Final Ode to Sophie

Today was the McGill Med/Anatomy Body Donor Memorial Service. It was beautiful -calm and peaceful in Redpath Hall, intimate, with reflection-readings, reading out the donor names, piano music (really loved the Debussy!), and med-dent choir singing that stirred one's soul. Anyway -my favourite line of all the reflections was from one of my peers (I'm keeping him anonymous because I'm not sure he wants the pub!): "As I got to know you, it became a difficult question to answer whether I had taken your heart out or whether you had taken ours... I can't wait to meet you again!" The simple Truth really. My own reflection (the one I read at the service) is below.

Sophie

The first time I fell in love with humanity, I was probably 4 years-old. But on that Tuesday afternoon, this past September, it happened all over again. This is the moment I would like to share with you.

Walking up to the anatomy lab, I am so nervous it’s like springs and acrobats in my gut. And then, we remove the cover, and cut open the clear plastic encasement. I look at her hair and notice the grey roots, and short auburn-dyed locks. Her skin feels different from my own. All I could think is "What is her name?" I know it is early, but I cannot imagine trying to understand the mysterious universe in her body without first recognizing that she was a person, and she has a name.

I am in awe of her. I want to know who she is, what she did, did she love? Did she pick honey-suckle for her mum when she was little? Did she swim in the salty Atlantic or see rainbows on her lashes under a hot, blinding sun? Would she have given anything just for a stick of snow-frosted maple-taffy in the spring? She may not have been a teacher in real life, but she is teaching us now.

So, I am the first one to suggest a name for her. Sophie. From the ancient Greek sophos, meaning ‘wise’, wise like the greatest teachers in history –Plato, Hippocrates, Galen, Avicenna, and now, Sophie. I make the first cut –it is an honour. I thank Sophie for what we're going to learn from her. I am not scared anymore, and I do not feel badly or guilty for cutting: Sophie wanted us to learn from her body, including any mistakes along the way. It would be okay. I quickly learn how much pressure to apply so that I can penetrate the skin, without going too deeply, but also without going too shallow. I am completely focused -this is how I can honour her, to be fully present with her, and do my best by her.

And then I see it, everything inside Sophie. We learn theoretical anatomy and physiology in class –the real thing is strikingly unlike anything else. Is Sophie that same human body? Before I know it, we’re finished for today. We cover Sophie up and I thank her one more time before washing scalpels and forceps. Afterwards though, all I can think of is how strange I feel in my own body. This human body, this human mortal body. I keep running my hands over my skin, pinching it, making it tight. What does my skin feel like? And all I can see is everything inside Sophie.

And Sophie, in her mortal life, and in death, gave us this special, special gift –she did not know me, but she gave it to me anyway, she trusted me anyway. She taught me that we're all going to die one day, and our human muscles will look like the muscles of the wildlife we might see on our hikes up mountains, and through forests. Sophie taught me that I might learn to know all the muscles, and vessels, and nerves in her body, but I could not know her thoughts, feelings and dreams. These will remain a mystery to me, just like her name. When we leave this world the ‘who we are’ is no longer there. But Sophie actually was still here. She was teaching us, with her physical body, in death. Her lesson transcended all things physical –it was deeply philosophical, existential. Until then I could not imagine what it might be like to try to be useful, not only in life, but to serve in death. I was in such a daze. Did I even know what it meant to really make it count? Sophie, sophos. If it was ever possible to feel mortality, I felt it that Tuesday.

Naila Ramji

Medicine 1, 2009

Sacred and Mindful Indeed.

I particularly love this photo that I took when we were in Niagara Falls not too long ago. Yesterday, I attended a 'Mindful Medical Practice' meditation workshop which was really wonderful. That's all I can say really -it was further awakening, very interesting and in case you didn't realize it, we're all so very connected to each other, and so much more than you think (if you really knew how much, it would freak you out). But there's no use trying to explain these things in much detail -some personal, spiritual journeys cannot be put into words... or at least not right away. Let's keep it sacred for a while. Enjoy the love all around. Don't sweat the mist.

