Hello again, world.
I spent my entire vacation barely thinking about academics and it felt so. incredibly. good. Whereas once I'd planned to spend the break slaving away for the MCAT, I instead found myself golfing often and at some beautiful courses that were brand-new to me. For the first 9 holes at one course, I was on track to break 80! I ended up falling back into terrible form on the back 9 and shot high 90s/low 100s. I also had my first hole-out, and it was out of a bunker from maybe 20 yards away!
I spent a week at my mom and step-dad's, almost every day of which was filled with highly enjoyable times with my mom. I hadn't realised exactly how much I'd been missing her since coming to Big City University. It was amazing and I've spent each day since wishing I could go back and do it all over again. I sure do love my mama.
The time away from my flatmates was wonderful. One of the grad students had been driving me completely up the wall...unfortunately, we were only two or three weeks apart. Not nearly enough. It never is. After less than a month since his return, I'm sickened at the sound of his laugh. Can you imagine, to be sickened at the sound of laughter? It's a disgraceful set of circumstances and I'm trying desperately to put a positive spin on it. Ugh, bottom line is, I absolutely cannot wait to have a place of my own. Just another year and a half... another year and a half...
I didn't see my friends back home once during the entire break, and this was a point of disappointment and sadness...especially bad was New Year's Eve. All day I'd been going through old VHS tapes with my mom, trying to figure out which were worth keeping. There were some old home movies from when I was a little kid...I was taken aback by how much my parents loved me and the things they did for me. That had me feeling a bit emotional, and then when I realised how happily my parents were getting along, I really had a hard time of it. I miss my parents being together. I miss my dad. I miss my dad a lot. I hardly get to talk to him and see him even less. A terrible wave of sadness crashed all around me.
I tried to contact my friends back home to hang out and get my mind off of all of this, but none of them answered my calls or texts...until 7 or 8 p.m., which was a bit too late to hit the road to see them. There had been a bit of an emergency earlier in the day and had only just then been sorted out. Understandable, but obviously disappointing.
The longer I sat there, the more I thought about my dad and how he must feel he's been viewed since the divorce. I felt absolutely awful. I began to feel awful for all of the unpleasant things I may have said to him in my youth. I felt awful about how things have panned out in his life since the divorce. I just felt awful and wanted to talk to him and tell him I love him. So I called, and I nearly cried at the sound of his voice. It was exactly the same as it was on the VHS tapes from over 20 years ago. Several times throughout the course of the conversation I was nearly reduced to tears, for no reason that he could possibly have detected. I tried to set up a time we could get together and hang out, but he was kind of wishy-washy about it. He did agree that we need to go golfing together sometime, though. I became extremely pleased with this prospect. We talked for a while longer, and when we hung up, I felt a bit better than before I called.
The rest of New Year's Eve was spent in the guest room at my mom's playing some video game and falling asleep before midnight. Hooray.
I haven't really shaken that sadness that I came upon on New Year's Eve. Like I said, I miss my parents, I miss my sister, I miss things they way they used to be... well, for the most part. I've also been really struggling with feeling like I've let my parents down by not applying to medical school this year. I know they'd be proud of me no matter what I did, but I wanted them to be really proud of me. It all goes back to feeling like a failure. It seems like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, nothing seems to amount to anything. I know that's not true completely, but for the things that really matter to me...
Ugh. Just ugh. I feel so incredibly sad. I never see my friends, hardly see my family, don't have a woman to love, don't have any money, don't have, don't have, don't have. I just want to go back to being a newborn and start all over, armed with the knowledge I have now. Boy, I sure would make the most of all those years at home with my parents. I'd make the most of a lot of things.
In happier news, my classes this term are going well and I like them all. B's should be easily within reach across the board. After this term, I just have summer classes and then the next academic year before graduation. The end is so, so close. It's going to feel so good to be finished (at long last) and look toward my next goal...especially when I'm doing it from the comfort of my own quiet and clean place.
This wasn't mean to be as depressing as it turned out to be, but I guess these were things that I had to get off of my chest. Can't say as though I feel much better having done so, and I've a mind to delete it all, but in the interest of creating a history to look back upon, it stays.
Showing posts with label Desires. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Desires. Show all posts
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, November 22, 2010
Changes
Yesterday, despite today's exam hanging over my head, was one of the nicest days I've had in recent memory. In between studying, I found time to watch two films with my favourite of this year's flatmates. We later had a conversation lasting several hours that was full of all kinds of 90s nostalgia.
Before I went to bed, the urge to listen to Hootie & the Blowfish overwhelmed me. It rather came out of nowhere, and I very nearly side-stepped indulging myself.
So glad I went through with it.
I looked up "Only Wanna Be With You" on Youtube and remembered watching the goofy video when it was all the rage on MTV years and years ago. It's actually a nice little song, and I don't care what anybody says. There was a link to "Hold My Hand," which was my favourite of their songs... as I was listening to it, I thought a lot about the negative, judgemental, and stifled way with which I've conducted myself since my mid-teens, especially as it relates to any form of art. I'm a terrible film snob, and pretty snobby about music and television, as well.
I can't really help that I prefer my entertainment to, on the whole, be challenging and engaging...but I sure can help flat-out refusing to look for the good in mindless entertainment, and I think I'll be a happier person overall for it.
So, today, I decided I'd either dig out my old Hootie CDs (still have them somewhere) or just download them. Ended up going to download them. I entered the band name in the search bar of my favourite pirating system and the first result was called something like "Top 250 Hits of the 90s." Hmm. I read through the song list and saw a bunch of songs I haven't heard in years...even music I would be embarrassed to be caught listening to now. Or, at least, would've been embarrassed to be listening to before yesterday.
It's fantastic. I'm 30-something songs into it and am listening to Counting Crows - "Mr. Jones" at the moment. I always had something against the song for some reason, but I'm enjoying it now! Other highlights that made me smile:
Seal - "Kiss From A Rose"
Everything But The Girl - "Missing"
Boyz II Men - "Water Runs Dry"
Suzanne Vega - "Tom's Diner"
Dishwalla - "Counting Blue Cars"
All of these songs are bringing back some great memories!
