Archive for tag: friends

Piles of Laundry and All the Strong Hearts

Ugh, guys and gals, it's been a tri! I'm sitting here trying to bang out a meaningful blog post for my loyal readers and... turns out the only thing I can focus on is that I am surrounded by three loads of unfolded laundry (clean at least, thank goodness) and that's just the start of what's not getting done around here...

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My mom would be mad -- sitting in my messy room, mustering energy to do lots of things.

What week in the tri is it? I keep trying to write a comment about it being "that week" of the tri, and to quote my fellow ND student friend Wendy, "I just can't even." I keep telling myself that taking boards in week 4 or 5 (or whenever that was) is why I'm all out of sorts, but really, it's just that med school is med school is med school, and there's just no changing that.

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Classic medical student portrait -- sleepy and studying.

In the summer I wrote about the unbeautiful part of being a naturopathic medical student. That was the last time I had ice cream for dinner and even though it's not exactly ice cream weather, tonight's lookin' like its time for a repeat.

Enough complaining! What I HAVE managed to do lately is this: I get out of bed every morning! I put on clothes, and I think I always look presentable, if maybe, occasionally, a little weird. Each morning I succeed in making myself coffee, and if I had a "To Do List," I would almost always put a satisfying check next to "make breakfast." But, it's a good day if I manage to actually eat the breakfast without also doing two other things simultaneously; I'm usually taking bites between packing a lunch and scrambling to gather up all my things.

I can say with confidence that each weekday I make it to campus! Yes! I am proud to say that I stay awake in class, and I almost always know which room I'm supposed to be in, and when. Also, I generally always know what's going on in lecture, although... I have my days.

Today, when taking a blood pressure I struggled to multiply 17 by 4. It's OK, not all doctors can do math every single time, right?

Some days seem unbelievably long, and others I just wish, wish, wish could extend by just an hour or two! If you had an extra hour in the day, what would you do with it? I used to say, "Yoga!" Now, I would sleep. I would definitely sleep. I used to think sleeping was for the faint of heart. I'm not sure anyone could get through a medical education without a strong heart, and so, my views have changed.

Speaking of strong hearts, I am surrounded by them and Hallelujah! If it weren't for my friend Blaine's reliable punchy sarcasm, Wendy's big grin and occasional colorful language, Tina's quick laugh, Mallory's eager smile, Abdulla's kind eyes, Lisa's happy conversation, and Brad's constant confidence, I might have imploded by now. And these are only the people I see the most often! I have so many other fellow student friends who keep me laughing, who commiserate with me, and who help me talk through my thoughts everyday. Thank you all! You guys rock.

Sigh. Thank you for reading about my blunders and my teeny, tiny daily successes. Now I think its time for that ice cream dinner...

You Could Choose National for the Thunderstorms

I spend a lot of time looking at the sky. When I lived in the West, I realized that a big sky makes me feel that anything is possible and that I can never understand it all. I adore this feeling. I desire to be outside of my comfort zone as often as possible; so much so that at times I've had to give up and retreat to calmer waters.

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I spend a lot of time looking at the sky. Sunrise on my morning commute last week.

On a long weekend during my first year at NUHS, before the program had a chance to wear me thin, my partner and I set out on a camping and fishing trip to Wisconsin's driftless region. We meandered through farmland and found our camping spot as the clouds were gathering, no big deal. We'd once tried to camp at Vedauwoo near Laramie, Wyoming, in late October with a wicked, biting wind that threatened both to snow and to overturn our tent. When we realized they'd shut off the water and closed up all facilities for the season, we gave up.

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My partner Hanzi tying flies at our kitchen table over the weekend, caused this story to surface.

On this particular trip in Wisconsin, we made dinner over our camp stove as the rain picked up. We ate our rice and beans on the tailgate to stay dry. As the downpour intensified, we climbed into our tent earlier than expected and snuggled into the center, trying not to touch the wet walls.

At 1 a.m., the 5th drop of water landed on my face and I realized my sleeping bag was totally soaked; our tent was no longer waterproof and the Midwestern thunderstorm was still raging. Soaked and sleepy, we sloppily disassembled our tent and crammed all the sopping wet sleeping stuff into the trunk and slunk out of the campsite, our tails between our legs.

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The fishing the next day was terrible. The streams ran high and brown
with mud. You can see our soaking wet camping gear piled in the trunk.

We drove a wide-open rural highway with lightning cracking all around us in the longest, loudest and most spectacular streaks I've ever seen. This was some thunderstorm! If you've never experienced one, do come study naturopathic medicine at National. If you've not chosen our school for the strong philosophy and awesome collaborative learning environment, then do at least choose it for the thunderstorms!

