I'm obsessed. But I found some youtube links of the music i've been playing over and over ever since I acquired it here, and thought you might enjoy a little taste!
Anna Ludlow:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I87h4Hqgj8A&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhY4hAxZjFs&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dotzGF_9-Sc
reel-love,
me=)
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Little-Girl Fairytales to Loving Reels
I've already begun to tell you about my sweet, slow, inspired romance with the Maritimes. Like falling in love though, completely drunk and high with passion -grand flames bursting and snapping about with enlightened joy, yet a slow glowing smolder beneath, comfortingly reassuring that this love won't die.
Perhaps today, we're all entitled to a little princess-love fantasy, in celebration of the marriage of the lovely Kate Middleton to Prince William, now Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. That stunning wedding gown of creamy lace and satin, those stolen glances, shy smiles, balcony kisses and general merriment... it's our collective little-girl fairytale! And it was beautiful, the sentiment simple and good -to have happiness aired all day long in the news, on the net, in papers, on the radio -just for a moment to share in that dream, and suspend some of the more complicated challenges of our various realities. So in this spirit, I share with you, my love for this East Coast province.
Today was a glowing, glorious day for me in medicine -small joys make it all wonderful: all by myself, I locally anesthetized, excised a skin nevus (or "mole") and sutured lovingly, delicately and with undivided attention a woman's inner thigh. Time flew as I practiced the artful technique of my supervisor, under his supervision, earning his praise, the patient's praise and my own satisfaction. I will be a surgeon. Hopefully an obstetrician, but certainly a surgeon of sorts. Today made it so obvious to me, I had to laugh that I ever thought I could ever be anything else!
Earlier this week, on the afternoon I had off, I was treated to the experience of the stunning, understated beauty of Nova Scotia's South Shore, visiting Bridgewater, Lunenberg and Mahone Bay. Listening to Celtic reels (Nova Scotian though) and other Canadian musical artists to get us into the free, local spirit, driving along a mesmerizing coastline, the sun gradually peeping through the clouds, finally breaking and bathing the Atlantic waters in that infinity sky-blue, brightly coloured little cottages and fishermen's homes (and sometimes mansions -who said fishermen were poor ;), docks, churches, friendly, smiling faces, little shops, golf courses, lighthouses and harbours (including the home of the Bluenose -the large sailboat on the back of the Canadian dime... though it wasn't there yet, so we settled for the Caledonia). 
We passed little brooks and streams, pebbled streets called "Kissing Bridge Rd", smiling faces, and inhaled big wafts of salty sea air filled with the promise of summery days, tourists and ice cream. We had a scrumptuous lunch of homemade fishburgers, chips and Nanaimo bars at Lahave Bakery, amidst old newspaper clippings, wood-cottage-like warmth, British and communist flags, hanging guitars and corners filled with old books. The day ended with a visit to Greenfield -and the most serene cottage on one of the two lakes, cozily nestled in a forest of fragrant pine, birch and soon-to-bud leafy trees. I was recounted stories of community wide feasts of planked salmon over large fires, and starry nights over the lake, family time and love -a little Maritime Eden. 
Then after my final 24-hour call, instead of taking the usual post-call day of rest after a night of 3.5 hours of sleep, I spent the day gallavanting about Halifax. Starting bright and early with the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic -nothing like a healthy dose of history, monuments, anecdotes, tales of sinking ships, treasure hunters, privateers, Canadian naval stories, hundreds of ship and sailboat models, real artifacts from the Titanic, lighthouse magnifying glass, old paintings, film clips and diary entries of the 1917 Halifax Explosion to provide a little context, to this captivating, unique and beautiful province and region. This was followed by a delightful lunch at McKelvie's: seafood chowder, fresh lobster roll, rasberry zinger mocktail and mini-carrot cake dessert, topped with lemon cream, burnt coconut shavings and a chocolate drizzle -at long last, a "very Maritime", seafood experience! 
I really got walking after that, unfazed by the rain, determined to make the most of my one day in the Maritime capital -truly felt like a cross between Ottawa and Quebec city -small city town, lots of character, right on the coast (a harbour town indeed... or as my father used to call it, "a sailor town", though less so now than 20 years ago, probably!), plenty of university students wandering or rushing about, buses and cars milled about in traffic, but only on the few 'main roads', with a downtown core only a few blocks long by a few blocks wide. Still, distinctly a city, albeit not a typical one. Dinner theatre, musical theatre, banks, high rises, restaurants, bars and pubs, a few Starbucks, local cafe franchises, eccentric little shops, parks, statues and monuments, residential streets with those typical, brightly coloured, gabled Maritime homes -prettier areas and less pretty areas. Overall, entirely endearing. Walking along Barrington St and up Spring Garden, I began with a visit to the IWK children's and women's hospital, one of the Dalhousie teaching sites, skirting past the main Dalhousie campus... the same university that graduated many a bright Canadian scientist, lawyer, doctor... including the late CD Howe, the politician responsible for the funding of the Avro Arrow project. 
Then a lovely stroll through the Public Gardens -one of Canada's oldest and probably prettiest Victorian-style gardens, with little man-made ponds, picture-book walking bridges, ducks, Renaissance-style, goddess-like statues, gazebos, gardens-yet-to-be-flower-filled, magnolias already abloom with young blossoms, people young and old, taking rest on the park benches, or jogging along the trails, and a beautiful empty stage, with rows of empty benches below (perhaps for summer performances of opera or theatre or fiddle-playing? I'll bet this is wedding-central in the summer!). I made my way up to the Citadel, full of history and great views of the coast and the city from above, walking along the top of high stone walls, old canons with some kind of army training happening down below. Meandered my way back to where I started, popping into Starbucks to juice up my phone, over a long-craved green tea soy latte, and into strange little shops full of imported Indian jewlery and knick-knacks, or tarot cards, scented candles, rocks and Celtic folk books, or the most fantastic used book store I've seen in a while, where I purchased a second hand copy of Robertson Davies "Tempest Lost" and some other book on the peaceful coexistence of diverse religious groups in medieval Spain. Quickly flitted into the gift shop of the art museum to pick up some stationary (I'm such a sucker for stationary and the most beautiful and interesting ones always come from museum gift shops! would have liked to see the actual museum, but it was closing in 10 minutes!)... and then a lazy drive back. We came home after eating a decadent serving of "garlic fingers" -like pizza, but garlic butter instead of tomato sauce, topped with mozzarella, cheddar, banana peppers, which you then dip generously dip into the side order of "donair sauce" (really like a sweet garlic cream... mmmm), at the local pizzeria in town. Early night to bed (much needed)! Definitely "burned the wick at both ends", but well-worth it!
P.S. all the photos of the food, except for the garlic fingers + donair, are all dishes that I have cooked / baked since being here... various seafood concoctions of salmon, scallops and shrimp, pasta with a hearty sauce, asperagus omelet with canned salmon mixed with dill, lemon and mayo, and of course my "specialty" (after being taught by my college roommate, followed by my own modifications) chocolate chip cookies... yes, be impressed ;)
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Hidden Gem: Nova Scotia, Seafood delight and Shaving to Save!
