Still crazy, but possibly sincere

You know, it just occurred to me that the day that Tom Cruise was boinging around on Oprah's couch, that he may have really just been that excited. Since he and Katie are seemingly still together, and Suri (which I still think sounds like a British apology) exists and doesn't appear to be a robot or an alien. How about that.

I would write about the wonderfully good day that I had on Saturday, in which I actually FELT WELL, and the fact that Jim Sturgess (from 21 and Across the Universe) has gone directly to the #1 position on my Geeky Hollywood Fake Boyfriends List. Don't worry, Scott knows all about this. But it's not a threat to him, given that he's the only person on my Geeky West Virginia Real Boyfriends list.

But I can't elaborate now, because I've just discovered that I'm accidentally watching Jerry Springer: My Boyfriend is a Woman. Ack.

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.

"His legs flail about as if independent from his body!"

I actually managed to cajole Scott into going with me to see Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance tonight, and he admitted afterwards that he did not hate it. Yay! I decided at the last minute (Wednesday, so I guess it was like, the last 30 minutes in this analogy I have going) to check for tickets, and came up with 2nd row, so I had to buy them, you know? And, being the best girlfriend ever (ha) I never insist that Scott do something with me that I know he would hate or that he wouldn't enjoy in the least (so I don't drag him to a bunch of girl movies - or at least I don't think I do. He may see things differently!) But he said that out of all the things that I could have bought tickets to see, this was something that he would probably dislike the least. So he went with me.

And I enjoyed the performance - it's not that much unlike clogging, which I used to do, if you'll remember (there were some videos in the sidebar until my soon to be ex-hosting company, GoDaddy, got their panties in a wad over "non-web content" on my server. So I deleted the videos, but I'll reupload when I switch everything over to AN Hosting / midphase, my new host.) Anyway, the Irish step dancing, or whatever the proper term is, was similiar to clogging in foot movements, but is a bit more kicky. And the music is a lot more Irish, obviously.

The guys tended to wear very unfortunate pants.

The girls were all wearing floufy waist-length hair extensions, which were very pretty and bouncy and made me decide that I want some.

There was some singing, which didn't make a great deal of sense to me - I guess it was filler so that the dancers could change and whatnot. The singing was either partially in Irish or she sang very longingly about lawn chairs. I seemed to hear "lawn chair" a lot - or not.

I think the moral of the story was - if a dark and evil princess threatens to steal your man, you can scare her off if you and your girlfriends rip off your dresses in unison to reveal matching two-piece costumes underneath.

The quote that I used for a title is from a Friends episode - appropriate because Michael Flatley, Lord of the Dance is revealed as a phenomenon that scares the beejeezus out of Chandler, and the reason for his fear is elucidated in that quote.

That is all. I hope everybody had a happy Valentine's Day!

American Idol Randomness

I've only been randomly watching Idol this season - I keep forgetting it's on, and then usually I've fallen asleep (because I've felt so crappy for months) and if I do watch it, I don't feel like sitting at the computer and blogging. With that said, tonight I'm feeling a smidge better and I have a few thoughts.

I've only seen Danny Noriega sing once, at Hollywood, but he did this one thing that reminded me of Clay Aiken for a second. I'll keep an eye on him.

And speaking of Clay Aiken, every time they say "Hotlanta", it reminds me of the crazy Clackhouse. I'm not so sure why that is - Clay Aiken must have done something in Atlanta (besides audition - hey, I *am* a PRoCer at heart, after all - I do remember some random Clay trivia.)

I might have to call shenanigans on Asia’h Epperson's story about her dad. She just wasn't reacting the way that I would be if my daddy had died suddenly two days before (God forbid.) Also, her apostrophe reminds me of a post that I need to do, because it's something that really grinds my gears - people who name their kids stupid things with phonetic spellings and random punctuation scattered throughout.

I like Amanda Overmyer. I'm thinking she may scare the old people at the nursing home, though.

I also like Josiah Leming, but I don't understand why he has this occasional British accent.

Nice to see that Pauler is still talking about happy spirits and magicalness. Randy is sitting in the middle, though, and it's throwing my world off a little bit. Also, about Randy - he doesn't know how to work percentages. And so he should just stop saying things like, "Eleventy billion percent yes!" Because it annoys me when people mess up percentages. And it's all about ME.

Perrie Cataldo - oversang everything, like his life depended on it. Good thing it didn't.

That guy who kept talking about the "tingly feeling" that he only gets when he sings (didn't catch his name) reminds me of a junior-high version of Scott. A little bit.

Amy Flynn & her abstinence curriculum (not that there's anything wrong with that) always looks freshly scrubbed. And also, unfortunately for her and her Caruso hairstyler, freshly eliminated.

