There had been no time for dinner before we left, as we decided at the last minute to go, but I was super hungry. It smelled like the State Fair of Texas and I wanted it all. After rationalizing that my muffin top finally seems to have shrunk just recently, I decided there would be little harm in sharing some fries with the fam. One hundred dollars later, I had some fries. Zoe and Joel ate 98% of them I think, though Zoe used them only as a vessel for ketchup, which she would drink if I weren’t so disgusted by it.

Joel had gotten Zoe some pink cotton candy (-I know-) and later some ice cream in a pink helmet as a bribe so he could see the whole game. It was something we all were excited about, as we have fond memories of helmet ice cream in our youth. In an unfortunate turn of evens, the concessionaires had exhausted their pink strawberry ice cream supply by the 7th inning. Zoe balked and grumbled and squnched up her face and refused to eat the inferior treat, thus the whole experience was soured. Until we sat down, and things were looking up for the helmet ice cream. She ate a few bites, managing to drip vanilla Blue Bell and chocolate sauce and rainbow sprinkles all over her Dad, perhaps in some twisted attempt at retribution for buying the one hundred dollar ice cream that was NOT pink. She remembered it was not pink in between each bite, and finally decided that yes, it WAS horrible that the ice cream was not pink, and no, it was NOT fixed by the pinkness of its bowl, the helmet. Couple that with the fact that the playground to which she was ushered during a span of short attention was also temporarily closed, and her report when we got in the car to go home was, “Mama, I had a bad day.” She did get pushed today at school in my presence. I shamed little Jeffrey for pushing at all, and a girl at that. He seemed to feel no remorse. So I’ll grant that parts of her day did not go her way, but we’ll be working on her attitude.

We all were exhausted by the time we got home, and Zoe fell asleep shortly after. Finally I could assuage my growling barely-lunch-no-dinner-barely-snack tummy with a delicious concoction of Texas peaches (the very, very best – I thank my generous grandparents for introducing me to their magic early and often), frozen blueberries, rice puffins, and coconut milk yogurt. It is a lovely midnight dinner.

Last night we went to the Galleria to retrieve our reserved — for free — new spicy chicken sandwiches from Chick-fil-A. This was post-Zumba (my second killer sweaty powerhouse workout of the day), and I had been looking forward to this sandwich for a solid two weeks.

Excitedly I presented our printed reservation coupon things to the young man behind the counter. I asked that Joel‘s not have pickles. I ordered a four-pack of nuggets for the munchkin, in case the spiciness was too much to handle (it totally was). And a medium fry to share. And a cherry Coke. And a water.

“You only want the one drink? And one fry?” I was confused. Was he calling me cheap for getting three sandwiches on the house and only ordering three additional items?

“Well, I…”
“Because each sandwich comes with a drink.”
“OH!!! Great!!!” I ordered our drinks. “Two cherry cokes. And a pink lemonade for the girl. No! Wait! One cherry coke, one Barq’s, and the pink one.” I had decided to splurge and drink my soda. The freedom and choices overwhelmed me. The cashier — Calvin, my receipt tells me — seemed amused that this pleased me so.

“And so one fry?”
“I, well, we’ll share…” Calvin smiled again, about to deliver some additional wonderful news.
“Because each sandwich also comes with a medium fry.”

WHAT?! I’m certain my face revealed all of my true frugality and love of food at once.

Gleefully giggling as I handed over $1.57 in cash for the nuggets, my eyes widened at Joel, who, surprisingly, also looked excited.

The sandwiches were tasty. Spicy. Very, very spicy. Midway through my sammich, Joel asked the question to which I’m sure everyone is waiting with baited breath to hear the answer: Would I order this over anything else on the menu and pay for it?

Not if I were sharing it with either Joel or Zoe. It’s too spicy for that. But on my own, in the mood for something spicy, yes. Yes, I would. Now, I do have a suggestion, Chick-fil-A: make some extra dough and offer not cheese, but heart-healthy and cooling avocado (or guacamole) as an extra. I think you’ll find people thrilled with this option.

All told, our discount was $18.87. Spectacular.

Do you want my happiness? Go reserve yours now – offer ends June 5.

But not today. No. Today they were 1. out of non-dairy creamer, and – what’s worse – 2. completely unapologetic about it. In addition, 3. their potato tacos, which most days are worthy of high praise, were not hot. And by hot I mean temperature, which is all the more important now that I’m more aware of what bugs may lurk in less-than-hot food. Thus they have been sacked. This was just the thing I needed to get myself out of bed earlier to make my own breakfast. Maybe now I’ll get to the bus on time.