So this is also about my thoughts on family medicine, but in short, although I was sincerely hoping to have my mind changed about family medicine in this new setting, I am learning quickly that even in the best possible situation, the bread and butter of family medicine is not for me!I do however find myself madly in love with this Nova Scotian countryside coast-town, where I am currently doing the second half of my rural family medicine core rotation. The first half was in a small Quebec town, close to the Ontario border -it was... adequate. The best part was assisting in a delivery that became complicated, with failed vantouse and having to go to C-section done by a general surgeon and beautifully finished with a clean subcuticular stitch as opposed to the tackyness of clips. It was a cute little town, a nice little hospital, simple, friendly farmland folk -I probably would have loved it if I was doing obstetrics or surgery... I just don't get excited by the typical family medicine run-of-the-mill type issues.
I thought I was into "women's health" -their "whole bodies, not just their vaginas and pregnancies", but actually, I only get excited when I get to do procedures... PAPs, deliveries, etc. The rest is rather unfulfilling (though I do enjoy the mental health stuff, in all fairness). I did learn a lot though. And am continuing to learn away through 24-hour calls and busy days here in this little Maritime town. My supervisor here is truly amazing -so passionate, really loves to teach, very hospitable and fun, so I am enjoying the experience of medicine more generally here, as well as the experience of Nova Scotia. 
So when I was post-call yesterday, I got to do a little exploring of this place, and really I am in love. This little town is right on the coast, beautiful Atlantic ocean all around, cute non-cookie-cutter homes (pretty architecture, very different from the French Canadian of home, or the tackiness of some of big city Ontario buildings) with lots of forest and garden space, and there are actually little brooks that bubble and run between properties in some places! 
There are 4 churches within 4 blocks right in the heart of town, whose bells chime every hour on the hour, and beautiful old mansions have been converted into doctors' offices on the main street. Lovely parks with old fashioned street lamps lining the paths, and benches right on the banks of the blue Atlantic are just a few steps away from where I'm staying. 
And just a few minutes drive away, there are beautiful white, sandy beaches -hidden gems -pristine, uncommercialized, with forest along the banks, sea shells and sand dollars on the shores, and giant rocks to pick your way through and stand on so you get the best view of the waves crashing up against them... the lady I'm staying with took me there around sunset yesterday evening. It was gorgeous, and we were literally the only people on the whole beach! Also, the people are also so friendly here, non-pretentious, genuine... all the cars stop if you want to cross the road, if you make eye contact with someone, they will absolutely say 'hello' (I often smile at strangers when i'm walking about and usually, the best I get in return is a reciprocal smile, let alone a "hi")...
It's like the beauty of British Columbia without the pretention and granola... very real and grounding with the gentle, soothing waves kissing the sands of this little Canadian province. I'm such an East Coast girl (though I've only been to the Maritimes once before for a road trip when I was 10... a pilgrimage to the home of Anne of Green Gables in PEI ;) But really, this place is full of that ethereal spiritual kind of romance that I love, as well as a very peaceful and enjoyable solitude. I love it. Also one can get great seafood here.Case in point, I bought salmon at the grocery store and baked it up very nicely at home, for the first time ever, and honestly, it was the best salmon I've ever had in my life -really! Here it is below:
Purple Pebble's Salmon ConcoctionHeat oven to 425F. Line pan with aluminum. Wash salmon filet and lay on aluminum. Mix crushed garlic, lemon juice, capers, dill, chives and onion salt in a bowl. Sprinkle some lemon juice onto salmon filet, followed by some lemon pepper. Pour mixture onto salmon liberally. Dot with butter. Close up aluminum foil around salmon, leaving a little opening on top (keeping the moisture in, but not letting it get too mushy when it cooks in the oven). Pop in the oven for 15-17 minutes. Let each forkful melt in your mouth (as it surely will). Repeat :)
And finally, I am so proud of my little sister who "shaved to save" last weekend, along with 2 of her friends to raise awareness about the socio-cultural reality that people undergoing cancer chemotherapy have to live, donating her hair to make wigs for people with cancer, and raising nearly $7000 in just 1 week for the Children's Wish Foundation. She was right when she said "but if I shave it all off, more people will donate, and they will donate more!" So courageous, such a great cause! Check out the awesome short link below to witness this beautiful act of love:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TNrzxtpc_k
Friday, March 11, 2011
General Surgery: the Fire and the Patient's Blessing
--
The Fire
In medicine, and in clerkship particularly, it is so easy to get caught up in the hospital madness. I felt it most ostensibly during my general surgery rotation this past month: patients waiting, nurses hollering, the requests for consults beeping, beeping; running up the stairs, down the stairs, finish rounding on 30 patients by 7:30 am and rushing off to the OR; running up the stairs, down the stairs, checking labs, nagging interventional radiology and nutrition and physio and thrombosis (advocating for your patients, essentially), and at the end of the day, pre-ops for the next day (so that you can repeat it all over again). It is exhausting.
The fulfilling part is the patients. Seeing patients, talking to them, operating on them for sure! Goodness, I love the OR. It's a beautiful place where you see the beauty of God's work in the fascial layers, muscles, nerves and vessels of the human body. And then you cut and resect and stitch with love and fervour. Yes, with fervour. Does anyone realize how passionate surgeons are about their work? I have not seen that anywhere else so far. They know true love, really. They will not eat or sleep or pee (or care to complain) if they are operating.
But it's not just about the surgery -I found that they are just the 'passionate type', period. For better or for worse, they will aggressively advocate for themselves, their patients and their cause. They will walk into the ER for a consult, glance around at the beds of patients in the halls and angrily vociferate, "This is disgusting -it's inhumane! You'd think we're in the third-world here!" Some will flex the muscle of their reputation or hierarchy to turf colleagues out of the OR so they can operate on their own patients first. Certainly egos are huge like nobody's business, but they would also give their lives for the love of their work... and they do. They will review their mistakes and take themselves and each other to task so it doesn't happen again. They seek the tangible Truth, not mere theory. On our last day as clerks, we had breakfast with the residents, while engaging in passionate and witty banter about politics in the Middle East -it was fireworks, cynical, reality-checked humour. And yes, there are lots of innuendos, double-entendres and sexual jokes between colleagues. But they've got that Fire. They embrace it, they fight for it and they become it, for all its potential to provide warmth, destroy and salvage. Surgeons are like the warriors of medicine, with their fair share of villains and heroes, and the Iliad is in the OR.
I am so a 'surgical' type, I don't care what people say... whether or not I decide to become a surgeon, that's a different story, but am I the type? Absolutely, yes. I am all about the Fire.