Dear Bruce Dickson, it's very creepy to have one of those "half" necklaces with your DAD. You probably shouldn't tell that to the entire country (and my BFF Corrie, who I'm sure is watching from Dutchlandia.)

Kristy Lee Cook, Amazing Grace is a great song - no doubt about that. But things usually don't fare well for people who always sing the same song. Just ask ... uh, that one girl. Whose name I can't remember. See?

It's hilarious that Jeffrey Lampkin is singing so passionately about PEE-kan pie. (Speaking of PEE-kan pie - I can't eat it normally. I'm allergic to tree nuts, so I have to scrape the PEE-kan layer off and just eat the filler goo and the crust. It's really good that way, too.) Anyway, Jeffrey Lampkin. I might like him if he's not too Ruben-esque. Not rubenesque, Ruben-esque. You know.

Angela Martin's dad just died too? Geez - all the other contestant's dads better watch themselves.

Oh! Did I tell y'all about the American Idol concert that I went to back in the fall? It was actually pretty entertaining (shut up!) - I went with my mom, and met a random person who is now my Facebook friend (she's applying to my medical school.) But the most interesting part was afterwards, when I met Scott at a movie theater (within walking distance of the concert arena) to see 3:10 to Yuma. A few minutes after the movie started, two guys walked in with a few other guys and sat right in front of us, and I am like, 95% sure that it was Blake Lewis and Chris Richardson. Well - 97% on Blake and about 90% on Chris. "Blake" spent a good bit of the movie IMing on his phone, and I spent a good bit of the movie watching Possibly!Blake and Possibly!Chris - so much so that Scott gave me a quiz on the movie on the way home. Heh. I can pay attention to two things at once, you know - it's installed in the female brain.

Geeeeeeeeez! I've been gone for awhile.

I have no excuse - just holidays, my birthday, and sickness. Did you know I've been sick on about 26 of the last 29 birthdays? It's kind of my trademark. You should see some of the pictures that I have from my birthdays when I was a wee tot - standing in front of a flickering Snoopy cake, looking unsure whether to blow on it or barf on it. Actually, in this day and age, you COULD see that picture. I'm at the apartment, though, and the picture's at home - I'll scan and add it later. I was so darn cute when I was a kid, I'd hate to deprive you of my cherubian face and my dark curls. (I'm not being vain - because while I was a cute kid, I'm not so cute anymore. So.)

What have I been doing, you ask? Let's see. I ushered in Christmas Eve. Then I ushered it out and ushered in Christmas. Then I ushered it out and ushered in my birthday (my 29th birthday - this is the one that I just keep celebrating the anniversary of, right?) and my pancreas reared it's ugly head even higher than normal. And then I got some sort of virus that came complete with lots of barfage, weird leg pain and twitching. That stayed around until New Year's Eve. Scott was very sweet through that whole viral crap - he came up to see me almost every day and was all attentive and stuff. Awww.

Then I started back to school on January 7th - I'm on my Family Practice rotation. So far, I really like it. It's soooooooo much better than my foray into Internal Medicine (I blame a lot of that debacle, though, on the fact that I was so sick and everyone was all, "How dare you be human!!!") This time, a whole different me showed up to the first day of the rotation. I am a lot more interested, responsible, and attentive when I don't feel like someone is stabbing me in the gut.

And I've watched Reign Over Me, Juno, and Enchanted. I'd recommend them all - especially Juno. I adore Michael Cera (is he too young to join my Geek Love Fake Boyfriend Brigade? I'll have to check.) And Ellen Page makes a great debut. It's funny, heartwarming, and just very darn good.

Oh, and I saw a toenail fungus yesterday. I itched the whole rest of the day. I know that Trichophyton (Trichophytons?) don't have legs and couldn't have jumped on me, but still. The mind is a powerful thing. Also, did you know that adults most commonly get toenail infestations by dermatophytes, which invade normal keratin? And that older adults (i.e., geriatric adults) most commonly get toenails infected with mold, which invade irregular keratin? I didn't either.

My Elf Self

I've been playing around with ElfYourself (thanks, Trinoh!) and I can't stop giggling at the "Elf Selves" I created for Scott and me:

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=9588061433

I'm not sure why Scott's glasses look so ginormous - they don't in real life. But I think we are MUCH better dancers disguised as our elf alter egos than we are as medical students and chemists. Especially Scott. I mean, we've been together over 10 years, and I've danced with him exactly three times (at weddings that I dragged him to.) When I used to clog (boo hoo, I miss it) sometimes we'd be short on guys, and I'd have to dance with my ex-pre-algebra teacher, who is female. So I've danced with my female pre-algebra teacher many more times than with Scott. That's just wrong, people.

