Saturday, January 30, 2010

Medical Mentoring - 1/27/10

I thought it would be appropriate to post something a little more related to medicine.... :)

Here is my e-journal entry from my most recent medical mentoring afternoon:

Today I shadowed Dr. Ricks, DO. When I first got to the clinic and went back to meet her in her bay, she was busy pouring over a new “Taste of Home” cooking magazine. She didn’t have any appointments for another half an hour, so she invited me to sit and look at recipes with her. We talked about tomato tortellini soup, the best way to make monkey bread, and what kind of food was easiest to transport (we decided on Italian.) It was very comforting for me to see that doctors were still able to have “lives” and do the things they loved. So often I, as a pre-med student, only hear about how strenuous and demanding a career in medicine will be and it seems like once I become a doctor I will have to give up everything else I like to do. While I am in no way doubting how difficult and tiring my career path can and will be, it’s nice to know that I can still hold on to what I love, and what makes me, me.

The first patient we saw was a woman in her mid-thirties who suffered from juvenile rheumatoid arthritis and uncontrollable uterine bleeding. Dr. Ricks had scheduled her to have a hysterectomy in the next few weeks and the patient was in the office to get refills for her prescriptions and to have a “pre-pre-operation” exam. Dr. Ricks showed me the woman’s fingers, which had a distinct, unnatural curve to them – evidence of rheumatoid arthritis. Dr. Ricks couldn’t remember exactly the name of this deformity, but she knew it was either “swan” or “boutonniere.” When we got back to her bay, she pulled down her physician’s examination textbook, looked up the deformity, and told me for sure that it was called “boutonniere.” It was neat for me to see that even doctors can be unsure about things, but they know how to find the right answer. She let me flip through the textbook until her next patient was ready. In the book were all kinds of procedures of examination, deformities of which to be aware, and the differences in performing an exam on people of a variety of ages. I couldn’t stop turning pages! There was so much to know!

Dr. Ricks’ next patient was a man in his early sixties who had diabetes and neuropathy. He was complaining of losing his balance and falling often. Dr. Ricks explained that often those symptoms could be related to the neuropathy (if you can’t feel your feet, you’re going to be unstable) but the only way to be sure was to do an MRI or CAT scan. However, conventional methods of running these tests could not be done because this man had a severe case of claustrophobia as a result of being a prisoner of war in Vietnam. Dr. Ricks worked with him to figure out a way that it could be done and keep him comfortable at the same time. Their solution was to have him schedule an MRI to be done like an out-patient surgery, with full anesthesia. The patient agreed to this plan, but asked if it could be done very soon because he was preparing for a trip to Daytona Beach for the car races, because he and his brother own a team and were going to be racing six different cars. He didn’t want to have to worry about “falling off the truck” while he was taking care of his cars.

Dr. Ricks’ last patients were a set of sisters, both in their eighties. These women live together, travel together, garden together, and are completely spry and healthy – their only ailment is slight hypertension and early osteoporosis. As Dr. Ricks said, “The best way to care for these ladies is to leave them alone.” She scheduled them for a check-up visit in a year. She then said, “I want to be like them when I grow up.”



Friday, January 22, 2010

One week

It's mind-boggling to think of what can happen in one week.

One week ago today I was at home instead of at school, because the entire city lost water due to freezing weather busting the pipes.

One week ago today I was baking pretzels and eating Chinese food with my family and the girls that were staying with me.

One week ago today my grandmother was still breathing.

One week ago today, life was good.



Today, I'm back at school, with running water, and more homework assignments that I know what to do with.

Today, I'm wishing I could be back home with my family and friends.

Today, my grandmother is in heaven, and her body is resting peacefully under the canopy of a majestic live oak tree.

Today, life is still good.


No, it doesn't make sense.


Even to me.


But it is.



Because He lives.



Amen.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Those things we know we must do


There are some things we know we must do. We cannot say for certain when we decided, or for what reasons we chose, yet there is a burning within our deepest being that we cannot ignore. We cannot ignore.


Little things in life stir the coals and fan the flames of the smoldering desire that is aching to blaze freely. It may be the last few seconds of a song on the radio, the offhand comment of a friend, or the absent-minded musings of a curious mind. No matter what it is though, when the coals begin to glow brightly inside our chests, the heat swells and fills our souls til we know not what we can do, except that which we know we must. We are simultaneously energized and frozen - wanting to shout and sing, yet not able to will sound to come from our silent lips. In this moment, time stops. Time stops.


In a moment, we let out the breath that had caught in our throat, and the quivering second hand of the clock on the wall begins to tick its soothing beat again. That feeling we cannot forget. We cannot forget.


There are some things we know we must do.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Another one of those people...

Everyone has someone in his or her life who simply gives another dimension to their existence. In my life, that person is Amelie.

She is one of those people who radiates so much creativity and sheer personality that you're sure you'll never meet someone else like her. Which is saying a lot, considering she has a twin.

Amelie listens to bands no one has heard of, reads plays no one has read, and takes more photographs than anyone I know. She spells "color" and "favorite" with the "u," and dyes her hair for no reason. She and I have painted canvases together, and spent hours in the dollar store trying to find the most bizarre things lurking on the shelves.

Amelie is tall and beautiful, thoughtful and creative, and distinctly herself. She makes me want to be like her, even though I know that's not really possible.

But, on that note, I think I'm going to go listen to an indie band and think about dyeing my hair.

Thanks for being my friend, Amelie, and for always being yourself. You're pretty cool.