The thing is, when you play with fire, you risk getting burned. And when the fire's all up inside you, you risk spontaneous combustion. Firstly, people forget that the warriors are still human. Odyssius sure was and so are surgeons. We had been in the OR for nearly 7 hours (of a 12-hour surgery) and the general surgeon, although he had given the resident and I breaks, had not taken any himself. So I asked him, "Doctor, are you planning on taking even 5 minutes of a break?"
"If I wanted to take a break, I would have taken one already, but you never know what can happen when you step out of the OR and if something goes wrong later, how would I know that it's not because of what happened when I left for a few minutes? So I prefer to just stay."
But I pressed, "Okay, Doctor, 'makes sense. But if you feel you want to step out for even just 2 minutes, I have a granola bar in my pocket, so you can eat something."
The surgeon literally stopped what he was doing for a moment in his surprise. The medical student was making sure that he was okay? Of course, I was. Isn't that the human thing to do? Someone is hungry, offer food; someone is tired, offer rest. And if the scrub nurses weren't rotating off every few hours, I would have offered them the same. He was so touched that someone should care for his well-being as a person. Not as a big-shot doc, but as a human who has basic needs, and who may function optimally if those needs are met.
And then it struck me that perhaps people get so caught up in their roles in the hospital that they forget each other's humanity. Nurses get frustrated with docs (sometimes rightfully so, sometimes completely uncalled for), so their tone can be rude and demanding (and they probably don't realize it). Doctors are perceived as gods by some and devils / assholes by others (the worst is when they buy into these delusions themselves). Orderlies are there to bring you stuff. Unit coordinators are there to be efficient for the floor. And all these egos clash and flail, slave and dominate. And unfortunately, if often becomes a survival jungle: everyone for themselves. People forget that if you show love and compassion towards your colleagues, and if in the heart of a fire, with flames licking your feet, you can show patience and humility, the blessing of that service to humanity comes back to you. In essence, you won't burn.
The Patient's Blessing
So anyway, I was burning in one of these fires at the end of a long, trying day, with everyone snapping and nagging all around me, for what I could recognize as nothing that I did wrong. But I have learned that when one reaches that moment of loathing and despair, despite this awareness (because really, how much can you take before, very humanly, losing your patience), the best thing to do is go see patients. Go see patients and remember that it's about them, it's not about you and count your blessings.
I had no choice anyway, the pre-op history and physical had to be done. So I did. The patient's wife was in the room and his two daughters as well. And you could literally feel the worry and anxious energy in that room. I sat down next to the patient's bed and went through my questions: you know why you're here, you know what surgery you're having, what are your meds, allergies, medical conditions, what symptoms are you having and not having right now; stop eating at midnight, drink this bowel prep, etc. And then came his questions. And oh, so many! So I would explain, smile, reassure, which obviously only led to more questions and sometimes, repeating the same question over.
It had been a very long day, and I was honestly at my wit's end. But then I reminded myself of what it would be like to be that patient, right now, not fully understanding why I need surgery again, not fully understanding exactly what will be done and scared shitless that something could go wrong or that I might need surgery yet again in the future. I briefly thought, "Really, I can't believe the surgeon didn't explain this to him! It's the least that could have been done!" But then I remembered all that medical anthropology, all that history of medicine, all those books I've read by surgeons and other doctors, all those anecdotes and testimonials from patients and from Physicianship in the early days of medical school. When people are sick and scared, they remember F-all. Most likely the surgeon did explain everything, but my patient had some fear-induced amnesia. It happens all the time. So my job was to judge no one and make no assumptions, but just calmly and patiently explain one more time, and perhaps, one more time after that.
I took a deep breath, smiled, put my hand on the patient's arm and explained again, this time, drawing diagrams on the back of my report. I reassured them about what I knew, looked up what I didn't know and came back to the room 5 minutes later to explain further and reassure further. I explained the reasoning of risk management that we do in medicine -what happened to you happens to a small percentage of surgical patients; the reason we are doing so much radiological imaging is because the benefit of finding stuff and then being able to fix it outweighs the risk of having too much exposure to radiation. And only once my patient was as satisfied as he would be, had no further questions and seemed a wee-bit calmer did I leave that room. 40 minutes later.
I realized that the reason they teach us about these scenarios and empathy in Physicianship is not because they think we're a bunch of cold, heartless dweebs and that they're going to "teach us empathy". It's because even the nicest, most compassionate people could easily become jerks under stress, or just become slightly less thoughtful, slightly more self-involved... basically, what came naturally before, may not come so easily under the high levels of stress we experience as clerks at the bottom of the medical food chain. By drilling all the official empathy diagrams and physicianship mumbo-jumbo into our conscious awareness, this program has essentially created a sort of safety valve so that when the unconscious, naturally-flowing compassion and kindness very humanly wavers under stress, there is a conscious secondary mechanism for empathy to kick in. And that is exactly what I used that day with that patient.
Two days later, post-op day #1 for my patient, during rounds after the residents had asked all the questions and I had scribbled them down as efficiently as possible in the patient's chart, I had smiled warmly at the patient and said "Good to see you're doing well, sir". I was about to leave the room and then he said "Wait, please come here". I approached his bedside. He took my hand in both of his own and looked into my eyes with his soul. "Thank you. Thank you so much for taking that time to explain everything to me that night." From the other side of the bed, his wife added "Oh, it made such a difference, you have no idea! You will make such a good doctor one day."
I looked back at the patient, "I'm glad I could make you feel better about the surgery -that's my job!"
"Well, it really helped a lot -thank you."
"You're happy, then I'm happy. Have a lovely day, sir -be strong, you're doing great."
It is our job. It is, and it feels wonderful to hear that you are doing your job well from the people who matter the most -the patients. In my ethnic and religious culture, we call this kind of feedback, in this particular way that it happened, the patient's du'a, or prayer. Appreciation or positive vibes that come from the heart. It's really only with the blessings of our patients that we can truly become good doctors, the only evaluation that counts for anything, in the end.
As I continue making my way through the fires of medical school, at times singed senseless, at times cremated and reborn, I am so grateful for each one of those blessings.
The Fire
In medicine, and in clerkship particularly, it is so easy to get caught up in the hospital madness. I felt it most ostensibly during my general surgery rotation this past month: patients waiting, nurses hollering, the requests for consults beeping, beeping; running up the stairs, down the stairs, finish rounding on 30 patients by 7:30 am and rushing off to the OR; running up the stairs, down the stairs, checking labs, nagging interventional radiology and nutrition and physio and thrombosis (advocating for your patients, essentially), and at the end of the day, pre-ops for the next day (so that you can repeat it all over again). It is exhausting.
The fulfilling part is the patients. Seeing patients, talking to them, operating on them for sure! Goodness, I love the OR. It's a beautiful place where you see the beauty of God's work in the fascial layers, muscles, nerves and vessels of the human body. And then you cut and resect and stitch with love and fervour. Yes, with fervour. Does anyone realize how passionate surgeons are about their work? I have not seen that anywhere else so far. They know true love, really. They will not eat or sleep or pee (or care to complain) if they are operating.
