not porn, people

Here's but a small taste of the kind of e-mail response I get to my online journal (aside from all you nice people out there who e-mail me--smooches, nice people!) because of the title "The Underwear Drawer"

-----
From: weirdo4lyf90@comcast.net
Date: Monday, October 27, 2003 4:52 PM
To: ma530@columbia.edu
Subject: (no subject)

SEND ME PICS UV U IN ALL OF UR UNDERWEAR!!!
-----

Let us analyze this for a moment, shall we?

The e-mail address. On first glance, the eye, trying to make sense of this random string of letters and characters, may read "weirdo4fly," but the address is in fact "weirdo4lyf," or, in English, "weirdo for life." Give me weirdness, or give me death! The man, he has taken a stand. (Not to generalize, but, come on, of course it's a man.)

The body of the text. All caps, because the man, he demands our attention. And poor spelling, also demanding our attention. "Ah may not be schooled good, but I know how ta use this here compooter, that's fer shore."

So I believe he's saying to "send me pics of you in all of your underwear." What a strange request. Not just in my underwear, but in all of my underwear. Doesn't he know that women have a lot of underwear? This is not a slick come-on, not a "what are you wearing?" standard lecher line. This is saying, "I want to see you piled up to your chin in sensible cotton briefs and soft cup bras, with only your eyes peeking out of a hole at the top of the mound of fabric because you are buried in a pile of ALL YOUR UNDERWEAR. Yeah. Hot.

I'm not going to change the name of my journal, but can I tell you that I get e-mails like this all the time? Also from various retailers from around the globe that would like me to please buy their special brand of underwear for my online drawer store. People, for the last time. I am not porn. I am not Victoria's Secret. Not that I would object to making all that money, I just find that "Angels" ad campaign fucking annoying. Plus their bras fit crappy anyway.

immunology

The problem with putting together these lectures for the high schoolers is figuring out what amount of depth to go into. A 40-minute period is not a lot of time. Subtract 5 minutes of getting-everyone-settled time and 10 minutes for question-and-answer, and that dwindles down to 25 minutes to go over all of the immune system and how it works, and, "Oh, could you also talk about organ transplantation? And ABO typing and why you have to be matched for blood transfusions?" That's a lot to go over in one lecture. Too much, in my opinion. So I'm going between having a lecture that's 5 times longer than the amount of time I'll have, or having a lecture boiled down to "the cells eat the germs up when you're sick" basic-basic-basics. I just don't understand, furthermore, how much science background they will have had, how much about the immune system they'll know at baseline, and just generally how interested these kids will be. Should I fill up my Power Point presentation just with easy gags and pictures just to keep them interested? Or is that insulting?

This would have been a lot easier if I had done this block in July, when school was out. Then I could have just seen patients in the clinic. I know how to do that

idiocy

I was just sitting around yesterday when my pager went off. My first thought, "shit, I'm getting called for sick call."

But I wasn't. It was my ward team. We were having a team dinner last night, planned weeks in advance, and I had forgotten all about it. So I threw on some clothes, hopped in a cab, and made it down in time for the food to arrive. Didn't eat anything, which is something of a shame (the restaurant was Seville, on West 4th down in Greenwich Village, so lots of yummy tapas and Spanish food). However, it didn't stop me from having two glasses of Sangria. Luckily, I was able to sleep in this morning.

What am I, an idiot? How could I forget about the dinner? I guess over the course of internship, I've lost the ability to remember anything unless its written on a clip-boarded piece of paper with a little check box next to it. Go to team dinner 8pm Wendnesday 10/29: check.

adulthood

After work I stopped by the supermarket to get some groceries. I was planning to make us some soup tonight for dinner, and needed to pick up some chicken and potatoes. As I was standing in the checkout line, I realized this:

"I'm standing in the checkout line of the supermarket, where I stopped after work for groceries. Real groceries, from the produce section, not just mac and cheese. When I go home, I will put down the groceries and feed the dog. Then, I'm going to put some dinner on the stove before my husband comes home."