Anyway, follow that link. And laugh. (You have to have Flash Player running.)

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.

I may be climbing out of my pit

It's been a rough couple of months, y'all. I can barely talk about it without crying, because it was just so full of disappointment and sadness and pain, and it was like I was someone else entirely that I didn't even recognize nor did I like very much at all. (I do have horrible self-esteem and can't find much at all that's good about myself - except for Christ in my heart, of course, but that's Him, not me - but over the past couple of months, I *really* despised myself.) I'm sorry the posts have been so sparse lately, and I'm sorry that when I did post, that it was all about doctors and so on and so forth. Interestingly, my traffic has gone up quite a bit over the past 2 months. Figure that.

Anyway, I hope you, dear readers (I first typed "deer readers" - heh. Scott would be proud - that's what's on his mind at this time of year, too) don't have the idea that I'm some sort of drug-seeking pill-head. Instead, I'm a chronic pain patient struggling to learn to be a doctor, a good one - working 70-80 hour weeks in addition to trying to study in between, and also trying to spend time with my Scott, my family and friends, and some MUCH needed time at the Y. Oh, and sleeping, sometimes. It's hard to do that when it feels like someone is stabbing you in the gut, and pulling the knife around to your back. And then when you go to your doctor or to the ED for help, they instead berate you and you end up sobbing because of their jaded lack of compassion, it's discouraging.

Being in severe pain all the time, all the while being expected to perform in a superhuman manner (and getting bad evaluations when you don't - more on that later) and having more doors slammed in your face - it made me feel more hopeless and sad than I have felt in a long time. I didn't know if I was ever going to get help, or if this pain was going to become a part of my daily life. A Google search found a lot of information on depression resulting from chronic pain. I don't know what the answer is, fellow members of the healthcare system, but we have an underserved population of people here. I don't know how we weed out the true sufferers from the addicts and the dealers. But something needs to be done. And the way I heard other providers refer to patients requiring pain medication was less than encouraging.

I am doing all of the "alternative" stuff that the Interwebz recommends for pancreatitis - an antioxidant blend (the one I take is by Nature Made, with Vitamin A, 100% as Beta-Carotene - 10,000 IU, 200% RDA; Vitamin C: 250 mg, 417% RDA; Vitamin E: 200 IU, 667% RDA; Zinc: 7.5 mg, 50% RDA; Selenium: 15 mcg, 21% RDA; Copper: 1 mg, 50% RDA; Manganese: 1.5 mg, 75% RDA), and I'm also taking an additional selenium supplement, my trusty enzymes (amylase and lipase, aka Creon 10), and a couple of doses of Advil a day for anti-inflammatory properties.

I'm still hurting, though - I do have a new pain doc, and I'll talk about him later - I think I'm going to like him. He and his office staff are already a billion times kinder than the other Pain Clinic Which Shall Not Be Named.

I just didn't want you guys to think that I was an addict who was obsessed with getting my fix. Is that what you think? What DO you think? Let's have it, I can take it. It's why I have comments on my blog - I want to know what people think about what I write, and I appreciate and consider them all. Except the trolls, of course, which I just kick back under the bridge; and the potty-mouths, who I edit and *then* consider. :-)

I'm sorry that this is all about me lately, but ...

... my stupid and evil pancreas (and the pain thereof) has kind of been the focus of my life over the past couple of weeks. So, I posted about ER visits #1 and #2, and left you hanging about ER visit #3, which my GI doctor's office told me to make, right? Okay. Scott came to my apartment and picked me up, and off to the ER we went. (Incidentally, while we were there we ran into someone that goes to his church, so we were talking to her while her dad was back with the 0%-compassion ER doctors. Her dad's caregiver was there too, and when she came in she told us that people were coming out of the ER with prescriptions for Lortab and such, and selling them right outside in the parking lot. Nice. So the 0%-compassion ER doctors, who walk around with soap boxes for shoes and who think they are waging personal wars on drugs, are - uh, not. Instead they're making chronic pain patients cry.)