First, a little background.

Overall Block I exams went alright but, as usual, less well than I had hoped. The quickness and the breadth of material, especially for immunology, got the better of me, and while I held it together fairly well (i.e., I only called my sister in tears once and threatened to quit via no more than four texts), by Friday I was sure that after turning in my micro test I would walk over one building and check myself in, either at Hermann for exhaustion/septic strep (I lost my voice during the week) or at the Harris County psych ward. Not to be dramatic or anything.

Friday night I ended up doing my post exams routine of cleaning and attempting to prepare ourselves for a nice weekend at home without staring at a couch full of laundry or a pile of dishes or lying around on dog-hair-carpet. Because that’s how we roll most days. (I’ve learned to let it go, superficially, until I have time to deal with it, but deep down it’s still on my hamster wheel of concerns.)

I was excited to retrieve Zoe, who was in excellent spirits after school. The evening was pleasant and uneventful, and we went to bed late, in my hopes of sleeping late.

Saturday, 7 AM: Zoe is awake, for good, and she wants to “watch a few shows”. I oblige and return to sleep; when she gets cranky, Joel sweeps her away so I can rest. I am grateful. A few minutes of light sleep later, I tire of hearing her protests and requests for me, and I stomp out grumpily, and we begin our day of nothing. Glorious nothing. We played play-doh, watched shows, napped, and generally enjoyed each other’s company. At 6 PM we ventured out on some errands: Goodwill donating, recycling, and groceries. Across from the recycling center was a Chick-Fil-A, and Zoe excitedly requested dinner there. It was delicious, and she loved playing on the playground with a rambunctious young chap called Ian, or Phillip, or Bill. NOT Kevin, NOT Steven, which he thought Zoe was saying, which she wasn’t. Target was a blast, and we saved 10% with coupons = bonus.

Sometime around 3 AM we were awakened by a Zoe in mild distress. I’m not sure how we knew, because she wasn’t making much noise. Joel figured out that she was lying on her back and pointing to her mouth, which was piled high with vomit. The poor baby. We cleaned her up, stripped the bed, decided she needed a full bath, did that, and got her all ready for bed again. Laundry was begun, and into clean sheets we went. Less than half an hour later, we repeated the whole thing, with the variation that the vomit landed almost entirely on my person, and the two of us took a shower. Putting our last set of sheets on the bed, we decided to put a few extra blankets below Zoe and to keep a pan by the bed.

She learned quickly, warning us when she would vomit in time to place the pan, keeping us updated with, “Here it comes… I have more… I’m almost done…” I was aching for her and so proud of her at the same time. And so it went throughout the night and next day. The laundry never ceased. Despite her illness, she remained in good spirits while awake, though mostly she slept. Family required status reports, particularly my squeamish-only-when-it-comes-to-vomit sister, whose fascination/repulsion necessitates description of the quantity and quality. This provided much comic relief to me, as did Zoe’s comments. After a Dora popsicle: “Hey! Pink throw up!” Apropos of nothing: “Mom? Throwing up is not fun.”

Sunday night went a little better, with evidence that whatever-it-was was moving down the GI tract. I’ll spare you the details except to say that the laundry.continued.all.night. The last incident for which I was present occurred at 5:30 AM before my alarm went off at 6 AM. Joel kept her at home on Monday, which I am so grateful he can do. I trudged off to school, embittered that my post-exam “relaxation” and “preparation for block 2″ weekend was neither of those things, and I began yet another block completely exhausted. A bright spot in the day: Joel texted me with a Zoe quote that I will hover for you in order to protect her privacy somewhat. Hilarious.

Amidst the chaos, there were many moments like that, actually. She’s amazing. And we’ve learned some things, mostly that we should get a plastic sheet.

Now it’s Wednesday, and perhaps for the best, I have forgotten most of the things that inspired my irritation and grumbling and today’s post’s title. I do recall that I broke yet another backpack. And that I missed my morning bus by 30 seconds, thus missing my first class which turned out to be quite important, setting me behind before I even started. Dispersed throughout the day were various and sundry instigators, coming full circle with missing my evening bus, only after running for it like a total moron with my two bags of 70+ pounds of crap, arriving at the bus door only to remain unseen by the driver and amuse the other waiting bus patrons with my misfortune. And THEN I studied while waiting for the next one, putting away my materials when I expected it to arrive, only to wait an additional half hour because for some reason, it never came.

I know these things seem small. But in aggregate… wasting my time and feeling behind already and suffering a severe sleep and mental stamina deficit… It was a little much.