After a drive through the downpour and lightning, we checked into the only room left at the nearest hotel, a suite with a hot tub in the corner and the fluffiest king size bed ever (save for that one that enveloped me during that bout of food-poisoning I got in Banff, Canada after eating scrambled eggs at the airport. Don't ever eat scrambled eggs at the airport.)

When you're in medical school, you pretty much can't do these adventurous, uncalculated things. They squash that tendency to toss logical thinking to the wind (like setting up camp in the midst of a deluge) in the process of teaching us to be responsible doctors. I don't mean my professors tell me to stay out of the rain. I mean that medical school in general takes you away from the fun stuff by sucking you dry of energy and sitting you down for some serious business. It's all worth it though, I promise.

I may not be able to adventure, but I guess my education does cause me to constantly move beyond my comfort zone. Each new class I take demands that I commit to memory information I've never known before. When I see a sim patient, I have no idea what to expect and have to dive in ready to grapple with whatever story they tell me. This is undoubtedly like the real world of doctoring and so I rest assured; I totally AM in the right place.... If doctoring is a process of continually stepping out of your comfort zone while seeking the patterns that help you find your way to healing a patient, then I think I'm on to something.

Really though, I already knew I was in the right place before writing this rambling essay on thunderstorms and airport eggs and squished adventures. I came to naturopathic medicine because I thrive on the different stuff. Our medicine is not well known but it is intelligent. Our medicine is not entirely understood in reductionist terms, but it works from a place of truth. Camping in the rain is not a comfortable choice, but it does make for a good story.

Crunch-Pop and Lovely, Intelligent Women

Here I sit, on a plane bound for Chicago after a weekend on the East Coast, listening to the air from the blower overhead and the rushing outside the window as we taxi. The deicers blast the window inches from my face with a heavy spattering sound. The engines roar a little louder and I think of the rattle my cousin's smiling, blonde 1-year-old used to fill my ears this morning.

At this past week's Nu Delta Sigma meeting, Nadene introduced us to sound healing as presented in the book, "Tuning the Human Biofield," by Eileen McKusick. I was the lucky recipient of a sound experiment from my friend John, a brilliant healer and doctor-in-the-making. You might call us crazy, but when was the last time you checked in with the sounds in your life? It had been a while for me.

The sim patient I saw this week in my Advanced Clinical Problem Solving class complained of tinnitus, a rushing sound in his ears, and was nearly deaf. This was the only abnormal finding on physical exam as we searched for clues to the cause of his dizzy, vomiting spells. When I made kale for dinner on Wednesday night, the leaves squeaked when I stripped them off their stalks. The sound reminded me of lemons and a crisp, cold, clear evening with a sky full of stars, when the frozen snow sings underfoot.

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So excited to be out skiing in celebration of one of my very oldest friends!
(She taught me to suck my thumb when I was 2.)

When I rode the chairlift at Cranmore Mountain in New Hampshire with my childhood friends over the weekend, the chairs clunked as only chairlift chairs do each time you reach a tower. I reveled in the swish of skis and the crunch-pop of poles into snow, the whoosh and shudder of skiers of various skill levels as they rocket downhill beside you. There were also those split seconds of silence when I caught a little air and my skis left the snow, allowing me to hear only the wind in my ears.

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Beautiful bluebird day in the White Mountains! There are my friends, waving at me from the lift.

On Sunday morning, I listened to the coffee maker grumble and splurt that divine bitter stuff into the pot. The bottle of champagne made an adorable pop! And we toasted our friend, a bride-to-be. We thanked her for bringing together such an intelligent, fun, active and clever group of young women. Our glasses clinked! I am back at school now, refreshed and grateful.

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All the lovely, intelligent women in our PJs, toasting our bride-to-be!

So now I sit here typing, my fingers trickling across the keys making that distinct blipping sound with each letter. I spend so much time using my eyes and my hands to observe and palpate in medicine, but I haven't engaged nearly enough with my ears. The more blood pressures I take and the more lungs I auscultate, the more familiar those healthy sounds become. I listen to the normal sounds in hopes that I'll recognize when they are different, when the lungs pop or crackle or gurgle and tell me something about the environment inside my patient.

Of Course, a Thanksgiving Post

Have you ever spent a holiday away from your family? My first Christmas without family involved working from 7-4 and coming home to a house full of stinky boys, recently back from skiing, cooking a bacon-wrapped turkey and imbibing generously of Pabst and homebrew. I cringed and thought, "This is NOT what Christmas is supposed to be like..." and then I grabbed a cheap beer and made the best of it.

In reflecting on holidays past without my close family around, I've got to say that this Thanksgiving was one of the best of all of those over the years. I may not have been home, I may have been without my cousins and aunties and uncles, not cooking alongside my parents and setting the table with my brother this year, but I most definitely was with family of a different kind.

