It's Not You, G.I.T, it's Me...

I swear, I am still on 1/2 speed since my return to school (I won't say Christmas 'holidays' because it really wasn't much of a holiday at all, and I don't feel like sullying the term).

I just can't seem to get my thoughts together and concentrate, AT ALL.

Things are slowly starting to ramp up, study group is starting to meet again this week, USMLE prep course starts again next week, anatomy group is back at it, my own USMLE prep is *cough* ongoing, I am supposed to be playing music for this fundraiser thingy but have to dust off my vocal chords before the event, etc. etc. But I don't feel like my brain has checked in, just yet.

Our case last week was a patient with Graves' disease, this week it is inflammatory bowel disease.

Thyroid. Yawn.

Bowels. Double yawn.

I guess I can cross endocrinologist and gastroenterologist off my list of 'possible careers'. Sweet. Now I am down to only 47 options.

Maybe it isn't the gastrointestinal tract I hate so much. Maybe I am just getting a little burnt out by this whole PBL process (hence the new countdown screen on right margin). Apparently this is a common finding among medical students around this point in their studies.

I know, this too shall pass!

On the upside--I am going to see both Ray LaMontagne and Iron and Wine in Dublin! Very stoked! And also excited that my good friend Cathy Lee will soon be here visiting (in time for the Iron and Wine concert). So some things to look forward to.

Stranger in a Strange Land

So we came back early from Killarney because Tobie has a man cold.

Since I had a car at my disposal I figured I'd use my time wisely and go to the welfare office and apply for a PPS number (the equivalent of a social security number). Yes. I'd rather spend my afternoon languidly, doing something vacation-y like read my book...or worst case scenario...productive like writing one of my [insert plethora of cuss words here] papers. But no, I will be a responsible adult and get the PPS.

First of all I had the wrong address, parked in some random alley because I was so shooken up from a near fender bender, and then was given classic Irish directions*, "go tru the alley, turn at de cathedral, past the old hotel and it's there on de left".

Riiiiiiiggghhhhhht.

There appears to be both a cathedral and old hotel on every corner in this country. 

Ok, so that is 2.5 hours of my life I will never get back. No PPS**.

I thought I'd cheer myself up by getting some groceries to make a delicious soup. Cooking always clears my head...forgetting of course that this is the day before Good Friday (i.e. the only day of the year that the 24h Dunnes is closed--actually). After getting rammed by a shopping cart and almost pushed over by a lady with a determined look in her eye and pickled beets in her hand, I settled into the shortest line I could find.

Yes. Things were looking up. Soup. As I was about to place my items on the counter the lady in front of me knocked over a giant jar of mayonnaise thus closing the til.

I should have stayed at home and chosen languid and vacation-y.

*There is a fairly strong anti-immigration sentiment here in Ireland. Especially because many Irish (wrongly) believe that the immigrants arrive and then go on welfare. So I was a little hesitant to ask that many passing pedestrians where the "welfare office" was with my foreign accent. Especially if you saw the part of town I was searching in. Let's just say lots of neck tattoos and broken bottles.


**Which once again makes me have the ultimate respect for immigrants that do not speak the language in their new country. Ok. I am fluent in English and have, oh 7 years of university under my belt and was almost having a crying fit on the street corner today in frustration. Here is to wanting to shake hands and congratulate every person I ever see who has started a new life in a different country.

Find Something Less Clinically Relevant? Impossible

I had forgotten about the truly banal undertaking which is: the bibliography. Yes, the-completely-irrelevant-for-clinical-practice icing on the giant-waste-of-time paper I just finished.

I know, I know. I'll get flamed because the most important thing in the world is research (when it comes to medicine). If it wasn't for research we'd still be letting the Barber do the bloodletting and cupping. We'd still believe in the miasma model of disease. Hence, the importance of paper writing and bibliography mastering.

Blah. Blah. Blah.

This doesn't change the fact that having to spend 3 hours of my precious Sunday going through my paper and dotting all the "p.p"'s and crossing all the "t"'s smacks of medieval torture in my books.

"Is it italics or underline for a title of a book? Journal? What about when you say the entire title in the essay? Or should you not double space quotes of >40 words in the body and indent the author name before returning to double space?" These are the questions I love having to answer.

AHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Have mercy on me oh Academic demons! 


P.S My apologies to Old MD Girl who I know is writing a grant right now (i.e is about 7 circles of hell lower than a simple bibliography boredom).