I watched the Karate Kid remake tonight and really had to fight to not rip it to shreds. First of all, having grown up watching the originals, I'm naturally biased against a remake. The one thing I couldn't get over was the film's title... there was no karate! The acting was generally pretty terrible... BUT! I did find some enjoyment in the fight scenes and liked the music the little girl played. One of my flatmates commented that it'd have been one of his favourite movies had he seen it when he was 8 or 9. I viewed it from that perspective, and sure, I can see it. That helped put a positive spin on the overall experience.
This won't be easy for me anytime soon, but I'm tired of being an outsider of sorts. I gave "House" a shot a little while ago, but ahhh, the guy's too big of a jerk for my taste. Immediately following it, however, I let myself laugh at Family Guy which was almost like Jesus coming back and announcing that God doesn't exist. Shocking. Terribly shocking.
All of this is kind of a personal fix for my anxiety issues. I don't reckon it could hurt. haha!
Before I went to bed, the urge to listen to Hootie & the Blowfish overwhelmed me. It rather came out of nowhere, and I very nearly side-stepped indulging myself.
So glad I went through with it.
I looked up "Only Wanna Be With You" on Youtube and remembered watching the goofy video when it was all the rage on MTV years and years ago. It's actually a nice little song, and I don't care what anybody says. There was a link to "Hold My Hand," which was my favourite of their songs... as I was listening to it, I thought a lot about the negative, judgemental, and stifled way with which I've conducted myself since my mid-teens, especially as it relates to any form of art. I'm a terrible film snob, and pretty snobby about music and television, as well.
I can't really help that I prefer my entertainment to, on the whole, be challenging and engaging...but I sure can help flat-out refusing to look for the good in mindless entertainment, and I think I'll be a happier person overall for it.
So, today, I decided I'd either dig out my old Hootie CDs (still have them somewhere) or just download them. Ended up going to download them. I entered the band name in the search bar of my favourite pirating system and the first result was called something like "Top 250 Hits of the 90s." Hmm. I read through the song list and saw a bunch of songs I haven't heard in years...even music I would be embarrassed to be caught listening to now. Or, at least, would've been embarrassed to be listening to before yesterday.
It's fantastic. I'm 30-something songs into it and am listening to Counting Crows - "Mr. Jones" at the moment. I always had something against the song for some reason, but I'm enjoying it now! Other highlights that made me smile:
Seal - "Kiss From A Rose"
Everything But The Girl - "Missing"
Boyz II Men - "Water Runs Dry"
Suzanne Vega - "Tom's Diner"
Dishwalla - "Counting Blue Cars"
All of these songs are bringing back some great memories!
I watched the Karate Kid remake tonight and really had to fight to not rip it to shreds. First of all, having grown up watching the originals, I'm naturally biased against a remake. The one thing I couldn't get over was the film's title... there was no karate! The acting was generally pretty terrible... BUT! I did find some enjoyment in the fight scenes and liked the music the little girl played. One of my flatmates commented that it'd have been one of his favourite movies had he seen it when he was 8 or 9. I viewed it from that perspective, and sure, I can see it. That helped put a positive spin on the overall experience.
This won't be easy for me anytime soon, but I'm tired of being an outsider of sorts. I gave "House" a shot a little while ago, but ahhh, the guy's too big of a jerk for my taste. Immediately following it, however, I let myself laugh at Family Guy which was almost like Jesus coming back and announcing that God doesn't exist. Shocking. Terribly shocking.
All of this is kind of a personal fix for my anxiety issues. I don't reckon it could hurt. haha!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Things
- Haven't had to resort to studying in the bathroom since last weekend.
- Was below the curve again for one of my exams...oh, wonderful. Feel I did okay on the other; won't know until next week, maybe. One more to take next week.
- Won't know the results of my ADHD evaluation for three agonising weeks.
- I've taken to studying to the sounds of nature...found a bunch of mp3s of birds carrying on, ocean waves crashing, etc. It's quite lovely and almost makes me forget that I'm locked away indoors. Bird songs do wonders for my emotional state. haha
- Couldn't turn up for volunteering this week due to having been a bit under the weather in the latter half of the week.
- Rediscovered Mock the Week on Youtube and spent my last waking hour Thursday night watching clips of the "Things..." segment. Frankie Boyle, Hugh Dennis, and Milton Jones crack me up like few others can.
- Briefly, yet seriously, considered abandoning my current degree and taking back up with being an art major. Physics II is my last required class for med school, and I'll complete that in the spring. Oh, temptation. Money is a factor that severely inhibits my ability to jump ship. Only three semesters stand between me and graduation.
- Had a great time playing (getting destroyed in) FIFA on the xbox with my flatmates last night. Competition was fierce!
- I've begun organising my Christmas break schedule. I'll hopefully get in to shadow in the ER for the duration of the break. I'll begin my MCAT prep...and if finances allow, I'll take a wee roadtrip with my flatmates!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Connections
Had a rough day yesterday...one of those "Never gonna make it to med school" days. One of my flatmates provided some encouraging words that didn't sink it until lunchtime today. More on that in a bit.
For the first time since the beginning of the term, I understood precisely what was going on for about a 20 minute chunk of my molecular biology lecture. It was exactly the second wind I needed to ramp up my exam-prep.
After class, I went to take care of some small things around town and happened upon a gigantic antiques shop. I'm drawn to antiques shops like moth to flame. There is something so mysterious, charming, and worthy of praise about them... not much produced these days is built to last, so naturally, I value highly the longevity of these items.
As I wandered around from one aisle to the next, I saw all manner of trinkets, furniture, and books. If only I could take it all home with me. I decided that I'd let myself buy one item (or a combination of items, not to exceed $20 in total) if something really took hold of me. The closest I came was with a shelf full of very old cameras. I have one that belonged to my great-grandfather that is in the precise style as all of the ones in the shop, but definitely higher end. Still, though, to see so many was a joy.
...and I thought about my grandfather, for whom photography was a great passion. It's getting close to 20 years since he passed and I miss him greatly. I often wish that he was still here to see me on my path to medical school, and I sure could use his guidance on all things academic. He was a doctor, but not of the medical variety. Anyway, as I was turning the camera in my hands, I smiled and wondered what his reaction would be to these items...I wondered if he'd greet them with as much approval.
