Luminous Things

A couple of days ago, by accident, I left my little fountain on when I went out in the morning. When I came home, a fair bit of water had splashed over the side and onto the top of my bookcase, and was dripping off the edge down onto the first shelf of books beneath it. Most of my books were barely wet, but one in particular got soaked all along the bottom, so I took it off the shelf to give it a chance to dry out. And, of course, in doing this, I flipped through it again, and remembered just how much I like it. I'm pretty sure I like it more now than I used to...since I'm now older and wiser and all (theoretically). I don't know when I would have had this reacquaintance otherwise. Next time my proverbial bookcase gets metaphorically wet, I'll have to remember what a blessing it can be.

Anyway. The book is called A Book of Luminous Things, and it's an international anthology of poetry edited and introduced by Nobel-prizewinning author Czeslaw Milosz...and apparently I got it as a prize for Senior Poetry in a writing competition in high school. I think what happened was that the prize was money and a bookplate, and I was going to buy Douglas Adams or something equally droll and smart-alecky, and my mother said "...um, how about you buy some poetry, seeing as how it's a poetry prize?" This may have been the very last time my mother influenced my reading habits, and in this case, I'm glad I listened.

The book still isn't quite dry, so while it's still in sight on my desk and not out of mind on my bookcase, I've posted a few of my favourites under the "words" section.

~isolde

Sick

The plague has come.

Everyone, in both the first and second year classes, is sick, or has been sick in the past week or so. (It seems that way at least.) I always get sick in September, but I thought that I was doing well and was going to avoid it this year...no such luck. The sniffing and sneezing and headaching and dragginess has come. To be honest I'm not comparatively THAT sick -- but I'm a really wimpy sick person, unfortunately.

It should be said that the first line of this post is an exaggeration for the sake of storytelling. I do not have the plague in any form, nor do my classmates. We have colds. If the bubonic plague were to occur in the here-and-now (North America in the 21st centrury), an explanation of how the heck it happened would be warranted, nay demanded. It would be national news. This is something that the writers of Grey's Anatomy last week should consider. Seriously. (I was watching in the med student lounge with a bunch of my classmates, and as one of them said, "Were these people on vacation in medieval England?!")

Then again, the plague is not as antiquated a disease as we tend to think. While the use of the word conjures up images of biblical persecution and 14th-century villages, it actually does still occur in the world today. Plague is most common in Madagascar and the Democratic Republic of Congo...but the United States has a few cases of plague annually, as well. There were in fact two plague deaths in New Mexico this year, in May and July, the first fatal cases of plague in the US in 12 years. There was also a case reported in Los Angeles, in April of this year. (Yes, I did in fact go and look all this up after Grey's.)

But I don't have the plague. That would definitely be random. And if I thought that I did have the plague, this would be the more likely cause.

I'm going to go drink some more tea now. And lie down. And ignore work a little more. Possibly, I'm only sick to have an excuse to do this.

~isolde

P.S. Unrelated, but it's amazing to me that Weird Al is still at it...

Life in Groups

In my undergrad program, a great emphasis was placed on group work and self-directed learning. The theory here is that in the real world, the world outside of the university bubble, knowing how to learn is key. True education, then, isn't having our head crammed with facts. It isn't having a professor stand up in front of a class and tell us what we need to know; it isn't learning what's going to be on the final exam. It's knowing how to learn in the future, knowing how to work with others, knowing how to decide for yourself what's important and useful information instead of having an educational authority figure dictate it to you. And knowing how to evaluate when you've done this successfully, and when you need to work on your skills.

In theory this sounds great...in practice, it's often frustrating. In practice, it looks like a bunch of undergrads sitting down with a teacher figure (the facilitator) and having him/her say "So what do you want to do in this class?" In practice, it's a period of being in the dark a lot of the time, of not knowing where things are going, of not understanding what the expectations are, and of not knowing exactly how you're going to be evaluated, which for most people in the program, being insane scholastic high-achievers, is bloody terrifying. It takes a long time to see the value of these classes, and I'm not sure I ever saw it completely.

Until now.

A big reason why I'm at the school that I'm at, instead of being at the school where I did my undergrad, has to do with the amount of self-directed learning involved. I didn't -- repeat, DIDN'T -- want to do something as important as medical education in such a self-directed fashion. I didn't have the self-confidence. However, I'm at THIS school, and not the school in my hometown, because the school in my hometown is diametrically opposed to self-directed or small-group learning in any form, and this school is a nice mix.