Light on the Wards

She's the reason I went into medicine. This young, wise palliative care physician, with enlightenment shining from her eyes, who is compassionate and humble and excellent at her job. She is the reason -so that I could be her. Or at least this side of her that I met today in the Montreal General Hospital Palliative Care Unit.

This was probably my best clinical encounter. Because it is calm and peaceful, and there is a seemingness of 'all the time in the world' for the patients, for the doctors to be with their patients, for them to share in a common human experience, to grieve and be existentially reborn, to walk together into very dark places, and if they're lucky, to enjoy just a moment of blinding clarity. But only a moment, most of the time. She said it well, that doctor: "Because how long can you stare at the sun".

And the patient. What a special woman. She also had that light in her eyes -the light of someone who has suffered, who is still struggling, someone with an abundance of joy and fear and love and frustration and hope and despair, all at the same time. She described the cancer that has made itself comfortable in her physical body like a monster lurking inside that she hoped would stay sleeping, so that she can live just a bit longer, so that she can be there for her teenage daughter, who is everything to her and the only thing to her, even amongst supportive friends. And she had been afraid to enter Palliative Care (who wouldn't right?) -but when she did go, she found she was looked after "like a Princess", her pain was addressed as the primary medical concern, and proper pain management is really complex medicine -doctors do not abandon their patients in end-of-life care. In fact, this patient said this doctor was the best doctor she had ever had -a doctor who she felt she could trust, who understood her, who had time for her, who what would she have done without her. They had a bond, that doctor and that patient -a real deep, existential connection that I have never seen before.

The doctor told us that there is a surprising similarity in experiencing the world of Obstetrics and Gynecology and Palliative Care -they were the only times that physicians were granted the privilege of being a part of the very personal, intimate human existential moments that were birth and death, for the sake of birth and death. I get that. I don't know it at all of course, I'm just a first-year medical student. But there's a beautiful synchrony there that I can understand, esoterically, anyway.

And it is beautiful indeed. Not easy though. Not at all. I didn't cry there -I went with the patient on her emotional 'roller-coaster' (excuse the cliche) as she told the story from her diagnosis, to her prognosis, to her multiple events of suffering, surgery, pain, infection -all of which had been debilitating in some way, whether physically, emotionally, psychologically, etc... I heard her talk about how she turned to God to get through those times in her life, one moment I watched her comment hopefully about getting on with life and going home soon, and the next, I felt the lump in my throat and forced back the wet, quivering scene in front of me, as tears flowed from her light grey-green eyes, down her cheeks and neck. No, it does not look at all easy. And yet.

It seems that in a big hospital frenzy of waits and lines, and crazies (the health care workers, not the patients), the impatience, the egos, rushing, rushing, rushing (time pressure indeed!), the place where patients, before they enter, perceive fearfully as death row, is actually where there is calm, there is time, there is cooperation between professionals which is inter- and intra-disciplinary, where the well-being of patients and medical staff are both taken into consideration (which means better doctoring!), where there is space to embark at last on your spiritual, existential journey -where you can, if you choose to, 'conference with the birds' -through valleys and mountains, hells and heavens until you transcend yourself and return home (as in your physical home, to be with your family and friends in your last days), or return directly Home. It doesn't happen that way for everyone, all the time -this is clear. What is also clear though is that people are not just going to Palliative Care to die. The doctors and patients in Palliative Care seem to me really to be living in the truest sense of being alive -intensely with heart, mind, and body. The end-of-life world seems to be a microcosm of life itself, really -it roughs you up pretty bad and you only get the spiritual reward of healing some of the time. But what an honour for a physician to be a part of all of that. Don't you think?

May's Perfumes that Flood the Air

"You can't say to the spring: 'Come now and last as long as possible.' You can only say: 'Come and bless me with your hope, and stay as long as you can.'"

Words lost on the wind. But I needed to hear them, and he needed to say them. I fell asleep, although I don't know when. I dreamed, not of a situation or of a person, but of a perfume that flooded the air.

~Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes

Aren't these words delicious? Love 'em (I do). Just finished the novel by the way and it is quite good -one of those self-discovery, spiritual journey type of stories... easy to read, but also quite profound and revealing. Also there's lots of sex so prepare yourself accordingly if you decide to read it (I mean, it's the spiritual adventure of a prostitute after all). Anyway, I read it this week almost only during my commute between school and home -what a wonderful discovery to be able to escape into a different kind of personal growth and pleasure whilst using one's time so efficiently! Usually reading in moving things gives me headaches and nausea, but not this one. I'm part way through Ayn Rand's Fountainhead though and I probably ought not to take that one up in the BMW (Bus, Metro, Walk). Just like I can't really study my Med World material there neither.

Last week's long weekend in Niagara was really perfect. We did all the touristy things -Maid of the Mist, right beneath the Falls, ate at the revolving restaurant (with a spectacular view and pretty good food), watched the IMAX film about the crazy daredevils who curled up in barrels which were then sealed, pumped up with oxygen and then thrown into the Niagara River to go tumbling down to near-death with the millions-of-bathtubs-full-at-any-given-moment of waterfall. And then pretty little Niagara-on-the-Lake all a-blossom, lush green parks, quaint little shops, vast vineyards (with Icewine that was really something else, I must confess -the Vidal, and the Riesling, especially, although the Cab Franc was not too bad... don't worry, on the official tasting, they probably only serve you half a champagne-flute total ;), and of course, an enchantingly entertaining couple of hours at the Theatre to experience some of this world famous Shaw Festival (it was a play called 'Brief Encounters' from Noel Coward's collection of 10 one-act plays called Tonight at 8:30).

Here's the thing about long weekends though: the following so-called 'short week' always feels long! How is this possible? I don't know really, but somehow the gods seem to like 'making it up' to us. It was hectic, but good. Immunology has been interesting,

Trekking out to St. Mary's Hospital was also interesting (my new Small Group this semester is terrific though! hey, i served my time with the rude crew if you recall ;),

Osler Society stuff -interesting too: Wednesday, we hosted a lecture in the Osler Library on "Art, Anatomy and the Representation of Knowledge", including a viewing of original 16th-19th century manuscripts; Thursday, we hosted a Philosopher's Cafe moderated by the famous conservative McGill Law Professor and bioethicist Margaret Somerville on "Crisis of conscience: should health-care professionals park their values at the door?". The latter became a heated debate on abortion and euthanasia for the first part before being steered back towards the larger concept of freedom of conscience. Parties on both sides get quite emotional about these things. Which is fine, who doesn't (they're called 'hot issues' for a reason), but it is a useful exercise to try to keep that emotional aspect under control so that open, healthy discussion can yield fruit, especially if you really want to discover why you believe what you believe, and even more reasons why you will continue to believe what you believe -no one's asking you to renounce your values... well, that's a lie.

It's a lie because Pro-Life people are in fact asking Pro-Choice people to renounce their values. Now. I am Pro-Choice. But I can recognize that the argument, "I believe what I believe, you believe what you believe, let's not impose our values on each other" is intrinsically a Pro-Choice stance. If Pro-Lifers truly believe that abortion is murder, then what I believe and what you believe is besides the point, right, because they're talking murder. Even if you disagree with that position (and I absolutely DO disagree!), you have to admit that it makes no sense for them to accept the Pro-Choice position.

Now a while back, I was asked by some friends when I considered 'life' to begin, and why I'm Pro-Choice (and essentially, how on Earth do you live with yourself, you crazy, heartless psycho). I would like to start by saying this: I consider myself Pro-Choice-on-a-spectrum, which means that there are surely certain rare kinds of situations in which I think most Pro-Choice doctors feel less comfortable performing abortions. And most of the time, we should ask the deeper question of why it is that these particular cases (later in gestation, the rare woman who presents her situation flippantly) get to this point, and what we might do to address these deeper problems (also, just because someone may appear to act 'flippantly' doesn't mean that they don't realize the seriousness of the decision they are making, and are in fact using 'flippancy' merely as a mask for much more complex, deeper concerns, which I do not feel is my place to judge). But I remain Pro-Choice even then because I do believe the woman's life comes first, especially because she is a part of society, and society as a whole suffers when she suffers, and loses an important participant when she loses her ability to function optimally and live within it.

