet of the victim.

Yesterday I read the article outlining the quotes from Mr. Trump about how he can just grab a woman by her crotch and kiss her without asking because he's "a star," and that he had struck out with this married woman when the ink wasn't even dry on his marriage certificate to his new and improved wife. I am disgusted and horrified that two men had a conversation on camera about sexual assault, and it was something to laugh about, and they didn't see anything wrong with it. Today all of Trump's bootlickers are lining up to make excuses for his actions once again. It was so many years ago, he's changed. Oh? Please tell me about how he's changed. Because I saw his tweets about the former Miss Universe. He ranted for FOUR DAYS about her. Hillary doesn't even have to produce any campaign commercials because all she has to do is put a mic up to his tweets. I'm sorry, you just can't stamp this one with "At least he's not Hillary." I'm certainly not a fan of Mrs. Clinton, so don't misread me here. The presidential office of the United States has certainly been ground under the heel of many of those who have held it, but I honestly do not want to live in a country where Trump is allowed to ride roughshod over the Stars and Stripes. Again, I apologize for going all political, but an America under Trump is not safe for me or any other woman.

Block 5 Week 10-11: Get used to disappointment

This phrase always cracks me up. I use it ALL the time, especially with my kids. Most people wouldn't know it, but I used to be extremely hardcore about running around and arranging everything so it would be perfect. I would get really bent out of shape if things didn't turn out exactly the way I had planned. I don't know what happened, but somewhere along the way I just decided to do a complete 180 in that department. I really don't get flustered about much at all any more. I think it probably has to do with understanding that life is going to happen, and it's a lot easier to deal with if you just relax and take it as it comes.

It also probably has a lot to do with being married to the HB. The thing about HB is, he's kinda like a wizard when it comes to time...

... except, he usually is late, so he can be rather not like a wizard.

HB has been really good for me (and my blood pressure) though. I look back at birthday parties and holiday meals and things like that and remember me being absolutely bonkers about people coming to my house. And HB would go to get ice and come back 3 hours later with an inflatable bounce house, a case of popsicles, and some guy he found that was riding his bike across the country (and no ice). Every time we have a gathering at our house, he gets the urge to go pick up something from the store, and I remind him that I cannot bear welcoming guests in his absence, and could he please return before they start arriving, and he just waves his hand at me and laughs like I'm making it up. So this is usually me: 

And here's HB:

So somewhere along the way, I just gave in because I would get all stressed out and couldn't even enjoy having a good time with my guests. 

What does this have to do with medical school? I guess what I'm saying is sometimes I see people at school that get all worked up about stuff like exams and studying and whatever drama is going on. It reminds me of the many times in my life when I let all the drama get to me and I acted like a complete dork. 

There's a lot of pressure in school to compare yourself to other people, and to suddenly feel panicked that you aren't doing what everyone else is doing to be successful. So sometimes it feels like maybe I should be a little more -- I don't know -- psycho about my approach to being successful in school. Sometimes when I hear someone talking about an upcoming test, I think about whether I have done a sufficient amount of studying (stressing, worrying, obsessing) in order to do well. But then I remember what it feels like on the inside when you're about to just completely blow up and say a bunch of not-nice things. I don't like feeling like that, so I just have to decide to relax. Honestly, if it's the day before the exam and I really haven't prepared enough, it's way too late anyway, and staying up all night in a panic is not going to yield good results. 

I really do work hard to try to do well, and I like to see that hard work reflected in my grades. But sometimes there are just concepts that do not sink in very well for me, and then that's when I have to just decide to get used to disappointment. But that's the thing about chilling out. Eventually, you don't really feel disappointed, you just feel grateful.

Block 5 Week 9: They don't suck...

So I used to wait tables in a barbecue restaurant. That's a cool way to start a blog post, right? My kids were little, and it didn't really help much in the money department, but it gave me a few days a week where I could get out of the house. It was only open Thursday - Saturday, so I had a babysitter come take care of the kiddos, and I would spend those days waiting tables and dishing up barbecue. It was good food too!

The restaurant was a quaint little cabin situated on the main highway going through town, so we had quite a varied clientele. There were the regulars that were addicted to the pulled pork, ribs, and chicken and they would come in every week, as well as folks who happened to be driving by with their windows down only to be assaulted by the delicious smells wafting out of the chimney.

