A quick update

I haven't written for awhile - I had the pain clinic decrease my fentanyl patch from 50 mcg/hr to 37.5 mcg/hr (which is a 25 patch & a 12.5 patch) beginning 4 days ago, and I've been in quite a bit of pain, despite my breakthrough meds. I'm also decreasing my Paxil from 40 mg to zero (I'm down to 10 mg), overlapping it with Prozac so that the short half-life of Paxil doesn't cause SSRI discontinuation syndrome as I cut it down (the whole discontinuation thing TOTALLY sucks - tingly extremities, "electric shocks" through my head, extreme irritability, total insomnia, and crying for no reason.) If you're taking Paxil and want to taper off of it, talk to your doctor about adding 20 mg or so of Prozac during the taper, for a Prozac a day keeps the SSRI discontinuation syndrome away. At least it has for me - I've been decreasing by 10 mg every 2 or 3 weeks, and haven't had problems so far. Except for my anxiety going through the roof.

I start back to school in a week, and I'm so nervous about it. I could really use your prayers, please - because I'm still sick, and I'm so anxious, and sad, and lonely. It gets increasingly harder to put on a face in public, you know? So I haven't written here, because I'm afraid I would end up saying what I actually think. I'm just not one of those people who is all, "I'm fine on my own!" because I'm not. I need Christ. I need Scott. I need my family, and I need friends. I need people to hug me occasionally; to send a quick message to let me know they're thinking of me. I need to be told that things are going to be okay. I don't care if that makes me seem weak, because I AM weak. I'm not sure how else to cry for help - help. Help. Help.

Dear FOX - a cautionary haiku

Channel which ruins all
"Shall be available soon"?
Best by nine - or else!

I'm having cable trouble. And a massive headache (Mia, what do you DO about these horrific migraine things? They're a new and terrible critter for me to deal with - like the pancreas wasn't enough.) And I'm shamefully hooked on American Idol, and I MUST WATCH IT at 9PM Specific (Family Guy humor, there) to see who gets the boot this week. My guess is that it'll be a country boot, swung out of time to a line of chirpy violins, and will land squarely on the butt of one Kristy Lee Cook. Seriously, don't they have people to advise these kids when they're about commit show suicide?

Anyway, I'm not sure what it is about blogs and haikus, but for some reason, I feel obligated once in awhile to post one once in awhile.

Edit - So dialidol.com says that no one is safe except David Archuleta. Pfffft.

THIS is the rest of the story

Back in November, I wrote a post that I titled, "The Lord answers prayers, part deux" about Scott's employment and how God really answers prayers and is faithful in taking care of our needs. I thought it was probably best for me not to be very detailed at the time, but I can be now, and I am so so so sooooo relieved and happy about this that I just have to write about it. It's going to take me a little while to get there, though, so hang on. When Scott came back from Virginia Tech with his Ph.D. in 2005 to do a postdoc at the university here, I was ecstatic. (See?) But in the back of my mind, I knew that a postdoc is a temporary position (his was for 3 years.) And after that, what? Like I've said before, I am a total homebody and this area is and always will be home, because this is where a big part of my large extended family is, and this is where I have always lived. It's more than that, though, really - some people enter medicine and feel called to join Doctors Without Borders, or to do missionary work overseas. I admire those who heed that calling, but I see a need here - here, an area that has always been home to me, full of people who have helped and encouraged me along the way. Friends of the family, teachers, church family, on and on - I am an "almost doctor" because of God and because of the encouragement and prayers from my loved ones here at home. It doesn't make any sense for me to grow up here among all of this love and encouragement, get my medical training, and then go to Timbuktu to care for people there. I feel that I should give back to all of those who have been there for me throughout my life - they need healthcare as well, and nothing else makes sense to me. To go elsewhere and use my degree just seems silly.

And also, there's Scott. Scott, who I've given 10 years of my life - the years when I was my prettiest, the years when other guys my age were the most available (now they're all married or engaged - heh) - but I don't begrudge those years at all, because I also gave Scott my heart, at the very beginning, and I'm never getting it back.

Not only do I just love him to pieces, but he is such a wonderful person, y'all - he's crazy brilliant, but he's also country at heart (I'm a hunting widow every fall, there's wildlife hanging on the walls of his house that he once saw alive, and his freezer is a mixture of goodness from the slaughterhouse - deer and pig. Eeeeck.) He's completely adorable with his niece and nephews, and they love him right back. He will spend hours watching sci-fi with his grandma. He loves his mama. He has shelves and shelves of Bible study materials that he actually uses - he teaches Sunday School and teaches Bible study one Wednesday per month, and hasn't missed Sunday school for almost 25 years. YEARS! He doesn't smoke, drink, or curse - he has never tasted beer or been in a bar. He's witty and makes me laugh. He's completely trustworthy, responsible, and reliable. I've never, ever, not in 10 years, been suspicious about another girl (although there is one that I'm irrationally jealous about for no particular reason.) Oh, and he's cute, too. And to beat it all, I gave my heart to his family as well - and they're all here, too. The only thing I can't figure out is why Scott picked ME and seems to have settled on the fact that I'm the only one for him, when he could do so much better. Oh well.