Except...I'm so USED to the self-directed learning process...and most of my classmates are not. So, while I'm long since over the particular fears and angsts of first year Inquiry class...I'm seeing a lot of my new friends and groupmates go through the same sorts of things. The "this is bullshit" phase...the "what the hell are they expecting of us exactly" phase...the "what do you mean I can give myself a mark" phase. And I hear myself parroting back the answers to these concerns that our Inquiry facilitators used to give us, and...yeah. It's a little bizarre to see things from the other side.

I'm also a little concerned that the facilitators we have are not as well-trained in the methods of self-directed learning as the ones we had in undergrad. These people are doctors, researchers, humanitarians and very very interesting individuals, but sometimes I'm not sure they fully buy what we're doing, either. And that doesn't help.

I still don't want to go to a more self-directed med school...but part of me wishes that all of us here had the same training I had in undergrad.

Off to group. I'm sure we're in for an interesting ride this year.

~isolde

In other news

I am insane, and am running for a class council position.

Actually, I think I'm acclaimed for a class council position, since only two of us are running and there are two positions available. (There were three of us in the race until about 12:30 today, when one person dropped out.) So, pretty much as of now, I am going to be directing our class musical production for the big fundraiser variety night in April.

This is a relatively big deal, because all the classes take it very seriously with bands and costumes and set design and everything, and I have little to no clue what I'm doing. Except that I love and miss theatre. Hopefully that is good enough. There are people reading this who have much more extensive/more recent theatre experience than I do. Guys, help?

I think I'm taking my time to adjust to being here. Some days I'm happy and upbeat about things; others I'm depressed and reclusive. Yesterday was a bad day. Today is a good day. This is how things go.

For those of you following the saga of my couches...the guy from Leon's came today, on schedule, and cleaned the marks off in no time flat. (For those of you not following the saga of my couches...the marks got there during delivery, which occurred about 3 hours later than scheduled.) Now all that needs to happen is for the Magiseal people to come and give them a stain-repellant treatment and I can stop worrying about the stupid things.

I wanted to go to the Barenaked Ladies concert in February, but I missed getting tickets the day they went on sale and now they're quite, quite sold out unless I want to buy them from online scalpers for ridiculous prices. Which I don't. *sigh*.

I just made a strawberry-apple crisp. It was fun and quick.

I've been trying to figure out why it is that I like baking so much better than cooking. For one thing, of course, I love sweets and desserts...but I like food too. I think it's partly that baking changes the ingredients so much from how they start. In this case, I started with overripe strawberries I would never have served, and a badly-bruised apple that would have gone uneaten. Raw, they were unusable; now they're delicious. There's almost an element of magic to it, like the oven is a black box in which processes beyond my control shape the final product. Cooking, by contrast, is to me more like a chemistry lab than an artful magic trick. Everything happens right there on the stovetop in front of you. There's no mystery to it. I feel more bound to a recipe when I cook than when I bake, as well, which is a pain.

We had class mission statement day today. Here we were, sitting around, spouting off concepts like "compassion" and "integrity" and "humility" and "dignity", which is awesome and all...but I couldn't help wondering what do we know? It's so easy for us to mouth these words glibly right now -- or at least easy for me. I keep wondering when we're going to realize how little we actually understand about the practical application of these concepts; how challenging they are to maintain. I guess not until we get some more experience.

I'm TIRED, but I'm still going to Interfac (the inter-professional faculty social) tonight. Yay for the drive to socialize winning out over the desire to sleep.

~isolde

Self-Help

We began the day yesterday with a talk from a family physician -- class of 2003, so just 7 years ahead of us -- who in his first year of residency was suddenly struck with a bizarre, unpredictable and uncharacterized seizure disorder. It initially hospitalized him for 8 days in a largely unresponsive state...after that it kept him from participating in his training, plunged him into a major depression, and interefered with his home and social life. He talked about everything, from the big things -- not knowing if you're going to lose control of your own body any second -- to the littler things -- the awkwardness and embarrassment that results from being brought into the ER in front of all of your colleagues and friends.

