This morning was kind of awesome. I awoke to a sweet, snuggly baby who showed very little indication of being awake anytime soon. I checked the weather by sight and feeing the window; chilly, and dry, but not for long. No wonder Zoe was still asleep. By the time I washed my face it was raining. I can’t be certain, but odds are good that it rained all day.

I LOVE rain. Growing up we played in the water, usually in the rushing part next to the curb. In the summer, we were always outside and if it started to rain really hard, we would seek shelter in an exciting game-like way or race back home on our bikes. By the time I was old enough to consider the danger of lightning I also knew the statistics of it; well into my adult years and until my illness I remained unconcerned about such unlikely things.

No one expects your hair to look nice on a stormy day, and people put a little extra bustle in their step to arrive at the doors of buildings. Incomers and outgoers trade knowing glances and there’s a camaraderie that feels a little different than the exchange on fair-weather days. Laundry, studying, and movie-watching are highly pleasurable with rain; being indoors (ideally with windows) feels like the best place to be, the same way it does on brutally scorching days, when you’re grateful for modern conveniences and freon.

I like having the warm, sunny weather to contrast, too, but days like today, with a grumbly sky and pattering rain, are deep down my favorite.

Since school started, I have found myself more plentiful. Perhaps it is my all day classes causing me to be more sedentary, or the stress eating, or the decreased breastfeeding while maintaining the same appetite, or perhaps I’m finally old enough that my metabolism is mocking me. Whatever it is, I do not appreciate this unsightly excess accumulating around my middle. I may have mentioned that I read Mastering Cortisol by Marilyn Glenville some time ago. I liked the book a lot and thought it had changed my life. Apparently one has to put those principles into practice to see a change. Weird.

Anyway, I’m a big fan of exercise and its benefits, so I decided to make time for that this week. I walked at least six dedicated miles, and possibly eight. That’s a good start to my deflabbing. It’s also helping me shape up a schedule. Let’s hope I keep it up this week.

A long while ago I was tagged by my friend Kerri to tell six quirky things about me. I’m not sure what constitutes quirky. I’m pretty sure most things about me a quirky. Here we go.

1. My email has gotten out of control. Joel keeps referring me to Inbox Zero, to which I reply that I do not have time to watch such a thing. He says I don’t have time not to watch. He’s probably right. This is a symptom of the larger problem I have, which is quirky thing number one: even when something is rational and logical and obviously beneficial, sometimes I resist it like a fool.

2. I love variety, but only if I can have a little piece of every option. Otherwise, I only want one option, and I will be happy with that. Having to choose something among several very compelling options is excruciating to me. Example: an ice cream scoop shop. There aren’t many flavors I’ll turn down. (Unless it’s like gross airy ice cream, in which case I probably will pass.) And then the mix-ins. Think of all the possibilities! By choosing one, I’m not choosing like a hundred other combinations; how can I be sure I got the right one? I’m learning that there is more than one valid option, and I just have to be okay with my choice and enjoy it.

3. In the same vein, a buffet presents a new problem/opportunity. (You know, the Chinese have the same word for crisis as for opportunity. Crisitunity.*) For about the same price as a regular meal, you can have access to any number of meals. By the time you figure out what you like best, you’re already full, and there’s still the frozen yogurt with toppings, and it’s poor form (if not expressly prohibited) to take food home from a buffet. The point is that I love a buffet in theory, but in practice, convincing someone to share a combo dinner is probably a better option.

4. A quirk that does not involve food would be good right about now. Generally I do not like massages. That’s another thing that sounds fantastic in theory, but in practice, it kind of makes my skin crawl. My parents gifted me with a very nice professional massage while I was pregnant, and it did help my lower back.

5. I have a love/hate relationship with the dogs. When they were gone, I was teary and hopeless and wished I had them back every day. I could see the benefit to their absence, but (see quirk #1) there was a giant hole where their stupid faces should be. Now that they’re back, we make threats on their lives several times daily, and I’m pretty sure my blood pressure has risen ten or more points. The hair, the annoyance, the poo, the desperate need for attention, and the barking/whining/licking that composes the white noise of pets sometimes gets to me and I feel as if I will suffocate. But every once in awhile, I need to hug the oafs.

6. I am a compulsive Q-tip addict. I can’t stop. I know it’s wrong and that using them only makes the itching in my ears worse, but it feels so good. And how else am I supposed to get the fluid out of there? I can quit anytime; in fact, I have done so successfully several times. The trick is not to have any around. If there are any in the house, I’ll find them. Recently we had to buy some for some reason, and instead of the little travel pack, we got 500, and I’m back off the wagon.