So you can see why I'd want to keep him, and why I want to keep him HERE. And for seven years now, since he left for graduate school, I have worried and prayed about his future employment - prayed, worried, prayed, worried, felt that things were all right, then went back to worrying, and praying, and worrying. I couldn't imagine leaving home and I couldn't imagine saying goodbye to Scott - the thought of either brought a flood of tears and more worrying and praying. But God is so faithful. The worrying was so unnecessary, and all of the tears and lost sleep and anxiety and panic was without merit, because I serve a big God and He loves me, and He loves Scott, and He had the whole thing figured out a long time ago.

Yesterday Scott found out that his application for a tenure-track assistant professorship at the local university, our alma mater (where we met, actually), was accepted. Starting in August, he'll be a professor of chemistry at [BLANK] University. And in about 7 years, when he gets tenure and becomes a full professor, then that's a darn-well permanent position. Not like these chemical companies that are here for awhile, and they hire chemists, and then all of a sudden they'll be like, "By the way, you're moving to Texas tomorrow." Scott has a good job here at home, in his field, that uses his degree. God is so, so good, and I love Him. And Scott. And everybody. I love everybody!

One of my favorite verses applies again:

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end (Jeremiah 29:11).

Do you think this means I shouldn't worry so much about getting through medical school, because God is going to work that out too? Hmmm ...

This is Scott and two of his nephews and his niece - when he would come back home from Virginia to visit, they'd all just pile on him. It was so cute.

Life's good.

Scott's birthday

Scott turned 29 today, and I wanted to drive the 30 minutes to his house from mine to go to church with him, and then hang around and watch a movie or something. (And likely eat cake and possibly pizza, knowing his mom!) Scott, church, a movie, pizza, and cake = an evening of my favorite things.

Instead, I felt too weak and fatigued to even take a shower. My doctor ordered some bloodwork which I had done yesterday - he ordered a CBC w/diff (meaning they separate out all of the types of white blood cells and give a percentage of how many are there) and a monospot. I'm thinking it may be mono, because I had it about 10 years ago and I remember how tired and generally crappy I felt. I would sleep about 12 hours each night, and then come home from class and take a 3-4 hour nap, and still feel exhausted. That went on for a good while, too. And I've read that mono is worse in someone who is past their mid-to-late teens. Great.

I am just so sad that I didn't even get to see Scott on his birthday because of this stupid mysterious illness that I have, that I wish someone would diagnose so that people would stop getting irritated at me for feeling bad all the time. I know my family and friends are starting to think that I'm just lazy, or depressed, or something. I really miss Scott, though - it's hard for me to see him these days, because during the week, he's working and understandably doesn't want to spend the hour on the road (round-trip) that it takes to come to my house, plus the couple of hours it takes to watch a movie or whatever. And I simply don't feel like driving to his house, or anywhere else.

I'm sitting here crying as I type this because I'm so mad at myself for feeling so hideous that it's keeping Scott and me apart. But I just don't see any solution. I'm open to suggestions.

The Lord answers prayers, part deux

I have had many, many, many (many times infinity) talks with God about Scott's and my future, given that Scott's degree is a doctoral degree in chemistry, and this area isn't exactly booming with opportunities for someone trained as such. When he was away at Virginia Tech working on his graduate degree, and I was here missing him like crazy, I remember him telling me that the chances of him finding permanent employment here at home were like, 2%. (He's speaks in percentages. It's part of the nerdiness that is so "him" that I love so much.) I don't remember if he said "2%", exactly, but it was something that translated into "very, very, very unlikely."

Now, if y'all can't tell, I am a total homebody. I'm from a big family (Mom had 9 brothers and sisters and Dad had 7, and I have 40 first cousins and uncountable second cousins.) Although I'm an only child, I grew up around my extended family and I love them all dearly - and besides, this area is home to me and always will be. I should mention that Scott's family are all here as well. So I've been torn, because Scott is without question the one that God put on this earth for me, and yet he pursued this degree which would almost certainly take him away from here. It has been a huge source of stress for me because I can't imagine a life without Scott in it, forever; nor can I imagine a life lived somewhere else.

You know what, guys? And to segue into this next part, I'm going to have to quote a guy in my class here, after he got his score on Step 1 (hi, Billy!), "Jesus must like me a WHOLE LOT."

I'm not sure how much I can say as far as details go, but God has worked this out in such a wonderful way. And Scott was so perfectly sweet in telling me about it. I never prayed for specific things - I always just told the Lord that He knew my heart, and He knew my future, and I just prayed for His will as far as Scott and employment was concerned. God is so good. SO good. I can't imagine not knowing Christ as Savior, and not being able to claim these verses that I quoted the last time I had a huge prayer burden lifted:

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end (Jeremiah 29:11).

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).

Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain: that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you (John 15:16).

I think my life may actually work out almost exactly the way I've imagined it (or at least the way I've imagined it for 10 years, since Scott showed up and quickly became a positively permanent fixture in my future. Alliteration? It's a good thing.) And for the first time in a long, long, LONG time, I actually feel happy right now. Happy. Huh.

