Alternate title: In which I bitch and moan for several paragraphs instead of studying. Again.

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.

Good for a little perspective.

“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.

Immunology test for 40% of my grade – done. I can’t say that went especially well, but I knew some things.

Perhaps the most pervasive thing about having failed… repeatedly… is that even the smallest success feels uncomfortable. Even with a little confidence back, there’s this incredulous feeling when I get something right, and then I double check it, thinking, “Surely there must be some mistake.” Or when I say something aloud that makes sense, my brain says, “Are you sure? That sounds like something a smart person would say – you probably better backpedal or something.” Messed up, right?!

And it doesn’t just apply to school. When Zoe seems well-adjusted or does something reflecting her obvious brilliance, or if I’ve completed a workout, gotten to bed on time, checked things off my to-do list, or made an especially great cookie… It’s like “Once in a Lifetime” by Talking Heads. “How did I get here?… This is not my beautiful [life].”

I have to keep reminding myself that we are what we do. I’m a mom to a beautiful child. I’m in medical school, and I will be a doctor. In August I decided these things, that it was a matter of when, not if. It is just taking a little longer than I would have expected to condition myself. I need to be comfortable with that and act the part – no, BE the part. And really it isn’t up to anyone else. I’ve sat around wishing I were this way or that way, and really except for a few physical impossibilities, I can be whatever, however, whoever I want.* Once I’ve done something consistently, I am that way. Make good grades – you make good grades. Be a good mom – you’re a good mom.

On that note, I’m headed for a run. I run.

*I recognize that there are many, many things in place that allow me this freedom.

In response to my suggestion that we foster a Haitian orphan, Joel gingerly and diplomatically offered the following:

“I think it would be a mistake… as one might charitably describe us as… ‘barely keeping it afloat’. I agree with your sentiment, and it would be great if something like that were feasible.”

During the unrelated argument we later had, we wondered if maybe the child would prefer his or her current situation to any tumultuous craziness here. Amidst a heated debate over whether or not unintentionally forgetting to start the washer full of peed-upon sheets (thanks, Zoe) was a cardinal sin, there was some mention of the unavailability of pain medication stronger than ibuprofen for life-saving limb amputations. For some this sobering fact might have put things in perspective long enough to acknowledge the ridiculous pettiness of the original offense. (Though, for completeness, it did neither in that moment nor for at least an hour.) In the end we decided that he or she would be sleeping happily like Zoe was, and thus unaware of said argument, so that was moot. Now the waking crazy… Time will tell. Zoe will let us and/or her therapist(s) know how that turns out.

Anyway, while the idea came from a real place and a deep ache for the people experiencing horrendous tragedy, obviously there are more effective ways for us to help the world in our own way. As happens with any acute awareness of a particular catastrophe, the cascade begins and I’m reminded of all the things that need fixing. Add that to my two months and counting stint of listening to NPR instead of Top 40 while I get ready in the morning (meaning I now get 15 minutes of news instead of whatever gets filtered to me from Joel), plus my two main lunch time lecture series: one on health care reform and another on serving the homeless population, and there’s a bangin’ pity/outrage/inspiration party. Everyone’s invited. Sigh.

Meanwhile I’m doing what I hope is a step toward my part of it: studying. The first block of exams begins Tuesday – but then you knew that, because I’m writing again . I love my classes, particularly neuroscience and neuroanatomy lab. Micro has potential. Last semester’s knowledge is coming in handy (even that bitch biochem, though don’t tell her I said that). I’ve grown fonder of the classmates I already liked, met a few more who didn’t repulse me, and had my initial opinions confirmed on a few. So it’s somewhere between a wash and an ever-so-slight incline on the class personality front. I managed not to spazz during my last few standardized patient encounters. A little confidence goes a long way, and I get that from practice and preparation. (P, p, p. Too much Dr. Seuss. Which I would like to read to a Haitian orphan before bed. NOW who can’t complete a thought?!)

I followed the advice of my sister to this post by another Amanda from Texas living in NYC whose blog I enjoy reading. It’s a template for taking an inventory of the past year. I liked it and thought I’d give it a try. What else does a toddler parent do on NYE?

In 2009, I gained a little more confidence in what I’m doing as a student, a mother, and a person in general, a new apartment, and a whole lotta knowledge that I didn’t learn last year.