I took the long way home. I don't recall thinking about anything in particular, which is rather strange for me. During a study break, I thought a little about the girl I'd met yesterday. My flatmates say I should snatch her up now before someone else does, but I'd feel more than a little weird dating someone fresh out of high school. Some part of me agrees I should dive in and see what happens. Uh, the rest of me is waiting to dive in after she's above the legal drinking age. ha.
I also thought about the advice from my flatmate...he was very encouraging when he said that I shouldn't worry about failure, that I shouldn't worry about my last year of university not being outstanding, stop doubting myself, and just go for it. Since I last met with my pre-health advisor, I've been thinking a lot about his advice to stay for another year to show solid academic achievement. I really don't want to. Maybe it's foolish to ignore his advice, but I made up my mind to do just that. I feel like I'm ready. Full steam ahead!
No time was wasted whipping out the MSAR and evaluating all of the schools I'd bookmarked earlier in the year. I removed some bookmarks, added some new ones, and made an Excel sheet with all of the pertinent data on each school. I can sort it by GPA, science GPA, MCAT, etc... time well spent! I picked a half dozen schools to which I'll apply and felt more motivated than I have in a month.
Just a few minutes ago, I spoke to my grandma for the first time in a few months (ah!!). At the end of the call, she mentioned my grandpa and how he struggled and doubted himself plenty, as well. End the end, he got to where he'd wanted to go. She told me to keep my nose to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel, and in those precise words.
After we hung up, I thought more about my grandpa, and about this morning in the antiques shop. Maybe he is witnessing all of this, and cheering me on, to boot. It's a lovely thought.
For the first time since the beginning of the term, I understood precisely what was going on for about a 20 minute chunk of my molecular biology lecture. It was exactly the second wind I needed to ramp up my exam-prep.
After class, I went to take care of some small things around town and happened upon a gigantic antiques shop. I'm drawn to antiques shops like moth to flame. There is something so mysterious, charming, and worthy of praise about them... not much produced these days is built to last, so naturally, I value highly the longevity of these items.
As I wandered around from one aisle to the next, I saw all manner of trinkets, furniture, and books. If only I could take it all home with me. I decided that I'd let myself buy one item (or a combination of items, not to exceed $20 in total) if something really took hold of me. The closest I came was with a shelf full of very old cameras. I have one that belonged to my great-grandfather that is in the precise style as all of the ones in the shop, but definitely higher end. Still, though, to see so many was a joy.
...and I thought about my grandfather, for whom photography was a great passion. It's getting close to 20 years since he passed and I miss him greatly. I often wish that he was still here to see me on my path to medical school, and I sure could use his guidance on all things academic. He was a doctor, but not of the medical variety. Anyway, as I was turning the camera in my hands, I smiled and wondered what his reaction would be to these items...I wondered if he'd greet them with as much approval.
I took the long way home. I don't recall thinking about anything in particular, which is rather strange for me. During a study break, I thought a little about the girl I'd met yesterday. My flatmates say I should snatch her up now before someone else does, but I'd feel more than a little weird dating someone fresh out of high school. Some part of me agrees I should dive in and see what happens. Uh, the rest of me is waiting to dive in after she's above the legal drinking age. ha.
I also thought about the advice from my flatmate...he was very encouraging when he said that I shouldn't worry about failure, that I shouldn't worry about my last year of university not being outstanding, stop doubting myself, and just go for it. Since I last met with my pre-health advisor, I've been thinking a lot about his advice to stay for another year to show solid academic achievement. I really don't want to. Maybe it's foolish to ignore his advice, but I made up my mind to do just that. I feel like I'm ready. Full steam ahead!
No time was wasted whipping out the MSAR and evaluating all of the schools I'd bookmarked earlier in the year. I removed some bookmarks, added some new ones, and made an Excel sheet with all of the pertinent data on each school. I can sort it by GPA, science GPA, MCAT, etc... time well spent! I picked a half dozen schools to which I'll apply and felt more motivated than I have in a month.
Just a few minutes ago, I spoke to my grandma for the first time in a few months (ah!!). At the end of the call, she mentioned my grandpa and how he struggled and doubted himself plenty, as well. End the end, he got to where he'd wanted to go. She told me to keep my nose to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel, and in those precise words.
After we hung up, I thought more about my grandpa, and about this morning in the antiques shop. Maybe he is witnessing all of this, and cheering me on, to boot. It's a lovely thought.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Ladies and gentlemen, fasten your seatbelts. We're experiencing some unusual turbulence.
The results of each of my first exams are in and disappointed me greatly.
Molecular Biology: 62 (with the curve); Class average: 80
Genetics: 73; Class average: 84
Physics: 56; Class average: 60
I found out my molec score in the morning, genetics in the early afternoon, and the K.O. punch delivered by my physics score came in late afternoon. Absolutely devastated, I was. Worse still, I had a meeting with my pre-med adviser the next morning. I was still busy ripping myself to shreds over my poor performance, and his reaction to my plans to apply to med school this spring came across as if I'd slapped his mother. He suggests I pick up a second major and stay an extra year.
My first reaction was to resist.
My second reaction was to get a second opinion.
My third reaction was to just give the whole thing up entirely...but that only lasted a few minutes.
My fourth, and final, reaction was to just go with it. He's been doing his job for over 20 years and is highly respected by the university, as well as many physicians and representatives from medical schools in the state.
So, I have no idea what I'll pick. He gave me a list of related majors that I could easily knock out in a year, but none of them sound too terribly appealing. Maybe I'll take another minor or two instead.
Also, I decided that if I am going to be stuck in university for another year, I need to be making money. I've applied to a limited access training program for respiratory therapy, which I'll begin in the spring if I'm accepted. I'm going to take a bunch of medically relevant, easy-A classes at my university in the spring (at my adviser's suggestion), and will have loads of free time. I should be able to complete the program by December '11 and then hopefully get right to work...perhaps at Big City Hospital! I know a guy who does it part time while he's finishing his degree; also a pre-med. Good guy, probably get an in that way, along with my prior employment experience there and my current status as a volunteer.
