Thank You

I have the most unbelievably awesome family ever. I've written before about my husband and my father, but I also have an incredible mother and brother which I haven't had a chance to write about yet. In short, my mom is one of those women who prove you CAN have it all: she's a hard-working and devoted wife, a supportive and thoughtful mother, a greatly-loving sister and daughter, and a powerful corporate executive. She's beautiful, intelligent, and a great role model. She does all this and more and still manages to look like she's in her early 30's--people usually think we're sisters! My brother, too, is the best anyone could ask for. He's handsome and hilarious and wildly talented at eclectic things from guitar to math. He's one of my favorite people in the world to spend time with--one of my best friends. Basically, like I said, I have the most amazing family anyone could dream of. These people, my mom, dad, brother, and husband, are my family and my four best friends. And, they've put up with a lot having a daughter/sister/wife that's so wrapped up in medicine--and I'm not even talking about the financial burden (yet)!

This post is dedicated to family members of pre-medical students. I would like to say, "thank you" for what you do for us on a regular basis. I know that we (I) sometimes act strangely and I'd like to explain some of our (my) odd and seemingly off-the-wall-behavior.

When we come home from school and don't want to talk about it, it's not that anything devastating happened that day. It's also not that we don't want you to know what's going on in our academic lives. It's just that school completely occupies our minds day-in and day-out and, sometimes, we just want a couple of minutes in which we don't have to speak of/think about/acknowledge the existence of our universities.

When we are outraged over a B or (God forbid) a C on an exam, and we get aggravated because you tell us about how most people would love to just pass, we're not trying to be hateful. We simply know this. However, this thought is not comforting to us because we've made it as far as we have by not behaving like others; by not settling for just passing. So, we're not really wanting you to feel sorry for us at these points. Usually, we're just angry at ourselves for not doing as well as we know we could have and we just need to let it all out for a moment around someone with whom we feel safe.

Please, when we come home speaking of things like rhodopsin, dehydrogenase mechanisms, and molecular recombination, please humor us. Sometimes we forget that everyone is not a science enthusiast (AKA science nerd). We don't mean to bore you and we're definitely not trying to sound superior; we just learn things that sometimes excite us (because we are, in fact, proud science nerds) and, since we love you so much, we want to share those things with you.

When it seems like all we talk about are the entrance statistics of medical school matriculation, the drop rate for organic chemistry, our percentile on the MCAT, or the difficulty level of our physics courses, we're not trying to brag, I promise (well, most of us aren't...). We're really just terrified of these facts and we want to share them with you so that you know what we're up against. That way, in the end, if we make it, you'll be that much more proud of us. And, if we don't make it, you'll be that much more understanding of the effort it took to even try.

When we lock ourselves in a room, excuse ourselves from the party early, leave your homes after just getting there, or do any other act that is generally understood to be anti-social, it is NOT that we don't want to be with you. No, no. Please don't think that. We really do simply have that much pressure on us to get back to work. So, please understand that we love you and we'd really rather be with you, but at those moments, we absolutely must work. It's not our first choice, it's our obligation.

What this all boils down to is this: the families and friends of pre-med students deserve special thanks. Speaking to those families and friends: we pre-meds know that you all put up with some strange and sometimes alienating behavior. We also know it's not easy to love someone that's always preoccupied, busy, and tired. If I may speak on behalf of most of the pre-meds that I know, I would all like to thank you for supporting us.

To my family: thank you for always believing in me, making me feel like I could do this, and giving me the confidence to get up everyday and face the odds that I have faced. I know that without you, I'd be nothing like I am today. Thank you for supporting me and I can't wait until the day that I am able to repay you!

Endurance

If you are reading this pre-med/medical school blog (thanks!), then you probably fall into one of a small number of categories (I know, this is a gross generalization, but please hang with me for a moment). And to you, whomever you are, I would like to send encouragement based upon the category in which you find yourself. (Basically, what I'm saying is this: I'm freaking out lately and so I'm going to dish out some good stuff and hope I get a little back. He he. Sneaky, huh?)