Anyway, we had to wait for hours and hours, and Scott read an article called "Dendrimer-Functional Self-Assembled Monolayer as a Surface Plasmon Resonance Sensor Surface" to keep him occupied (he's a peach - I kept trying to make him go home, but he stayed until I left, at 3AM. He's also such a science dork. I love him.) When I went through triage, the nurse looked at my chart from earlier and said, "Oh, so you don't have pancreatitis, huh?" I said, "I wish." He said, "Well, your enzymes aren't elevated, so they have here that you don't have pancreatitis." I said, "I have CHRONIC pancreatitis. The enyzmes don't go up anymore because my pancreas is a shriveled, calcified, fibrotic nugget." Don't have pancreatitis. I wish. And then when I saw Dr. 0% Compassion, he determined that I take narcotics. Well, duh - I have a chronic pain condition that I'm trying to manage. Then he says that he called my GI doctor twice and that the GI doctor told him that he was concerned about addiction and tolerance. (Again, duh on the tolerance - I've had to take pain medicine on and off for years - I'm sure I have mu opioid receptors galore. It also happens with steroids, and TOLERANCE and physical dependence have nothing to do with ADDICTION.) Incidentally, I think I love Dr. Jennifer Schneider, MD, PhD, and I almost want to travel to Arizona to see her. She says something great in this interview about addiction, that tells me that I'm NOT an addict:

Opioids also can, and usually do, cause physical dependence. The body makes changes to adapt to the opioids and if you stop suddenly, you get this unpleasant withdrawal syndrome.

... that's what physical dependence is — it has nothing to do with addiction. Addiction is not necessarily a physical thing. Addiction is a psychological phenomenon consisting of three elements. One is loss of control, which means you intend to use only so much but when you have access you keep taking the substance. The second is continuation despite significant adverse consequences, which means even if the substance – let’s say alcohol -- is causing liver damage, you’re arrested for a DUI, or are fired from your job, you still take it. In fact, one of the major differences between chronic pain patients and addicts is that the opioids expand the life of the pain patient. They make things better — they improve the patient’s functioning and pain whereas with the addict, their life constricts and they become more and more focused on the drug that they are misusing. So you have the opposite effect, and that’s what I’m talking about when I say addicts continue to use it despite adverse consequences. Pain patients on prescribed opioids don’t have adverse consequences — they may have side effects from opioids but they don’t have these types of adverse consequences (eg, loss of a job, organ damage). The third element of addiction is the preoccupation or obsession with obtaining, using, and recovering from the effects of the drug.

The thing about expanding your life is so true - when my pain is controlled, I feel like eating, exercising, spending time with Scott/family/friends, enthusiastically getting through my rotation assignment for the day, and studying at night. Oh, and I can sleep without having to wake up in the middle of the night in pain. When my pain is undertreated (like I was on the q8hrs prescription from the pain clinic) I can barely get off the couch, I have to lie in the fetal position to try to squish my intestines together, I find it hard to concentrate on anything because the pain is so bad, and I'm in a bad mood. It's not withdrawal, it's pancreatitis pain.

Back to the ER. Dr. 0% Compassion, after telling me that my doctor thought I was an addict, said, "You addicts lose the high from your Lortab or whatever, and come in here for your IV Dilaudid fix." Yes, he called me an addict. I said, "I haven't been to the ER as a patient in SIX YEARS." That didn't interest him - he went on to tell me that I was not going to make it through the rest of medical school, and by this time, I'm so humiliated and beaten down and sad (not to mention in pain) that I'm just sobbing. And then he said that he was going to order an abdomen/pelvis CT and if he didn't see acute pancreatitis, he wasn't admitting me. (If I hadn't been crying so hard, I would have told him that he wouldn't see ACUTE pancreatitis - I'm way past acute.) "I'm telling you this as a friend," he said, and left - I didn't see him again. They gave me a shot of IV fentanyl, told me that I didn't have acute pancreatitis after my CT results came back (surprise!) and discharged me, so I left feeling worse than when I came in.

Yesterday, I went to see my GI doctor (who told me that he told them that my pain was not being managed well and that I needed to see a pain specialist.) He also told me that I wouldn't finish medical school if I was taking the medication that I've been taken throughout medical school (and throughout my life, for that matter) and that if I did, that I'd be fired from residency. Great. So part of my breakdown last night was the idea that the past two years of my life have possibly been for NOTHING. That I've cried and basically given up my life, and sacrified so much, and spent so much money and borrowed so much, for NOTHING. That better not be the case.

Y'all pray for me, please.

Dreams, psychiatry, and future blogging

Y'ALL! I've missed you. I don't know why I'm not writing more - it's not like I'm at the hospital 24/7 or anything (I'm on psychiatry, for crying out loud!) I guess I'm just not feeling creative or something. Although I do have a lot to write about - speaking of that, here's the thing about HIPAA and patient talk. HIPAA, as I understand it, means that I can't talk about patients in any way that would allow them to be identified. So I can tell you about the patient who equates West Virginia with Egypt:

Me (doing a mini mental status exam): Do you know what state [current city] is in? (I was expecting a correct answer, because she did get the city right.)
Patient: West Virginia.
Me: That's corr-
Patient: You know, Egypt.
Me: -rect? Okay.