Then it hit me. I'm an adult. I have a grown-up life.

Being in school for eight years after high school infantalizes you. It makes you feel like a kid when you're not. It makes you feel dependent, because, often, you are. You don't have a job. You don't support yourself. You have homework and midterms and classes to attend. You live in a dorm. You share a bathroom with people down the hall.

In some ways, it's not that much different being a resident than being a medical student, but in a lot of ways, it is. And then there's all the rest of it. I'm married. We live in an apartment. We work. We pay our bills. We walk our dog.

Even a year ago, I would have been freaked out by the idea of being an adult. But now, all of a sudden, I'm pretty comfortable with it. It's just something that happened when I wasn't looking. And its kind of nice.

joe millionare

Let us talk for a moment about "Joe Millionaire."

I'm not ashamed to admit it. I've watched this show. Last season I think I caught three or four episodes here and there. This season, I watched the season premier and every episode since. OK, so there have only been two since. Still, that's consistent viewing, right?

I don't know what it is about this show. Certainly I like the travelogue aspect of it--giant palazzo in Tuscany, day trips in the Italian countryside--and I like the whole setup and story for camp value. Hee, the butler is "Paul Hogan," like Crocodile Dundee! But I think what I really enjoy this season is the Eurotrash. "Where could we go to find women to be on this show who aren't already aware of the premise of 'Joe Millionaire?' That's right--EUROPE!" (Notice there are no British woen on the show--they're too immersed in American pop-culture to fall for it.)

Variations on Eurotrash on this show:

* Women tanning-bedded to a leathery crisp
* Women incapable of removing sunglasses
* Women who look and dress like the Hilton sisters

Will they have "Joe Millionaire 3?" Where will they find those women? The northern badlands of China? Ooh, that could be a good show. "Zhou Millionaire."

power point

This morning, I'm working on the first of my high school science presentations. Instead of doing the ever-exciting lecture on lipids and carbohydrates that was suggested, I'm going with another science class curriculum and giving a lecture on Genetics. So slightly more interesting, and I can show all those gory pictures of dysmorphisms that high school kids love. Right now I'm trying to find plain films of osteogenesis imperfecta to stick in for my segment on autosomal dominant disorders.

Oh, this is going to be good, I can feel it.

Next topic, for my presentation on Monday: "The Immune System." Ho hum. Is there any way I can give this lecture to high school students and not bring up HIV? No, I didn't think so either.

this one's for the children

Funny how when you're a Pediatrician, suddenly people expect you to be all things for all kids. Teacher. Mother. Secret lover. (OK, not that last one.)

For example, as part of my Adolescent Medicine month, I'm expected to throw together two lectures to give to an auditorium of 70-80 high school and junior high school children about some basic science topic. This topic is to coordinate with the kids' science curriculum. Today, one of the science teachers at the school suggested that I put together a lecture on lipids and carbohydrates. And could I have models and props too? Like ooh, maybe those molecular models with the beads on the sticks where you could show the covalent bonds, and have the little metal springs to show the double bonds? And could you do Power Point slides? And could you prepare it for next week?

Since when am I a high school science teacher? And since when do I remember any Chemistry? The last time I took a Chemistry class was, what, six and a half years ago? All those brain cells have since died. I retain no memory of Chemistry. But more to the point, how is it my job to do all that?

Or when Joe and I were hanging out with his one year-old nephew last Christmas. The kid just woke from a nap at 3pm, and, it being too early for dinner, I gave him a handful of Cheerios to gum up. Only he didn't want Cheerios. So I gave him a few pretzels. Then he wanted the Cheerios back. And some juice. By the time I got him to settle down, it was 5:30pm and we had to bundle him up to go to a Christmas party at a neighbor's house.


MOMMY
Was he good?

MICHELLE
Oh, yeah, an angel, totally.

MOMMY
Did he eat dinner?

MICHELLE
Well, no, not really, because when he woke up, it was too early for dinner, so I gave him a snack.