This was in the summer of 2003 - see? I'm actually not so scary on the eyeballs when I don't weigh 4 1/2 tons. I'm on my way back down, though - I'm back at Weight Watchers, eating healthy stuff, and I'm exercising again. That's one thing I'm working on while I'm taking this rotation off. I used to run between 3 and 5 miles every day, and I felt so sane and actually had some self-esteem. I need to get back there - somehow I have let myself get WAY out of control. Oh, and it looks like Scott has a rather large hole in his head. He actually doesn't - his head is 100% intact. Dont' be alarmed.

Reunion Pictures

While I'm percolating a post in my noggin (which will mainly deal with the fact that I'm taking this rotation off to whip my pancreas into shape) I thought I'd post some pictures from my 10-year class reunion in July (eeeep! I'm old.) Because I don't think I've showed y'all yet. We had dinner at Marshall's Hall of Fame Cafe, and then a picnic the next day at a local elementary school's shelter, with kids and the whole she-bang. Behold the pictures, and try to ignore my super-gigantic sausage arms. If you want to see my sausage arms in all their flubbery glory (i.e., a larger version of the picture) just click on it. (If some of them aren't clickable, it means I didn't make a larger version. Too bad for you.)

This is everybody and their significant others. I'm on the second lap from the right, and the lap belongs to Scott.

This is, left to right - Scott, me, Jeremy (who I had a ridiculous crush on throughout high school and who is now married to one of my best friends), Wendy (the aforementioned best friend), Amanda, and Tanner.

Wendy, Amanda, me.

These are three of my best guy friends from high school - Tanner, Jonah, and Lee. Lee and I have a picture from our 7th grade prom where my hair defies gravity. Maybe I'll post it one day - when you LEAST EXPECT IT. Mwahaha.

These are three of my best girlfriends from high school - Wendy, Kelli, and Amanda. And the other one's me.

Sad day

I am in shock about this - Ron Bowen was the maintenance man for my apartment complex (the one I just moved from) and he was always so nice and considerate with me. And God love him, he still thought I was going to school to be a nurse. My mom stays with me quite a bit (hey, I'm an only child, I'm a girl, and she's my mom. And my parents live nearby. And she likes my cats. What do you want from me?) and he and my mom would talk in the afternoons if he was tinkering around the apartment. I also had some undergraduate classes with one of his sons, who graduated from high school with Scott. The news article linked above kind of makes him out to be a rapscallion, but he was always very kind to me and my family, and he would come out at 11PM on a Saturday if my sink overflowed or my water pipes froze or whatever. He had a big heart, and personally, he was going through a rough time right now.

I'm just really sad about this. My heart aches for his children, because I can't imagine losing one of my parents suddenly - I would be absolutely shattered. I pray for comfort for his family and loved ones, and I pray that his soul was right with the Lord.

No Internet For You!

My internet access has been screwed up all week, and Comcast is on my LIST, y'all. I'm currently in the library at the hospital waiting for a monsoon to pass over, so I thought I'd let my faithful reader(s?) know why I've been silent all week. And I really had lots that I wanted to say, too - I felt like writing. Oh well. I'm going home this weekend, where the Inter-webz abounds, and I will talk your ears off. Maybe.

Psych is going well, and I found out yesterday that my next rotation is Internal Medicine. Yay! With Christy! Yaaaaaaay! For Medicine, I've heard that we work in pairs, and I hope to goodness that I don't get paired with an undesirable person.

That's all for now.

The lyrics to this song touch me so much.

Christy and Jay and I finally had our Dreamgirls date (we had a pact that none of us would watch it unless we watched it together) and it was just fantastic. This song by Beyonce (a la Deena Jones), Listen, has lyrics that really speak to me and that I would write, partially, if I were a songwriter. Sometimes I feel that the people I love in my life just do not understand what I'm trying to do in school, and that it HAS to be the most important thing in my life right now, or I'm not going to get through it. I feel like I don't have a choice. You can't half-do medical school, you know? And I've bolded some phrases that are particularly relevant.

My first rotation, psychiatry, started Monday - and I've been composing a mental post all week, so that will come later when I'm not so exhausted. For now, let's all sing.

Listen to the song here in my heart
a melody I start but can't complete

Listen to the sound from deep within
It's only beginning to find release

Oh, the time has come for my dreams to be heard
They will not be pushed aside and turned
Into your own, all 'cause you won't listen

[chorus]
Listen
I am alone at a crossroads
I'm not at home in my own home
And I've tried and tried
To say what's on my mind
You should have known
Now I'm done believing you
You don't know what I'm feeling
I'm more than what
You've made of me
I followed the voice you gave to me
But now I've gotta find my own
You should have listened

There was someone here inside
Someone I thought had died
So long ago
Oh I'm screaming out
And my dreams will be heard
They will not be pushed aside or turned
Into your own
All 'cause you won't listen

[chorus]
Listen
I am alone at a crossroads
I'm not at home in my own home
And I've tried and tried
To say what's on my mind
You should have known
Now I'm done believing you
You don't know what I'm feeling
I'm more than what
You've made of me
I followed the voice you gave to me
But now I've gotta find my own
You should have listened

I don't know where I belong
But I'll be moving on
If you don't, if you won't

Listen to the song here in my heart
A melody I start, but I will complete

Now I am done believing you
You don't know what I am feeling
I'm more than what you've made of me
I followed the voice you think you gave to me

But now I got to find my own - my own

I'm not mad at anyone, I'm just tired. If you love me, please try to understand and support me.

