Dreaming

Last night I dreamt that I was skiing. It was one of those powdery-goodness days. I was flying, and landing.

More often than not I have nightmares, so this was a wonderful slumbering reprieve. This morning I remembered it so clearly, it left me giddy with the emotional imprint and a little sad with nostalgia.  I wanted to make a post about how much I miss certain parts of my former life. I found this post from my original blog, Feb 20th, 2008. And of course, a video which ought to make you laugh. Turns out transitioning from telemark to alpine bindings isn't that easy (i.e. 'fixing the heel does not necessarily fix the problem).

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Anna and I had one of those perfect days at Rogers Pass yesterday. Bluebird skies, great snacks, good conversation, fluffy snow, warm sunshine. It rocked. We went to the "toe" of Pearly Rock and did two mellow loops and enjoyed a picnic lunch in the sun.

After I slid backwards, slow motion style, into the tree well Anna took over the trail making part of the excursion. The new bib pants paid for themselves already, kept me nice and dry despite the 'face shots' which were in fact, ass-over-tea-kettle-shots...though I did find pine needles in my underwear and bra at the end of the day...not sure how they made their way there...

Anna patiently letting me take her photo before dropping in...

I asked Anna if she wasn't afraid of losing her sunnies in the snow--only then realising that the former heli-ski and backcountry guide probably hasn't wiped out since 1995. I remembered: not everyone goes halfway down the fall line on their ass like I do.

These guys poached our line while we were snacking....which is what you get for making most of the sweet uptrack I suppose. No bother, there were still a few acres of freshies to be had. And plenty of space for me to drop and roll. And yard sale. Behold the video of humiliation. 

Woot! Some proof that I can stay upright after all!

Put Your Finger On It and Think

Yesterday, my histology prof (a.k.a Long Bones) was trying (in vain*) to have us identify an arteriole on a liver slide. Her way of describing it was a "fire hose".  Some of the students pointed at bile canaliculi or central veins, until she took the laser away and pointed to a tiny arteriole. Ok, maybe something that looked like a microscopic, tissue colored fire hose.

Many of us chuckled, so she told us not to underestimate the power of an arteriole, or an arterial bleed. I can definitely say that I have respect for the little fire hoses of blood when they are cut, but many of my classmates have never seen such a thing, except maybe on an episode of Scrubs. 

At this point, Long Bones uncharacteristically decided to tell us a story about her days as a junior doctor (I always find it entertaining to imagine these uber-talented-experienced-confident profs as bumbling-inexperienced-trembling interns). Her surgical prof in medical school used to always tell them: when you cut an artery and it starts to bleed, just put your finger on it and think. They used to laugh at the constant repetition of his seemingly trite advice.

Just put your finger on it and think.

One day, young Long Bones was in the ED and received a patient who had been bitten by a sheep. A nice deep bite to the upper thigh, complete with a large hematoma. She got to work scrubbing away, and figured she'd suture it. She saw this giant blob (yes, a clot) which she pulled off. The artery sprung to life and sprayed her face, her hair, and the wall behind her. Instantly she knew what to do, despite never having encountered an arterial bleed. She didn't panic.

She put her finger on it and thought. Then yelled at the nurses to call the surgeon.

I love those stories, the ones that tell you--hey, accept the fact that you will make ridiculous mistakes, and you will learn from them, and you will gain a new appreciation for those pearls which fell in your lap during your education.

Yes, it reminded me that I actually love being in medical school.


*Pun intended, of course. 

Histology Quotables

Today's lectures were rife with classroom quotables, I'll put them out tomorrow. But for tonight, I'll leave you with my favorite, from my histology prof:

"Every time you take a drink, God kills a hepatocyte".

Taken from http://www.apn-histopathology.unimelb.edu.au/gallery.html

And on that note, a cocktail I created tonight, which I named, "The Majestic River Shannon". It is a glass of cava (brut) with a splash of elderflower cordial, and a peeled quarter of orange. Deeeelicious.