Firstly, I am not God to know or decide when life begins and frankly, neither are you. But before 22 weeks of pregnancy, it is riskier (in terms of life and death here, let me be extremely clear) for a pregnant woman to continue being pregnant than to abort, so I think she is perfectly within her rights to do so, especially in this case. The question of the viability of the fetus later on is often a hot button, yeah. Personally, I have no qualms about the issue at all prior to viability (so while I cannot decide when life begins, I do not think it has begun prior to the fetus being truly viable). Once it is viable though, I think that if a woman is forced to go through with an unwanted pregnancy (whether the reason for that is rape by a stranger, rape by her husband, being forbidden to use birth control for socio-cultural and religious reasons, and a variety of other reasons), the trauma of that pregnancy and subsequent birth is a threat to her mental and physical health (including compromised immunity associated with that kind of trauma paired with the physiological and psychological stress of a pregnancy), and a threat to health is a threat to life -her life, the pregnant woman's life. And so even though, most doctors probably don't feel fabulous about aborting a fetus at 30 weeks, compassion for this particular kind of distress and health and life risks for the pregnant woman is about deciding whether the means justify the ends. The fact that rape has been deemed an act of genocide shows to what extent a traumatic, unwanted pregnancy is a form of extermination of the woman's right to self-determination, within the context of a larger society in which they function, and a society that benefits from their optimal ability to function (so don't give me that 'abortion is selfish' argument).

Finally, yes, we can all recognize that it is problematic when a few women use abortion as a form of birth control -but there are deeper problems at the heart of this, including education, access to birth control, understanding various traditional, cultural practices, amongst other concerns (please listen to Barack Obama's response when asked about abortion -he expresses a similar point quite eloquently). Doctors do not blindly perform abortions -they do in fact talk to their patients about all their options, investigate the reasons the patient thinks they want an abortion, etc...

And remember. If someone wants an abortion, they're going to have one, regardless of whether the doctor provides the service. People used to drink all kinds of toxic substances to induce miscarriage, hangers and various other barbaric tools were used resulting in the death of both the mother and the fetus, and pregnant women have also been known to commit suicide because of an unwanted pregnancy. There are dangerous practical implications to trying to impose one's values (especially in law -and Somerville by the way, opposes making abortion illegal within the law even though she is Pro-Life) through law. Anyway, see the Morgentaler case for beautifully articulated arguments (this is the Canadian edition of Roe v. Wade).

There are my thoughts. You don't have to agree with them. We can agree to disagree. But like I said before, for Pro-Lifers that's just not possible. I know. I know why. I do get where you're coming from. On this particular topic, I am okay with having a different view from yours and I'm okay with the fact that you're not going to be okay with my different view. Esoterically. Legally, I'd raise hell to uphold my values in practice.

Montreal gets blossoms!

I had forgotten. Or maybe I was just never around when the trees were blossoming these last few years (because I was busy enjoying the magnolias, etc in Cambridge). But on this perfect 20-degree-Celsius, sunny day, walking downtown, it feels like summer. Street vendors are out, street painters too, the cheezy feel-good Andes musicians are playing and McGill College (which is a street for all you non-Montrealers -Canadians never refer to any part of their universities as 'college') is literally lined with fuschia and cotton-candy tulips and lovely pink blossoming trees...

I am officially not a proper writer because I cannot name every kind of flora in existence, followed by weaving into an elegant, seamless beautiful-word-orgy, but I did some Googling... and to little avail. In any case, they kind of look like cherry or almond trees blossoming, but smell kind of lilac-y... I give up. But it's really pretty. And makes one feel quite happy.

We are done with neuro now. Starting Immunology/Microbiology/Pathology unit -fitting for allergy season (did they plan it that way on purpose?). Life goes on but in sunshine and with joy now -long days and good weather make all the difference. I'm off to a most authentic, delicious restaurant that is like being in Turkiye in Montreal (Cafe Avesta) before going to the Med-Dent Talent Show (For A Cause). Niagara Falls trip planned with the famille (nuclear) for the Victoria-Day long weekend.