But it's not just about the surgery -I found that they are just the 'passionate type', period. For better or for worse, they will aggressively advocate for themselves, their patients and their cause. They will walk into the ER for a consult, glance around at the beds of patients in the halls and angrily vociferate, "This is disgusting -it's inhumane! You'd think we're in the third-world here!" Some will flex the muscle of their reputation or hierarchy to turf colleagues out of the OR so they can operate on their own patients first. Certainly egos are huge like nobody's business, but they would also give their lives for the love of their work... and they do. They will review their mistakes and take themselves and each other to task so it doesn't happen again. They seek the tangible Truth, not mere theory. On our last day as clerks, we had breakfast with the residents, while engaging in passionate and witty banter about politics in the Middle East -it was fireworks, cynical, reality-checked humour. And yes, there are lots of innuendos, double-entendres and sexual jokes between colleagues. But they've got that Fire. They embrace it, they fight for it and they become it, for all its potential to provide warmth, destroy and salvage. Surgeons are like the warriors of medicine, with their fair share of villains and heroes, and the Iliad is in the OR.
I am so a 'surgical' type, I don't care what people say... whether or not I decide to become a surgeon, that's a different story, but am I the type? Absolutely, yes. I am all about the Fire.
The thing is, when you play with fire, you risk getting burned. And when the fire's all up inside you, you risk spontaneous combustion. Firstly, people forget that the warriors are still human. Odyssius sure was and so are surgeons. We had been in the OR for nearly 7 hours (of a 12-hour surgery) and the general surgeon, although he had given the resident and I breaks, had not taken any himself. So I asked him, "Doctor, are you planning on taking even 5 minutes of a break?"
"If I wanted to take a break, I would have taken one already, but you never know what can happen when you step out of the OR and if something goes wrong later, how would I know that it's not because of what happened when I left for a few minutes? So I prefer to just stay."
But I pressed, "Okay, Doctor, 'makes sense. But if you feel you want to step out for even just 2 minutes, I have a granola bar in my pocket, so you can eat something."
The surgeon literally stopped what he was doing for a moment in his surprise. The medical student was making sure that he was okay? Of course, I was. Isn't that the human thing to do? Someone is hungry, offer food; someone is tired, offer rest. And if the scrub nurses weren't rotating off every few hours, I would have offered them the same. He was so touched that someone should care for his well-being as a person. Not as a big-shot doc, but as a human who has basic needs, and who may function optimally if those needs are met.
And then it struck me that perhaps people get so caught up in their roles in the hospital that they forget each other's humanity. Nurses get frustrated with docs (sometimes rightfully so, sometimes completely uncalled for), so their tone can be rude and demanding (and they probably don't realize it). Doctors are perceived as gods by some and devils / assholes by others (the worst is when they buy into these delusions themselves). Orderlies are there to bring you stuff. Unit coordinators are there to be efficient for the floor. And all these egos clash and flail, slave and dominate. And unfortunately, if often becomes a survival jungle: everyone for themselves. People forget that if you show love and compassion towards your colleagues, and if in the heart of a fire, with flames licking your feet, you can show patience and humility, the blessing of that service to humanity comes back to you. In essence, you won't burn.
The Patient's Blessing
So anyway, I was burning in one of these fires at the end of a long, trying day, with everyone snapping and nagging all around me, for what I could recognize as nothing that I did wrong. But I have learned that when one reaches that moment of loathing and despair, despite this awareness (because really, how much can you take before, very humanly, losing your patience), the best thing to do is go see patients. Go see patients and remember that it's about them, it's not about you and count your blessings.
I had no choice anyway, the pre-op history and physical had to be done. So I did. The patient's wife was in the room and his two daughters as well. And you could literally feel the worry and anxious energy in that room. I sat down next to the patient's bed and went through my questions: you know why you're here, you know what surgery you're having, what are your meds, allergies, medical conditions, what symptoms are you having and not having right now; stop eating at midnight, drink this bowel prep, etc. And then came his questions. And oh, so many! So I would explain, smile, reassure, which obviously only led to more questions and sometimes, repeating the same question over.
It had been a very long day, and I was honestly at my wit's end. But then I reminded myself of what it would be like to be that patient, right now, not fully understanding why I need surgery again, not fully understanding exactly what will be done and scared shitless that something could go wrong or that I might need surgery yet again in the future. I briefly thought, "Really, I can't believe the surgeon didn't explain this to him! It's the least that could have been done!" But then I remembered all that medical anthropology, all that history of medicine, all those books I've read by surgeons and other doctors, all those anecdotes and testimonials from patients and from Physicianship in the early days of medical school. When people are sick and scared, they remember F-all. Most likely the surgeon did explain everything, but my patient had some fear-induced amnesia. It happens all the time. So my job was to judge no one and make no assumptions, but just calmly and patiently explain one more time, and perhaps, one more time after that.
I took a deep breath, smiled, put my hand on the patient's arm and explained again, this time, drawing diagrams on the back of my report. I reassured them about what I knew, looked up what I didn't know and came back to the room 5 minutes later to explain further and reassure further. I explained the reasoning of risk management that we do in medicine -what happened to you happens to a small percentage of surgical patients; the reason we are doing so much radiological imaging is because the benefit of finding stuff and then being able to fix it outweighs the risk of having too much exposure to radiation. And only once my patient was as satisfied as he would be, had no further questions and seemed a wee-bit calmer did I leave that room. 40 minutes later.
I realized that the reason they teach us about these scenarios and empathy in Physicianship is not because they think we're a bunch of cold, heartless dweebs and that they're going to "teach us empathy". It's because even the nicest, most compassionate people could easily become jerks under stress, or just become slightly less thoughtful, slightly more self-involved... basically, what came naturally before, may not come so easily under the high levels of stress we experience as clerks at the bottom of the medical food chain. By drilling all the official empathy diagrams and physicianship mumbo-jumbo into our conscious awareness, this program has essentially created a sort of safety valve so that when the unconscious, naturally-flowing compassion and kindness very humanly wavers under stress, there is a conscious secondary mechanism for empathy to kick in. And that is exactly what I used that day with that patient.
Two days later, post-op day #1 for my patient, during rounds after the residents had asked all the questions and I had scribbled them down as efficiently as possible in the patient's chart, I had smiled warmly at the patient and said "Good to see you're doing well, sir". I was about to leave the room and then he said "Wait, please come here". I approached his bedside. He took my hand in both of his own and looked into my eyes with his soul. "Thank you. Thank you so much for taking that time to explain everything to me that night." From the other side of the bed, his wife added "Oh, it made such a difference, you have no idea! You will make such a good doctor one day."
I looked back at the patient, "I'm glad I could make you feel better about the surgery -that's my job!"
"Well, it really helped a lot -thank you."