The number's a fake! A fake!

Is there such a thing as a reverse phone lookup that is completely free? Mom's car was parked on the street at my apartment last week, and someone bumped the car (doing about $500-$1000 damage) and being a good citizen (or so we thought) left a note with a phone number. Well, Mom called the phone number, and got a woman who had no idea what she was talking about. Mom thought it may have been another medical student who lives in my apartment building, because the note was written on the reverse of an "Information About Your Medications" piece of paper, which would seem to come from a student or nurse or doctor, etc. So she went upstairs and asked his fiancee, who said that the writing wasn't his.

I tried searching that phone number, and I got results, but every reverse search is going to make me pay $14.95 to see the results. Boo! I remember when they were free.

So Mom has lost all faith in humanity. But if someone was going to leave a fake number, why would they bother with a note in the first place? If anybody has any suggestions, I'd love to hear them.

Ode to a Pen

I was in T.A.G. when I was in elementary & high school (Talented and Gifted - or so they said) and occasionally, we'd go on these educational field trips with other TAGers from the county. One trip was to listen to some guy who was instrumental in bringing a primary care center to the county (in retrospect, I probably should have paid attention to him instead of writing poetry about writing instruments.) Give me a break, though, I think I was only about 13 years old (circa 1992) when this was written. Maybe not even that.

My friend Rebecca and I were trying to pay attention, but were bored to tears (as it turns out, "tweens", even smart ones, don't care so much about bureaucracy (I first typed "bureaucrazy" - ha) and construction.) Our gaze kept landing on another guy, who was positively doing acrobatics with his ink pen (I guess he was taking notes, for whatever reason.) He was twirling and flipping in a way that I'd never seen before and have never seen again. (Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic.)

So in true junior-high-girl fashion, Rebecca and I started writing notes to each other, and turned it into an ode to Steven and His Acrobatic Pen. My contributions are in bold (because it's my blog, yo) and hers are plain text. Behold:

This bites
The big pen
That twirls and flips
From his fingertips
It's caught our eye
Wonder if it was a good buy?
I don't know, but it's really fly.
He's a smart guy! Oh my, oh my.
Ooh, watch it spin
The way he works it must be a sin.
Wonder where it's been?
Maybe dipped in gin.
Goodness, watch that silver shine
How I wish it was mine, all mine
I'll bet he was a real good time
With that pen, some Vaseline and twine
Before now, I thought we could show this to him
But I'm sure he'd think we were really dim.
But it's okay, it'll be all right
I think I'll buy a pen like that tonight
And learn to flip and twirl and spin
Or maybe it's a talent for only men!
Maybe he could teach me
Maybe I could try
Maybe my twirling pen
Would catch someone's eye
You might spark some poetry
Oh gee ... would you teach me?
I think I'll save my money
To get a pen to impress the honeys
Do you mean the ladies?
Surely it's not true - I wish I wasn't beside of you!
Now my friend, don't be concerned,
It's the stare of only guys I wish to earn
We're drifting from the subject, Mr. Flip-and-Spin
Now he's got a ball to roll - made of gum wrapper tin!
Watch him poke it
Watch it slide
Where's that pen?
Did he make it hide?
I don't know, don't ask me
Where oh where could that pen be?
Look, it's back! Oh joy, oh joy
Is it a writing utensil, or just a toy?
Maybe he uses it to pick his nose,
Or does he twirl it between his toes?
That should be a new Star Search event
Twirling pens and rolling gum balls made of mint!

I think I'm a lyrical gangster.

EDIT - 7/13/07 - Thanks to Harvey, I now have a video to illustrate what I'm talking about. I'm not sure if my "pen twirler" is one of those on YouTube, but it's similar to what I remember him doing! He was way ahead of his time, I guess.

Father's Day & Mother's Day, both a little late

I meant to do this on Mother's Day, but I had some evil test or another - or, now that I think about it, I believe I had just finished a set of blocks and was still in post-block stupor. (A phenomenon, by the way, with which only medical students can identify - or maybe all professional students in the sciences (dental students, pharmacy students, physical therapy students) - I don't know. Anyway, what happens to me and some members of my class is that after we have exams, we can't seem to form coherent sentences. They come out sounding like Steve Martin's water-smudged "Dear John" letter from Bernadette Peters in The Jerk* - "I meant to tell you that blah bluh blee, and then we can bloo blah." And then one stares into space for about seven minutes. Sometimes we would go out for lunch after our last exam, and I would have a horrible time ordering. "I'd like a guacamole side plate of tomato dressing, I mean, a salad with extra plates and side guacamole on the dressed tomatoes, I mean, a plate of salad with extra tomatoes, dressing on the side and guacamole no. Oh well, that's good enough." Poor waitresses. No wonder we make them run away. And strangely enough, when I'm speaking post-test jibberish, other medical students can understand me.)