Oh also. One of my Harvard blockmates sent the following link out today -it's hilarious and wonderful and true. I think you're special, but more importantly, YOU should think you're special. If you're ever forgetting, please visit accordingly: http://www.reasonsyouarespecial.com/

Another interesting site (especially if you're a writer I think!): http://www.mylifeisaverage.com/ Now a word of caution: it is EXTREMELY average. That's why it's wonderful -you can see all the little mundane things about our day-to-day lives that illuminate how utterly absurd they often are. And yet they're all the words we use instead of the much deeper thoughts and feelings we mean. Anyway, you gotta dig a little (deeper in your imagination) to dig this site.

Much Love.

Her Inner World

One of beauty and passion, joy and shadows. I love these paintings (some famous, some less famous, some not even paintings...), especially together, because they express a kind of wonderfully existential, romantic truth about life and this Earth. Don't you think so?

Revisiting Those Cobblestone Streets of My Beloved, Self-Created Former Life: What it was Like and What it all Means.

I begin this entry lovingly with this: if you have not read Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love, please immediately get yourself to a library, bookstore, second-hand bookstore, Amazon, or a friend-who-has-it and do. It will speak to you if you are the gourmande (ahem, I live to eat, so yes, I fall in this category, as further evidenced by how much of my long-weekend was spent doing just that). Or if you've ever suffered any sort of heartache (I was once a pre-teen, teen and sophomore -literally, a "wise fool" -and continue to be human, so of course, count me in this category too). Or if you've ever even so much as attempted a philosophical, spiritual or existential self-search (if I'm writing this blog... well, enough said). And finally, if you have just been craving a darn good read, you will fall in love with the author / protagonist, her writing and her story, with every part of your being. Now, I do have to admit that I had to stiffle my giggles in the bookstore when I came across a memoirs that clearly sought to mock Gilbert's fabulous work, this mockery entitled, "Drink, Play, F@#!", but nonetheless, as the infamous athletic-wear brand would say, "Just Do It".

"Getting There"

As the anatomy mnemonic for the 12 cranial nerves goes "Oh, once one takes the anatomy final, very good vacations are had!" And so they were. I began my precious week off with a drive down to Plattsburgh, NY with my Mum (which was a lovely mother-daughter time) last Thursday, from where I boarded a nine-passenger aircraft to Boston. If you want some idea of how tiny the airport was, know that the free parking lot is infinitely larger than the actual airport, that one need only arrive at check-in 15 minutes prior to departure, and should you arrive any earlier than that, you may find yourself seemingly the only person in the whole airport until you ring the little bell and the one check-in-lady/luggage-porter/seating hostess emerges from behind some back-room. If you want some idea of how tiny this plane was, think of it this way: they asked me how much I weighed when I checked in, everyone one the plane had a window and an aisle seat, the lightest people had to sit in the back, it was like piling into a van where once you're sitting, that's it, there's no "moving around". However, the ride was absolutely stunning. At first, I was just stunned with the bumpiness of the ride (almost like the flight to Flagstaff, AZ). But then, suddenly, only sheer beauty all around.

We were weaving our way through the sky on an invisible current, just beneath a canopy of grey and pearl cotton. The steel Adirondacks held their own below, still dusted with snow, and the plateaus of New York and Vermont stretched out brown and hungry for life after a harsh winter. Water canyons snaked their way, cutting through the land, leaving behind silver mirror shards for lakes. A warm spring sun scattered it's light between the cracks of canopy, over my arm and face, and blessed the Earth below. 'Made you wonder 2 things: firstly, whether Heaven truly lies above in the skies or in the Earthly beauty on which you looked down, and secondly, why anyone would ever pay hundreds of dollars for those silly helicopter tours that last all of 5 seconds, when they could get the same spectacular view for a mere $108 US (return!), for a whole 75 minutes, while actually traveling to a real destination.