I lost about 8 pounds (net, gross was about 16), three pets (Amanda’s Kiddn from our childhood, Sophie and Sarge to different homes), some volume on that nagging voice inside my head that was saying I can’t do it.

I stopped eating mammals.

I started back to med school again.

I was hugely satisfied by my first block study habits and healthy withdrawal from timesuck activities.

And frustrated by balancing my responsibilities.

I am so embarrassed that I had to take a leave of absence and do the whole first semester again. (But I believe I may have mentioned that.)

Once again, I tried to cut back on sweets (with some success…).

Once again, I let myself get distracted.

The biggest physical difference between me last December and this December is I have braces and much straighter teeth.

The biggest psychological difference between me last December and this December is I’m less concerned with what others think and more accepting of who I am.

I loved cuddling on the Cozy Sac with Zoe.

Why did I spend even two minutes feeling not good enough? (Borrowed from Noisiest Passenger.)

I should have spent more time exercising, playing music, volunteering, writing, and sleeping (anything but worrying basically).

I regret spending about eight months of my life wallowing instead of making the best of things.

I will never regret quality time spent with Zoe.

I was self-absorbed way too much.

I didn’t sleep nearly enough.

Parenting a two-year-old nearly drove me crazy.

The most relaxing place I went was the pool when I went by myself.

Why did I waste so much time?

The best thing I did for someone else was listen.

The best thing I did for myself was taking steps to improve my mental health and going back to school.

The best thing someone did for me was figuratively smack some sense into me.

The one thing I’d like to do again, but do it better, is parent Zoe. (That’s one of many.)

Happy New Year.

(Fill-in-the-blank template from Mary Schmich at The Chicago Tribune)

Not really though, because I worked for this: I passed everything! New classes begin on January 4, 2010, and I plan to work twice as hard.

Until then, I’m really enjoying this break. Happy holidays!

Again I come here during exams. I don’t know if I’m particularly thoughtful during these natural intervals to take stock in performance, evaluate goals, and look toward the future, or perhaps it’s just a good study break/procrastination. Probably. Either way, here I am, in my last week of my second stab at the first semester of medical school. Wow that sounds a lot less exciting than I feel it is…

The third block of tests went pretty well. I did better on everything but anatomy, which I felt I had to sacrifice in favor of biochem, to stay out of the danger zone. I’m proud to say that I had the wiggle room to do that. Ideally I’d honor everything and not play the game like that, but we do what we have to do. If I get a chance to talk with 2008 Blake, I’ll tell her to go ahead and do the alternate pathway the school offers and save herself a lot of misery.

I’ve been and will continue to be candid in my opinion of my fellow MS1s, and at this point in the year, I can say to my class (as if they would even care) that on the whole, I do not love you. But I have grown accustomed to your face. It may be that my first love’s shoes are just too large to fill. So I’m not ruling out that with time we may develop a friendship, and I’ll take responsibility for my role, what with the antisocialness. I actually had someone to whom I had introduced myself the first week and chatted with on multiple occasions, when I ran into him and asked how he was, say, “I’m sorry – are you in our class?” Wow.

I want to do a better job of balancing in the coming months. Mostly I feel like I have so much on my plate that I can’t be the friend I want to be to anyone new, and I am so uncomfortable not being able to give my part. Once I’m keeping the family, school, and sanity plates spinning, we’ll see what happens.

Last year I made lots of friends and very poor grades. This year I kept my head down to survive, making the grades but very few friends. Those friends – notably my tank mates and last year’s repeaters – have been essential, by the way, and I know it. While I may sound like a high school drama queen, ranking my “peers” in niceness and other criteria, it’s important to me to be a part of my class and feel like we have a common goal. Because this road is too long and difficult to go it alone. I think most people want to have camaraderie in their careers, and in the team-oriented field of medicine it seems especially important. I chose to pursue this path after a life-changing experience and deep, deep introspection. I want to help people, and I’d like to think that’s a pretty standard answer among people entering medicine. I find it hard to believe that anyone would choose it solely because of an ability to make good test scores or a desire for prestige and income (because believe me – those last two are not compelling – or even realistic, anymore – reasons). So I’m making it part of my education to figure out some of what makes the people around me tick. It has been less evident with this group than with last year’s, but absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, right? I’ll find their souls.