Enough about that. Then I meant to do this for Father's Day yesterday, but I was busy hanging out with my dad in between naps. (His naps and my naps!) So, I love my mom and dad to pieces and wanted to say so. Here's some pictures of wee Kim with Mom and with Dad (I think you can figure out which is which.) Forgive Dad's unfortunate hair - it was the 70s, after all. And wasn't my Mom so pretty? That's probably what I was trying to tell her.

Or maybe I was saying, "I want a cat." Or, "My pancreas hurts." Or, "What's an anxiety disorder?" Speaking of anxiety disorders and my pancreas, my parents are so understanding and helpful when I'm hurting, mentally or physically. I know that when I hurt, they hurt, and when my heart breaks, theirs breaks twice as much. I will never be able to pay them back for all that they have given me, and I love them dearly. By example, my Mom has taught me compassion, generosity and the importance of family. (And also how to cook stuff.) And Dad is my definition of hard work, responsibility and sacrifice. He's a great businessman and I am totally going to enlist his help in building my own medical practice if I ever decide to do so.

They both make me feel very loved and cared for, and I hope they know that I love them right back. From then to now ...

* Here's a mp3 if you haven't heard that scene. (Right click and "save target as", as usual.) There's some other great quotes from the movie here at "got wavs?" - man, that's a funny movie. Maybe I should watch it again.

Political talk

Mom: I saw some polls on the news - in the national poll, Hillary was first among the Democrats ...
Me: They're idiots if they give Hillary the nomination.
Mom: ... and Fred Thompson was third among the Republicans.
Me: Yay!
Mom: Then they had a state-by-state poll, and John Edwards was first ...
Me: Boo.
Mom: And Mitt Romney.
Me: Well.
Mom: It was a state-by-state poll, you know, for the carcasses.
Me: Ha ha ha ha.

She meant caucuses. Caucusi? What's the plural of caucus? Don't tell me, I don't have room for that information until Wednesday evening.

Yay! Feedblitz will work!

I've been tinkering with my messed-up RSS feed for awhile now. Since I switched to the new Blogger (erstwhile Blogger beta), my RSS feed has stopped updating. I discovered that it is because, since I publish on my own server instead of Blogger's, that they hate me. Not really. But Blogger hasn't worked out the kinks to get FTP publishers' RSS feeds to update like they're supposed to, and that made my Feedblitz service come to a screeching halt.

So I created another Blogger blog - published on their server - just for Ramble Strip updates. And I called it, creatively, Ramble Strip Updates. When I post something new on THIS blog, I post a link to the new post on the Updates blog (which is the RSS feed that Feedblitz uses now), and then my Feedblitz subscribers get an email that I've updated, with a link to the new post. Yay!

So you can subscribe via Feedblitz now, if you want to know when I've updated. Feedblitz doesn't spam - they will only send you an email when I post something new. There's a button in yonder sidebar if you're interested.

Also, here's a picture of my gloriously dorky class (well, some of the class) and our beloved First Aid for the USMLE Step One books. I ::heart:: these people. There's this kinship when you go through something crappy with other people, you know? And if I don't pass Step One next week (ack! Next week!) and end up in a class that does not include these guys - it will just be wrong.

You are everything to someone

Dad sent this to me, and since several of them apply to my life at the moment, I thought I'd post it. You know, because I liked it. I usually find these kinds of things cheesy, but I liked most of this one. It helps a person with no self-esteem (like me) to think these kinds of things sometimes - whether they're true or not!

Sometimes I used my blog as a personal diary, a place to rant, someplace to keep links to websites I want to remember later, or a sort of filing cabinet for things like this that I want to be able to find at a future time. Oh, and to connect with all of you fine folk, of course. Speaking of you fine folk - you should comment more. Let me know you're reading, say hi - something. It would make me happy. :-)

• Someone is very proud of you
• Someone is thinking of you
• Someone cares about you
• Someone misses you
• Someone wants to talk to you
• Someone wants to be where you are
• Someone hopes you aren't in trouble
• Someone is thankful for the support you have provided
• Someone wants to hold your hand
• Someone hopes everything turns out all right
• Someone wants you to be happy
• Someone wants you to find them
• Someone is celebrating your successes
• Someone wants to give you a gift
• Someone thinks you ARE a gift
• Someone hopes you are not too cold, or too hot
• Someone wants to hug you
• Someone loves you
• Someone admires your strength
• Someone is thinking of you and smiling
• Someone wants to be your shoulder to cry on
• Someone wants to go out with you and just have fun
• Someone thinks the world of you
• Someone wants to protect you
• Someone would do anything for you
• Someone wants to be forgiven
• Someone is grateful for your forgiveness
• Someone wants to laugh with you about old times
• Someone remembers you and wishes you were there
• Someone needs to know that your love is unconditional
• Someone values your advice
• Someone wants to tell you how much they care
• Someone wants to stay up late watching old movies with you
• Someone wants to share their dreams with you
• Someone wants to hold you in their arms
• Someone wants YOU to hold them in YOUR arms
• Someone treasures your spirit
• Someone wishes they could stop time because of you
• Someone can't wait to see you
• Someone wishes that things didn't have to change
• Someone loves you for who you are
• Someone loves the way you make them feel
• Someone wants to be with you
• Someone has a song that reminds them of you
• Someone wants you to know they are there for you
• Someone is glad that you're their friend
• Someone wants to be your friend
• Someone stayed up all night thinking about you
• Someone is alive because of you
• Someone is wishing that you would notice them
• Someone wants to get to know you better
• Someone believes that you are their soul mate
• Someone wants to be near you
• Someone misses your guidance and advice
• Someone values your guidance and advice
• Someone has faith in you
• Someone trusts you
• Someone needs your support
• Someone needs you to have faith in them
• Someone needs you to let them be your friend
• Someone will cry when they read this

Oh, and I got a new haircut. I'll put some pictures up later.