And you would have no idea who that patient was. You could even go onto the floor at the hospital where I'm currently working and still not be able to pick her out based on that. So I will not discuss patients in a way that allows them to be identified, but I may discuss them if I'm talking about a particular concept in psychiatry, or something that deeply affected me, or whatever. [/obligatory HIPAA statement, because I signed approximately 10^3 forms stating that I won't violate it or else they'll kill my kitty cats and let the air out of my tires. Oh, and chop off my big toe.]

With that said, I can't stop dreaming about my rotation. Seriously. I either dream about psychiatry, psychiatric patients, the other students on this rotation with me (which, despite popular-but-ridiculous belief, I have NO CONTROL OVER and it does not mean that I want to jump their bones in any way, shape or form), or marriage. For instance, I recently dreamed that Scott and I got married and moved to Australia, where I had to take Step One again (the horror!) and Scott's personality changed so that he was a completely different person. He was also wearing yellow capri pants, which was very disturbing. And then last night I dreamed that every person I talked to exhibited an inappropriate affect. This is when someone laughs as they tell you about the death of a person close to them, or smiles at strange points in the conversation - it also applies for crying or being sad at weird times as well. So everyone in my dream had an inappropriate affect, and I would point at each one of them and declare, "Inappropriate affect!" I don't think I'm right in the head, y'all.

Re: Future blogging - I bought a book called The Book Of Myself - A Do-It-Yourself Autobiography in 201 Questions, and I think I'll answer some of the questions here from time to time. Because y'all want to know me better, right? And I want to do a better job of chronicling my past and my thoughts about things. The questions are things like this:

• This is the profession that I often considered as a teenager and how I learned about it
• I was very hurt by this person I counted as a friend
• If I had any trouble with my mother/father when I was young, it was in this area
• This is how I met my sweetheart and fell in love

Just stuff like that. What do you think? Do you think that type of thing would make for interesting posts? Give me some feedback, please. I really wish that each of my parents would fill out one of those books for me. I love hearing about their childhood and early years together, and stories about family members - not just genealogy - I like the narratives.

All right, I'm off to a substance abuse lecture. Whee!

Pat Kiernan is tricky

First of all, I'm furious that I'm not a contestant on The World Series of Pop Culture for 2007 on VH1, because I can rock these questions and I'm at least as interesting as these people.

And also, even when I hear the lyrics of It's Tricky by Run-D.M.C. READ by Pat Kiernan, I still have to dance to it. Just in case you were wondering. (By the way, I was totally amused with Pat's lyrics-reading in the "Rump Shaker" category. Hee.)

I'm having trouble finding non-school stuff to talk about since I'm not in the middle of the Harry Potter craze (I think I'm the only person on earth) but I am going to see Order of the Phoenix tonight with Scott and Huan. At least I think that's the name of it. Speaking of movies, Transformers was way better than I expected. It made me wonder if Shia LeBeouf is too young to be added to my Geek Love list (which also includes Zach Braff, Clay Aiken (shut up), and Adam Brody). *quick IMDb check* No! He's 21, which makes his addition to the list legal, but slightly creepy. Oh well. The movie also made me want to name my kid Optimus Prime. Would that be wrong? I mean, it's better than Pilot Inspektor (sic).

I'm not dead y'all.

I'm just busily intermittently seeing patients while sometimes doing nothing, and also trying to keep up with my fake medication regimen (more later).

There's much to tell*, but my brain, it has shut down for the night. I just wanted to say hi. I missed you, faithful readers. Let's see, is there anything I can tell you real quick? Oh yes, a little exchange between Scott and me while we were at dinner at Logan's the other night.

Me: So I was supposed to have clinic, but Dr. Psychiatrist-Who-Was-Covering-Student-Clinic was out of town and there was no clinic, so I was just there for consults.
Him: I think it's funny that you say "CON-sults".
Me: What am I supposed to say?
Him: It's con-SULTS.
Me: No it isn't - I've never heard anyone say it that way when they're using it as a noun.
Waiter: Do you need a refill?
Me: Yeah, thanks. (I drink diet cola like a fish. A fat fish.)
Him: That doesn't mean it's right. It's like how everyone says trans-alkyl something, when they're talking about that one thing, and it's really supposed to be blahdeblah and ghosh instead of trans, because of single bonds and something-or-other. (I love him, but I just don't always know what he's talking about - and sometimes I forget the actual words so I have to make them up.)
Me: Oh.
Him: Yeah. Like that.
Me: Well, they say CON-sults on House. And ER. And in real life.