MOMMY
What snack?

MICHELLE
Some Cheerios. And some pretzels.

MOMMY
It's 6pm and all he's had to eat were Cheerios and pretzels?

MICHELLE
Well, it wasn't 6pm when I started feeding him.

MOMMY
Aren't you two supposed to be doctors?

MICHELLE
I didn't say we were good.


I can't wait until my friends start having kids and start calling me for parenting advice, behavioral modification methods, or questions like, "is it bad that she just drank a bottle of Lysol?" I mean, hopefully, by then, I'll know what I'm doing, but hell, I don't have kids. I don't really know what it's like to live with them. Heck, I don't even really like kids all of the time. Like this bratty little four year-old on the bus today, who, when denied a snack, started screaming, "I WANT IT I WANT IT I WANT IT" over and over and over again at top volume, all while slapping herself in the head. No sir, I didn't like that particular kid very much.

Maybe better that people ask me advice on what to do with their kids. I will mold an army of children in my image. An unholy army of the night.

early

I'm all excited because I got out of work super-early today. It was a day at this school-based health clinic, which I thought was going to be like the ghetto-ass nurses office that they had at my high school, but which turned out to be a real, fleshed out clinic. They even give shots and draw bloods there! Best part is, we're on school hours, which means 8:30 to 3:00, baby. (Actually, I hate to tell you this, but we got out at 2:00.)

Because I had all this extra time, I actually got to return my extra cell phone today. It was surprisingly easy.


MICHELLE
I would like to return this phone please.
(Shows receipt)

SALESWOMAN
Could I possibly convince you to keep it?

MICHELLE
Well, not really, because...then I would have two.

SALESWOMAN
OK.
(Forks over $250 in cash.)

MICHELLE
Wow, really?


Now I'm really glad that I paid in cash. They offered me the phone tax-free if I paid in cash, so I obliged, but all last night, thinking about returning it, I just kept thinking that because of the cash exchange, I was never going to see my money again. Did I mention I went to the ATM to get the cash, and all it spit out were these crisp, rainbow-colored new twenty dollar bills? How cool is that iridescent ink? And the golden 20s all over the back of the bill, like a little swarm of bees? I'm not so crazy about the watermark Andrew Jackson that you can see when you hold the bill up to the light, though. It's like Ghost Jackson.

testing

Just testing the capability to update my journal with my new web toy. I'm geeking out here! Please look away...

feast or famine

So today, a full week after my Sidekick was scheduled to arrive from Amazon.com, with no sign of getting shipped from the warehouse anytime soon, I just got fed up and said fuck it, if there's something wrong with my order, I'm just going to go to a T-Mobile retailer and buy the damn phone in person. So that's just what I did. I bought the phone.

Then I came home to find that my phone from Amazon had just arrived in the mail.

@&%$#!

Of course, I'm not a complete idiot. (Only partial.) For one, I made sure there was a good return policy on the phone I bought in the store, on the off-chance that Amazon would finally come through and ship the one I'd originally ordered. So I can return that phone with no penalties or early termination fees up through next week. Secondly, I made sure to call T-Mobile right away to straighten things out, so that I wouldn't get billed for two phone plans. This turned out to be not a problem, as Amazon.com brilliantly didn't actually activate the phone that they sent me. Anyway, after some quality time with Customer Support (or "Customer Care," in T-Mobile parlance--no, but really, they were some of the best Customer Suppor operators I'd ever spoken with) we straightened everything out and now I'm one phone, one plan. Well, almost one phone, I still have to return the one I bought from the wireless dealer on 7th Avenue. Damn, yesterday I had no phones, now I have two. When it rains, it pours.