Plus I’m really over my commute.

Long story short, I’m quite difficult to live with. And I’m sorry about the preposition there. I know I have several balls in the air, none of which I’m prepared to let drop, though they have been pruned in the past year. I have to work on grace, and on the schedule and routine. One might say I am hell bent on implementing some consistency, ideally for the whole family, and at least for myself. I did order a new backpack, so instead of hauling around my pigpen in multiple bags like a hobo, I can run for the bus in a streamlined fashion.

“Activities are endless, like ripples on a stream.
They end only when you drop them.
Human moods are like the changing highlights and shadows on a sunlit mountain range.
All activities are like the games children play, like castles being made of sand.
View them with delight and equanimity, like grandparents
overseeing their grandchildren or a shepherd
resting on a grassy knoll watching over his grazing flock.”
- Nyoshul Khenpo Rinpoche

Also, I passed the rest of my tests, though I want to work harder for the next block.

And it paid off.

I passed all my exams and even HONORED developmental anatomy. HONORED IT. There’s honor, high pass, pass, and marginal performance. I’ve never done anything more than pass before. In med school anyway. I had high expectations of myself, most of which I met. I plan to do better in my other classes next block (which is only a short month away), but I’m considerably more confident of my abilities than I was when I started. Forgive me if it sounds like I’m bragging, but this is what I have wanted for a very, very long time.

The first week was rough; I won’t lie. I had prepared myself that it would be difficult seeing all my former classmates in their second year capacity while I was again upstairs, meeting my new classmates, going through the same motions, with all the awkwardness plus some. But it was worse than I expected. I felt stigmatized by the incoming kids, even though there are many from last year in a similar situation as mine. Each class has its own personality, and I truly love my initial class. I was still, after having seven whole months to deal with the reality, grieving. And I was embarrassed. So embarrassed. For many reasons that are not known or obvious to my former and current classmates, I did not perform. I just couldn’t hang. I felt that the new kids looked at me with a janky eye. Last year’s classmates, legitimately concerned and very sweetly supportive, seemed to pity me. I feared for the next person who cocked their head and said, “How ARE you?” in a tone that could be considered condescending, even though I’m sure it wasn’t meant that way. Every time I saw an old friend, I was reminded I wouldn’t be in their classes, and every time I met someone new in my class, it seemed they were familiar in some way, but, best case – slightly less cool than people I already knew, and worst case – out and out rude. This was my perspective.

Failing last year was traumatic. Dealing with that was like reliving the cancer. Honestly I was more upset about that than the cancer. Maybe that’s ridiculous, but it’s how I felt. I was so angry. With cancer, it’s something that happened TO ME. This I felt I did to myself. There were circumstances out of my control, what with the storm and all, but everything else was up to me. And I let myself and those around me down. I felt like I lost another year of my life.

And for about three days I was miserable. Excited to be in school and grateful for the opportunity to try again, but just miserable. It was weird.

Then I had an attitude adjustment. Instigated by Dr. Oakes’s talk during our AMWA meeting, I felt like I had been… not slapped, but restrained. You know how when your toddler is freaking out and tired and fighting sleep and generally a danger to herself and others, and you just have to hug her really tightly and speak softly but firmly and wait until she gets it? That’s what happened. I’ve heard that message a few hundred times since I had to take a leave of absence. I’ve heard it from those who love me and from myself. Repeatedly. I’ve taken it to heart. But it never lasted longer than my own self absorption.

This time I just wanted to feel something different. She was talking to a whole lecture hall full of people, but every word applied directly to me. So something sucky happened. Now deal with it. The past is the past; you can’t change it now. Let go. Give it away. Quit wasting your time being miserable. You’re still here.

Something clicked and I stopped passively hearing it or telling it to myself. I thought it. I became it. I’M STILL HERE.

And so I worked. I learned more those first ten days than all of last fall’s semester. I have never known academic focus like that. (Oddly, the actual grades were better before I had this focus. That was before med school.) I learned what works for me – what I’ve always known – that I learn the very best, initially, alone. But I do need other people to keep me on my toes. I have a fantastic main study partner and several others willing to help when I have questions, all of whom I thank tremendously.

Of course I’ll never be able to thank my family enough for their support. Joel’s parents saved us this week – with Zoe sick for almost three weeks now, Joel and I on the brink, they drove down and truly saved the day. Had I not seen the physical car, I’d think they flew here with their capes. Though perhaps they hoisted it on their pinkies and flew anyway – I’ll never know.