"Awkward to Be Back" and "Moving on More Than You Thought You Had"

I arrived to a warm, sunny, familiar Boston, and surely had a ridiculous, stupid smile plastered on my face the whole Silver-Red Line journey "home" to Harvard Square. It was so good to be back! First things first. Paid my visit to the dear old Kirkland House security guard that we all know and love -cynical and endearing as ever. Saw various K-House people walking about between the JCR and D-hall, lounging around the courtyard... it was exactly as I remembered leaving it. Except now, I was a ghost... everything was the same, but the graduate no longer belongs there. Not because anyone is unfriendly -in fact, people are quite friendly and welcoming (well some are, others are their usual arrogant, awkward selves -and let me tell you, if you managed to desensitize yourself to it during your four years of undergrad, even to the point where you were denying the "awkward turtle" as myth, it is painfully in your face upon revisitation... so I must say that in true Harvard spirit, it was awkward to be back. Which was fitting and quaint in many ways) -it's just that you realize that you have changed, you have grown (yes, even in that one measly year since graduation), you've moved on more than you thought you had (a perfect example of this to follow shortly), and thus, you no longer belong there. Because you belong exactly right where you are in life now -that is fully your rightful place, and what you really, truly miss is not something you can "go back and visit". This closure was very important for me and the timing was quite perfect. I think I'd even venture to say that the visit as a whole, was perfectly self-revealing, perfectly exhilirating, and perfectly FUN (oh sooooo much fun!)!!!

Most of all I enjoyed the company of my ol' peoples, my ol' haunts, and even some new discoveries. Right here, I would like to again thank the three generous friends who lent me their spare beds, their roommates' beds and their couches for the five nights I spent in Cambridge -nothing like sleep-over style chatties, bonding and... sleeping. Remember, mi casa es tu casa tambien. Anyhow, back to food and friends.

On that first evening, I spent five hours catching up with my Quincy-blockmate, exchanging stories, advice, gossip, mozzarella sticks and french fries (at The Pub), and tastes of different mochi ice cream flavours at Boston Tea Stop. Of course, I had been craving the best bubble tea in the world for eons by now, and thusly purchased a rose-flower-black-milk-tea-with-boba, despite the fact that it was after 4:00 pm and I thus risked a sleepless night due to that crazy Asian black tea (which did in unfortunate fact prove to be a poor choice as I found myself tossing and turning restlessly until about 5:00 a.m.). Now after taking that first, what should have been "divine" sip, you know what I found myself thinking? Brace yourself for this blasphemy: "Naila, it's great, but really, what's the big deal?" What's the big deal? Seriously? Clearly I had moved on more than I thought, right!

"YUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMM!!!!" said the Glutton

Oh, but I ate delicious food and had a wonderful time back in my former home -really, a full-out Harvard / Cambridge / Boston / me experience. From the tasty smoked turkey, Swiss, tomato and lettuce "Fayerweather" sandwich on garlic and rosemary bread at Darwin's to the light grilled chicken, buffalo mozzarella and red pepper thin-crust pizza at Cambridge One -oh, I did indulge! Rich, dark hot chocolate at Burdick's. Sweet, creamy chocolate chip cannoli at Mike's. Succulant lamb and cinnamon-brown rice Qablee pillaw, and Afghan Kadoo (sugary pumpkin, with yogurt, meat sauce and various chutnees) at Helmand. My favourite Greenhouse Cafe chicken wings (little known gem of this Science Center "restaurant"). Burnt sugar ice cream at Christina's. Steak quesadilla with rice, guacamole, "fresh" salsa and jalapeno hot sauce at Anna's Taqueria (near MIT), where I also tried their almond-milky Mexican drink, which tastes like Turkish rice pudding in a cup. Sesame fried shrimp rice rolls, and yummy butter chicken at Super 88 across from khane.

And that's not including the new places I tried! I went to Henrietta's Table (in the Charles Hotel) for the first time, for brunch with one of my almost-little-sister who suggested that fabulous book that I just finished pushing on you (above). Yummy, surprisingly reasonably-priced breakfast food indeed! Also fabulous freshly-squeezed orange-carrot juice. Really, this little sis has impeccable taste and I am so very proud of the beautiful, confident, strong woman she has become!