"You're happy, then I'm happy. Have a lovely day, sir -be strong, you're doing great."
It is our job. It is, and it feels wonderful to hear that you are doing your job well from the people who matter the most -the patients. In my ethnic and religious culture, we call this kind of feedback, in this particular way that it happened, the patient's du'a, or prayer. Appreciation or positive vibes that come from the heart. It's really only with the blessings of our patients that we can truly become good doctors, the only evaluation that counts for anything, in the end.
As I continue making my way through the fires of medical school, at times singed senseless, at times cremated and reborn, I am so grateful for each one of those blessings.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
See Yourself and Be Seen
After that fantastic, maddening passionate last ramble about my affair with myself and my senses, I feel that it is only fair that I share with you my wanderings through the caves and shadows as well -those dark places deserve to be acknowledged with full acceptance as much as the ecstasy of Eden.
But first, a little sweetness (to draw you in, obviously). Really, I'm just starting backwards. What happened is that I went through the agony of self-reflection (below) and then enjoyed the blossom of love, captured in a moment. It's not love-love, like the kind that scares people away or binds souls together till death-do-them-part, or even till break-up-do-them-part. It's the eternal moment. A moment of love that does not demand more than what it is, but is just as worthy of the word. So, a love-moment, as I will honestly and unconventionally call it. Love is to be seen and accepted and embraced exactly as you are, right now, in this moment. That happens only once you've seen all that in yourself first. Which sometimes means you must walk through the cold valleys, guarded by your own demons before you can find yourself once again.
It is not always easy to love oneself and this was felt most acutely about 5 pm this afternoon, on the brink of evaluation as this inner city health rotation draws to a close. Sometimes it is excrutiatingly painful and exceedingly difficult. Especially when the candlelight, pretty sights, delicious scents and delectable food lose a bit of their shimmer and novelty. What about afterwards. After gaining some weight, after being way overdue for some aesthetic TLC, after nights of restless sleep, fatigue and too much passion. What happens when we hit the metaphorical hang-over? When your spirit feels stretched and busted up because you weigh it down with all those unreasonable expectations of yourself.
Case in point: this writer is a genuinely happy person, who gives of herself, loves with all her heart and works very hard, but as any human being, will lose her temper, have moments of insecurity and immaturity, frustration and despair. Now, this is part of life and the human experience. She rationally acknowledges and even accepts this. Yet the emotional being is torn to pieces, swept up in an emotional tornado of anger and guilt and general hostility that predictably rains down time and again because she failed to meet her self-expectations of perfection, and that is absolutely, unrefutably unforgivable. And that little voice of super-ego (or is it just ego) whispers in a slithery voice, not unlike Gollum's, "This is what you deserve, precious. You are unworthy, you are unlovable, you barely deserve to live".
This is the protypical inner voice of the perfectionist. Just ask her; just ask any of them. Anything good is due to chance and happy coincidence -the stuff of miracles, you know. And anything bad is so totally, utterly, completely and solely our fault. Some of us realize that we make a cognitive error here (or we have Eckhart Tolle beating down Gollum with a philosopher's quill), so we don't slip into these midnight labyrinths of self-loathing as often -that insight is a blessing. But every now and then, Gollum (who, if you remember well, took over 1000 pages and a freakin' war in order to die in the fires of Mount Doom) pipes up: hello, precious. And, of course, he'll only kick you when you're already down. Not when you're feeling strong and sexy and empowered. That is the nature of the beast.
So what to do about it? Harm reduction, baby. Or risk management. Whatever you want to call it. Prepare yourself to still love yourself when you're beat up and crashed up and no amount of sensual pleasure can ellicit that solid soulful contentment you once perceived as an unflickering light, even to the point where you know that all you need to do is take a breath, meditate and pray, but Gollum's slippery words keep even these out of your reach. You're falling down the rabbit hole. So what to do?
Free fall. There are no miracles and there are no faults. It just is. E=mc2. Everything is matter and energy, which know no judgment, so maybe just withold your own for a moment. We do not learn from mistakes -the word 'mistake' is the most negative judgment we can place on ourselves, us perfectionists. Learn from experience. Try not to beat yourself up for the fact that you don't already know everything (what an absurd concept! but try to not judge even that ;). Now here is the scariest part, right: how the heck can we achieve any of our goals and be happy if we don't continue to engage in this vicious cycle of essentially vicious behaviour towards ourselves, which we have always done, our whole lives? Oh, Gollum, just shut it.
This is when we just have to call it quits, lock ourselves up in a big glass cube with a beach view and a mountain view and a rolling countryside and a starry sky, with nothing but blank sheets of parchment and a quill. Or a laptop in a cozy Starbucks (same difference). And just write and write until your soul oozes out of your pores, purified clean, unscathed by the darkness and drama, filth and passion. And then sunlight all around and within. At last you are once again in a place of unshirkable, solid wholeness. It feels good. Why would I do anything but write until my last breath on this Earth.
And that's when a deep voice, full of comfort, friendship and sincerity, in that eternal, caressing love-moment said, "You are always in a good mood -happy. You say what you think; you are candid. You are original. You are not afraid to be yourself. You are very romantic and passionate. You love deeply [and of course, you are smart and beautiful too]" Essentially, what's not to love? And I recognized myself fully, in those words.
That's right, Gollum. Suck it.
But first, a little sweetness (to draw you in, obviously). Really, I'm just starting backwards. What happened is that I went through the agony of self-reflection (below) and then enjoyed the blossom of love, captured in a moment. It's not love-love, like the kind that scares people away or binds souls together till death-do-them-part, or even till break-up-do-them-part. It's the eternal moment. A moment of love that does not demand more than what it is, but is just as worthy of the word. So, a love-moment, as I will honestly and unconventionally call it. Love is to be seen and accepted and embraced exactly as you are, right now, in this moment. That happens only once you've seen all that in yourself first. Which sometimes means you must walk through the cold valleys, guarded by your own demons before you can find yourself once again.
It is not always easy to love oneself and this was felt most acutely about 5 pm this afternoon, on the brink of evaluation as this inner city health rotation draws to a close. Sometimes it is excrutiatingly painful and exceedingly difficult. Especially when the candlelight, pretty sights, delicious scents and delectable food lose a bit of their shimmer and novelty. What about afterwards. After gaining some weight, after being way overdue for some aesthetic TLC, after nights of restless sleep, fatigue and too much passion. What happens when we hit the metaphorical hang-over? When your spirit feels stretched and busted up because you weigh it down with all those unreasonable expectations of yourself.
Case in point: this writer is a genuinely happy person, who gives of herself, loves with all her heart and works very hard, but as any human being, will lose her temper, have moments of insecurity and immaturity, frustration and despair. Now, this is part of life and the human experience. She rationally acknowledges and even accepts this. Yet the emotional being is torn to pieces, swept up in an emotional tornado of anger and guilt and general hostility that predictably rains down time and again because she failed to meet her self-expectations of perfection, and that is absolutely, unrefutably unforgivable. And that little voice of super-ego (or is it just ego) whispers in a slithery voice, not unlike Gollum's, "This is what you deserve, precious. You are unworthy, you are unlovable, you barely deserve to live".