And yes, I may have had one or two before making this post. Forgive grammar, punctuation, and spelling...

Classroom Quotables

Today the Associate Dean was addressing our class and said*, "the great thing that distinguishes man from beast is man's ability to take medication".

Nice one Dean-o.

*This was said in a very tongue-in-cheek manner, for the record, it was when the subject of polypharmacy came up.

Check. Reality.

If you want the whole story, go to Head Nurse's blog. Read about how a thank you letter to Roger Ebert turned into a tweet from him, which resulted in some very deserving people getting a little help from a lot of strangers.

It is a story of a young man, dying of cancer. He and his wife are trying to patch a living together for his final months on the planet. Because his insurance coverage is now non-existant, they are having to worry about how to pay rent, and how they will cover the cost of his palliative medications (oh, on top of coming to grips with being newlyweds that are now discussing his funeral and how he hopes to spend his remaining days). Inhumane. It is shocking to me, to read this, from citizens of one of the richest countries in the world. The advice they were given: move to Canada.

Well, they can't move to Canada.

But maybe Canada can still help out a little.

I am not an 'internet donation' person but this is legit, and these folks could certainly use a little help.

Father Ted - Road Block

Where did the weekend go and how is it that I got so laughably little done?

I've decided I have a nightmare problem. Well, I have known for a long time that nightmares seem to be my natural go-to in dreamland, but lately it's been getting ridiculous.

For example, last night I went to an Irish friend's house for a Father Ted marathon, and this was the final episode, "Speed 3". If you watch the clip you'll get an idea of the sheer ridiculousness of the show.

And yet, somehow my gray matter twisted the evenings entertainment into a nightmare that involved me having to drive a bomb-laden car to my epi prof's house to be disarmed. I awoke, very much afraid and then very much irritated at the realization that I can't even watch Father Ted without having to worry about my subconscious interpretation once I am asleep.

It is a drag. I mean, I'd really like to see Black Swan but I might actually have a heart attack in my sleep.

Slacker

Today I went to the Annual Research Day forum that the school puts on, which showcases relevant medically related studies that are being conducted by faculty and students.

I have already decided that I will likely be doing a lit review for my research project next year, so I was mostly going just out of interest to see what the kids are up to these days.

Turns out, I am a crazy slacker. I mean, I am a playing-videogames-in-my-mom's-basement-and surviving-on-delivery-pizza-and-cheetos level slacker in comparison to some of the other medical students in my program.

Yeah, like the 4th year who is on the National kickboxing team and also doing this extensive colon cancer gene marker study, looking at metastasis likelihood and risk/benefit of surgical intervention .

Oh and the 3rd year who is helping set the guidelines for radiation therapy in rectal cancer, thanks to his study. He's the class rep as well.

I could go on.

It could have been inspiring if it hadn't been such a 'kick up the hole' as they say here. What the hell people? I am barely holding on to regular exercise and a wee mandolin hobby here. You're out CURING friggin' CANCER! How??? They better have a pharmaceutical addiction or something.

Actual Fact

Ok, sorry, call me Beavis (again) but...

Yesterday, our GI lecturer's name was Manus.

All it takes is one apostrophe. One apostrophe people!

Now THAT is some good craic.

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.

Wordpress vs Blogger

I am thinking of moving to Wordpress...has anyone else done the swap or have some thoughts on this?

I just like the layout on Wordpress better.

Do I really need to do that though, or am I just trying to find a way to kill a HUGE amount of time rather than study inflammatory bowel disease?

In other news, today I realized that my new haircut no longer allows me to look like a normal woman at the gym.

Note ridiculous hair nubbins poking out the side of my head.

Nope. Now I look like a woman who is trying to look like a 5 year old girl.

This completely destroys the months of attempts at gaining street cred in the gym here where 99.9% of the time I am the only woman lifting weights, surrounded by testosterone-crazed-bowling-ball-headed-whole-chicken-eating-febreeze-spraying rugby players.

Gone, in the snip (or two) of a scissor.