Cooper is doing much better, thanks for the kind thought. She's such a weird little dog. She can't tolerate some stimuli, like having people hold her paws, or people petting her on the head sometimes, but for some reason, she completely doesn't mind wearing the T-shirt. She acts like its not even on. It's actually really funny to see her wearing it, aside from the fact that its a Superman T-shirt, because she looks like a little chimpanzee dressed in people clothing. There should be a poster of her wearing the T-shirt and the cone, with a single tear dripping down her cheek, and the caption, "Dignity." No, seriously, we're not sadists, we have to put our dog in a T-shirt! We have to make her wear the cone! It's not just for our amusement. (Even though, come on, it really is pretty funny.)

Now that I finally have the Sidekick (and I can finally stop whining to Joe about how angry I am that he got his, like a week ago, even though it was MY IDEA in the FIRST place...) I'm looking into setting up a photolog. Doesn't seem like it would be hard, but for some reason, it is. Don't ask me why. Probably because I don't want to pay and am relying on iffy free services. Whatever, further updates as events warrent.

super cooper

Call me nuts, but I read on a vet website that a good way to deal with torso wounds instead of the conehead is just to slap a T-shirt on the dog. I'm glad there was another method suggested. The conehead is torture. And I had such a cute little shirt for her too...

Just watched what I believe to be the one Woody Allen comedy I hadn't seen up to this point: "Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Sex* (*but were afraid to ask)." Probably the reason I hadn't seen it yet is that I watched most Woody Allen movies for the first time with my dad, and he probably just pretended like that movie never existed just because it has the word "sex" in the title. It was your standard early-Woody movie, not so early as "What's New Pussycat," but more of the "Love and Death," "Bananas" era, with lots of light gags and slapstick. I had to see it to be a true fan, you know?

My favorite Woody Allen movie I haven't quite decided. "Annie Hall" is a great, of course, but I'm also a big fan of "Hannah and Her Sisters," "Crimes and Misdemeanors," "The Purple Rose of Cairo," and "Radio Days." Basically, '80s Woody. '90s Woody is a little harder to love, although who doesn't love "Bullets Over Broadway" and "Manhattan Murder Mystery?" "Mighty Aphrodite" and "Deconstructing Harry" were kind of light on plot and inspiration, even though they each had their moments. And I appreciated "Everyone Says I Love You," for what it was, that is, a musical comedy, especially daring prior to "Moulin Rouge" and "Chicago." Some weak work recently, though, with "Curse of the Jade Scorpion" and "Hollywood Ending," the latter I really didn't like. Oh, ha, he's blind. He can't see! Because he's blind! (Repeat same joke 30 times.)

I'm almost afraid to go see "Anything Else," now, after the most recent disappointment of "Hollywood Ending." What's happened to his casting? He's going from casting Michael Caine and Dianne Weist to casting Tiffani Amber Theissen and Jason Biggs? JASON BIGGS? What the hell? Doesn't he have any pies to make sweet, sweet love to?

extra hour

It's only 1:45pm? How can this be? I mean, excellent to have the extra hour and all, but what to do with it?

Just watched "Blue Car," which was movie number two of the two-movie Unlimited Pass rental last night. I love you, Blockbuster Video, even if you don't have porn and support right-wing Bible-thumping causes! I had meant to watch "Blue Car" when it was showing at the Angelika this summer, but that would have meant taking the subway and putting up with the sub-par sound-system and the sound of subway trains rumbling by throughout the movie, and damn, ten dollars to see a movie? I have to pick and choose, pick and choose. But anyway, I'm glad I rented it, it was as good as the Times said it would be, even though I objected to the teen-pop-looking DVD cover that clashed glaringly with the plot of the movie itself. And what's with the rose? There was no rose in the story! It's a good enough movie on its own, it doesn't need to invite attention and comparisons to "American Beauty" by slapping a rose on the cover of the DVD.

Cooper is sleeping under my desk with her head on my foot. Now the question is, do I stay here until she moves, or wake her up so that I can go clean the can?