He didn't present himself as an abstract case for diagnosis, but as someone to whom we could relate. This is a guy who spent his life preparing to help others, as we all have. What do you do when suddenly, it's you that needs the help? He talked about how few doctors actually protect their health, or go in for help when they need it (physically or mentally)...they tend to minimize their symptoms, self-diagnose, and (most frighteningly) prescribe medications for themselves. The message here, I guess, was to remind us that we're not a separate entity from our patients. We have as much need for care and medical help as they do. And when we forget this, we run into territory that might be hazardous to us.

I guess this is one of the many "conflicting messages" I've been perceiving, even in the first few days of medical training. (I guess it's my job to harmonize them over the next few years, and that's fine.) But I think it is easy to think of ourselves, physicians and physicians-in-training, as a group apart. There are so many factors that contribute to this. We wear white coats. And stethoscopes. Already, in first year. We are told to be professional -- uber-professional -- that our codes of conduct are strict and numerous. And we learn things, dark and secret things, about the human body that no one else knows -- things we're encouraged to keep within our own tiny academic context. Other physicians? They're our colleagues, our friends -- people who take care of other people WITH us, not people who take care of us. How can we go to a colleague and submit to their judgment? How can we put ourselves in the position of our patients?

Already, I can tell we're separating ourselves -- I can tell from the vocabulary of our lecturers, from the vocabulary of my classmates, from my own vocabulary. It's becoming an us-and-them relationship already. Sure, there are all the usual platitudes about "seeing your patient as a whole person". But that implies that there's a danger that you won't -- that you have to do something special to see your patients on the same level as anyone else you encounter. On the same level as yourself. As someone in a position that you could potentially be in, at any moment.

I don't know how much of this is inevitable and how much of this is dangerous. I feel like I'd be damaging myself if I allowed this to happen. Then again, I'm not sure that asking for help from peers has ever been particularly easy for me. It requires more thought. Like most everything.

-isolde

Laziness

A lazy day today. I may get the rest of my genetics homework done; I may finish unpacking; I may print off notes for tomorrow. Or, I may not. It's one of those days that could go either way.

What I've done on lazy days in the past has mostly involved napping and watching hours and hours of bad daytime TV. Consequently, lazy days in the past have left me shuffling around the house, feeling sluggish and dirty and seemingly incapable of picking up my feet. I don't just mean physically dirty; there's something about spending a day lying on the couch channel-surfing through infomercials, cheesy dramas and talk-show fist-fights that makes me feel like my BRAIN needs a good lathering-up. A refreshing shower, in its stagnating fluid. A dose of astringent.

Well, I've been unable to do that today, because roommate Kyasuriin and I do not have cable, or, indeed, a plugged-in and functional television. So instead, my lazy-day procrastinatory pastime has been to read poetry, from the poetry anthologies that I hopefully and somewhat-pompously bring with me to school. ("Oooh, look at meeee! I have POETRY on my shelves! I'm so smart and well-read!") I have to say, I feel much better about myself than I usually do on a day when I get this little done. I'm really not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing for my general productivity. (Well. It can't possibly be a bad thing.)

Long live the lack of cable. I'm sure my brain will thank me in the long run.

~isolde

En Masse En Classe

The first two years of my medical school program are spent in the classroom, doing the scholastic work required to lay a good foundation for practice. I've enjoyed the past three days very much, actually. My last year of undergrad was a bit of a wash, academically; I did well, but I didn't learn much. I took courses that were largely self-directed, and I coasted through them, being too busy worrying myself to pieces over med school admissions, watching endless hours of procrastinatory TV, and moping around missing Answerboy. All in all, I did what it is so easy for me to do: I screwed myself out of a year of education. Now, I can feel my brain turning back on and getting back into gear.
Some impressions:
-In some ways, med school is similar more to high school or even middle school than to undergrad. For one thing, all 139 of us sit in the same room, every day, all morning; the professors rotate. For another, we have class every day, with an hour-long break for lunch (although we do get two afternoons a week off). For a third, no meal plan means I'm trying to bring lunches and snacks from home instead of buying them on campus. Finally, there are many more daily "self-study modules" (read: homework) than I'm used to from undergrad. All in all, I sort of feel like I've gone back in time a few years, in terms of how my day is structured. This is not necessarily a bad thing for me.
-I'm coming to the realization that medical students represent a huge investment for the school. They don't want us burning out and leaving. They also don't want us becoming cynical and sadistic. Hence, we are well taken care of here, and the faculty and admissions office are very accomodating and welcoming. I get the sense that they want to nip any stress and/or anxiety issues in the bud, before they get out of hand.
-I'm so fascinated by how willing all of the profs I had so far are to say that they don't know things. No hesitation at all. I was especially riveted in a genetics lecture today, when the prof was relating that she had a patient come into her practice, and had no idea what was wrong with the girl. So she looked up her symptoms on a genetics disorder database...and had never before heard of the disorder that came up. This was not something she had a problem talking about. It's like they all know what a huge field this is, and their confidence comes not from knowing everything, but from knowing that they have the skills to research what they need to when the time comes.
-It's so, so, so very easy to fall behind. As it is I have a crapload of genetics homework to catch up on....