Perhaps you are in high school, dreaming of (or maybe just considering) a career in medicine. Well, the best advice I can give you is to develop very thick skin. Lots of people are going to tell you that you are out of your league, no matter who you are, because the goal seems so lofty that many people dismiss it automatically; they think "I'm going to be a doctor" is just something students say. I am proof, however, that it can be done...and I have had more than my fair share of set backs (thankfully, I got the endurance gene from my parents!). The point I'm trying to make is this: you set your mind and keep it set--work (work hard), begin volunteering and accumulating medical experience NOW (don't dare wait until junior year of undergraduate), begin studying for the MCAT NOW. Prove to yourself and everyone else that you've got what it takes. It can be done, but you're the only one who can do it for yourself--the ball is in your court. This is awesome, though, because if you're really serious about this, you probably thrive on being in control (as much control as can be feigned in this process)! Look undergrad, the MCAT, prerequisites, volunteering, sleepless nights, panic attacks over physics and biochemistry (trust me), AMCAS applications, secondaries, interviews, and every other nasty weeding-out process in the face and say, "Bring it on!" Then, take a shot to calm down; this is a long process. (Wait, I almost forgot--you're in highschool. Scratch that. Under-aged drinking is BAD...and shame on you for considering it!)

Maybe you're in undergrad and you've endured a couple of years of study and you're sure that medicine is, in fact, what you want to do (congratulations; deciding is a major part of the battle!). You've done all this but you're time has not yet come to apply. I want to tell you this: hang in there, my friend! I know it seems like the MCAT, physics, organic, and AMCAS will never be behind you, but I promise that you'll turn around very soon and be on the other side of all of that mess. Acceptance and graduation are closer then they appear. Good luck, best wishes, and stay strong! (And you are of age, so...)

Perhaps you are like me--you've been accepted and you're just trying to endure until graduation. Whew. I know this phase is a special kind of exhausting (aren't they all! Oh, God. I feel another "Imsuchasciencenerd" moment coming on. Yup: Hey, how long can the body function on lactic acid alone? Sorry, I couldn't stop myself...but I should have...), and I was searching for some encouragement because I've had a really hard week. I think something we need to do is this: remember what we're done with. I am so tired, and I bet you are, too, because this experience is the same all over. Remembering what we don't have to do anymore (Ummmm...the MCAT comes to mind...) can help make what we still have to do a little more bearable. So, let's not let this semester beat us! Let's allow this time to chisel us into better learners and better doctors. Let's have that word, "endurance", take on a whole new, more real, meaning for us. And, most importantly, let's remember that THERE'S ONLY TWO MONTHS UNTIL GRADUATION!

If you are a medical student, I'm afraid that I'm not quite sure how to encourage you yet, because I still have a few months until medical school begins for me and I get that first-hand experience. However, I do know a few of you and I would like to remind you that you're role models, examples, and inspirations for thousands upon thousands of pre-meds who wildly desire to be in your place some day. I know it's really tough, but remember the times you worked so hard and begged for a spot in medical school? Well, you did it! You set a goal and met it! (Please don't say, "Careful what you wish for"; I have to believe that it's not that bad right now!) You're literally tomorrow's researchers and practitioners. You're going to be independently wealthy, unbelievably employable everywhere you go, and very important parts of any community. You're wonderfully talented and brilliant (well...some of you...) and you're true heroes! Congratulations on the awesome professionals you're becoming.

Well, guys, I hope this encourages you, in whatever position you find yourself!

Hyperpissed, Part 1

Here's the deal. I've had several very frustrating and/or unfair and/or completely ridiculous situations arise lately. And, rather then make them all separate posts, I've decided to compile them all into one big rant (that way, I will hopefully not seem like I complain ALL THE TIME...but, rather, just some of the time, which is healthy, right? Hello?). Further, I've titled this "Part 1" because I'm certain this condition will arise again given my stressful career choice...but my decision making skills aren't the topic (for now). So here are the causes of my hyperpissed state of mind:

1: Boring, unnecessary lectures.
If you've ever gone to any school, you know what this situation is all about and you get how badly it sucks. For example, as a future doctor, can anyone please explain to me why my university felt it necessary for me to spend a semester of my undergraduate life learning the reproductive cycles of conifers? (Why would you click on that link? I told you it's useless for we medical folk, silly! I'll forgive your plant-loving behind if you noticed that it is actually a viral reproduction cycle that is shown, though.)