Oh, she just moved. There you go then.

re-cooper-ation

re-cooper-ation

Doing a little better this morning. Not really interested in eating or drinking still, but I got some water into her with some doggy-psychology: I turned on the bathtub faucet. Then it's just irresistable. (She loves drinking from the tap.) Gave her her antibiotics this morning wrapped in cheese. She chomped it right up and ate the rest of the cheese too, along with a very small amount of dog food. I had to move the food bowl all the way out from the wall, though--otherwise, she can't get to it because of the cone.

Last night we didn't want to go out and leave the dog alone, so I got us some takeout and rented "American History X." This is something that I would only do now that I have the Blockbuster Unlimited Pass, because I actually watched most of "American History X" on TV, and to pay money to rent a movie I'd already seen before would be something of a rip. I did miss the last half-hour, though, because it was on TV very late at night and I had to go to work early the next day. I was advised that it would behoove me to actually watch the end of the movie, as there is a crucial plot point not to be missed (or, to quote my friend, "uh...doesn't something important happen at the end?") so we rented it and watched the whole movie again last night. They were right. Something important does happen at the end. Whatever happened to Edward Furlong after that movie anyway? "John Connor?"

My mission today is an ambitious one: to clean the entire apartment. Ambitious because our apartment is big, but also mostly because I hate cleaning. I already swept and Swiffered the floors, but I still have to put away laundry and wash the bathroom. The bathroom is the worst part. Amazing how a room devoted to getting yourself clean can itself get so dirty so quickly.

cooper update

Our dog, she is traumatized. Not really by the injury, which she barely noticed, but by the medical intervention. She's in a post-op daze, like the one I was in after I had my appendix out and all I could do was sleep, feel nauseated, and totter unsteadily to the bathroom, only to find that (probably secondary to the succinylcholine) I couldn't pee. My godmother, who came to visit me when I was in the slam, told me sagely, "Chinese people react strongly to anesthesia." I don't know about that, but I was zonked for at least 48 hours after surgery. And our dog, she is half-Chinese.

She's not hungry. Not thirsty. She's super clingy, following us around from room to room, swaying unsteadily on her feet. I think the area where she has her stitches is really hurting her. When you pet even close to the bald spot, she'll jerk those muscles, like how horses do when they have flies on them. Also, it's extra pathetic because she can't understand that the cone is like a force-field around her head and therefore keeps walking into things. (The barbituates they gave her probably don't help with reasoning it all out either.) I hate the cone, I wish she didn't have to wear it, but when we take it off, she just starts messing with the site and the last thing we need is for her to chew it open again. I'm worried, actually, that there's a collection forming under there--it was a deep lac, and I know that the vet was considering putting in a drain, though decided against it at the last minute. It's obviously tender, but hard to tell if its fluctuant, since she won't let us touch there, or erythematous, because of the dark fur-stubble. Also, how the hell would I know if she even had a fever or not? What's the normal body temperature for dogs? And we only have one thermometer in this house. I'm not sticking our oral human thermometer up the dog's butt.

Joe's on call, but I'll keep an eye on her tomorrow. If she starts to look worse, I'm taking her back to the vet.

conehead

Poor Coop!

Incidentally, that photo was taken with Joe's new T-Mobile Sidekick, which I hope to recieve myself once Amazon.com deigns to send it. I actually called Customer Support to complain, since I had ordered next day deliver last Sunday, and as you can see, I did not receive it next day, nor the day after, nor the day after that or after that. It's not great picture quality, obviously, but its for on the go, and what the hell, man, it's not like for our honeymoon photos or anything like that. The other morning, Joe tried to take pictures of these four prostitutes that hang out around Little India in our neighborhood early in the morning, trying to pick up cab drivers. That's what the Sidekick cameras is for. Taking pictures of ladies of the night and our retarded cone-head dog.

She's still pretty looped out from the anesthesia and pre-anesthesia tranquilizers, but I think she's starting to come out of it, though. For one, she's walking around again (though a little unsteady), and mildly interested in food. However, she's still so sleepy and she keeps whining and trying to lick at her stitches, and it makes me sad to look at her with her tail down and her giant bald patch.