Reasons Why I Want Christy to Guest Blog

You guys know I'm trying to cajole my medical school BFF (BMF?) to blog here - until I finally twist her arm, I'll just post things FOR her. I ALWAYS get my way! Mwahahahaha! So on Tuesday, she and I were watching American Idol (because we had our Pharmacology miniboard/final exam that day, and we totally took the evening off) and she said, "I have a small to medium to large to extra-large crush on Simon Cowell." That made me laugh. I have the same type of crush on Simon Cowell - it's something about angry/arrogant British guys (see Laurie, Hugh) who is Christy's other husband. That is all.

I feel like a giant stupidface and I want to quit medical school.

This post is basically just for me, so feel free to scroll.

When I have crappy days such as this, I just want to chronicle them to remember them later - so that when I'm finished with school (if I actually manage to bumble my way to the end) I can look back on bad days like this. The type of day when I'm at my computer crying, with an explosive head and/or pancreas, feeling lonely and friendless, and beyond stressed. Hopefully I'll be able to say, "Ha ha, I feel so much better now." And hopefully by that time, I will have figured out how to talk to people so I don't completely embarrass myself. As a side note, it sucks when you're having a stressful (and physically pain-filled) day anyway, and it turns out that you've said things to someone that were meant to be jokes that weren't taken that way, and then you have to add feeling like a complete idiot to all of the other negative things that are going on. Bad timing. Ugh. I am glad, though, that - even though there may be a couple of people who think that I am a horrible person - God knows the heart and He knows true intentions. He knows what I intended to say and what I didn't intend to say. And if He loves me, that's all that matters.

In happier news, Christy is finally on Facebook - I'm always trying to convert people to Facebook so that I can have "friends" who are actually my friends, and not just people that I said "hi" to that one time. Christy's been a particularly tough convert.

Sad day

I'm really shaken up by this Virginia Tech shooting in Blacksburg - Scott would have been there a couple of years ago (not in that particular building, but on the campus), and my heart is just in my stomach. Seeing those familiar buildings on Fox News is really disturbing - those kids just got up this morning and went to class, like I have done on so many mornings, and now they're dead. So sad.

When I heard about it, I went straight to Scott's lab and hugged him - I see no reason to go to a high-caliber university; a competitive, presigious residency; a big city - I'm happy here in my relatively safe, small town, where I can do a lot of good as a physician, and where Scott and I can do a lot of work for the Lord as a couple.

My heart goes out to the families and the community of Blacksburg, Virginia and Christiansburg. Love and prayers to you. And nothing but thankfulness and praise for my Lord, who has kept my family and loved ones safe in such a dangerous, evil world.

Postpourri

As you've probably noticed lately, it seems as if I'm dead. I'm not, however, and I thought I should let y'all know. I've been doing things like taking tests, getting grades back, taking more tests, taking naps, taking tests, taking naps, getting fatter and fatter and uglier and fatter, and taking more tests. Oh, and jumping through the 16 hoops that you have to jump through in order to register for the first part of my board exams - USMLE Step One - which I'm taking in Cincinnati on June 14th.

YIKES, y'all. When I think about it, it kind of wigs me out. So I try not to think about it. Or if I must think about it, I try to remember that like, 94% of people pass it, and that my school's average score is almost exactly the national average, and that my grades are usually a little above my CLASS average, and that I did better than the national average on the microbiology/immunology mini-board that I took in December. So. I'll probably be okay - if it's the Lord's will, of course - and He's pushed and prodded me along thus far, so I have no reason to think He's going to let me fall flat on my face now. By chance, are there any medical students reading (my class or otherwise) who are taking Step One on that day in Cincinnati? Just curious.

Since I've been so scarce lately (although I have been adding some American Idol season 6 mpegs to the AI Downloads folder, slowly but surely) I have been trying to convince my medical school BFF Christy, who is quite witty and hilarious (more than me, actually, so I kind of hate her a little bit) to join my blog as a 2nd author. That way, there'll be more posts and such. And they'll be better than my blathery crap, too. I wanted to mention this convincing that I'm trying to do, thinking that you guys could leave comments for Christy to help me in my task. And I was going to include a lovely picture of her to go with it. However, she - like me - feels fat and ugly (although she's not) so she would only let my camera get this close:

And that arrow that I've drawn to point her out makes it look like she takes up about 3 1/2 states, which she totally doesn't. Finally, when she was worn down from studying for a set of block exams, I managed to get the camera *this* close:

So that's Christy. Somebody convince her to blog with me.

