C'est La Vie

So I found out this morning that I'm doing clinical rotations at Oakwood Hospital next year. Though it isn't what I wanted, there are definitely some good things about training at this site. This is me trying to be nonchalantly unaffected and positive... And it's a lot like how I'm dealing with the impending snow storm by looking at this photo from a warm and clear yesterday.

Almost there...

While I'm still toiling away for my Respiratory Pathophysiology exam tomorrow, the blog was introduced. Just some extra motivation to maintain the grind. Break and Nicaragua will be here soon enough.

Quotability

"Man never made any material as resilient as the human spirit."

Bern Williams

 

 

(Photo of the Lake Michigan Sunset at J and P's wedding)

 

Everyday Food

The old news is that life has been pretty busy lately (blah blah blah). Not much time for anything recreational, but in between classes, studying, and video-lecturing streaming, I reward myself with a foodie fix. I signed up for these Everyday Food cooking segments a while ago and almost every day, a new recipe is emailed to me. The host Sarah Carey is quirky (in a curly-haired woman kind of way) and happy. The videos are only 5 or so minutes, so definitely a break I can afford to take.

Here are 2 recipes I really want to try... when I have a little more time again.

Meatless Curry


Bacon French Onion Soup


Here is where you can sign up to get these emails too: http://www.marthastewart.com/edf

Short White Coat Bound...

"There’s nothing wishy-washy about white. White is the color of yes."
Lois Smith Brady

Acceptance to medical school: one of the largest leaps of faith that I've ever attempted. Thanks to everyone who has supported me along the way; I am forever indebted to you. It was your faith in me, encouragement, and love, that have brought me so, so far. And it's the stuff that will lead me to become everything that I've ever hoped for.

(Quote from the New York Times, top photo by Tabsinth, bottom via weheartit)

Gorgeous

"Capacity for love is as good a yardstick as any to measure how alive a thing is. I believe love is a precious gift of evolution that draws from the most advanced parts of the brain."

Humbling and moving thoughts of a medical student (but now MD) on humanity, science, and what it means to love: Elephant in the Room.

Memories of the Southwest

I remember the summer I lived with my cousins in Phoenix as one of the most life-affirming summers of my life. My cousins were physicians in a hospital-affiliated out-patient clinic, and Tiffany and I spent the most sweltering months of 2006 shadowing them and their colleagues in the range of specialties and services offered... and also playing with our seriously cuter-than-life baby nieces XinXin, AnAn, and Jingjing.

My cousin was pregnant at the time and I inherited the daily driving responsibilities to and from work. The surroundings were totally different than the developed suburbs I was used to and I remember being struck by the dry and cracked red clay that made up some of the roads, the fighter jets that seemed to race with me as they would glide through vibrant blue hundreds of feet above, and the piercing sun that would already be high in the cloudless sky during our 7:15am commute. But it was one of the rare mornings I didn't drive that I first noticed the dusty local roads we used actually bisected seemingly endless fields of corn plowed by farmers and their donkeys. I loved fixing my eyes and letting our speeding car turn the crop into a sunbathed golden-green blur.

However, as the summer progressed, I slowly lost pleasure in that cloud of color. Maybe it was because at the clinic, I was no longer blindly following along. Without realizing it, I had gained insight into the world of patient care and I could understand some of the common diagnoses, numbers, and acronyms thrown about in passing conversations between the staff. Tiffany and I could discuss topics we learned with each other, and then with our cousins over dinner at night. And every time I passed those same fields during our commutes, my eyes would dart quickly from point to point making me slightly carsick with the frequent lateral cycling of my eyes. This made me never desire to skip my driving duties anymore. Anyway, I had seen all the familiar sights and grown used to the familiar roads we used nearly every day. And mostly I had become much more eager to get to the clinic to see the less familiar sights and travel the less familiar "roads" of medicine and healthcare.

But there was one last time that I didn't drive. And that particular morning I really looked at those fields again. Like before, the speed of the car caused the fields to blur, but this time I found that if I happened to fix my eye at just the right point, as we passed it, I could see straight into the horizon through the space in between each straight row of corn. Though we'd quickly drive by and the rows would blur again, for that split-second before, my view was so gloriously clear and my path was so completely straight and unhindered that I felt I was invincible.


(photos from Flickr)