And is it wrong that I'm more worried about our dog's laceration than I was about any of the kid last night whose AM blood draw showed a phosphorous of 13.4? I mean, it had to be lab error...right?

black dog down

Cooper had an accident at the dog park today. Either she got nipped by another dog or she scraped herself up on something, but she got a two inch lac on her right side that needed to be closed. Joe took her to the pet hospital and they sutured it up. Apparently, it was pretty deep, requiring sub-Qs as well as superficials, and they had to shave off a big patch of fur to do the repair. She's OK now, but knocked out from the anesthesia. Our vet gave us antibiotics for a week. and she has to wear one of those head cones until the stitches come out next weekend so that she doesn't nip at her wound.

Poor doggie.

sick call, the aftermath

Well, I'm home now. Onc call wasn't actually all that bad. I guess the patients were on their best behavior. No esophagus bits or exploding bladders. And I only five blood transfusions! I even got a chance to lie down for an hour and get some shut-eye, but I admit that shutting my eyes was just as far as the rest went--I was totally paranoid that one of the kids would up and die on me. But of course, no one did. (Last night, at least.)


JOE
See, when one of your patients die, it's sad. But when one of my patients die...

MICHELLE
It's like, "Thank god I don't have to write a note tomorrow!"

JOE
Heh. Kinda.

MICHELLE
"Thank god I don't have to write discharge orders for them...because they're dead."

JOE
Discharge to heaven.

MICHELLE
Diagnosis: Death

JOE
Condition: Stable

MICHELLE
Heh. Vitals: None. Allergies: Life.

JOE
Activities: Flying.

MICHELLE
And haunting people.

JOE
Hee.

MICHELLE
I need to go to sleep now.

on call

Well, here I am. How ridiculous is this, that I'm supposed to be in charge of 12 cancer patients? What the hell do I know? And what the hell kind of service is this where they're seriously signing out things to me like "this patient is coughing up bits of his esophagus," or "watch this patient's urine output, we don't want her bladder to explode." It's like a joke, but it's real. At least there are only 12 kids on the service tonight. Usually it's more like 20. Twenty children with cancer. Like I said, it could be worse. Call, internship, life in general. Some of these little guys look so sad.

it happened

I got called to cover Oncology sick-call tonight. The intern who was supposed to be on call tonight had a family emergency. I haven't done my Oncology block yet. In fact, I don't think I've ever even taken care of a hospitalized Pediatric Oncology patient before. I'm scared. Hold me.

little dr. au

One thing I forgot to mention is that my middle sister is applying to med school this year. So that's one thing. The second, more exciting thing, is that she has an interview in two weeks at [university hospital medical school], where I matriculated, and am doing my residency. This, to me, is very thrilling. I know just yesterday I was bashing on first year med students, like, get your heads out of your asses kids, it's just AN ANATOMY EXAM, but this is entirely different. My sister could be going to med school with me! I mean, in the same institution, not like I'm still in med school (though some days I wonder). How cool would that be? Why, in just a year or two, she's going to be way smarter than me, having just learned all the things that I've long forgotten. Glucose metabolism? Neuropathology? Who-wha?

Anyway, even if she doesn't end up at my med school, it'll be cool having another med student in the family. Finally, she'll understand the other 50% of what we're talking about over dinner. Joe was saying something the other day like, "the best advice we can give her is to run in the other direction...fast" but I think he's a little down on internship these days, having just started a month on the GI/Liver/Geriatrics service. I know I complain about residency a lot, much, much more than I say good things about it, but really, I just don't talk about the good stuff because it would come out sounding so treacly and "ER" redemption scene-esque (with slow, ponderous pan-out of camera as Carter slowly realizes he's Really Made A Difference) that I just don't even bother. Who wants to hear about that? People like trading war stories and competing over who had the worse call night.

But really, being a doctor is pretty cool. Even being an intern is pretty cool. I'm putting it in writing. I can't take it back. I like my job.