2: I just wanted my friggin' transcript. Morons.
Basically, I found out about a very large scholarship two days before the deadline to apply. So, since I definitely don't have the cash to just pay for medical school, I spent one whole day (and night) writing the amazingly large amount of essays required. The next day, I went to all three of my undergraduate schools (I've had to move around a lot) to get my transcripts. The first two universities had no problem printing me a transcript right then and there. They both told me that this wasn't their normal policy, but after I explained the scholarship deadline, they told me they'd make an exception. And it really was no big freaking deal. Just press print, right? WRONG. Here's what transpired at the third school:

Me: "Hello, I would like to get a copy of my transcript, please."
Useless student clone at the window: "Sure, it will be ready in about 5 days. Sign this release."
Me: "Well, I know that's the usual wait, but... (here I explain about the scholarship. I'll spare you.) Blah, blah, blah...I'm willing to pay extra for the rush, but I really have to have that transcript today."
Useless student clone at the window: "We can't print any transcripts until 9 p.m. Not 'til 9 o'clock. If you pay $10 today, you can pick up your transcript the day after tomorrow."
Me: "That's two 9 p.m.'s from now."
Useless student clone at the window (with a vacant look on her face): "Huh...?"
Me: "Can I speak to a supervisor, please?"

At this point, clone-girl leaves (slowly) and gets an older, more professional-looking woman (enter the trivial liar). I thought I may be able to get somewhere with this person. I thought wrong. Way, ridiculously, completely, obscenely wrong.

Trivial liar: "What do you want?"
Me: "I just want my transcript..." (Insert second scholarship explanation here.)
Trivial liar: "We don't print nothin' 'til 9 p.m."
Me: "I heard a rumor about that."
Trivial liar: "So, pay $10 and come back on the day after tomorrow."
Me (pretty flippin' aggravated): "No, I can't come back the day after tomorrow. I have a deadline. Your inability to print before 9 p.m. could cost me a lot of scholarship money."
Trivial liar (with fake sincerity): "Well, I couldn't even print if I wanted to because we don't even print transcripts here. We get it done somewhere else and they get shipped in."
Me: "You're expecting me to believe that this registrar's office doesn't print its own transcripts?"
Trivial liar: "Yes."
Me: "Well, then, let's say for a moment that I believe you. Could you tell me where that 'somewhere else' is and I'll just go there and ask them to print it now."
Trivial liar: "You can't go there...um...because I don't know where it is."
Me (not buying it): "Who does know where it is?"
Trivial liar: "No body that's here."
Me: "So, not only does this registrar's office not print its own transcripts, but also no one here knows where the phantom transcript printer is."
Trivial liar: "Well...we sort of know that it's the IT department..."
Me: "So, now your story is that the IT department prints transcripts."
Trivial liar: "Right."
Me: "Do the cafeteria workers do tech support?"
Trivial liar: ... (No response; I don't think she got the joke. Shocking.)
Me: "Fine. So, where's the IT department then?"
Trivial liar: "I don't know."
Me: "Fine. Someone on this campus knows where the IT department is. I'll find it."
Trivial liar: "Don't waste your time because they're a dead end. They won't do it for you."
Me: "How do you know they're a dead end if you don't even know where they are?!?"
Trivial liar (with MAJOR attitude): "Oh, that's right. I don't know anything. I'm just a worker-bee!"
Me: "You're not a supervisor?!?"

Then, this very large man steps up.

Me (pointing to the big guy): "Is that the actual supervisor?"
Trivial liar: "Yes."
Me: "Then he's who the first girl was supposed to get!"
Trivial liar: "We don't ever REALLY get the supervisor..."
Me: "Oh, my God."

The big guy steps in. He's actually the only one who was even vaguely helpful.

Big guy: "How can I help you."
Me: (I tell the scholarship story yet again.)
Big guy: "Oh, I understand. Let me get the woman who can help you."

What a great idea. Big guy leaves and gets the person who's actually in charge of the transcripts--and she's the sourest, most hateful old woman I have ever spoken with in my life (enter the crabby old hag).