So I looked it up. It turns out that you CAN pronounce it "CON-sult" if you're using it as a noun, but it's the second pronounciation after "con-SULT". Well, that's just stupid. Nobody says it that way. Isn't it sad that Scott and I have settled numerous arguments with a dictionary? We're such giant dorks.

By the way, I PASSED THE FREAKING USMLE STEP ONE! Yaaaaay! More on school stuff later.

*Risk management people or whoever you are, stop looking at me! I'm not going to violate HIPAA, okay? As usual, it's going to be all about meeeeeeee.

SarahK is making me think of bloggable things

Like this post, which reminds me of that time that Scott was at my apartment and in the bathroom (actually, I think he might have been in the shower) and I only have one bathroom, and I had to pee in a jar. Have I just shared too much?*

And on this, the most gigantonormous post I've ever seen, she says that FrankJ thinks that Lipitor sounds like an alien name - I told her that she should see the cancer chemotherapy drugs or immunopharmacology. When I was trying to study those, I felt like I was reading notes in Martian. Gemtuzamab? Mylotarg? "I am Gemtuzamab, from the planet Mylotarg!" Here's what I know about those drugs - doxyrubicin and daunorubicin cause cardiotoxicity (I know that because "rubor" means red, and hearts are red. Reddish.) I know that bleomycin causes pulmonary fibrosis because "bleo" sounds like "blow". And I know that vincristine and vinblastine are vinca alkaloids and that they inhibit microtubules and work during mitosis. (I know that one just because I randomly memorized it.) And that's pretty much all I know about that.

From that same post, someone is telling FrankJ that he looks 17 (heh) and won't tell poor SarahK that she looks young (I tell her that she looks like Kate Hudson - I hope that helps.) We went to lunch at Subway once last semester, and I had a photo album with pictures from our first year of medical school in the backseat of my car. Todd and Michael were sitting in the back (with Christy in the front) and Todd was flipping through the album. He goes, "Wow, everybody looks so much OLDER since we started school!" Christy and I get identical looks of horror.

Us: Todd!
Todd: What? I mean, ALL of us look older.
Me: Nope, that's not better. Not better at all.
Todd: I mean, I'm sorry. We ALL look older - but you guys, you look, uh ...
Me: Todd, never tell a woman she looks older.

To his credit, he did apologize approximately 1,037 times in the next 24 hours. And then there was that guy in Walmart that time, when I was trying to buy an R-rated DVD and got carded (heh). My license still said "under 21" even though I wasn't, and of course the weight was laughably wrong. So I said, "Oh, I'm not under 21 anymore - and that weight isn't right anymore either, ha ha!" Clueless cashier boy goes, "*I* didn't say that." Boo.

I wish I got thousands of hits like Rachel Lucas. Or even an almost-thousand like SarahK. But I just don't have enough time to blog regularly enough. Ugh.

I have had a horrible week, pancreas-wise. More on that later.

American Idol - meh. More on that later too.

* I sterilized the jar afterwards, obviously.

On Tuesday, Scott was here in the evening getting ready for the chemistry course that he teaches (my apartment is much more convenient for that than his house is, given that it's closer to his lab.) I had my "Good Grammar Is Hot" T-shirt hanging in the bathroom drying, and when he got out of the shower, he came into the living room and said, "'Good grammar is hot'? What's that mean? Good grammar ain't hot!"

Ha ha. I adore him. He's all witty and stuff. I also adore that T-shirt. (But not as much as I adore the T-shirts from Threadless - Nude No More. Go check them out - I'll bet you find something you like. The shirts are good quality, too.

I have exams on Thursday and Friday of this week (Patient Care, Pathology, Pharmacology, and Genetics) and then I have two mini-board exams next week in Path and Pharm. The next week, I have my OSCE (a practical exam where I do a complete physical exam on a "professional patient"). And the week after that, I start my review course for the USMLE Step One. Yiiiiikes.

So anyway, I have a busy life these days, filled with way too much torturous studying. I'll try not to be so scarce. You should leave comments to amuse me. :-)

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.

American Idol - Top 10 Girls

So, the top 10 girls sang. And I recorded it - with my good ol' VCR, since American Idol has apparently embedded some sort of "anti-record" critter into their broadcast (hence the weird colored lines that cover half of my screen when I try to play it back through Windows Media Center. Boo! Once again, Fox.Ruins.Everything.) I can still make mpegs from VCR recordings, though, and will have those in my American Idol download folder shortly. Here's a few thoughts on the girls from last night (this was a "live blog" that I didn't get around to posting until now. It was "live" in the sense that I wrote it during the show.)