As with any restaurant, we had a huge lunch rush and a pretty steady dinner crowd, but between about 2 and 4pm, it was just EMPTY except for the few that came in to grab a big spread for tailgating or weekend parties. My fellow employees and I would sit at the tables waiting for business to pick up again, and we entertained ourselves with the newspaper, peeling potatoes, and gossip. This was before cell phones, sadly, so you couldn't sit there for hours on Facebook. Heck, it was even before Facebook. I had this little pocket PC thingy (any of you ancient folk remember those?) that I would play solitaire and snake on, and one of the other employees (Rick) would grab it sometimes and play for a while. He would get so irritated if he couldn't beat my high score, and boy when he beat me, he would dance all over the restaurant like he'd won a gold medal.

So there was also this place called Cowboy Bills where all the rednecks went on the weekend to drink beer and line dance or whatever is done in establishments like that. (Hang on, I'm going somewhere with this, guys.) Occasionally they would have some kind of special event that involved hanging flyers in places of business around town. So one Thursday afternoon, a gentleman came in the restaurant and asked if he could hang a flyer. The owner said it was OK, so he puts it up by the register. I took a look at it and saw that there was a band coming to play that weekend. So I turned to Rick and asked him if the band was any good. His reply, "Well... they don't SUCK." That answer made me laugh so very hard, and even now when I think about it, I get a huge kick out of it.

I actually did have a reason for bringing that story out of the archives, besides giving someone a snicker that might be reading. When I sat down to decide what to write about this week, I thought about how this block is going so far. I have about two more weeks left in the block, and usually about now I'm in panic mode because I'm sure I've screwed something up and am going to pay for it over block break. So far, I've managed to pass everything. So when I reflected on how I feel right now about medical school, all I could come up with was, "Well, I don't suck..."

So if you're ever in Milledgeville, GA and need something to eat (and it's Thursday - Saturday), hit up Paradise BBQ. It's the best ever.

Block 5 Week 7 (and 8 sorry): This is how we do it...

I'm a little slow getting started it seems. Or maybe things are just slowing down enough in real life so that I can stop juggling so hard and it's feeling a little easier. Either way, I'm seriously grateful to once again be able to focus on passing medical school without having to worry about if everyone is going to still be alive next week. It's amazing how I thought things were so hard starting off first year, and then life hit the fan and it got even worse. Now that things are relaxing, it kinda feels like I'm skating a little easier. If you've been reading my blog since the beginning, you might remember I compared medical school to being dragged behind an out of control 18-wheeler while wearing roller blades, except they were untied. I think I might have gotten one tied. But just one. As the dust settles, I've been able to look around and pick up some stuff that I dropped. I joined a few clubs in the beginning of first year, and pretty much couldn't make any of the meetings or events for a while there. Now I'm picking some of those back up and trying to be more involved.

Year two doesn't seem like it's any easier as far as content, especially since we are adding board study to our plate. But I have found that it's not as difficult as first year. Again, some of that may be that life has evened out, but I think we are building on a lot of stuff we learned last year, and it makes a little more sense at this point. It's hard to believe that we only have three weeks left in this block. This is our last block of anatomy lab, so we will be having a memorial service for the cadavers in a few weeks. I'm really excited for that, because it will be a way of saying thank you for the tremendous gift of education that we have received. I love the idea of celebrating the donors.

As things are winding down for block 5, I don't have the usual surge of nerves that comes with wrapping up different classes. I used to worry about having to remediate, and it really tied me in knots in the last few weeks of a block. I decided last block that I had no intention of riding that close to the rails going forward, and so far it has worked out well.

I don't want to sound like everything is going perfect, and I'm just so smart and all. Medical school has been a struggle, and finding a way to balance doing well and actually having a life at the same time has been a huge challenge. Balance is probably the hardest lesson to learn, and it can be rough when something comes out of left field and knocks you on your behind. It's nice to be able to function in balance, and you appreciate it all the more when you've lived out of balance for a long period of time. But I'm also really nervous to just take a big breath and relax in it.

Block 5 Week 5 (and 6): Catheters and NG tubes -- Might wanna skip this one, grandma!

I haven't had a lot of time for blogging this block, and I do apologize. I'm trying this cool thing called studying more in order to increase my GPA. Also, it is mucho sports season with the kids. The boys are playing the foosball, and the daughter is playing volleyball. Well, until she did bad things to her knee. Stay tuned for diagnosis, I'm saying it looks like MCL damage. 