Things are still not looking good academically, though. I can't ignore this fact. I've been seeing an expert on learning disabilities and had my first round of testing with him yesterday. Two more sessions should be sufficient to have a better understanding of what sort of problem I'm facing, and then the work will begin on working around it. That's what I'm most looking forward to...I can't wait to start making those As again.
Molecular Biology: 62 (with the curve); Class average: 80
Genetics: 73; Class average: 84
Physics: 56; Class average: 60
I found out my molec score in the morning, genetics in the early afternoon, and the K.O. punch delivered by my physics score came in late afternoon. Absolutely devastated, I was. Worse still, I had a meeting with my pre-med adviser the next morning. I was still busy ripping myself to shreds over my poor performance, and his reaction to my plans to apply to med school this spring came across as if I'd slapped his mother. He suggests I pick up a second major and stay an extra year.
My first reaction was to resist.
My second reaction was to get a second opinion.
My third reaction was to just give the whole thing up entirely...but that only lasted a few minutes.
My fourth, and final, reaction was to just go with it. He's been doing his job for over 20 years and is highly respected by the university, as well as many physicians and representatives from medical schools in the state.
So, I have no idea what I'll pick. He gave me a list of related majors that I could easily knock out in a year, but none of them sound too terribly appealing. Maybe I'll take another minor or two instead.
Also, I decided that if I am going to be stuck in university for another year, I need to be making money. I've applied to a limited access training program for respiratory therapy, which I'll begin in the spring if I'm accepted. I'm going to take a bunch of medically relevant, easy-A classes at my university in the spring (at my adviser's suggestion), and will have loads of free time. I should be able to complete the program by December '11 and then hopefully get right to work...perhaps at Big City Hospital! I know a guy who does it part time while he's finishing his degree; also a pre-med. Good guy, probably get an in that way, along with my prior employment experience there and my current status as a volunteer.
Things are still not looking good academically, though. I can't ignore this fact. I've been seeing an expert on learning disabilities and had my first round of testing with him yesterday. Two more sessions should be sufficient to have a better understanding of what sort of problem I'm facing, and then the work will begin on working around it. That's what I'm most looking forward to...I can't wait to start making those As again.
Monday, August 16, 2010
There comes a time
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
My return to Big City Hospital has been better than I thought it would be, but the magic and the excitement and my desire to be there as an employee have all slipped out through the back and are waiting for me to catch up in some destination unknown. Consider my two weeks notice to have been formally submitted.
Perhaps it's a mistake, and one that I'll regret greatly in the coming months and years, but this is what my heart says to do.
Some of the nurses weren't too happy, most didn't care (or didn't have time to). The idea of coming back as a volunteer was suggested by a few of them. I might do that...stay in the hospital environment, but only for a few hours one day a week. This will free up plenty of time to focus on my studies, decrease my overall stress level, and afford me the opportunity to still spend time with the nurses with whom I've forged a bit of a friendship.
We'll see. I'm still back and forth on having a medical career, and to what capacity.
Also, those who oversaw my management of the event I failed to organise all approached me recently and asked that I give it another go, but with several months extra to work on it. The realisation that the event would not be anything near the capacity to which I'd aspired was a crushing blow several months ago. Things have changed and I don't know if I feel the same passion for some particular areas of the project. I want to go through with it, but I don't know if I'll have the kind of people I need to make happen.
Furthermore, Old Flame's wedding is almost here. My desire to go is slightly above my desire to wake and find a bald spot upon my head. She's my friend, I'm happy, etc...but ahh. It could've been us. I'm glad that it isn't...yes, finally glad... but ahh. Plus, her family members make me squirm with their high society airs. I guess the upside is that there will be plenty of women around and I'm at my best in a suit and tie. Ah, I don't know.
That's what it comes down to, all over again.
I just don't know.
I just need a little hint of what I should be doing, what decisions I should be making, what I should focus on and what I should let fall to the side.
Maybe I don't need any of that. Maybe what I need is to shut up, keep my eyes open, and press on.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
My return to Big City Hospital has been better than I thought it would be, but the magic and the excitement and my desire to be there as an employee have all slipped out through the back and are waiting for me to catch up in some destination unknown. Consider my two weeks notice to have been formally submitted.
Perhaps it's a mistake, and one that I'll regret greatly in the coming months and years, but this is what my heart says to do.
Some of the nurses weren't too happy, most didn't care (or didn't have time to). The idea of coming back as a volunteer was suggested by a few of them. I might do that...stay in the hospital environment, but only for a few hours one day a week. This will free up plenty of time to focus on my studies, decrease my overall stress level, and afford me the opportunity to still spend time with the nurses with whom I've forged a bit of a friendship.
We'll see. I'm still back and forth on having a medical career, and to what capacity.
Also, those who oversaw my management of the event I failed to organise all approached me recently and asked that I give it another go, but with several months extra to work on it. The realisation that the event would not be anything near the capacity to which I'd aspired was a crushing blow several months ago. Things have changed and I don't know if I feel the same passion for some particular areas of the project. I want to go through with it, but I don't know if I'll have the kind of people I need to make happen.
Furthermore, Old Flame's wedding is almost here. My desire to go is slightly above my desire to wake and find a bald spot upon my head. She's my friend, I'm happy, etc...but ahh. It could've been us. I'm glad that it isn't...yes, finally glad... but ahh. Plus, her family members make me squirm with their high society airs. I guess the upside is that there will be plenty of women around and I'm at my best in a suit and tie. Ah, I don't know.
That's what it comes down to, all over again.
I just don't know.
I just need a little hint of what I should be doing, what decisions I should be making, what I should focus on and what I should let fall to the side.
Maybe I don't need any of that. Maybe what I need is to shut up, keep my eyes open, and press on.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Monday, July 26, 2010
Josiah Orville Morris, this is your life...erm...today.
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
I awoke before the sun graced this stretch of land with its presence today (5 a.m. to be exact) and have been frantically cramming mechanisms and random bits of organic chemistry trivia into my weary brain just about ever since. Two, ohhh joy, two exams this week. Lab final one day, lecture exam the next.