And finally, I have something like 9 days left that I actually have to go to my classroom. Do you know how bizarre that is? During the dark days of anatomy lab during my first semester, it seemed that the basic science years would never end - I kept expecting to fail, but thanks be to God, I haven't yet. And I *still* don't feel like I fit in with my class - I don't get invited to anything that the entire class isn't invited to (not that I'm a huge party animal, but it would still be nice to know that someone wanted me around) - but, that being said, at least there's only two people in my class that seem to hate me. That's 2/54 - not a bad ratio, I guess. Most people are just indifferent to me, I suppose, and don't particularly care if I exist or don't exist. I guess I can understand that, because I consider myself boring and annoying. If you can't tell, I'm having a kind of low night. I'm just so tired.

On Tomato Residue and Runaway Waitresses

Michael, Todd, Christy and I went to lunch yesterday at Applebee's, and we had arguably the worst waitress on the face of the earth (for reasons other than the ones I'm about to document.) Michael, being a man of plain tastes (when it comes to food - I'm not trying to insult Kristen here) ordered a cheeseburger with only ketchup. Shortly after, we saw our waitress get in a car outside of our window, buckle her seatbelt, light a cigarette, and drive away. (We still didn't have any food.) A few minutes later she drove back into the parking lot and then brought us our food - including Michael's cheeseburger, laden with tomato/lettuce/onion.

Horrible Waitress: Sorry about all of the stuff on your cheeseburger - it's my bad. I told them. My bad. You can just take it off. Sorry - my bad. (Michael was picking off those evil vegetables like they were preparations of Naegleria fowleri that were carrying maps titled: "To Michael's Cribiform Plate and Beyond".)
Me: I think she had to drive to the mid-90s to get that phrase.

I hate that medical school has stolen my sense of humor.

In other news, if you read the comments on this post, you'll learn from one uncouth commenter named "Beepy" that my blog is far inferior to The Fake Doctor. You know, in case you were wondering.

Randomness

Well, this set of blocks went reasonably well. I got an A in path, a B in pharm, and an unmentionable grade in genetics (which was okay, considering I only read half of the genetics notes (once!) and only went to about half of the lectures. I put it on the back burner this time. You almost have to do that when you're juggling ~23 credit hours' worth of exams.)

Thanks be unto the Lord for all of THAT.

I had a humorous voicemail the other day at the apartment - I had been home for the weekend and was checking my messages on my way back on Sunday, and had three new messages. They were as follows: Christy, Christy, and some woman who was all, "YEAH. So I just wanted to let you KNOW, that I'm having an affair with your HUSBAND, and he can *bleep* so good, and he's mine, so *bleep* you, *BLEEP*!"

Eeek. The problem with that, of course, is that she's talking about my non-existent husband. I felt bad for her, you know, that she mustered up the courage (or maybe drank the courage) to make this confession, and then it gets delivered to the wrong number. That's just too bad. I felt so bad for her that I was going to get her number on my caller ID and call her back to tell her that the joke's on her, I have genital herpes! (KIDDING - I do not have herpes and I wasn't going to tell her that, either.) I was going to tell her that she must be looking for the other Kimberly [insert last name here].

Mom went to Kroger today, and went through this cashier's line who always feels the need to keep up a running commentary on what you're buying. She was buying a baby bottle brush for cleaning hummingbird feeders, and he asked her if she had a daycare. She said no, because - you know, she doesn't have a daycare. He proceeded to tell her that she should volunteer at Kroger's daycare, because they have "grannies" that come in to read to the kids. Poor Mom. Even if she had stark-white hair, a face like Keith Richards and was hobbling on a cane, you STILL don't call a stranger a "grannie". Sheesh.

Coming up next - American Idol Top 12 performance video clips (I'm just about to outsmart my Windows Media Center - but I only half outsmarted it this week - sorry, People Who Performed In The First Half fans) and A Day In My Life, this time with pictures. Wheee!

Me, Myself, I, and It

It's official - I have gone straight up insane, y'all. It's the pharmacology that's done it to me. The pharmacology!! I think I should just be a fake doctor like Zach Braff.

The other day, Christy and I were going to lunch (meeting Todd and Michael at Fazoli's) and I was mixing up my pronouns something awful. Like this:

Me: It needs to get some gasoline.
Christy: What does?
Me: Oh, I meant "I". What'd I say, "It"? I called myself "it"??

Later, upon arrival at Fazoli's ...

Me (in frustration): There's no place for them to park!
Christy: Who?
Me: Us, I mean us, not them!

Christy, trying to make me feel better, goofed up her pronouns yesterday, as we plodded through our antiarrhythmic notes. She said, "It's so tired!" Hee. I have three exams next week - can you tell? And I'll be lucky to get a 7% on the pharm test. I hate cardiac drugs.

Gabe: On applesauce and Jesus

Last Sunday, Gabe was in his Sunday School class for preschoolers, and the teacher was asking each of them what they would give Jesus to eat if He came to their house. Gabe, being the thoughtful kid that he is, ruminated on the question for a minute, like this:

He finally decided, "Applesauce." The teacher, being a witness to this obvious display of a thought process, had to ask why. Gabe, of course, knew why - or at least, he knows why he's supposed to eat HIS applesauce:

"So His tummy won't hurt and He'll be able to move His bowels."