There were ups and downs this block, and I’m sure before I’m done with this semester or this year or residency or my career, I’ll have more of those moments were I wonder why I’m doing it. But I’m going to be the best doctor that only I can be. I may come to like my colleagues better and laugh about my initial impressions of them. I probably will. Maybe I won’t. I really don’t care. What other people do think or might think about me isn’t much of a concern. I’m putting my energies into what works for me and my family, what gets us though these hurdles whole and happy.

Tomorrow a new block starts, and I’m doing it all again. Hopefully I won’t fall off the face of the Earth this time. Maybe I’ll tweet less and put it into here. For now, I’ll share what I found via my friend’s blog. Our Deepest Fear by Marianne Williamson. I need to read it every day.

It occurred to me then and occurs to me now as I upload to Flickr the few pictures from my trip that our agenda had much to do with food. I am a gastrotourist. What do people do if not go from eatery to eatery? This is not to say that we ate a lot. We ate a rather conservative amount, and surprisingly, the only things we bought at any of the cupcake shops were not cupcakes – Amanda got Zoe a Magnolia “I (cupcake) NY” shirt, and at Crumbs we got coffee. Otherwise we just smelled. Anyway perhaps because of my fugness with the braces, or so I didn’t look like SUCH a tourist, I didn’t take many pictures, and the majority of the ones I did take are of food. Tickle me fat.

Now we did get one of each of the Levain cookie flavors and shared them over two days. For all the hubbub in the baking blogger community over these cookies, I must say my expectations were a little high. They were super yummy cookies, and definitely inspirational in terms of cloning efforts, but now that I’ve had one part of four, I think I can put the fascination to rest.

We walked several miles per day, seeing the sites. I loved the subway, as I always have been fascinated with mass transit. As for the cabs, I never did fear for my life, and I found at least one of the cabbies to be extremely pleasant. Amanda’s roommate’s boyfriend’s birthday was Saturday, so Friday night we made him a cake. I say we, but really it was Amanda; my contribution was to color frosting and fondant, eat cake scraps, and get in the way. But I’m glad she tolerated me, because I love to be in the kitchen with her.

We also got to catch up with Duke over some delicious fancy pizza before we headed to Chelsea Market and shopped. Everyone should have a Duke hug at least once a year. Saturday the aforementioned birthday boy was celebrating at Central Park with a softball game, so we spent some time there. I loved the park. The grass felt like heaven’s carpet on our tired feet, and I enjoyed meeting Amanda’s friends.

We met another of Amanda’s friends from work later for dinner. We stumbled upon a Middle Eastern restaurant with delicious gyros. The original plan was to end up at Pommes Frites, but we were so full that we got them to go and continued walking. I had seen these Belgian fries featured on the Food Network years ago and decided I must have them some day. After fatting around at home for a little bit, we decided to catch the night’s last showing of 500 Days of Summer. I recommend it – very cute and clever.

Saturday night/Sunday morning saw a very heavy storm, which was great for sleeping. When we got up, we found a street fair and falafel, walked through Times Square, and then on to Levain Bakery. More walking and shopping, dinner at a very lovely and tasty Thai place, followed by Julie and Julia, which was great. I am now as in love with Julia Child as my Dad has professed as long as I’ve known him. She was the only woman for whom my Mom gave him a pass. After the movie we scooted in the door of Tasti D-lite with a minute to spare before they closed.

Monday after Amanda left for work, I piddled around, just walking wherever I decided to go, ducking into shops and delighting in the fact that the streets are laid out such that even a geographically challenged bumpkin such as myself can navigate them without too much hassle. I wish I had 1. seen my cousin and his girls, 2. seen my friend who just moved there, 3. seen the World Trade Center memorial, and 4. walked to the edge of the island to see the ocean. But I ran out of time before I headed to Amanda’s work to meet for lunch. Always leave something to see on the next trip, right? We ate where she eats most days, Digby’s, whose iced hazelnut coffee is commendable.

After that Amanda got me into the MoMA before heading back to work. I shuffled about, sort of half-heartedly looking at drawings and artifacts and generally being a little blah, probably because I was leaving. I shaped up when I realized HEY, YOU’RE STILL HERE, and decided to see what I love – painting and sculpture, which were upstairs. I’m so glad I did. Without sounding too cheesy, I was moved. Even with a lot of people around, it felt calm in there, and I was able to focus on things and be excited without feeling ADD about it.