In other news, the project is still a sinking ship. None of my committee responded to my phone calls and subsequent emails that I put through on Friday. Darling. Absolutely darling.
When I arrived at the apartment this morning, I opened the door expecting the usual nauseating aroma of Lord-only-knows-what that Party Boy left festering under five pounds of clothes, books, and assorted food wrappers... I expected to see rolling hills of clothing and trash in a post-apocalyptic landscape of neglect and carelessness...
...but what I saw (and smelled) brought great joy to my recently-troubled heart. Boxes. Boxes with Party Boy's stuff in them. The faint hint of various cleaning agents in the air very nearly got me excited in such a way that had only been accomplished by females in the past. Oh, boy, oh, boy. The time of his permanent departure is near! The place will be mine, all mine...all nice and clean...and QUIET for just about three glorious weeks!
Last night was a strange one, for it is usually the time I set aside to spend with my mom while I enjoy her fine home-cooking. However, she's moved into my brand-new step-father's place. Just a few things to tie up after the honeymoon and my ties with that old house will forever be cut. My ties to that part of the state, in which I spent almost all of the last 12 years, will also be almost completely severed. There are quite a number of big changes to wrap my head around at the moment, and I do say that I'm not completely processing any of them at the moment. The big three thoughts on my mind are as follows:
1. Must make an A on both my last lecture exam and final exam to make a B in the class.
2. Have to make the call to say my project won't meet its deadline next week.
3. Wondering if I should explore some other avenue instead of medicine.
Still struggling quite a bit with #3 there. I'll say one thing for certain; Boston Med is precisely the kind of kick in the pantaloons this young gentleman needs to stoke that old fire. Thursdays starting at 10 p.m. are the wildest, most focused times I've had since deciding to become a doctor.
Finally, my dear, Sunday morning brought a situation to me in which never before had I imagined I'd willfully engage... an online lonely hearts club. I've been reasoning that it's better to do something, anything, than sit round feeling miserable. My hope is that I'll come across someone with with intellectual depth the likes of which I've never known, who is tall in stature, and with creativity and genuine love for all beings oozing from her pores. So far, however, it's just been obese NASCAR and/or Twilight fans who couldn't spell to save their lives. ...par for the course?
Yes, I think so.
HA HA HA, laughs the Lord above, at poor ol' Josiah. Pooooor ol' Josiah who is purposefully being dramatic to avoid returning to the exciting world of aldol condensation reactions, and the like.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
I awoke before the sun graced this stretch of land with its presence today (5 a.m. to be exact) and have been frantically cramming mechanisms and random bits of organic chemistry trivia into my weary brain just about ever since. Two, ohhh joy, two exams this week. Lab final one day, lecture exam the next.
In other news, the project is still a sinking ship. None of my committee responded to my phone calls and subsequent emails that I put through on Friday. Darling. Absolutely darling.
When I arrived at the apartment this morning, I opened the door expecting the usual nauseating aroma of Lord-only-knows-what that Party Boy left festering under five pounds of clothes, books, and assorted food wrappers... I expected to see rolling hills of clothing and trash in a post-apocalyptic landscape of neglect and carelessness...
...but what I saw (and smelled) brought great joy to my recently-troubled heart. Boxes. Boxes with Party Boy's stuff in them. The faint hint of various cleaning agents in the air very nearly got me excited in such a way that had only been accomplished by females in the past. Oh, boy, oh, boy. The time of his permanent departure is near! The place will be mine, all mine...all nice and clean...and QUIET for just about three glorious weeks!
Last night was a strange one, for it is usually the time I set aside to spend with my mom while I enjoy her fine home-cooking. However, she's moved into my brand-new step-father's place. Just a few things to tie up after the honeymoon and my ties with that old house will forever be cut. My ties to that part of the state, in which I spent almost all of the last 12 years, will also be almost completely severed. There are quite a number of big changes to wrap my head around at the moment, and I do say that I'm not completely processing any of them at the moment. The big three thoughts on my mind are as follows:
1. Must make an A on both my last lecture exam and final exam to make a B in the class.
2. Have to make the call to say my project won't meet its deadline next week.
3. Wondering if I should explore some other avenue instead of medicine.
Still struggling quite a bit with #3 there. I'll say one thing for certain; Boston Med is precisely the kind of kick in the pantaloons this young gentleman needs to stoke that old fire. Thursdays starting at 10 p.m. are the wildest, most focused times I've had since deciding to become a doctor.
Finally, my dear, Sunday morning brought a situation to me in which never before had I imagined I'd willfully engage... an online lonely hearts club. I've been reasoning that it's better to do something, anything, than sit round feeling miserable. My hope is that I'll come across someone with with intellectual depth the likes of which I've never known, who is tall in stature, and with creativity and genuine love for all beings oozing from her pores. So far, however, it's just been obese NASCAR and/or Twilight fans who couldn't spell to save their lives. ...par for the course?
Yes, I think so.
HA HA HA, laughs the Lord above, at poor ol' Josiah. Pooooor ol' Josiah who is purposefully being dramatic to avoid returning to the exciting world of aldol condensation reactions, and the like.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Monday, July 19, 2010
Trudging along
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
It occurred to me over the weekend that my recent performance problems at Big City Hospital are to do with the volume of stress currently circulating in my life. I've put in for some time off, citing a need to revise for finals...which certainly is true. That's stressor #1, I reckon. I must make a score of 87 or higher to earn an A for the class...an A I so desperately desire.
Stressor #2: The project I've been overseeing for months is just about to fail. I've known it was going to happen for some time, but stayed optimistic. Our deadline is about to arrive and we have some major pieces missing. I feel like a lot of it is my fault. However, I think that I've done rather well considering the amount of leadership experience of this magnitude that I've had going into the project (none). In the coming weeks, I'm going to have to make a phone call that will make me feel three feet tall.
Stressor #3: The flat is a complete disaster. Party Boy is the individual responsible, as always...but he's outdone himself. Photographic evidence shall appear in the coming days on Living With Pigs. Let us all take a moment to pray that it will be the final update on that blog.