Bwahahaha. Kids are so funny. I'm going to have to have some one of these days, when I'm finished killing myself trying to be a doctor. I think any kid that Scott and I produce will probably be Jimmy Neutron (animated and all, obviously.) Or, some artsy type that has no interest in science whatsoever.

In other news, pharmacology is the stuff of the devil. And a word to the wise - don't get an arrhythmia, because it will probably kill you. And all drugs for arrhythmias will probably kill you too. It's the worst kind of news, really.

Before Samuel graduates from college ...

... I should probably post this, because it amused me.

My cousin Jonathan and his wife Becky had a beautiful baby boy earlier this month, Samuel Lucas [last name], and for the first day or so of his life, he decided to only open one eye. Observe:

When Gabriel came to see him in the hospital, he said, "He's a pirate baby!" Hee.

Gabe, meanwhile, is plenty cute himself - in his kids' scrubs and lab coat that I bought him:

Check out that stethoscope. He and I were playing with his little "visible organs guy", and I was pointing out the spleen and eeeeevil pancreas and such, and told him that I'd like to have my own little anatomy model guy. He knows I'm in school to be a "real doctor", and he told me, "Doctors don't get to have toys." Ha. Actually they do, Gabe, they're just very expensive toys. :-)

By the way, I have two exams on Monday and one on Tuesday, and that's why I've been MIA for a few days. Pharmacology is scaaaary, yo. The more I study it, the less I feel like I know. Anyone out there know what I mean by that? (If someone does, I'd feel better. Especially if it's someone in my class.) More importantly, can anyone HELP?

Sad day

Three of my papaw's kids were in this fire last night, and haven't been heard from since 11PM on Saturday. (Papaw remarried and had a 2nd family after my dad was grown - so I have five aunts and uncles that are all younger than me.) And now three of them are unaccounted for. Although I barely knew the kids (I think they were 19, 17, and 14) - my heart breaks for my papaw. I can't imagine what he's feeling right now. And I pray that they all made their peace with the Lord before it was too late.

Edit - the kids' bodies have been identified. And here's a picture of them, a cap from our local news:

It's just so tragic and has been weighing heavily on my mind all weekend. It's so important that people know how you feel about them, and that you always know the condition of your soul - because you never know when your last chance will be.

Waaaaaaaah!

I didn't go to class this morning (four reasons - main reason, I overslept; also, I was at the hospital kind of late last night because my cousin-who-is-as-close-as-a-brother's wife was in labor (Eeeee! Welcome Samuel Lucas [insert last name here]!); I am so freaking tired and I probably would have slept through class anyway; and Mom was sick last night and I didn't want her to be awake and sick by herself, because I don't like to be left alone when I'm sick. So.)

I didn't go twice last week either, because of that evil GI virus I had and my eeeeeeevil pancreas. And we've only been in class for like, 9 days. I'm feeling guilty and panicky. The panicky part is a given, because I'm on the edge of an anxious breakdown anyway.

I'm not particularly worried about getting behind, because Christy and I have been studying a bit, in the afternoons/evenings, but I'm wondering - what kind of doctor am I even going to be, when my stupid pancreatitis or my anxiety attacks me at every turn; and also, when I want to be there for my family when something is going on, med school be darned? I'm afraid I'm not disciplined enough or something. *sigh*

Also, a couple of friends wanted to take Christy and me out to lunch this afternoon for our birthdays (both are in December, during our Christmas break) and I wasn't there for that, so they'll have to go without me or reschedule. I hope nobody is mad. I hate it when I make people mad. I need a hug.

At least I finally remembered to pay my class dues and avoided our class treasurer's bone-breaking thugs.

Do you know the Muffin Man? Or Patty Rowe?

Yesterday, Christy and I were driving home from class when my gigantonormous car phone rang (yes, it's a CAR phone - it's the only kind that picks up in the boonies where I live. But I love those boonies, though - no way would I trade them for a big city. But the phone - when I use it, Christy goes, "Hi Zach, it's Kelly!" Ha ha. Make fun of Kim's humongous Miami Vice phone. Hardy har.)

Anyway, the phone rang, and it has this extremely loud ring that I can't figure out how to turn down, so we're both having arrhythmia, but I managed to answer:

Me: Hello? [pulling out the automatic defibrillator, since fibrillation is the "worst kind of news" (tm Dr. Wright)]
Nice Lady: Patty?
Me: (respiratory rate has slowed to below 80/minute now) No, I'm sorry - you have the wrong number.
Nice Lady: This isn't Patty Rowe? I've been trying to find Patty Rowe, and they keep giving me the wrong number.
Me: Nope, I'm sorry.
Nice Lady: Oh. Well, do you know Patty Rowe?
Me: What? No!

I wonder what people are thinking? That the world is so small, that everybody knows everybody, and that I was going to go, "Yeah, she's sitting right here!"? Or that, if you have a similar phone number, you must know each other? Strange. We got a good laugh of out of that, but then again, we were delirious from a coma-inducing pharmacology lecture. Or maybe it was 3 hours of lung pathology. Either one produces delirium.