Crabby old hag: "What?"
Me: (I tell the scholarship story for the FOURTH time.)
Crabby old hag: "We don't print them here, there is nothing I could do, even if I wanted to."
Me: "So, tell me where they do print them and I will go there!"
Crabby old hag: "I don't know where they are."

We go at this, arguing over the logic of a registrar's office that is unable to print transcripts, for nearly twenty minutes. Finally, this is what happened:

Crabby old hag: "Well, this wouldn't have ever happened if you had just known about the scholarship. You could have came a few days ago and not had to cause a scene."
Me (after I stared that witch down for a few seconds, I had finally had enough...I pulled the medical school card): "How many students from this college do you think got into medical school this year?" (I happened to have known that I was the only one--it's a very, very small community college). "I'll just go tell the dean that I'm the one medical school matriculant from this school and ask him where I could get a transcript. I know right where his office is!"

Crabby old hag then sighed dramatically and reached over (it was an arm's length away the entire time!) and hit print on the printer that was RIGHT THERE. I got my transcript and left.

Now, I ask you: what in the hell was so hard about hitting print? These ridiculous people got paid to argue with me for an hour when all they had to do was hit a freaking button! It's bad enough, by the way, that we have to pay for transcripts at all. God knows students pay thousands and thousands of dollars in tuition--you'd think all that money could cover one piece of watermark paper and a seal when one of us needs a transcript! God help me...my blood pressure's elevated just thinking about this ordeal.

3: There are just not enough students failing.
I am in a very difficult, 400 level biochemistry course which is one of the hardest classes I've ever had. The teacher is the chair of the chemistry department and, therefore, he can basically do whatever he wants. Well, the other day the professor makes this announcement: "I have discovered that there are just not enough people failing the course this year. So, I've decided to change the grading scale. Now the scale is 94%=A, 88%=B, etc." So now, in this wildly hard class, you have to get an 82% just to pass with a C. I just don't even know what to say about this. I have no idea what kind of crack this guys is on, but the class has decreased by at least 50% since the beginning. How many students is he trying to fail? 75%? 85%? How many seniors have to not graduate for this guy to feel like he's done a good job?

On the logical side of this argument...isn't the syllabus supposed to be sort of a contract? The professor outlines the rules and scale and policies and, therefore, the student knows what to expect from the teacher and what the teacher expects from him or her. This teacher of mine is just unreal because he's changed the contract midstream, with no warning.

On the philosophical side of my argument...I understand that there must be a weeding-out process involved in this level of education. OK. I've got that--I've lived it and still have nightmares about it. But, by 4th year, when the MCAT, Organic Chemistry, Physics, and every other pre-med hurdle is behind us, why can't the professors just try and TEACH for once before our undergraduate career is over? Those of us that are left may actually appreciate learning a little bit more before we venture off to our respective graduate schools.

4: Group work
"Group work". The freaking name of this activity is a lie. The group doesn't work. One person works (usually the one who is most concerned about getting good grades because he or she has plans to go to graduate school and that grad school application is constantly on his or her mind)...the other people sit there. I'm quite tired of being the working one. So, group...WORK. I'm so freaking tired of being the reason that you're all getting A's.

5: Come on, it's 2007!
Let me just make something clear, boys: I am not impressed that your daddy gave you a Y chromosome (Excuse me while I have an "Iamsuchasciencenerd" moment: did you know that the Y chromosome is the result of degenerative molecular evolution? Yup. Just sat through that lecture...)and that at some point in your development you sprouted a penis. This took no mental aptitude on your part and, as far as I'm concerned, this entitles you to no special treatment, extra pay, or unearned respect. Do you want my respect? Be kind, be knowledgeable, and be of great character. I don't judge you by what is or is not between your legs...and I'm completely tired of the few of you who do judge me by that criterion.

I don't think that men should be treated worse than women; that's not what I mean at all. I just think the time has come that people be judged on their character, intelligence, talent, etc. and not on their physical attributes like gender, size, race, religion, or anything of the sort. Here's some recent conversations that I have had with some guys that think they're better than me just because they're male.