So the really cool thing I learned this week was how to insert a Foley catheter for a dude and a chick, and how to insert an NG tube. So while I was trying to stuff a rather bendy uncooperative tube into a dude's (manikin's) nose and into his stomach, he responded by flopping around on the table and trying to jump off. I thought he was very rude. Then I was presented with a pair of pelvises that needed a Foley catheter. The thing about these skills workshops is they make it VERY easy to do the thing they are trying to teach us. Like VERY easy. It's like those toddler toys like the giant plastic hammer or the huge stethoscope. The catheter tubing seemed incredibly large, and dude, that fella's urethra seriously allowed a complete view INTO his bladder. So if you miss, people are going to laugh at you. Like for real. Thankfully, I was able to quickly and efficiently accomplish what I came to do and get signed off. 

So the other thing I wanted to talk about is routine. One of the things that has helped me is getting into a groove. And by that I mean going to bed at a decent hour, getting up early enough to get out of the house, and leaving on time. I like to leave my house at 7am. Yes, it's ridiculous early, but I hate traffic, and I don't need to stomp into school with a bucket full of road rage. It doesn't make for a very good day. Test days are particularly nuts for me. I suffer from test anxiety, and one of the coping techniques I have for that is an established routine. If I'm not in my seat and breathing deeply at 7:30am, I feel really OFF. So the next thing I need to learn is not to be a complete jerk to the sunshine of my life: My HB. 

We are sharing a vehicle currently since he got laid off while he was recovering from pancreatitis and the subsequent splenectomy as a result (not bitter), and lost his company car. In the practical side of my mind, it is asinine to have a perfectly usable vehicle sitting in a parking lot when my man needs a ride. In the only-child-the-world-revolves-around-me-as-always-diva part of my mind, I want that vehicle at my beck and call. SO I try to listen to the practical side of my brain, although sometimes test anxiety wins out and I take it out on my lovely sweetheart.  The poor guy doesn't even get mad or argue or anything. Sometimes he even apologizes, which really makes me feel like a heel.

So my first reaction is to just decide that my need to have a routine is not valid. This isn't OK either, because it is how I cope with paralyzing test anxiety. It is a valid need that shouldn't be surrendered, and HB isn't even asking for that. It also takes the attention off the fact that I'm behaving like a Neanderthal. One of the hardest things for me is slowing down and being nice when there is conflict. No, I go all Cruella DeVille and... BRING ME THOSE PUPPIES!!!!

*Deep breath* OK I'm OK. What's really awesome is my HB has the perfect temperament, and doesn't engage my insanity and devolve into a snarl fest. He backs up and gives me some space, and when I curl up next to him later and apologize, he hugs me and forgives me and plays with my hair until I fall asleep like it never happened. I'm #blessed. F'real.

Block 5 Weeks 1-4: I think it's going well, it's going well, right? Anyone?

Please pardon my MIA-ness. Things in block 5 started out like Mario sliding on a banana peel, and haven't changed much since. I had every intention of getting on here and blogging about being a second year student and how that's going. Oh well. I was pretty much too busy being a second year student to get on here and blog about it. So let's catch up, shall we?

1. HB had a splenectomy on 7/20. He's recovering well, and starting to look like we might get back to normal. (Hello, universe? Not a dare, thanks.)
2. I had a little surgery over the summer break myself, and I've recovered from that just fine.
3. Block 5 has so far been about all the things that can go wrong with poo. It seems that one of the greatest illustrations of what's going on inside is what's coming outside from in there. I can't tell you how many times I've seen power point slides with different poo and why I shouldn't be seeing that in my patients. Ew. This gives me concerns about the upcoming reproductive block.

4. We have a bunch of folks crammed into our building now, and it's kinda cool! Now there is a whole crop of first years that are filling up our old lecture hall. We got to break in BOTH lecture halls, which is pretty neat. And yep, we had the whole fight for your seat drama the first week of class again. I ended up in almost the same spot as I was in last year, because apparently it's not prime real estate. I know some people got ousted from where they wanted to go, though.
5. Also, my son Micah is in the new class! A lot of people ask me if it's weird that my son is in medical school too. So far it hasn't been very odd at all. Our schedules are offset, so we don't get to cross paths very much. I like being able to share resources with him as he needs them. My disarticulated skeleton is getting some mileage again since he's learning the bones in anatomy. I have a bunch of books that I've bought as we've gone along that have been helpful. But he seems to have found his feet just fine.
6. It seems like second year is just more of the same as first year so far. Go to class, study, take exams, lather, rinse, repeat. This will be our last block in the anatomy lab, so we will be saying goodbye to our cadavers after this block. We are planning a memorial ceremony to acknowledge the donors and say our farewells. I'm really looking forward to being done with anatomy and the ceremony itself. I have learned a ton in the lab, and I don't think it would be the same using a computer program instead.

Well, I guess that's pretty much everything that's going on with me lately. I'll try to keep things caught up a little better going forward. Until next week!