No pressure, but the deal is I’m to tag six people.

Angela
Lisa
Amanda
Ali
Carolina
Jennic

*Credit Lisa and Homer Simpson

I fell asleep with Zoe again last night and didn’t post. I have no regrets. Lying down with that child is like taking a potent sleep aid.

Today, as has become custom on Saturdays, I started picking up a few things here and there. I decided finally to put away all my cake pans that I dragged out a few weeks ago. The pile of pans slid off the perched spot on the counter where I had put them temporarily to clean out a place in the cabinet, and my 9×13 Pyrex pan shattered, rolling glass all the way from the laundry room to the living room. We had just swept the floor, of course.

No one was too badly injured. I clotted anyway. Thank you to Joel and Julie for their help cleaning up the mess. I promise I didn’t do it on purpose.

Some may recall that recently Zoe was put on a butter diet to fatten her a bit. The following checkup was disappointing to the pediatrician, who wanted to see her again in a month. At Tuesday’s appointment, Zoe measured 84.5 cm (33.3″) tall, 23 pounds 3 ounces, and her head is 48.5 cm (19.1″) around. Not exactly a beefcake, but I assure the world: she is healthy by all accounts. We have both had our flu shots, too. Off the record, I do not like the idea. But I like the idea of any of us getting violently ill even less.

She sings, dances, jumps, damn near reads books, puts the alphabet puzzle together and says the corresponding words… I have been astounded at her progress lately, physical, mental, and emotional. The poor thing: I’m pretty sure she’s brilliant.

And yes, I am aware of the irony of posting such a downer post after my hopeful post.

Well, that did not take long.

Maybe I did miss the deadline, but I’m posting anyway.

So far Project New Blake is off to a rocky start.

I was quite prepared for lab today, having read the syllabus, gone to lecture, read the Grant’s dissector, studied Netter, and watched about half of the amazing Dr. Zhang’s video of the dissection. When I got in the lab, it’s as if I had complete amnesia. Very disappointing. Although the highlight of the year thus far had to be finding three giant gallstones in our cadaver and seeing another tank’s 20+ stones that looked totally different. They were beautiful. The abdomen excites me.

I just feel like I’m not doing any of this justice. Where am I going wrong? I should be doing at least one thing well: school, momming, getting enough sleep. Something to show for my efforts and time spent! Instead I’m exhausted, barely seeing Zoe, and failing at every turn academically. Literally failing. I’m “that girl” - the one I didn’t want to be - who seems so consistently incorrect that she’s almost reliable. Almost.

It would be funny if it weren’t my life. TV sitcom writers, take note. We need another medically-themed show out there, another one for me to TiVo and not have time to watch. Quirky, non-traditional med student with a comically foggy memory disappoints family and peers with her incompetence. Hilarity ensues. Title is in the works. Some ideas: Paging Dr. Moron, or Quack.

My SIGN/P meeting today included a child psychiatrist speaker whose presentation was about Borderline Personality Disorder, in which I have become very interested in the past year. I enjoyed that and the endocrinologist who spoke earlier this week at my AIMS meeting. I want those jobs.

I’m here, and I’ve come a long way. The theory is that if I got here, I can get there. But I’m breaking down. I’m still passionate. I still want it. I just don’t know how to get the rest of the way there, and that depresses me.

I have moments. Good moments, when I know I can do it. When I believe that I’m good enough, smart enough, and that people like me. But they’re only moments.

This is the conundrum.

One of the problems with depression is that occasionally it lets up. You start to feel better, perhaps suddenly, and maybe that lasts awhile. A few days or even weeks. You become aware of your happiness, or feeling of normalcy, or absence of despair. Not long after that realization, almost immediately, you are wary. How long will it last? You fear the return of a very dark cloud, that heavy weight that makes everyday life seem impossible.

You want to hold on to the goodness and hope that, this time, maybe it will stay, knowing it’s like trying to store sand in a whiffle ball.

I thought about diggin’ deep and writing a real entry here… We’ll do that tomorrow. Tonight Obama is speaking in what feels to me is a glorious hour. Maybe it sounds cheesy, but I’m dropping some of my cynicism today. I actually feel some hope, like I have just watched a very uplifting movie; leaving the theater, I think for a brief moment that maybe the world has a chance to turn out alright.

Me, giving Zoe a bath after 11PM: I really need to post before midnight.

Joel: Or else? NaBloPoMoNoMo?

Block III of classes started today. I’m pretty excited because we’re doing the abdomen.

Okay I know this isn’t stellar. But Zoe’s screaming.

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Need I say more?