And then another morning, I went to Zoe's for breakfast (also a first). Omelet with smoked salmon, asperagus and cream cheese equals almost to die for, really. I thought I would get too full to finish. This turned out to be false. I laughed the hardest with the friends I was visiting over this meal, as we discussed how crazy it is, not just that so many people we know are getting married (I actually found out 3 more of my friends got engaged while I was in Boston -in fact, I was having dinner with 2 of these friends when word and photos were received via crackberry regarding the third "fresh" engagement -madness indeed, but congrats all around of course!), but how ridiculous some of the websites that some engaged couples make for themselves are. We thought it would be particularly hilarious if the three of us girls made a "spoof" website with a play-by-play of the divorce (a la "this was the first straw" -with a photo of a faux-slap -and "this was the last straw" captions) of a polygamous lesbian marriage. Moreover, we thought it would be additionally funny to have a "hoodlink" to the site (a la Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up"), so that people actually think they're clicking on a link called "somethingconservative.com". Oh what a partay that was... =)

But back to food and drink. Believe it or not, but I had never been to Tealuxe before, so also tried that -what a quaint place with lovely blueberry white tea indeed (and with yet another sweet friend)! And catching up with friends -we talked about it all. Sex, boyfriends (or lack thereof), jobs (or lack thereof), med school (or lack thereof... i.e. waits and apps), philosophies on healthcare, medicine, history of medicine (again, or lack thereof... at least in our professional school programs, which is a tragedy in our humble opinions), food, reminiscings, life outside Harvard, life inside Harvard, life after Harvard, life at the end of Harvard (i.e. Commencement speakers past and future), good books, interesting ideas, dumb economies, amazing and crap and convoluted politics (is that just redundant?), good TV (i.e. the Food channel), good movies, great travel... I also visited briefly with a few of my professors which was wonderful.

So basically, I was a glutton over Easter -a glutton for conversation, food and general pleasure (including some shopping in bookstores, Downtown Crossing, Little Italy, and various "Squares" -Harvard, Central, Inman, etc -roaming around Boston and Cambridge, watching the magical and excellent-in-every-way foreign film "Faubourg 36" or "Paris 36" in Kendall Theatre on the one very rainy day, enjoying the company of a very attractive male, Harvard grad total stranger at 'Noch's over a mutual penchant for the spinach Sicilian pizza, hearing stories about the Aga Khan's visits to Afghanistan "When the King is Good, the Rain will Come" and how even in that arid, mountainous place, everytime he goes to visit, there is rain, even in the unlikliest of seasons...)

Luckily, I am not a Catholic, though, so I will not perish in purgatory (or is it perish in Hell and something else in purgatory?) for my indulgence. However, I did go to St. Paul's Catholic Church in Harvard Square on Good Friday (first time going to mass in Mass.) -I sure as heck chose quite a day to go! To call it "heavy" would be putting it lightly, although it was still an interesting and enjoyable experience... I've never heard "The Passion" read (or should I say "sung") like that before, so that was cool. Anyway. I can appreciate the beauties of other religions and forget the intolerances and ugly politics. Every religion's got 'em. But I firmly maintain there must be at least an infinity of paths to spiritual peace, enlightenment, God, the Universe... whatever it is you believe in. And if Science is your only God, then so be it. Just "live and let live" as the old cliche goes.

"The Revelation" (no prophets involved)

I leave you now with the following revelation that I had during my break:

If God came down and said that I could only be one thing in life, I would choose being a writer over being a doctor. But. I am blessed because in real life, I don't have to choose -I can have many passions and many things that bring me (and thus those around me) happiness. And working as a physician is still 1000% my calling. Just if my physical body were burned to ash, the essence left behind is a writer first. So in my life, I will write, and fall in love, and travel, and go to the ballet, and enjoy delicious food, and have a wonderful family, and pray, and read for pleasure, take hikes in Nature, maybe one day swim across a very large body of water, and also be a doctor and serve others the best that I can. If I could not do all of these things, I would not be whole and my life would not have meaning for me. It is my hope, prayer and intention that all these may manifest for myself and for anyone else who may desire these as well. And I thank all the forces that be in advance for doing their best by my dreams.

p.s. okay nerds, for anyone who was dying to know what those 12 cranial nerves from the mnemonic are: Optic, Olfactory, Occulomotor, Trochlear, Trigeminal, Abducens, Facial, Vestibulococchlear, Glossopharyngeal, Vagus, Accessory, Hypoglossal. see? you didn't really want to know did you.