This is the protypical inner voice of the perfectionist. Just ask her; just ask any of them. Anything good is due to chance and happy coincidence -the stuff of miracles, you know. And anything bad is so totally, utterly, completely and solely our fault. Some of us realize that we make a cognitive error here (or we have Eckhart Tolle beating down Gollum with a philosopher's quill), so we don't slip into these midnight labyrinths of self-loathing as often -that insight is a blessing. But every now and then, Gollum (who, if you remember well, took over 1000 pages and a freakin' war in order to die in the fires of Mount Doom) pipes up: hello, precious. And, of course, he'll only kick you when you're already down. Not when you're feeling strong and sexy and empowered. That is the nature of the beast.
So what to do about it? Harm reduction, baby. Or risk management. Whatever you want to call it. Prepare yourself to still love yourself when you're beat up and crashed up and no amount of sensual pleasure can ellicit that solid soulful contentment you once perceived as an unflickering light, even to the point where you know that all you need to do is take a breath, meditate and pray, but Gollum's slippery words keep even these out of your reach. You're falling down the rabbit hole. So what to do?
Free fall. There are no miracles and there are no faults. It just is. E=mc2. Everything is matter and energy, which know no judgment, so maybe just withold your own for a moment. We do not learn from mistakes -the word 'mistake' is the most negative judgment we can place on ourselves, us perfectionists. Learn from experience. Try not to beat yourself up for the fact that you don't already know everything (what an absurd concept! but try to not judge even that ;). Now here is the scariest part, right: how the heck can we achieve any of our goals and be happy if we don't continue to engage in this vicious cycle of essentially vicious behaviour towards ourselves, which we have always done, our whole lives? Oh, Gollum, just shut it.
This is when we just have to call it quits, lock ourselves up in a big glass cube with a beach view and a mountain view and a rolling countryside and a starry sky, with nothing but blank sheets of parchment and a quill. Or a laptop in a cozy Starbucks (same difference). And just write and write until your soul oozes out of your pores, purified clean, unscathed by the darkness and drama, filth and passion. And then sunlight all around and within. At last you are once again in a place of unshirkable, solid wholeness. It feels good. Why would I do anything but write until my last breath on this Earth.
And that's when a deep voice, full of comfort, friendship and sincerity, in that eternal, caressing love-moment said, "You are always in a good mood -happy. You say what you think; you are candid. You are original. You are not afraid to be yourself. You are very romantic and passionate. You love deeply [and of course, you are smart and beautiful too]" Essentially, what's not to love? And I recognized myself fully, in those words.
That's right, Gollum. Suck it.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Indulgence and Romance on the eve of 26
Really, the sexiest, most fabulous relationship you could ever have in this world is the love affair you have with yourself. It takes a lot of work -a lifetime's worth, sometimes more. And it blows hot and cold. And you sometimes never want to see your face again. But those rare at times, frequent at other times, moments where you're in rapture with yourself, with your life, with your body, your scent, your mind and your heart, those are the beautiful, blessed moments of human existence.
And so on the eve of 26 years in the life of me, I took myself out for a very romantic, very indulgent dinner at Table 17 (yes, I am presently in Toronto). I started with a rosé wine of plums, rose petals, violets and orange rind. Some fresh bread with olive oil. Then came the beet salad with hazlenuts and arugula. I had steak-frites, with chimichuri sauce for my medium-rare sirloin (okay, in all honesty, they over-cooked it a little, and I prefer filet mignon to top sirloin... we probably get better in Montreal, easily, but it was still pretty good), and homemade-tasting mayonnaise for my divinely perfect french fries. For dessert, I had a sticky toffee pudding with Barchard Orchard apple butter -soft, warm, spongy comfort. It was fantastic -I relished every moment of that romantic 75 minutes of culinary pleasure. Yes, I would prefer to be blind, mute and deaf than lose my sense of taste (okay, maybe not blind because then I couldn't write... and I do love the Simon & Garfunkel playing nostalgically now in the background of these scrumptious thoughts...).
I must admit, that this last barely 2.5 weeks, I have been surprisingly impressed by my Toronto experience. Yes, we Montrealers who pride ourselves, snobbishly, on hating Toronto... but let's face it, over the last 15 years, at least in some ways (read: food and esthetic-quaintness of some parts of town), TO has stepped it up. I have delighted in the following restaurants since I have been here and recommend them all (especially if you're going for broke, but when you're a medical student in debt already, what's a little more debt...):
Spring Rolls (yes it is a chain, but truly fabulous and well-presented dim-sum)
The Wine Bar (tapas-style yumminess... highly recommend the apparently 'famous' fries, scallops and beef ribs)
Kalendar (more impressed by the soup and salad, than the main, but a lot of potential if I avoid chicken next time...)
Bonjour Brioche (buttery decadent breakfast / brunch)
Milestones (yeah, I know, it's a chain that you can find anywhere, but I happened to have such a life-changing cajun shrimp thing that I can't not include this experience on my list!)
Sushi Bar (Queen and Broadview... great food, great price... kamikaze kicks dynamite's bum if you have to choose, and you get a miso soup, beansprout salad and tofu tempura piece included with your sushi, as well as a peach-orange sorbet to finish... so you can actually fill-up pretty well with a "mere" 8 pieces of sushi... or you can pig-out on double... like me ;)
Brassaii (fancy-shmancy supper club... but those scallops and that rabbit risotto were something else, followed by delicious red-velvet birthday cake brought from elsewhere, delicious birthday Veuve Clicquot champagne, dancing and good company)
Saving Grace (cute and tasty breakfast / brunch... banana-walnut buttery pancakes and poached eggs on black rice and shredded turkey sausage with this green chutney, buttery baguette slices, salad and roasted potato; their fresh ginger tea is also pretty yum)
The Canadian Pie Company (this pie will make you want to live on pie -i've tried the swiss chocolate-banana pie, the asperagus quiche and the apple-cranberry-brown sugar pies...), and now
Table 17 (described in great detail above)
I know. Did I come to Toronto for medicine or for food right? Well, I actually came to Toronto to figure out whether or not I could live here one day, since I'm seriously considering moving to this city for residency in a year and a half. The medicine has been great -today I got to see methadone therapy patients, do a couple well-woman exams (yay PAPs!) and I saw a few kids too, administered my first vaccine. And I found a subtle breast lump (a proud discovery, but I hope it ends up being nothing for the patient's sake).