(And on that sappy note, cue pager, with the chiefs calling to tell me I have to take sick call tomorrow.)

stink butt

Can someone explain to me why Cooper's butt smells so bad at night? Not during the day, just at night. Usually after she licks her own butt. (She's a dog.) I wonder if her anal sacs need to be expressed. I read about that once, only wouldn't she then smell bad in the day too? Maybe there's some cross-reactivity between her saliva and her butt effluent that's making her butt stink, and we only really notice it in the evening because she doesn't lick her butt during the day. Or, more likely, we're just less likely to be around during the day. Either way, it (the mystery source, her anus/mouth) smells like a swamp. A swamp filled with feces.

the infamous leak

I find it interesting how many people will think that I can't speak English just because I'm Chinese. Today, a contracter-construction-worker-type-guy was talking to my dad about some work that needs to be done on our apartment, and after a particular point, turned to me and said, about three volume notches up, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" gesticulating with each word. I was a little surprised. I mean, if my dad speaks perfect, although heavily accented, English, logically, I should too.

So I just said, "Yes." I can never think of snappy comebacks in the moment. And anyway, snappy comebacks are not always appropriate, as we're sort of in the position of needing to kiss this guy's ass.

So the problem with our apartment is this: our balcony is leaking water into the apartment below. The building has tried to blame it on us, saying that we've done a poor job of upkeeping the ground, but what the engineers have found is that its a problem with the foundation and roof of the building itself, read: not our fault. So now there's this whole nightmare of who's going to own up to the responsibility and who's going to pay for what, but the bottom line is that it's going to be a huge job, entailing basically tearing up the entire balcony, re-roofing, pouring all new foundation, and paving over the whole thing. It could take up to a month. And there will be jackhammers involved.

"I usually tell people to move out of the house when we're doing work like this," the contracter told me (after he established that I spoke good old American English). "It's really pretty loud, and most people don't tolerate it too well." I told him that there was no way that we were moving out of our apartment for a month. It really shouldn't be a problem with volume, as long as it's done during work hours, but with my luck, I'll be working nights in the ER half that time and trying to sleep through the sound of three burly men tearing up our balcony. Good times.

brrr

It's really getting cold here, like frost on the pumpkins, Christmas decorations coming out, gotta break out my winter jackets cold. In the 30's this morning. And daylight savings not until this weekend. Why does it seem like daylight savings is so late this year? I could have sworn that it was going to be last weekend, though I'm glad that it wasn't, since I was on call Satuday and that would have meant one more hour in the hospital. It probably wouldn't have been that bad, since the night was manageable and everyone on was able to get some sleep, but I got shut out of my usual sleep spot (Leslie took the couch in the Housestaff Lounge when I got up at 3am to do another admission) so I had to hike on down to the call room. Sweet baby Jesus, it is cold in that call room. I mean, don't get me wrong, its nice to sleep in a real bed instead of a couch, to have a real pillow on which to rest your head instead of a balled up labcoat. It's just that it was negative one million degrees in there. It was so cold that I was actually less rested when I woke up than before. I was having all these tension-anxiety dreams, not the math dream, but this other recurring nightmare that I have where I'm driving in the city, but can't remember which pedal is the gas and which is the brake.

And now, to work.

redesigned, kinda sorta

I just re-organized the main page to reflect the move to Blogger. Also, keep an eye out for the photo log, coming soon!

one million dollars

There was a recent article in the Times (I would link to it but I can't find it anymore) which stated that the average price of a two bedroom apartment in Manhattan sells for about one million dollars. One million dollars. Here's to a city that people are basically paying an admission fee to live in. Woo, New York!