The rest are hardly worth mentioning.
I set my mind on sorting myself out after realising what was going wrong. Bright and early this morning I set aside half an hour for rigourous exercise. Pencilling in another half an hour later today, and continuing the trend indefinitely. Surely, the lack of exercise recently has been a major factor in my poor performance in almost all important areas of my life.
Furthermore, my diet is undergoing some changes as well. For the longest, I was the healthiest eater you'd ever want to come across. Sometime during the spring term, odd bits and pieces of junk food seeped into my diet, mainly for their convenience. Increasingly, I turned to these items without paying it much mind. At the grocer's Friday, I noticed my cart contained two bags of chips, two boxes of high-fat cookies, frozen dinners (Kashi, but still...), etc. I put most of it back and shopped like I used to. Fresh meats, vegetables, and fruits, whole wheat bread, and so on. Three days it's been now that I've reformed my diet, and I'm already feeling a bit better. Could just be a mental thing. Doesn't much matter!
Party Boy II, who I'd given a nicer nickname (now forgotten), moved out over the weekend. As the date approached, I thought how funny it was that I was sad to see him go. This time one year ago, I was dreading living with him. He was wild and out of control, at least according the the accounts of his nights posted on a social networking site. When I moved in, he lived up to the reputation for the majority of the autumn term. However, he got quite serious with a young lady and that mellowed him right out. He's still with her and whereas once he was an irresponsible party machine, he's now a focused, serious student who knows precisely where he wants to go. So glad to see that transformation. He's a good kid and I hope that he achieves all that he desires and more.
Still not sure how I'm feeling about a career in medicine. Really not thinking much about it...I'm going to wait until the fog I'm in blows over and go from there.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
It occurred to me over the weekend that my recent performance problems at Big City Hospital are to do with the volume of stress currently circulating in my life. I've put in for some time off, citing a need to revise for finals...which certainly is true. That's stressor #1, I reckon. I must make a score of 87 or higher to earn an A for the class...an A I so desperately desire.
Stressor #2: The project I've been overseeing for months is just about to fail. I've known it was going to happen for some time, but stayed optimistic. Our deadline is about to arrive and we have some major pieces missing. I feel like a lot of it is my fault. However, I think that I've done rather well considering the amount of leadership experience of this magnitude that I've had going into the project (none). In the coming weeks, I'm going to have to make a phone call that will make me feel three feet tall.
Stressor #3: The flat is a complete disaster. Party Boy is the individual responsible, as always...but he's outdone himself. Photographic evidence shall appear in the coming days on Living With Pigs. Let us all take a moment to pray that it will be the final update on that blog.
The rest are hardly worth mentioning.
I set my mind on sorting myself out after realising what was going wrong. Bright and early this morning I set aside half an hour for rigourous exercise. Pencilling in another half an hour later today, and continuing the trend indefinitely. Surely, the lack of exercise recently has been a major factor in my poor performance in almost all important areas of my life.
Furthermore, my diet is undergoing some changes as well. For the longest, I was the healthiest eater you'd ever want to come across. Sometime during the spring term, odd bits and pieces of junk food seeped into my diet, mainly for their convenience. Increasingly, I turned to these items without paying it much mind. At the grocer's Friday, I noticed my cart contained two bags of chips, two boxes of high-fat cookies, frozen dinners (Kashi, but still...), etc. I put most of it back and shopped like I used to. Fresh meats, vegetables, and fruits, whole wheat bread, and so on. Three days it's been now that I've reformed my diet, and I'm already feeling a bit better. Could just be a mental thing. Doesn't much matter!
Party Boy II, who I'd given a nicer nickname (now forgotten), moved out over the weekend. As the date approached, I thought how funny it was that I was sad to see him go. This time one year ago, I was dreading living with him. He was wild and out of control, at least according the the accounts of his nights posted on a social networking site. When I moved in, he lived up to the reputation for the majority of the autumn term. However, he got quite serious with a young lady and that mellowed him right out. He's still with her and whereas once he was an irresponsible party machine, he's now a focused, serious student who knows precisely where he wants to go. So glad to see that transformation. He's a good kid and I hope that he achieves all that he desires and more.
Still not sure how I'm feeling about a career in medicine. Really not thinking much about it...I'm going to wait until the fog I'm in blows over and go from there.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Sunday, July 4, 2010
I'm mad about you, baby. Yeaaah, yeah! I'm mad about you!
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
Today has brought many delights, a few of which I will discuss in light detail.
My urge to visit the driving range was strong, but the rain just wouldn't allow for it. Just as well, as I had some studying that needed doing. The heavy rain, on and off, was a relaxing backdrop. Peaceful.
Justin Rose won another PGA Tour event. Go England.
Saw the last twenty minutes of Germany vs. Argentina. Some of the most exciting football I've seen in ages. I was really getting into it.
US vs. Algeria has had some moments. 89 minutes have passed... 0-0. I think they got robbed of a goal in a few of the opening minutes, but I was off to the refrigerator to snatch up a beer. ... WHOA!!! US just scored a goal in extra minutes!!!! That was out of nowhere!! Brilliant!
As I was saying, I didn't see the whole play, but it sure looked like the goal was good. Doesn't much matter, because we won it with that goal. Whew.
Spent some time with Old Flame and her fiance recently. Awkward for the first half an hour, but a pretty enjoyable experience for the remainder of the evening. She was a bit bossy and I was glad to not be on the receiving end of that. Her family was wrapped up in its usual craziness, and I was glad to be able to sit back and not feel compelled to be actively involved. As much as I still love her, and suspect I always will, the book is becoming easier to close.
Received season four of Mad About You on DVD yesterday and had some time to catch an episode or two earlier in the day. I love that show dearly. First started watching it in 1995...saw a rerun late one school night and, as a young man of 13 years, took quite a liking to Ms. Helen Hunt. Oh. My. After about the fourth or fifth episode I saw, I took notice of the other entertainment opportunities the half-hour programme presented.