So what's my assessment so far of this place? The food is great. It sucks that there are no coffee shops open 24 hours in this city (let's just face it, Toronto will never be Montreal). People here (or at least, too many people here, though not all people here) are way too obsessed with their image, with designers and money and being flashy, often without any sense of true, genuine big-picture purpose. Don't get me wrong, we all want and like things -that's just part of being human. But it's this obsession that I'm talking about, the lack of perspective and vision and the sense of something bigger and more important than oneself in young professionals. Or at least, my feeling is that there is a dearth of young people with substance here -maybe I just haven't met enough of them.
As a dear old friend said, so aptly, "Toronto tries too hard, whereas Montreal just is". She also quoted a former school-mate of mine who also very aptly described Toronto as "very good on paper -the diversity, arts, culture, sports, food, things to do, places to go. But when you actually meet it, eh, there's no spark."
Personally, I think this is related to that image-obsessed culture, the one-upmanship, the materialism, all those people lost in their short-term wants and needs without a sense of what's most important and true in the long-run (besides everyone being dead)... everyone's trying, trying, rat-racing. But who's just being, and thriving at just being? Maybe they exist and I just haven't met them yet, apart from the doctors I work for, who are truly amazing, wonderful doctors, teachers and people, with a lot of passion for the work they do and that I could not praise enough. I absolutely adore the clinic in which I've been working. Also the hospitals here kick falling-apart Montreal hospitals' bum (but the medicine practiced even in those falling-apart hospitals is pretty awesome, so in terms of quality of training, I have no complaints of my home-city).
So anyway, there are pluses and minuses to every place in this world... just have to weigh what's most important. I remain undecided for now. Perhaps I pass harsh judgment on this city too early. Just to be clear, I am not talking about any one person that I have met while I've been here. I'm talking about the overall "feel" of this city... the shallowness is disenchanting. The medicine is wonderful. The food is pretty awesome. The people (apart from the ones I already know and love, obviously!)... I haven't met enough yet, I think. But you know, it takes time to fall in love sometimes, or even in like. Even with a city, and especially when there's no spark from the outset. It does not mean that attraction is never possible. And I'm still getting to know this one a bit better before I commit.
And so on the eve of 26 years in the life of me, I took myself out for a very romantic, very indulgent dinner at Table 17 (yes, I am presently in Toronto). I started with a rosé wine of plums, rose petals, violets and orange rind. Some fresh bread with olive oil. Then came the beet salad with hazlenuts and arugula. I had steak-frites, with chimichuri sauce for my medium-rare sirloin (okay, in all honesty, they over-cooked it a little, and I prefer filet mignon to top sirloin... we probably get better in Montreal, easily, but it was still pretty good), and homemade-tasting mayonnaise for my divinely perfect french fries. For dessert, I had a sticky toffee pudding with Barchard Orchard apple butter -soft, warm, spongy comfort. It was fantastic -I relished every moment of that romantic 75 minutes of culinary pleasure. Yes, I would prefer to be blind, mute and deaf than lose my sense of taste (okay, maybe not blind because then I couldn't write... and I do love the Simon & Garfunkel playing nostalgically now in the background of these scrumptious thoughts...).
I must admit, that this last barely 2.5 weeks, I have been surprisingly impressed by my Toronto experience. Yes, we Montrealers who pride ourselves, snobbishly, on hating Toronto... but let's face it, over the last 15 years, at least in some ways (read: food and esthetic-quaintness of some parts of town), TO has stepped it up. I have delighted in the following restaurants since I have been here and recommend them all (especially if you're going for broke, but when you're a medical student in debt already, what's a little more debt...):
Spring Rolls (yes it is a chain, but truly fabulous and well-presented dim-sum)
The Wine Bar (tapas-style yumminess... highly recommend the apparently 'famous' fries, scallops and beef ribs)
Kalendar (more impressed by the soup and salad, than the main, but a lot of potential if I avoid chicken next time...)
Bonjour Brioche (buttery decadent breakfast / brunch)
Milestones (yeah, I know, it's a chain that you can find anywhere, but I happened to have such a life-changing cajun shrimp thing that I can't not include this experience on my list!)
Sushi Bar (Queen and Broadview... great food, great price... kamikaze kicks dynamite's bum if you have to choose, and you get a miso soup, beansprout salad and tofu tempura piece included with your sushi, as well as a peach-orange sorbet to finish... so you can actually fill-up pretty well with a "mere" 8 pieces of sushi... or you can pig-out on double... like me ;)
Brassaii (fancy-shmancy supper club... but those scallops and that rabbit risotto were something else, followed by delicious red-velvet birthday cake brought from elsewhere, delicious birthday Veuve Clicquot champagne, dancing and good company)
Saving Grace (cute and tasty breakfast / brunch... banana-walnut buttery pancakes and poached eggs on black rice and shredded turkey sausage with this green chutney, buttery baguette slices, salad and roasted potato; their fresh ginger tea is also pretty yum)
The Canadian Pie Company (this pie will make you want to live on pie -i've tried the swiss chocolate-banana pie, the asperagus quiche and the apple-cranberry-brown sugar pies...), and now
Table 17 (described in great detail above)
I know. Did I come to Toronto for medicine or for food right? Well, I actually came to Toronto to figure out whether or not I could live here one day, since I'm seriously considering moving to this city for residency in a year and a half. The medicine has been great -today I got to see methadone therapy patients, do a couple well-woman exams (yay PAPs!) and I saw a few kids too, administered my first vaccine. And I found a subtle breast lump (a proud discovery, but I hope it ends up being nothing for the patient's sake).
So what's my assessment so far of this place? The food is great. It sucks that there are no coffee shops open 24 hours in this city (let's just face it, Toronto will never be Montreal). People here (or at least, too many people here, though not all people here) are way too obsessed with their image, with designers and money and being flashy, often without any sense of true, genuine big-picture purpose. Don't get me wrong, we all want and like things -that's just part of being human. But it's this obsession that I'm talking about, the lack of perspective and vision and the sense of something bigger and more important than oneself in young professionals. Or at least, my feeling is that there is a dearth of young people with substance here -maybe I just haven't met enough of them.
As a dear old friend said, so aptly, "Toronto tries too hard, whereas Montreal just is". She also quoted a former school-mate of mine who also very aptly described Toronto as "very good on paper -the diversity, arts, culture, sports, food, things to do, places to go. But when you actually meet it, eh, there's no spark."
Personally, I think this is related to that image-obsessed culture, the one-upmanship, the materialism, all those people lost in their short-term wants and needs without a sense of what's most important and true in the long-run (besides everyone being dead)... everyone's trying, trying, rat-racing. But who's just being, and thriving at just being? Maybe they exist and I just haven't met them yet, apart from the doctors I work for, who are truly amazing, wonderful doctors, teachers and people, with a lot of passion for the work they do and that I could not praise enough. I absolutely adore the clinic in which I've been working. Also the hospitals here kick falling-apart Montreal hospitals' bum (but the medicine practiced even in those falling-apart hospitals is pretty awesome, so in terms of quality of training, I have no complaints of my home-city).