Speaking of the million dollars that I don't have (yet...but stay tuned for my imaginary lucrative private practice catering to movie star children...) Joe and I decided to go full-on geek and get side-by-side Sidekicks. I needed a new cell phone, and the lure of wireless internet and (more importantly) the ability to send pictures text messages back and forth incessantly all day long was too great for Joe, so he decided to get one too, to keep me company. I was so excited to get my Sidekick that I was peeing myself. I even ordered it next day delivery from Amazon, which I could rationalize because of the fat rebate. I wanted it now. Fast fast fast now now now. So how ironic that Joe, who placed his order a half hour after I did, got his in the mail already, and mine hasn't even shipped from the warehouse yet. (Estimated delivery date is this Friday. I placed the order Sunday. What the hell kind of "next day delivery" is that bullshit? I'm going to have words with Mister Amazon in e-mail form.) This all is, I feel, is punishment for checking my "Where Is My Order?" tracking page one too many times over the past half week. That, and not learning my lesson from Amazon the last three times I ordered from them. They never ship stuff on time. Don't even try ordering Christmas gifts from there, you'll just end up having to go out to a store to buy those same items Christmas Eve afternoon, only to finally receive your order three weeks later. What the hell am I supposed to do with that stuff in the middle of January? MLK gifts?

Take my advice: BarnesandNoble.com. Same day delivery within Manhattan. Or, don't be a shmuck like me and just walk to the freaking store. (Though, to be fair, may I remind you about the $120 rebate online. So there you go.)

I don't like the looks of those teenagers

So you know how last year when I was doing my Adolescent Medicine elective as a fourth year med student, I was saying how I like teenagers, because they remind me of me? Well, these days, I'm somewhat less tolerant. I don't know if it's because I'm getting jaded now, or just generally cranky in my old age, but teenagers can just sometimes be completely infuriating. Meet a few of my patients today.

TEEN GIRL #1, who is going to continue having unprotected sex with no contraception, because she hasn't gotten pregnant again since her first abortion, therefore she must be incapable of ever getting pregnant again.

TEEN GIRL #2, who (rightly) wants to lose weight but doesn't actually want to change her diet or exercise, and therefore is popping diet pills by the handful.

TEEN GIRL #3, who presents with the chief complaint of "I have headache, dizziness, nausea, weakness, a parasite from cats in my brain, a kidney infection, stomach pain, yellow discharge, and my left vagina hurts." (No, she wasn't pregnant, whiz kids.)

TEEN GIRL #4, who already has two very premature twin boys that she's raising on her own, and who blames herself that the father of the kids is completely not involved because "baby mommas are stressful."

It's funny, though, teenagers seem to respond better to medical advice when you yell at them a little bit. Do you quiet, calm, logical doctor explaining voice, and they glaze right over like it's school, but raise your voice a little and say, "Girl, what the hell are you thinking having unprotected sex with a guy that you know is cheating on you?" and they smile and roll their eyes and say "I know, I know."

adolescents

Isn't it funny how you can totally tell when I'm on a ward month at work (I mean, besides the fact that I told you outright), because I totally don't update at all for four weeks straight?

So now I'm on Adolescent Medicine for a month. This is generally a pretty laid back month, seeing teens at clinic, giving out condoms and birth control pills like they're going out of style, doing way more pelvic exams per day than I'll probably ever be doing again. However, I am on sick call this entire month, meaning I'll have to cover the work schedule of any other resident who, for one reason or another (illness, death in the family, little Timmy falls down a well) can't come to work. I already sent out an e-mail telling everyone to practice good handwashing techniques and to eat healthy. The idea of getting called in to cover someone's Cardiology night call, with all these sick little post- heart transplant patients doesn't fill me with joy. Stay well, people!

I'm hiding out in the computer labs now until noon conference. A pack of med students standing right next to me were stressing each other out about their first anatomy exam. "I definitely failed the written portion," one girl whined. "At least six or seven people a year fail [the basic science block]" a sage second year medical student piped in, all blase with her whole YEAR of extra experience. This sent another little shock wave of hair-pulling through the crowd. Lord, first year medical students. They all look so young, like they're in college or something. (And actually, they were, just a few months ago.) Thank god for the swift (in retrospect) completion of years 1 and 2 of medical school. Such academic self-obsessing as though your very life is hanging in the balance I just can't even handle being around anymore.