Two of my dear, biology major friends married one another this past weekend. That meant that two of my other sciencey major friends and I skipped south some seven hours, across a time zone, and into Nashville. Our plan? Switch n’ study. To alternate quizzing and driving only seemed logical for one dental and two medical students. But three quarters of the way there, I felt as fresh as when I’d begun my shift at 5:40 AM. Catching up with old lab buddies kept me brighter eyed than any dose of espresso.
Fall 2011. Freezing.
I felt kinda bourgeoisie once again while visiting a famous southern chateau. Apparently, its architects and a twenty-seven year old Vanderbilt modeled the place after a chateau called Chambord, my old friend (on the right). On my turf and crowed with English speakers, Biltmore was as gorgeously breath-taking as its foreign counterpart.
Asheville, NC, transformed my family into a bunch of hipsters. At least for one night. Instead of driving straight through, we took a detour through this southern gem. Lots of dogs walking about, local shops, businesses boasting their eco-friendly or vegan or sustainable ways in every way. From googling you-know-you’re-a-hipster-when, I think my fam got pretty close.
We bought local. This lil Mast General Store has been around since 1883!
We listened to music no one’s heard of. Pritchard park had a fun little drum session attended by young kids, old kids, crew cuts, dread locks, everyone.
We accessorized. There were a ton of cute boutiques and bookstores!
We brought old places to life. This is one of the oldest malls in America (after store hours!)
We rolled with intellectuals.
We ate locally. Early Girl Eatery boasts a farm-to-table menu and has been featured in fun travel and food mags.
Here is some real food! Fried green tomato napoleon with herbed goat cheese and salsa on grits. Mmm.
Video games, mirrors, and doggies are just a few options for the treatment of post-traumatic stress disorder. I received this mini-psych lesson at the pool. My uncle has a knack for meeting interesting people. Today was no different. Having chatted awhile on the stairs, he waved me over to make new friends. A fascinating conversation ensued with a psychiatric nurse who works at a veteran’s PTSD clinic.
So many questions.
All 4 feet of my four-year-old cousin snags my hand (FIVE years ol’! she’ll correct) and pulls me across a sidewalk, down some stairs, and through a break in the fence. I glance at my smiling toes in the sand. Shiny shells. Tire tracks
Wanna play the lava game? I propose. She dashes ahead leaving giggles in her wake. Our feet tumble along the imprints as we keep within the lines despite tempting shells and curly reeds. But to no avail. An acorn.
Getting past my schedule for the next 6 years of med school life is pretty hard to do. But, this weekend, I’ve managed to beat the lines, get the DL, and seize the day. I hope you take time to:
1. Get your patients early.
There are physicians that fly through their same-day surgeries. Once I have people to the holding room in an appropriately early fashion, I can kick back. It’s a trend that’s worth keeping for my second year studies. Get things done before they’re due!
2. Read book 3 before you’ve started book 2.
That’s hear as in your ear kind of hear.
And if you’re reading out loud, which I quite enjoy doing, despite dirty glances and an occasional chiding “keep it to yourself” spat my way, you would especially enjoy taking these out for a spin: otoscope, eustachian tube, transilluminate.
Upon returning from spring break, us first year medical students just wrapped up the head and neck portion of the physical exam. In my starchy white coat, I attempted to decipher words fuzzily familiar to those from anatomy class. My eyes on the patient, my chin nodding in agreement, my brain all aflurry–how is it that I can’t recall what I literally learned a month ago!? An hour of that and I walked out of the examination room hearing a distinct and distant invitation to [word]press on.
I took up for the upteenth time that pastime to which none of us would admit yet of which all are guilty: people watching. This month is dedicated to consumers who ironically purchase gifts which celebrate the birth of him that had no where to lay his head. But for once, I won’t preach on the meaning of Christmas, I’ll merely let my observations speak for the French traditions discovered by firsthand creeping and/or experience. In the spirit of the advent calendar (sans bonbons which, forcement, cannot be transmitted through cyberspace), the cutenesses witnessed this winter season: Continue reading