So anyway, there are pluses and minuses to every place in this world... just have to weigh what's most important. I remain undecided for now. Perhaps I pass harsh judgment on this city too early. Just to be clear, I am not talking about any one person that I have met while I've been here. I'm talking about the overall "feel" of this city... the shallowness is disenchanting. The medicine is wonderful. The food is pretty awesome. The people (apart from the ones I already know and love, obviously!)... I haven't met enough yet, I think. But you know, it takes time to fall in love sometimes, or even in like. Even with a city, and especially when there's no spark from the outset. It does not mean that attraction is never possible. And I'm still getting to know this one a bit better before I commit.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Taking Stock... with love and gratitude :)
This is one of those life moments that gives one pause for gentle, thoughtful reflection. Falling maddeningly in love with obstetrics & gynecology, craving change, and discovering a beautiful, serene joy and natural "knack" as I begin this Inner City Health family medicine elective in a different city, where life is nicely balanced. What do I want? What is important to me? I have once again had the time to write and to submit my writing for publishing... we'll see where that goes. One day, love will also come knocking on my door and all the blessings that accompany it. Where will I be then in my life? Will I still be the me that I know now?
Sometimes this kind of unknown and uncertainty throws one off-keel. Especially for us control-freaks right. But there is also so much excitement and beauty in all that unknown -it's a realm of infinite possibilities, pure universal potential. Just have to remember your worth, as an eternal, spiritual being, as a physically capable individual, as a philosopher, healer and lover. And trust that everything will work out, I suppose, especially in those areas where we have the most insecurities (and we all have them).
I love where I am now.
Old, reassuring brick inside my bedroom with comforting coffee-coloured tones on the other walls and my bedspread, the sofa chair and this leather window seat, embossed white ceiling tiles from another century, antique-style gilded mirrors, modern Japanese "zen" lamps. I want to live in a place with bedrooms like this. I go to the clinic on the streetcar.
At the clinic, I see patient-types I've never seen before: HIV, transgender issues, highly educated refugees who were victims of torture in their country of origin, young healthy people with their normal, existential concerns whose lives you can still change. I love the variety. But I get so totally, over-the-top excited when I get to do a speculum exam / PAP, or see a newly-pregnant young woman. I would have been ecstatic if the adolescent who just had sex for the first time a couple weeks ago would have let me see her, with all her worries about the consequences, grappling with the emotions, questions about her sexuality and hidden secrets about what that first experience is all about in real life, without all the fake-Hollywood lustre. I was made for that conversation and would have loved the opportunity to take that time to talk with her about it (but not everyone is okay with talking to the medical student so it happens... actually very hard for me to deal with that situation this week; gotta remember that it's not personal).
Oh these girls, these women, these sweet, slowly-dementing old ladies... my heart has a soft spot for all of them... almost universally not well-understood by the people in their lives, under-appreciated, under-loved, frankly. We are complex beings, full of passion, heart, sorrow, grief and joy -and so many are punished for that, and so many more struggle to harness all that. So much for us to learn, us women, yet so many do not have the support for this evolution, so that their strengths may flourish and that they may show to the world the goddesses that they really are. We are all Athena, Lakshmi, Aphrodite, Kali, Aceso, Saraswati... I love my women patients and their babies. But I also loved seeing that gay man with his traumas of not being accepted for what he is in his old country with new-onset psychosis. I am less fond of the alcoholic who does not perceive his drinking as a problem, but even he needs a place to go and be safe and cared for. These are all people that need our support, our compassion, and our applied medical-knowledge.
I love medicine these days. I love going to work and the work that I get to do. Life is pretty good too -good food, good company, catching up with new and old friends. Having the time to want to pray and to pray a bit more mindfully. Enjoying the exhilaration of independence and self-determination. This is what it's all about. I just have to remember that more often... I guess we all do, in our more 'human' moments.
p.s. a good friend sent me this link, and in light of reflections on women and their place in society and this world, i think the following TED talk is apt, with truth and good advice: http://www.ted.com/talks/sheryl_sandberg_why_we_have_too_few_women_leaders.html
Sometimes this kind of unknown and uncertainty throws one off-keel. Especially for us control-freaks right. But there is also so much excitement and beauty in all that unknown -it's a realm of infinite possibilities, pure universal potential. Just have to remember your worth, as an eternal, spiritual being, as a physically capable individual, as a philosopher, healer and lover. And trust that everything will work out, I suppose, especially in those areas where we have the most insecurities (and we all have them).
I love where I am now.
Old, reassuring brick inside my bedroom with comforting coffee-coloured tones on the other walls and my bedspread, the sofa chair and this leather window seat, embossed white ceiling tiles from another century, antique-style gilded mirrors, modern Japanese "zen" lamps. I want to live in a place with bedrooms like this. I go to the clinic on the streetcar.
At the clinic, I see patient-types I've never seen before: HIV, transgender issues, highly educated refugees who were victims of torture in their country of origin, young healthy people with their normal, existential concerns whose lives you can still change. I love the variety. But I get so totally, over-the-top excited when I get to do a speculum exam / PAP, or see a newly-pregnant young woman. I would have been ecstatic if the adolescent who just had sex for the first time a couple weeks ago would have let me see her, with all her worries about the consequences, grappling with the emotions, questions about her sexuality and hidden secrets about what that first experience is all about in real life, without all the fake-Hollywood lustre. I was made for that conversation and would have loved the opportunity to take that time to talk with her about it (but not everyone is okay with talking to the medical student so it happens... actually very hard for me to deal with that situation this week; gotta remember that it's not personal).
Oh these girls, these women, these sweet, slowly-dementing old ladies... my heart has a soft spot for all of them... almost universally not well-understood by the people in their lives, under-appreciated, under-loved, frankly. We are complex beings, full of passion, heart, sorrow, grief and joy -and so many are punished for that, and so many more struggle to harness all that. So much for us to learn, us women, yet so many do not have the support for this evolution, so that their strengths may flourish and that they may show to the world the goddesses that they really are. We are all Athena, Lakshmi, Aphrodite, Kali, Aceso, Saraswati... I love my women patients and their babies. But I also loved seeing that gay man with his traumas of not being accepted for what he is in his old country with new-onset psychosis. I am less fond of the alcoholic who does not perceive his drinking as a problem, but even he needs a place to go and be safe and cared for. These are all people that need our support, our compassion, and our applied medical-knowledge.
I love medicine these days. I love going to work and the work that I get to do. Life is pretty good too -good food, good company, catching up with new and old friends. Having the time to want to pray and to pray a bit more mindfully. Enjoying the exhilaration of independence and self-determination. This is what it's all about. I just have to remember that more often... I guess we all do, in our more 'human' moments.
p.s. a good friend sent me this link, and in light of reflections on women and their place in society and this world, i think the following TED talk is apt, with truth and good advice: http://www.ted.com/talks/sheryl_sandberg_why_we_have_too_few_women_leaders.html
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