The mid-90s were an amazing time for me. Computers were quickly coming into peoples' homes, the Internet let you see websites built by people from all around the world (just imagine!!)...it was an exciting time, and I got the feeling of genuine good times in the United States. A good welcome! It was like a giant party. Really, a saxophone-playing president? Awesome! Oh, and cordless phones were such a novel thing to me. I'm still impressed by them, even with my familiarity with the iPhone. Haven't quite gotten to letting that one soak in yet. Might be a while.
Anyhow, Paul and Jamie Buchman represented everything I wanted. Great, loving relationship, nice apartment in a hip, swingin' city, laptop computers, cordless phones, an adorable dog... Ha. They had a certain kind of freedom that I was so envious of, being an enslaved student and everything. I used to read the USA Today at school in the mornings and just marvel at the world carrying on around me. I wanted a chunk of the experience, instead of sitting around cooped up and generally wasting time. Out there, I knew there were real-life Buchmans living a similar life. I wanted to find them. I wanted to find the real, honest American dream. Haha.
So, watching the programme necessarily brings back a lot of things from back then. Thoughts about past relationships entered and exited my mind. I was reminded how much Old Flame looks like Helen Hunt, and was a bit weirded out...maybe as a defense mechanism. Ha.
Then, I got to thinking about marriage and children.
I've made no effort to hide my desire for marriage, and possibly children, in these letters. Tonight, though, as I was thinking about things with The Nurse, with the Cute Shy Girl in my lab, with Ms. Edinburgh, etc., I began to wonder if I'd be missing out on the moment I was having just then if I'd been attached. Surely, I'd have been dragged off to see fireworks...not too terribly interested in them these days, to be honest. I'd rather stay indoors with the air conditioning. I checked Facebook during halftime and saw a post from a good friend about some event later this week. She was trying to recruit some lady unknown to me to go with her, but the woman had to reply in the negative, citing children as the reason. I felt glad that I didn't have to think about that; that I could get up right now and drive for 14 hours in any direction if I felt like it, and on a moment's notice.
...probably a temporary sense of freedom. I'm sure I'd rather have the love a good woman. Sure of it.
=)
Rather than ramble some more, I think I'll enjoy the last few hours of the obligation-free portion of my weekend...by looking at websites created by people from all sorts of countries. heh.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Today has brought many delights, a few of which I will discuss in light detail.
My urge to visit the driving range was strong, but the rain just wouldn't allow for it. Just as well, as I had some studying that needed doing. The heavy rain, on and off, was a relaxing backdrop. Peaceful.
Justin Rose won another PGA Tour event. Go England.
Saw the last twenty minutes of Germany vs. Argentina. Some of the most exciting football I've seen in ages. I was really getting into it.
US vs. Algeria has had some moments. 89 minutes have passed... 0-0. I think they got robbed of a goal in a few of the opening minutes, but I was off to the refrigerator to snatch up a beer. ... WHOA!!! US just scored a goal in extra minutes!!!! That was out of nowhere!! Brilliant!
As I was saying, I didn't see the whole play, but it sure looked like the goal was good. Doesn't much matter, because we won it with that goal. Whew.
Spent some time with Old Flame and her fiance recently. Awkward for the first half an hour, but a pretty enjoyable experience for the remainder of the evening. She was a bit bossy and I was glad to not be on the receiving end of that. Her family was wrapped up in its usual craziness, and I was glad to be able to sit back and not feel compelled to be actively involved. As much as I still love her, and suspect I always will, the book is becoming easier to close.
Received season four of Mad About You on DVD yesterday and had some time to catch an episode or two earlier in the day. I love that show dearly. First started watching it in 1995...saw a rerun late one school night and, as a young man of 13 years, took quite a liking to Ms. Helen Hunt. Oh. My. After about the fourth or fifth episode I saw, I took notice of the other entertainment opportunities the half-hour programme presented.
The mid-90s were an amazing time for me. Computers were quickly coming into peoples' homes, the Internet let you see websites built by people from all around the world (just imagine!!)...it was an exciting time, and I got the feeling of genuine good times in the United States. A good welcome! It was like a giant party. Really, a saxophone-playing president? Awesome! Oh, and cordless phones were such a novel thing to me. I'm still impressed by them, even with my familiarity with the iPhone. Haven't quite gotten to letting that one soak in yet. Might be a while.
Anyhow, Paul and Jamie Buchman represented everything I wanted. Great, loving relationship, nice apartment in a hip, swingin' city, laptop computers, cordless phones, an adorable dog... Ha. They had a certain kind of freedom that I was so envious of, being an enslaved student and everything. I used to read the USA Today at school in the mornings and just marvel at the world carrying on around me. I wanted a chunk of the experience, instead of sitting around cooped up and generally wasting time. Out there, I knew there were real-life Buchmans living a similar life. I wanted to find them. I wanted to find the real, honest American dream. Haha.
So, watching the programme necessarily brings back a lot of things from back then. Thoughts about past relationships entered and exited my mind. I was reminded how much Old Flame looks like Helen Hunt, and was a bit weirded out...maybe as a defense mechanism. Ha.
Then, I got to thinking about marriage and children.
I've made no effort to hide my desire for marriage, and possibly children, in these letters. Tonight, though, as I was thinking about things with The Nurse, with the Cute Shy Girl in my lab, with Ms. Edinburgh, etc., I began to wonder if I'd be missing out on the moment I was having just then if I'd been attached. Surely, I'd have been dragged off to see fireworks...not too terribly interested in them these days, to be honest. I'd rather stay indoors with the air conditioning. I checked Facebook during halftime and saw a post from a good friend about some event later this week. She was trying to recruit some lady unknown to me to go with her, but the woman had to reply in the negative, citing children as the reason. I felt glad that I didn't have to think about that; that I could get up right now and drive for 14 hours in any direction if I felt like it, and on a moment's notice.
...probably a temporary sense of freedom. I'm sure I'd rather have the love a good woman. Sure of it.
=)
Rather than ramble some more, I think I'll enjoy the last few hours of the obligation-free portion of my weekend...by looking at websites created by people from all sorts of countries. heh.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Monday, June 28, 2010
Ms. Edinburgh, Mr. Houdini, and me
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
The weekend brought a few surprises, all pleasant. For starters, someone had mentioned to me a site called Chatroulette, whereby one is randomly connected via webcam chat to someone else elsewhere in the world. The prospect of entertaining conversation with strangers was of interest to me one particular evening after another strange day at Big City Hospital. More on that in a bit.