After a little more shopping, I went up to Amanda’s office with cute pictures on her desk, and then we walked home to get ready to leave. She walked me to the subway – goodbyes are hard – and I did my first truly embarrassing, idiotic thing of the trip. I wedged myself and my luggage in the turnstile and missed the window for turning it to get through. Ah, well. AirTrain, JFK, and JetBlue – check, thumbs up, for the most part.

Of course along the way were sister chats and the delicious worst of TV (Toddlers and Tiaras, for one). New York is a pretty amazing place with a lot to see and do. I continue to be impressed at Amanda’s gumption, her move to Manhattan, and how she acclimated so quickly and so well. I can’t wait to visit again, and thank you to my parents for the funds and encouragement.

So I’m really glad I got to go on that trip before school starts. Which is Monday. I think the anxiety about that peaked yesterday, and now I’m just focused on being prepared. Instead of “Don’t eff it up” on a hamster wheel in my head, I’m trying to tell myself, “You can do this!” Cognitive behavioral therapy for the win. I hope.

Though I look like an utter goof, so far it doesn’t hurt too badly – I haven’t had to take any ibuprofen or acetaminophen. It only hurts a little in my actual teeth. I read online that it takes 72 hours for the tension to break down the bone and 90 days to build it back up. We’re taking a picture every few days so we can see the progress over time. The first couple of days I had this claustrophobic, cagey feeling, but that’s lessening.

One side effect is that eating is no longer fun. At all. Not that I ate for sport before, but the inconvenience of actually chewing and then cleaning my teeth afterward has severely curtailed my snacking. And of course, I have eliminated the foods and behaviors that could cause a bracket to break, which ultimately benefits my long term health. No nail biting or ice chewing. White flour is gone. Sugar is ALMOST gone. Flavored, unsweetened tea has become my very, very good friend. Cold soy milk. Baked fish. Tofu. Soup. Pureed beans. Pureed hot brown rice cereal. Mashed plantains. I have returned to eating only enough to make me not hungry anymore, which before required willpower, and now is a pain-saving mechanism.

After discussions with Jenna about gluten and dairy, I ditched gluten and am limiting dairy to my Greek yogurt, which doesn’t seem to bother me. I’m also mammal-meat-free, and I don’t miss it. My skin has cleared up, my fatigue is considerably less, and my abdomen is flattening. In fact, today my belly saw the light of day for the first time since Zoe entered our lives. I spent some time in the pool swimming laps, floating, and generally acting like a kid for about a half hour, and it felt phenomenal. I could spend my whole life in water. I’m probably half mermaid. I guess that would be the top half. I wore my favorite vintage two-piece – Mom’s bikini from the 1960s. I’m not ready to don that in more public than there was today (the girl who was frying her skin while reading a book), but given a little more time… Perhaps.

Some of these improvements could be attributed to the fact that Sophie has a new home in Brenham. I am getting good reports from her new family that she is doing very well, and they love her. Zoe’s nose runs less, and I’m breathing easily, completely off my Zyrtec and Flonase. And I rage less.

I kind of wish I had been more scientific about these things so I could figure out which made the biggest improvement, but then I might be obnoxious about it. My family has always said I have infomercial potential. So I’ll just say that they’re all very good changes, and it’s nice to feel more normal.

Tonight after a swim, Zoe and I were in a bath when Joel’s tea craving struck. I accepted his offer – blueberry, please – and Zoe piped up as he was walking out of the room. “I want red tea, please!” Red tea, it is! She thanked him when he brought it, and upon letting it cool and taking a sip, she proclaimed, “I like it!” SO CUTE.

We’re down to two pets. Jenna took Sarge with her Monday, and he will be living in Lubbock. It’s certainly quieter around here. We’ll miss him; Zoe has already been asking where he is. But he’ll get more attention and exercise, which he sorely needs, and there is a puppy and a toddler where he’s going. Maybe he can take the puppy under his wing and be an alpha dog for once instead of living in Chief’s shadow. From the Mama side of it, I’m very appreciative. Thank you, Jenna!

We signed a lease at an apartment closer to school, for less money per month. We can hardly wait to move in! Seven more weeks. In the mean time, we’re looking for the things we want to take there and getting rid of the rest. Life is too short to haul around junk you don’t need or want.

I’m very much looking forward to a simpler, down-sized life. I’m here to go to school, and last semester I clearly got too distracted. I want my head in the right place, with a routine that works for us and minimal stress. I must learn how to focus. Om. Kumbaya.

I tried out some recipes this weekend that I plan to post. Beef (or turkey) and broccoli burritos, for one. For now, Zoe and I are going to work on shredding the 35 pounds of paper that have accumulated in our family paranoia pile.