Remember the wallows? That critter just happens to be helpless against the mellows, found on my slow-me-down-shut-me-up-calm-me-over playlist. What’s shuffling on repeat when my med school mind needs a chill pill?
Many in this world are learning to live together. My medically-minded friends and I are living to learn together.
Not that we’ve anything against figuring out how to end wars between countries or siblings or political parties, but our future careers kinda depend on our brains. And our brains rely upon each others’ (see fortune above). Continue reading
Watch out where you treat! Take care where you trick! For around the corner lurks the most insidious and insipid monster of all hallow’s eves–the wallows. Continue reading
Your eyes quiz the x-ray technician as she mechanically folds back behind a lead wall. Fifteen years and a benign cyst ago, you might have rolled your eyes. Continue reading
Halloween hasn’t quite happened but Step 1 already had us second years quivering in maroon swivel chairs of a windowless room.
Last month, our professors “cordially invited” the entire class to a mandatory introduction to the joys of USMLE. This afternoon, like good, little pre-clinical med students, the whitest white-coated kind, we tried our best to muster up all our optimism. It had been a long day beginning with a quiz in parasitic worms along with necrotizing fungi and ending in lectures on every known sexually transmitted disease. With terrifying slides of clinical examples. In color. Continue reading
They’d be a half dozen. One dark chocolate, another peanut butter, a third red velvet, the rest lemon-blueberry–all snapped in plastic, cradled atop both of my arms. I would grip a rainbow of balloons in my right hand, squeezing in my left a raffle prize. Top and center would sit a green T-shirt (a free one at that!) right beside a blue dish of M&Ms, another gift from that evening.
And those cupcakes would have once lined the counters of the attic of the student union on main campus. Like ducks in a row. The smiling kind. They’d witness all sorts of people meeting all different sorts of people. I would make a friend from Nigeria and another from Mexico and another, well, she would be an MPH student. Everyone glancing, contemplating–which flavor would need sampled… again? They’d whisk the cupcakes off to the corner where bowls of M&Ms lined the tables. Across those would sail red crepe streamers under red paper hearts dangling on red strings from the rafters.