Dumbass: "Did you hear about that couple from church who took the woman's last name after they got married! How weird!"
Me: "I don't think there is anything wrong with a couple taking the bride's name after marriage. I don't see why it has to automatically be the groom's name that is taken."
Dumbass: "It's never OK for a man to take a woman's name. It's like he's taking the woman's role or something."
Me (with great restraint): "What if the man's family were all idiots or criminals or people with whom the new couple just didn't want to be automatically associated? Or, what if both of the people in the couple just liked the woman's name better? It's not a sign of having no masculinity or anything like that. It's just a decision that two adults make together. And, I don't see how it's fundamentally any different than a woman taking her groom's name. The point is that they are SHARING a name, symbolizing the fact that they're now familiy."
Dumbass: "Well, if any of those things were the case, then the groom should say that he's taking the bride's father's name, not the brides name."
Me (absolutely livid): "Why would that make a difference?"
Dumbass: "Then the man's not taking the woman's role. He's just taking another man's name. That way, he's not giving his own identity up to the woman."
Me: "But, if you see changing your last name as giving up your identity (which I don't), then you think it's alright for the woman to give up her identity to the man?"
Dumbass: "Yes. That's her role. That's the way it should be."

At this point in the conversation, I had to leave because I was going to call this jerk a lot of things that would not be easily forgiven (and for some reason I value his friendship). Let me address his comments here, since I have (marginally) calmed down.

The woman's role. This was my friend's big point: the groom can't take the woman's role. Well, dumbass, can you define a woman's role for me, since this is 2007? Women are doctors (hello!), other professionals, and the chief money-makers in many families. Some women are strong, brave, intelligent and can fulfill EVERY role--just like some men are strong, brave, intelligent and can fulfill every role. I suggest to you, dumbass, and to those like you, that you start treating men and women equally since it is an absolutely undeniable fact that men and women now have equal responsibilities.

Let me set one more thing straight again before I go on. I am in no way saying that women deserve special treatment. I'm not one of those feminazis that screams for equal treatment and then expects to actually be treated better than men (or just have all the men killed). No. Equal is equal and that's what I'm talking about. To follow the example above, I'm not saying that a woman shouldn't take a man's name (after my husband and I discussed it and considered taking my name, I actually took my husbands!), I'm just saying that it shouldn't be unheard of that the man take the woman's name. The two options should be equally understandable.

Here's another recent conversation that just pissed me right off:

Dumbass #2: "Did you get into medical school?"
Me: "Yes, I'm really excited."
Dumbass #2: "Well, I got rejected from all of the medical schools that I applied to. I'm sure the only reason you got in is because you're a girl."

Again, please let me address this guy's comments here: What?!? I took the same classes as you in the same school as you. I took the same MCAT you did and I applied to the same schools in the same year. I didn't get to take an easier Physics course because I'm sans penis. My lack of testicles didn't aid in my understanding of Organic Chemistry. Let me tell you this: I got in because I outperformed you. Get it straight and get over it. Better luck next year.

Alright. I know that last paragraph sounded harsh. But, this guy completely diminished everything I've work for--his point was that I'm not accomplished, I'm simply being given a position because I have a vagina--and so, I felt justified in my above rant.

Also, I want to make sure that I don't sound like I consider this an enormous problem today, because I find that among reasonably-logical people, women are certainly treated equally for the most part. There are these little innuendos, however, that keep popping up their ugly, antiquated little heads...so this topic definitely made my gripe fest.

I'm simply talking about fair judgement. If you are faster than me, smarter than me, better than me, or more able to handle a situation than I am, then I'm happy to stand aside and let you shine--regardless of your sex, race, religion, height, weight...or any other random attribute you may have that makes you different from me. I'm just asking for that same respect. And, like I said, this usually happens, but I'm just sick of the few that keep bringing their stupid points up. Speaking of stupid points:

Dumb ass #3: "Did you get your taxes done today?"
Me: "Yup."
Dumb ass #3: "Were you OK with being the secondary?"
Me: "Sure, my husband makes most the money right now. But, you know what? They didn't even ask who we wanted on the first line. They just automatically made my husband the primary and made me secondary. Don't you think they should at least ask us?"
Dumb ass #3: "What are you talking about?"
Me: "Well, I mean, it didn't even occur to the accountant--who was even a woman, by the way--to ask us who we wanted to be the primary. She said it's always the man. I'm just saying that when I'm making six figures in a few years, I just think that it's not ridiculous to expect that I'd be the primary on the financial documents...do you really see something wrong with this suggestion?"
Dumb ass #3: "If my wife ever said anything like that, I'd slap her. I'd never put up with your attitude."