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Only missing a few, my ND family on Thanksgiving (Photo by JheriAnne)

If you read my blog with any regularity you know about the remarkable group of fellow ND student friends that I hold so dear. These friends are my family here in Illinois, heck, they'll be my family even when I'm long gone from here! JheriAnne and her husband Shane hosted one of the most relaxing, calm, warm and wonderful Thanksgiving dinners I think I've ever enjoyed. Twelve of us gathered with our dinner contributions and dug into JheriAnne's first turkey (oh yum!). Afterwards, we lounged around watching football, trading stories, laughing, playing cards, and pouring each other another glass of wine.

I've been through a lot with these friends over the past two years of medical school in a way that's brought me closer to them than almost any other friends I've ever made. For one, we're all a little counter-culture; people who study naturopathic medicine generally march to a different drum, and we tend to live and/or think outside the box. It's remarkable how people with such different personalities and backgrounds can have a common pulse that beats naturopathy through our veins,*and as a result, allows us to find comfort in each other despite any number of differences.

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Future NDs and great friends Anayibe & Mia on Thanksgiving (Photo by JheriAnne)

In addition, we've all grown close in friendship at the same time as our brains have matured and we've grappled with new ideas, our minds stretching to accommodate buckets of new information. As I see it, we were poised for great assimilation of material and so stored the information about each of these friends at the same rate and intensity as we memorized every detail of glycolysis and human anatomy. Let me be entirely cliché, and also so extremely full of heart, when I say that I am so, so, so thankful for the friends I've made in the naturopathic program here at NUHS. I hope you all had a very happy Thanksgiving, too, and a wonderful holiday ahead.

* It sort of pains me to write that something pulses through our veins and neglect to mention our arteries, but for the sake of literary flair I have pushed aside my anatomy and physiology and left it be.

Examining Place - The Midwest

Ah, sigh. This weekend I finally got away into the outside world where the air is significantly different from here in Chicagoland. I took in gulps of fresh air and smiled. I experienced my first corn maze in the flat, flat Midwest and sat under a tree whose red leaves came drifting down into my lap as I chewed my apple brat. I ate a candy apple, but we didn't get to pick our own apples because we were a little too late in the season for that.

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These past two weeks, for some reason, I've found myself answering questions about my life before medical school. People have been asking about the places I've lived and the cultures there. I'm quick to tell a story about places outside of the Midwest, so this weekend's little adventures served as a good tether to pull me back, and to examine my current place.

When I was studying non-fiction writing in undergrad, we often examined the concept of Place and wrote on the topic: what does it mean to be in a place, what makes a place yours, not yours, different, the same, why sit and become enveloped in this place now? It's a damn hard task, to sit patiently in place and observe it for what it is. This is especially difficult when your world moves so quickly and you are expected to work hard at attaining, achieving, getting there, making progress towards becoming a doctor.

Despite the rapid clip at which I am working to become a doctor, I try, try, try to slow down and observe this place, to take it in and notice the unique things. This weekend helped me to settle and gaze, to take in the flat farmland, to hug my boyfriend, to laugh with new friends, and to read through old physiology notes in order to refresh my memory and help me be more present in my current classes.

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When you talk about the Midwest with anyone, they inevitably say something about how nice people are here. My initial experience with this Midwestern friendliness involved some confusion, seeing as I come from Boston, a place where nobody acknowledges anybody unless they definitely want to talk. When I arrived in Chicago, a stranger would smile and ask me, "How are you?" I inaccurately perceived this as an open invitation for a full conversation. Over the past two years of living here, I've learned that friendliness does not necessarily equate to a desire to have a conversation, they're just being kind, I guess. I'm still a little weirded out by this; if you ask me how I'm doing, I still look at you sideways to figure out if you actually want me to answer that question, or not. On the other hand, my rather immediate assumption to jump into conversation has served me well, and I've made friends with shop clerks at nearly every place I buy goods and services.

Right now, the Midwest is my home, though perhaps not my truest Place. Here in Chicago, I've had to stumble along trying to navigate the culture, and I finally feel that maybe I'm able to catch these Midwesterners in stride and keep up. I have learned so much about life in the heart of classic America by living here. My greatest adventures so far have been getting to know a place by living in it, participating in the community, and feeling out the social habits of the people there. From this perspective, it's no wonder I feel so slammed with new information; it's not just the study of medicine I've been trying to assimilate, but the Midwestern way of life as well.

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So being in medical school is more than just your peers, your books, your lectures, and the other trappings of studying medicine. Many of us move to a new place to start this journey into medicine, and the culture of that new place also provides us with struggles and triumphs. If we can find the time to sit with our new place, in addition to our books, we'll learn more about the world, which will certainly make us better doctors, right?