1. Gina Glocksen - Alone (Heart)
   Cute stuff about her boyfriend in the clip, but I couldn't help comparing some of it to Scott and me. First of all, if I jumped on him like that, I'd knock him clean off of his feet. Not that he's unusually wee - it's that I'm ginormous. It would be like a hurricane hit him - or a runaway elephant perhaps. And he would NEVER put red streaks in his hair to match mine - he'd be more likely to say, "What in the world kind of red stuff is in your hair? Oh, you MEAN for it to be there? Why didn't you do your entire head? Did you run out of dye?" A fashionista he is not. And that, actually, is a very good thing. Because a boyfriend a la Christian from Clueless would not be very good at all. Oh, back to Gina. She was good - but I agree with Simon about the end - it felt as if she had run out of breath and was trying to yell the rest of the song.
2. Alaina Alexander - Not Ready to Make Nice (Dixie Chicks - ugh)
   Much better than last week - she almost makes me want to patronize the Dixie Chicks and buy that song. Almost. Still, her voice pales in comparison to most of the other girls - if she gets through another week, it'll be on her looks alone (see also Barba, Antonella).
3. Lakisha Jones - Midnight Train to Georgia (Gladys Knight & the Pips)
   Hee. I "luv" Lakisha's grandma. Her crush on Ryan Seacrest is too cute. And what else can I say about Lakisha? She's done really really well so far. And she even pulls off that skirt - I thought it was adorable that her outfit was "distracting" for Simon. Hee.
4. Melinda Doolittle - My Funny Valentine (Ella Fitzgerald / Frank Sinatra / eleventy billion others)
   Haaaa! She used the phrase "hot mess", which I would not known if not for Tamika and Rita. Ah, I miss our old MS-I studying days, girls. Those two really helped get me through my first semester of medical school. Anyway, Melinda was exceptionally good. I wasn't expecting that.
5. Antonella Barba - Because You Loved Me (Celine Dion)
   That dress is hideous. The performance is only slightly less hideous. Sounded better than last week, but still - ack. Oh, and being snippy with Simon after not one, but TWO lackluster performances? Not cool. You don't get to be a diva yet, Antonella.
6. Jordin Sparks - Reflection (Christina Aguilera)
   I like her even better after learning that she toured with Michael W. Smith and that he's pulling her for on his website. But ack - I don't like it when Simon stares creepily at Paula. Or maybe he's staring at Randy, which is even more disturbing. Perhaps he's just hypnotized by Randy's screaming shirt.

   Ah, Kellie Pickler is on the results show - heh. I'm sure SarahK is thrilled.

7. Stephanie Edwards - Dangerously In Love (Beyonce)
   Well, she had fun with that - and it was good. Pretty dress, too - I wish I could pull off spaghetti straps. And that's all I've got to say.
8. Leslie Hunt - Feeling Good (Nina Simone / Michael Buble) *I'm purposely avoiding any and all deja vu jokes*
   She has a very strange speaking voice. Or perhaps I have strange ears. Grandpa Bob would undoubtedly tell her not to be so hyperreflexic (i.e., flappy) too. Are leggings and skirts coming back? Please tell me they're not. And now she is not even singing words. Man, Randy loves "pitchy". He tucks it in at night, gives it a kiss and reads it a bedtime story. Get a new adjective, Randy. And please make this crazy girl and her "dee da doo" clicking language go away.
9. Haley Scarnato - Queen of the Night (Whitney Houston)
   Simon's not going to like this. Aaaaand, I was right. Aww, he made her cry. Boo. I have a harder time writing that she was a spastic CrimpMonster when she's standing there with a trembling lower lip.
10. Sabrina Sloan - All the Man That I Need (Whitney Houston)
    I don't like when I can see someone's ribs inserting on their sternum. And I'm not just saying that because I'm a fat cow. After her performance, I'm remembering an old TWoP T-shirt - "Loud is the New Good". Indeed.

DialIdol shows crazy results, especially for the guys. Craaaaaaaazy. America, you're being stupid. Don't vote for people who talk their way through songs, please!

I love my geek

I'll get to it - I just have to give you some backstory first.

I've been away from the blog for a few days, due to the fact that I woke up in the wee hours of the morning on January 1st and discovered I'd been invited to an exclusive Barf-A-Thon. I realize that's not all that unusual, considering what most people do on New Year's Eve, but I went to CHURCH, for crying out loud. Church! And there is no drinking at church. But somewhere in the days prior, unbeknownst to be, a virus had taken up residence - one that would eventually cause gross spewage from two different orifices. Ack. So that day, I was so dehydrated and weak and tired, I slept for about 18 hours (like a cat) and didn't even feel like sitting up. It was horrible.

