40 days

I’m wishing I knew more about computering right about now. I finally started studying (again) for my USMLE. From the day I started to the last Saturday in August gives me 40 days and nights. (It’s ironic to a point that it’s been raining here non-stop.)

I’m going to copy some code for a countdown timer into here, but I don’t know if it’ll work or not. If not, please disregard the blabber that follows:

<!–

dateFuture = new Date(2010,7,28,23,59,59);

function GetCount(){

dateNow = new Date(); //grab current date
amount = dateFuture.getTime() – dateNow.getTime(); //calc milliseconds between dates
delete dateNow;

// time is already past
if(amount

blue mountain

My mom sent me an e-card yesterday.  It’s the third she’s sent in 10 days.  She must be quite concerned about my well-being.  She even called once.  It was labour day back home, so she had some time off.  I’m going to really have to start studying so that if and when she calls again, I can actually give her an update on some constructive behavior.

blogosphere

What have I gotten myself into?!  I just wanted a way to record my thoughts and feelings about life and medical school, and I find now that there’s this whole other world of blogging and bloggers.

I’ve never been really consistent when it comes to journaling, but it always seems to me to be such a good idea.  I’ve tried several different methods, too-the trusty old notebook style, a web log (on more than one site), and a video log.  I seem to start with lots of pep and then get distracted by some shiny object off the main path.

This current overwhelming feeling is not is a good sign.  Does anyone have any clue what I do with a blogroll?

they love me; they love me not

My dad called last night.  He wanted to check up on me and asked about my health, my studies, etc., etc.  I haven’t talked to either one of my parents for at least a month now.  My brother Phil never calls me.  If we talk, it’s the twice a year I call him; and sometimes he doesn’t answer the phone because he’s scared of the overseas charges he’ll get smacked with by his cellphone’s service provider.

I’ve been at this particular med school for going on two and a half years now, and my family has not come to visit me once.  For my two-year anniversary, I finally got to leave this country for the first time and go home.  It was a most welcome vacation!

Seeing how often other people communicate with their loved ones, how often they get to go home, or how often they are visited makes me quite jealous.  My brain knows that it’s not fair to compare situations, because it’s apples and oranges.  Friends of mine have federal loans to pay for their plane tickets and phone plans, whereas my parents have to delve into their stock shares and take out private loans to support me and my two other siblings, Harmon and Melody, that are still in high school.  Some of my classmates only have one other sibling, who’s already self-sufficient; others have previous careers that afford them luxuries most med students can only dream of.

Apples and oranges….

Thankfully, talking with my dad and then google chatting with my mom and dad got us pretty much up to speed by midnight.  I miss my little brother and sister (the ones in high school), though.  I haven’t spoken to them in ages, and they’re busy preparing for national exams back home, so haven’t responded to my Facebook messages.

It’s not easy to remember that people love you when they’re not around, when you can’t talk to them often, but my family supports me however they can.  For that, I am truly grateful.

i heart medicine

Of all the childhood dreams I’ve had of what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be, being a missionary doctor trumped everything else-hands down. Soooo, the romantic dreamer in me set off to an upstanding Christian college to make sure that I had a good Bible-based educational foundation (because my Christian high school didn’t count for some reason). I graduated in my allotted four years with a science major, math and Spanish minor. (I can’t really explain that combination very well, but it seemed worth it at the time.)

Then life, the bastard that it is, landed its first uppercut while I, the novice, stood unprotected. That punch went straight to the belly. I had to go home after graduation to support my brother at his high school graduation because my family is such a tight-knit unit (NOT)! Then, the United States with all its rules and regulations post 9-11 wouldn’t let me back in, of course. I totally understand where they’re coming from, but it really does suck for a non-terrorist like myself.

What could I do? I floundered around for a couple of years, got a job teaching Spanish (wow!), became an emergency medical technician (super-wow!), then finally got into the “Harvard” of Caribbean medical schools, where I discovered I had no motivation to study at ALL!

Mmmmm…how is that even possible?! How do get on the obvious path to your life’s dream just to become mediocre after years of striving and be good if not the best at what you do? (I can’t answer that question. You may have noticed by now that I don’t have lots of answers, but I thought I’d just lay it all out there for you. Now you really know where I’m coming from, not just where I originate from.)

So life and I keep sparring, and life keeps coming out on top. Finances run out, and in order to keep studying I have to leave my famous med school and head to some unheard of corner backyard school, which is where I am now.

Don’t get me wrong in all this. I know things sound really bleak, but I love the profession I am in the midst of. I feel that my words are inadequate to justly explain to you the rush I get in an orthopedic surgery theater or just how encouraged I am when  my patient properly implements my instructions or how my heart hurts when I know there’s nothing more to be done for someone or the height to which it’s lifted as I watch a child unable to walk get his first wheelchair, his face shining and his mother’s tears overflowing as people who care pray for God to sustain her and her young one.

It’s pure joy, I tell you; and I believe it’s sweeter because of all the bitter moments.

mountain? or molehill???

Point-of-view undeniably has a VERY significant role to play in the age-old debate of mountains versus molehills. For example, nationality is a huge factor in the medical quest.

I am from the Caribbean.

Whenever people discover this, the response will be, “Wow!” “How cool!” “You must go to the beach everyday!” “I wish I were from an island!” The platitudes are quite cliché to me now. I smile and nod, but I wrestle with my heritage.

Many of my colleagues and friends are Americans. We all want the same thing: that residency position at the end of the rainbow. Yet, the statistics say that they have a 93% chance of reaching the acclaimed pot of gold; whereas as I, the cool Caribbean, have a 42% chance (based on the 2009 NRMP report).

Am I making a mountain out of a molehill here? Or is this one heck of a challenge???