Let me tell you something, Dumbass #3: who do you think you are leading me into a conversation, knowing what I would say, just to say something like that to me? You know, since you brought it up, you couldn't handle being with someone like me. Not for one day. You are way too insecure to deal with anyone who stands behind and is able to defend her own opinions. You don't want a partner, you don't want someone from whom you can learn, you don't want someone who makes you desire to be a better person. You want a dog to pant and slobber after you as you do whatever you want, unquestioned. This is amazingly understandable, though, considering the fact that you've really got nothing to offer a woman but your (moderately) good looks. I'm not impressed.

Wow. I am truly tired of these guys. I guess the truth is, though, that their own prejudice broadly displays their simple ignorance and so I'll be finished writing about it...now.

Well, there it is. Ahhhhhhhhh, I feel better. I'm sure much of you share my grief over these situations and/or ones like them, so know you're not alone. Thanks for reading and if you have any gripes, please feel free to leave a comment...it'll be therapeutic (trust me)!

Surgical Re-education

While preparing for D-day (which was, in case you're curious, June 5, 2006: the first day AMCAS accepted applications for the entering class of 2007), I spent a great deal of time in the operating room (this looked great on my application, but that ended up being just a fringe benefit...I really actually learned a lot). I racked up hundreds of hours of time shadowing surgeons and, eventually, even assisting with a few surgeries ("Hey, want to learn how to scrub in?" Hell yes!) Given all of this time I really thought I had a working understanding of the entire process of surgery on at least a general level, and I did have that...from the professional side. As I mentioned before, however, my father had surgery this Friday. Through this, I really got some education about the process of surgery from the patient's point of view.

I played it very cool for the month and a half leading up to dad's surgery. I knew he was going to be fine and that he was going to be better off because of this procedure. I answered what few questions I could for him and told him not to worry at all. And, he played it pretty cool, too. On the day of surgery, however, when I walked into his room, he had tears in his eyes and said simply, "It's over, hon." There was such relief on his face that I nearly cried, too. It turns out that I was also tense about this procedure...not because I'm not familiar with surgery, but because it was my father on the table this time. My father, the first degree black belt in Tae-Kwon-Do; my father, the dirt bike racing champion (that's him in the picture!); my father, who is strong and fit and wise and untouchable was suddenly...vulnerable. And, that's a new adjective for him in my mind.

This, I think, is the worst part of surgery for the patient and his or her family: waiting. Thinking of yourself (or someone you love) unconscious, intubated...vulnerable (there's that word again). My father said that he'd rather feel the pain after the surgery (which has been substantial) than live through the anticipation of the procedure again any day. For me, the hardest part of all of this was that I knew dad was scared and there was nothing I could do about it. (As an aside...I think that one way to know that you really do love someone--be it a parent, a sibling, a spouse, a friend, anyone--is when you would rather go through pain yourself than see the person you love endure a moment of it. And, that's true: I would have gone through all of this for my dad in a heartbeat if I only could have...)

See, this whole ordeal has given me an insight into the human side of surgery. When I worked and volunteered in the OR, very often I never even saw the patient until he or she was unconscious. It's probably very easy, when surgery is your everyday job, to loose sight of the human being in the patient. But, as a surgeon, the person on your table is a father, mother, brother, sister, husband, wife, best friend...you get the idea. Still though, at the worst case, I've seen people referred to as simply their time slots or their procedures ("This mastectomy is eating into my lunch hour")...this behavior is nauseating and ought not exist.

For what it's worth, I promise to always see the person before the procedure; to appreciate their life before their illness. I think this is very important...and I'm thankful that I'll never forget this now.

Feel better soon, dad. I love you with all my heart.