Semi-formal tonight, though, so no time for that right now. :)

~isolde

Guests

Julie is up for a day or so. So far I have made her 1) take me and Tiffer grocery shopping in her car 2) help me set up my new printer and 3) endure endless chitchat about med school and people from my undergrad program. Sorry Julie. I don't know why you ever come to visit me. You can sleep in tomorrow and not come to my classes, if you wish. :)

~isolde

And the goal of 'daily' falls down...

...but this week has been exhausting.

Good exhausting? Yes. I've met so many cool people and I'm looking very much forward to spending four years with them, getting to know them better. I'm also oddly excited for class starting -- I'm aware that THAT won't last. We've had tons of fun events.

Bad exhausting? Yes. I'd forgotten how tiring making friends is. The maelstrom of first impressions and worries about what kind of impressions you're making is just so draining. Add that to lots of bar nights and early mornings, and...well. Let's just say that I'm glad that there's about 24 hours between our last event this evening and our first event tomorrow night. I NEED those 24 hours to, like, organize my room. And get ready for classes on Tuesday. And sleep.

Over the course of this week I've been thinking a lot about friends and friendship -- not surprisingly. I think it appears that it's easy for me to make friends, and it is in some ways. I'm friendly and open-minded and enjoy people's company. But I'm also starting to wonder if there's an upper limit on how many really good, really close friends I can make in a lifetime. If you asked me to think of my BEST friends, I'd probably still think first of my high school friends. I have very close friends from undergrad as well, but not as many. (In some ways I think undergrad as a whole was more about my relationship with Answerboy.) Some part of my exhaustion this week lies in contemplating the energy it takes to push through and commit myself to friendships with these new people in the same way all over again. As a class, right now, we are all extra-polite, extra-chatty, extra-friendly, hyper-inclusive versions of ourselves. We know each other in two-dimensional terms -- "Oh, that's the guy from Alberta"; "That's the girl who got really drunk last night"; "That's the girl with the boyfriend in the second-year class" (my label). Everyone is in that nervous, adrenaline-charged state of having to be "on" all the damn time. It's hard for me to see how we are going to get to the state of comfort and understanding known as "friendship". And again, sometimes I wonder if I have the energy to make the trip.

But -- I'm pretty sure that's just the exhaustion talking. It makes me defeatist and selfish sometimes. So that means it's good that I'm getting some sleep tonight.

~isolde

Dogs and Furnishings

So my roommate's parents are away for about three weeks, and in that time we are taking care of their dog -- a cute little white Westie. She's pretty precious. But today, my roommate is at her orientation session...and I realize that I have no idea how to take care of a dog. At all. It's a little like suddenly having a baby. "You're barking. Why are you barking? What do you want? Do you want to go out? Do you want food? Are you scared? Do you want to play? WHAT IS IT, DEAR GOD STOP BARKING!" She's been following me around all day, which is cute, if a little needy -- I thought she was going to scratch down the bathroom door when I went to take a shower. But there's another dog that lives across the hall, and she's spent a good chunk of today having a barking and whining contest with it. The neighbours are going to kick us out. Actually, I should get back there -- still no internet, so I'm over at Answerboy's as usual.

My couch and loveseat are going to be delivered today (EXCITING NEWS, I know!). I'm missing some orientation week events for this, since I had to set up the delivery before I had anything resembling a schedule. I'm sort of bummed at missing them...but on the other hand, catching up on sleep also seems like a good idea....

These entries are quite boring, I realize. Hopefully they'll get more interesting and more carefully-drawn when I can write them from my own place, in not quite such a rush.

~isolde