All I have left now are two finals: devo and anatomy, and Friday I am a free woman for a few weeks. Amanda is spending the holidays with us here in Houston, and I can hardly contain myself! This break should be a good chance to catch up on the things I’ve been missing since August. Writing, organizing, music-making, and working on my fitness are a few. I want to start something: most nights, in addition to reading to Zoe, I want us to write just a little blurb about the day or what’s going on. We were doing that for her the first year, and then we got busy and abandoned it in favor of easier, less mentally taxing things, like taking pictures. Now my camera’s broken. But we can still write, and now she can participate. Anyway that’s a goal.

Alright. Back to the studies, for just a few more days!

Thank you, Julie, for the pretty edit!

I’m studying again. Block 3 this time. And as usual with these stressful times, illness threatens us.

To procrastinate I just wanted to update here. Zoe has been ill lately, and after three antibiotic shots from the doctor this week (in lieu of liquid medicine, which she absolutely refuses to take, clamps down her mouth, and if some should enter, it is immediately vomited; we are all better off with the shots). She seemed to be better until last night, when she spiked a fever and generally had a very fitful sleep. This morning between the hours of 7AM and 11AM, at which time she is STILL sleeping, she has stated the following, after which she returns to sleep:

“I want to go to the zoo.”
“Let’s Skype with Gigi.”
“Chuggachugga CHOO CHOO!”
“No, no, no, no, no. Hmm-mm. No.”
“Whatcha doin? I love you.”

Her sleepy head companion and Dad has shown himself in the past minute. This is a good three hours, at least, past her usual wake-up time. I hope this is recovery sleep and not sick sleep… She even let me listen to her heart and lungs, count her beats and breaths per minute (172 :/ and 40), and percuss her chest without waking. I’d like to say for the record that I have either a hunch or a delusion of med student hypochondria regarding her condition. Either way we’re going to push fluids and rest today.

I thought I would post a little something to say I am alive and well. Today we took the gross anatomy written and practical exams. Not bad, not bad. The keys aren’t up yet, but I’m feeling pretty good about it. Dr. Cleary alluded to some “character builders” among the questions, but I think it was fair. Anatomy is a high maintenance relationship, but I kind of love it. At least compared to the others, I think it’s the most applicable, and the anatomy department is by far the most organized and efficiently-run.

During the practical we have rest stops, one or two between each question, so there’s a lot of time to stand there and look around, but not look around like at other people’s answer sheets, or the questions in front of or behind you, or even at your classmates too much, because you’re bound to make a super dorky face that could potentially look suspicious and earn yourself a janky eye from a proctor.

The point is that I let my mind wander during those rest stops, since in the past I’ve used that time to second-guess myself and change right answers to wrong ones. A few things struck me as amusing during the practical, which itself is pretty odd: 50 questions, about 40 of which are “wet specimens,” human remains with engaged young people getting up close and personal from every angle to identify some tiny feature on a bisected head. So there’s that.

Then at a couple of the rest stops are buckets with mini candy bars. And naturally we have become accustomed enough to the fixative smell to consume said candy while, say, carefully considering a brain and which artery that might be with the pin in it. Chocolate and gray matter… mmmm.

I also had to chuckle at one of the tanks… The body had crossed ankles, like she was just lying back, chill.

Tomorrow is developmental anatomy, aka devo. I managed to neglect that class pretty well this block, so I have some work to do tonight and tomorrow morning. My only break tonight will be SYTYCD, because a brain needs rest sometimes. Wednesday is solely a study day, Thursday is biochem (which I’m enjoying a lot more this block), and Friday is histo (still by far and away my least favorite).

And then Halloween. We haven’t decided what our plans are yet, but I’m sure Zoe will look cute, and I may dress up as something. The little munchkin and her Dad are getting some Garland love right now, which is really working out for everyone involved. I am grateful. And I just ache for her when she’s away. They plan to return tomorrow evening, and I will be happy.

A word on the social front: I was probably a little less than kind in my last post concerning my new classmates. I will say that just this week a few individuals have improved my opinion of our class quite a bit.

To the study cave once more! Also, if you haven’t already, check out last.fm. It’s keeping me sane.

Update: This just in! Keys up. PASSED!