Learning Anger

During this time period of my life--when I'm getting used to the knowledge that I will be a doctor--I've noticed that the role of physician keeps changing in my mind. It keeps growing, morphing into something that sometimes surprises me. For example, until yesterday, I never thought of it as the physician's job to get angry (I guess I thought this role was reserved for stubborn people who think they know better than the doctor because they read WebMD...). But, I realize now that sometimes it's completely necessary for a good doctor to get pissed.

My father had surgery on Friday. A little while after the surgery, my father was ready to be released, however, he could not leave because no one had delivered this particular piece of equipment that he needed for his recovery. The surgeon got on the phone, called the equipment provider, and screamed at the driver for being late--the delivery was made very shortly afterward. While giving my parents their equipment, the driver said that he and the surgeon are actually best friends--outside of work. But, he explained that the surgeon was on him all the time during working hours. The surgeon doesn't let his personal feelings affect their professional relationship at all...when he's on duty, the patient is the priority. This whole scene reminded me of something that happened once while I was shadowing a different surgeon last summer:

This surgeon and I had spent a lot of time together--she's really incredible and invested a lot of time with me. I was with her all day one Tuesday (surgery day) and it was about 6pm--we'd been there for 12 hours. While preparing for her last surgery of the day, this very large man (who I later found out was in charge of the OR schedule) came in and told her that her last patient was going to have to be rescheduled (this surgeon, as a cancer specialist, didn't like the idea of postponing her patient's surgery at all, for obvious reasons). This doctor transformed from the soft-spoken, kind woman I had always been around into a formidable fireball (she is only about 5 feet tall but she put that more-than-six-foot-tall man in his place quite quickly). She made it very clear to everyone that her patient would not be rescheduled and that the manager was going to have to take a different OR away because she wasn't loosing hers. As soon as the guy left the room, she turned to me, smiled, and said, "If you don't fight for your patients, no one will."

After what happened this weekend with my family, I understand even more how right this doctor was. I'm so thankful that my father's surgeon stepped in on my parent's behalf and got things done. His bold attitude made them feel safe, well-represented, and important. That's how a patient and his or her family should feel.

So my most recent lesson is that the ability to become righteously indignant is a prerequisite for being a good doctor. Who knew?

My Best Feature

I would like to take this opportunity to brag a bit about my best feature. No, no, it's not my MCAT score or my GPA. It's not my grasp of Organic Chemistry or my ability to memorize a ridiculous amount of information in a short period of time. It's also not my bright blue eyes or my really big...lips... (wink, wink). No. My hands down, definite best feature by far is: my husband. (OK, all together now: "Awwwwwww!" That's right.)

He's the kind of man that is the implied subject of phrases like, "They just don't make them like that anymore." He's the kind of man that makes you want to become a better person--just because you know him. He's my best friend and my support. He worked two jobs (filled with ridiculous people and terrible environments) for years so that I could focus completely on school. He puts up with me--a wife that cannot offer him all the attention he deserves because she has to study a great deal--and he does so without complaint. He believes in me and, on days when I think I just don't have what it takes to become a physician, he's right beside me, convincing me that I'm wrong. He is part of my strength, my safety, and my inspiration.

I mean it when I say that I don't deserve him and that I can't believe how lucky I am to have him. Today, for example, he had a really tough day at work--his boss is completely unreasonable and makes his professional life basically a living hell. But, instead of coming home and being in a bad mood because his day sucked, he got home before me, cleaned the house, and made a really nice dinner for us. On top of that, he called me to see what time I'd be home because he wanted to have a drink ready for me when I walked in the door. I know, I know, you're probably all thinking that I'm making this up (and it does feel like a dream because I don't deserve any of this). But, I promise this is only the absolute truth. He really is this great. He's brilliant, handsome, hilarious, and strong...but he's so modest that he doesn't know that he's any of these things. And, these are just a few small examples of how special he is, how great he makes me feel, and how completely selfless and wonderfully thoughtful he is. If I tried to type all of the ways in which he is so unbelievable, it would take a lifetime.

I just hope that he knows how much I love him...and I hope that he never figures out that he deserves someone much better than me. Until that time, if I can find some way to make him feel half as loved as he makes me feel, then I've really accomplished something great.