The next day, there was no more spewage, and I could sit up for a few minutes, but no prolonged standing. And the NEXT day, I had to start school again. Bleargh. Somehow I managed to get through the morning, although I wished that our seats had barf bags on them like in airplanes, and that afternoon/evening I took two naps, and went to bed early, and I'm STILL tired and weak. Anybody else had this evil GI virus? How long before I feel back to normal? I mean, being tired is a given, because I'm a medical student, but I can't handle being double-tired. I even missed some lectures today, just because I felt like yesterday's garbage. And I really don't like to miss lectures.

So while I was napping and Mom was vacuuming (she's keeping me company and cleaning around the apartment, bless her heart) someone apparently hit my car, which was parked on the street. And the car behind the guilty car saw what happened, and saw the car hit me and drive off, and so he followed her, and got a license number and description of the car, and then came to my apartment building to try to find my car's owner.

I called Scott at the lab to tell him about my poor car, which is now missing a driver's sideview mirror (his truck is missing a passenger sideview mirror) and said, "Now we're twins!"

Him: Well, not twins - mine's missing a passenger side mirror.
Me: Oh. Mirror images, then.
Him: Non-superimposable mirror images.

Hah. I love him.

So I feel horrid, and I want to lie back down, but I had to post that little nugget of geek love. I should be able to rest up over the weekend and will hopefully be back to normal next week. Hopefully.

Six Weird Things About Me

Because I was tagged by Kelli:

Here are the rules - Each player of this game starts with the "6 Weird Things about You." People who get tagged need to write a blog entry of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says 'you are tagged' in their comments and tell them to read your blog!

Okay, so I found this difficult. And I'm not sure why, because I know I'm plenty weird.

1. Quite often, I get Merle Haggard's "Workin' Man Blues" stuck in my head for long periods at a time, and for no reason whatsoever.
2. Not so much lately, because it's so depressing, but I used to wake up every morning (or afternoon, whatever) and lift up the bottom of my shirt and look at my stomach in the mirror. This was kind of a semi-conscious thing, before I was really awake - I guess I was just making sure it was still there, or that some evil gnome hadn't stuffed something gross in my bellybutton while I slept. Or whatever.
3. After I take a shower, if I realize that I've forgotten to wash my ears, I almost have to take another complete shower. If my ears feel yucky, that's just not acceptable.
4. I am insane about alphabetizing stuff. CDs, books, DVDs, whatever. When we get something in some notes that is a list, like a list of hormones or amino acids or something, I have to alphabetize it before I can even think about learning it.
5. I can't sleep unless the TV is on. That may or may not be weird, but I'm running out of steam here.
6. I can't come up with a 6th thing. Those of you who know me, help me out. Just don't get too carried away - don't make me cry or anything. I asked Scott for input, but he refused to answer. Heh. Told you he's smart!

I'm tagging Jill, Allison, SarahK, Punchberry, O Meaty One, and my favorite monkey.

I'm just a crazy fat kid. A crazy fat kid!

So, I have two tests tomorrow. It's 10:30PM and I haven't started studying for the second one yet. I think I did okay on today's pathology exam, though, although I wouldn't mind lightly kicking my GI pathology professor (my liver and biliary tract path professor? Him I want to hug.) Medical school, sometimes, sucks - suckity suck suck sucks. I think we should send terrorist suspects to medical school - no doubt it would crack them, especially during block exam week.

Aaaaaaaaaargh!

In other news, I just forgot Scott's phone number momentarily. Medical school has made me crazy. And fat. Crazy and fat. I don't mind being a little crazy (keeps things interesting) but I hate the fat part. I hate that my arms look like giant sausages (pale sausages, even), my stomach pooches out to the moon, and my giant rear end is threatening to take over the Tri-State Area. Oh, and there's also my big face and enough chins for everyone to have one or two. It doesn't help that our school's Christmas party (oh, I mean HOLIDAY party) is next Friday and I've been looking for a dress, when what I really need is a tarp. A big one. I am so gigantic that there's no way I'm going to manage to look pretty. Ugh.

I hope I come out of the other end of this smart, or responsible, or monetarily satisfied (thanks Dad, for not making me take out huge loans), or thin. Oh, maybe I'll run around the wards in my 3rd and 4th clerkship years enough to make me THIN! Or maybe I'll eat from vending machines and gain 100 more pounds. And 100 more crazy, whatever units crazy comes in.

Medical school does make you have some interesting dreams, though. I mean, like, the kind you have at night, not the goals and aspirations kind.

I'm blogging true to the blog's name tonight, huh? I guess I'll stop now.

[/ramble]