What I found upon visiting the site was cause for alarm. The first three people I came across were young men in the nude. Thanks, just the same, but I'll take my business elsewhere. Had a lovely, albeit brief, encounter with a middle-aged couple (!!) from the Midwestern US. A Prairie Home Companion was mentioned and we were all in agreement on its entertainment value. Three French teenagers were next and they kept asking if I listen to Tupac Shakur. Had to reply in the negative as a general rule, but stated that there are occasions on which I may be found to be listening to the man's music.
My last Chatroulette encounter was nothing short of extraordinary. She was as blonde as the day is long, but it was all very natural in appearance. She was lovely, and when she spoke, I was but a smiling, blushing fool. She came from Edinburgh, you see, and my, what an accent. For nearly three hours we spoke, and laughed, and laughed some more. Out of nowhere, she told me that I'm "terribly attractive."
Hold the presses.
This is front-page news.
I told her so, and she seemed to get a great delight out of it. We laughed some more and, as the conversation carried on, I felt glad to speak to an intelligent, beautiful, and ambitious woman who generally found me attractive on all fronts. Gave me one of those little pushes of hope, a sort of, "Ah, go forth, boy!" from the lord above that come round, never a moment too soon.
We spoke until nearly 3 a.m. my time and I had to work hard to force myself away. We exchanged contact information and already she's sent an email. It was a lovely message, typical of what I romantacise all letters from the island to be like. Almost straight from literature, it was. Superb in its styling. Oh my.
Three and one-half hours later, I was turning off my alarm and trying desperately to chase away the fatigue from my eyes and mind. That morning, my dear, I had a date with the golf course. The end result was impressive considering the circumstances, just two over my approximate per-game average! Beautiful course, not crowded, and friendly residents. Good day.
Now, on to tales from Big City Hospital.
Traffic prevented me from arriving at my appointed time. It's an irritating occurrence for me, and surely for all involved, and I do my best to avoid it on a consistent basis. As I entered the nurse's station, The Nurse teased me a little about my tardiness. Off to a good start.
I scrambled around the hospital, running all manner of errands, and encountering generally friendly people wherever I went. Some tasks were executed with a speed unanticipated by the nurse who requested the favour, and I got many big smiles and warm expressions of gratitude. It was, as always, a pleasure to do something for people who do so much for others...and often without so much as a proper, "Thank you."
There were four, yes, four, would-be escape artists on the ward. It was an exciting prospect to me, albeit perhaps a bit on the scary side. These are, after all, not well-minded people. All but one of them were well-behaved, aside from a minor incident here and there. The one who would not comply was a bit of a doozy.
Never did find out his reason for taking up temporary residence on our floor, but he surely displayed signs of only having a lightly-placed foot in reality. Kind of a irritable chap, he was. When there was an emergency in another room, the "guard" for Mr. Houdini had to be called into action. He chose this opportunity to attempt an escape. However, he only made it ten feet down the hallway before he was escorted back to his room by me and one of the nurses. For a few interesting minutes, I stood guard. He was well-behaved and settled in his bed to watch a little television. Hmm! Upon the return of his previous "guard," he was up to his old tricks. Perhaps their personalities clashed. heh. Guards were exchanged and things went on without incident for nearly two hours.
I was on my way up on the lift from running an errand for a stunningly gorgeous nurse (married, of course). My mind was on The Nurse and if I'd have the opportunity to inquire as to whether she might soon be available for a night of entertainment when the doors opened. Standing there, gown half-open and a bag full of assorted items in hand, was Mr. Houdini. I had not anticipated this.
Three nurses and one tech were on the scene. I stood before the open lift, blocking his entrance. For a brief moment, I saw in his eyes a glimmer of, "You'd best remove yourself from my path, otherwise suffer the wrath of my anger and desperation."
...and I reacted by nearly laughing.
Oftentimes in my life, when I'm experiencing something novel that perhaps I'd never imagined would happen to me, my natural reaction is to be overwhelmed with its novelty and be...well, entertained by it. It sometimes takes every ounce of effort to restrain myself and instead display the emotion appropriate to the situation.
So, there the six of us stood. The doors of the lift closed shut behind me. Mr. Houdini went for the button to call it back, but the five of us surrounding him moved accordingly, thereby denying his access. One nurse was gently trying to coax him back to his room with calm speech, but it was not having any effect. Another asked, "What's the matter? Don't you like us?" He said that most them were alright, but that he absolutely must leave to avoid being cited for an expired parking meter. I piped up and asked why he was in such a hurry to leave behind so many beautiful women, and that his insistence upon leaving must be hurting their feelings. He thought about this for a moment, but went right back to slight agitation and talking about insufficient funds to pay a fine.
Around this time, a couple of security guards showed up. Under their authority, he (mostly) calmly returned to his room. However, he lashed out at one of the guards and subsequently wound up being rendered unable to do anything of the sort again.
Just as that settled down, a man on the other side of the hall began yelling an endless stream of obscenities. The last thing that I heard him say before quieting back down was, "Well, I don't want to watch the (expletive) soccer, football, kick the (expletive) ball past some group of (expletive). This is unconstitutional!" It was a light-hearted, amusing moment for those of us at the nurse's station.
...but it did not last.
Stroke alert.
At the end of the day, a frazzled-looking RN hopped on the lift to head to the floor above my destination. I smiled and asked whether she was on her way home soon. She turned to face me. Her frizzy brown hair, pulled back, revealed hints of grey above her ears. Heavy bags, like someone had packed for a three-month expedition to the antarctic, under her bloodshot eyes... "This is only the beginning," she said. At this moment, the doors slid open and she made her exit. I spent a lot of the drive home wondering about her, what she'd experienced to make her look so war-torn.
Finally, in a completely unrelated note, as I made my way to an open desk at the library this morning, a book nestled in on one of the countless shelves caught my eye. It was an anthology of the works of a Japanese writer. A cherry blossom tree adorned the cover. I wanted nothing more than to pluck it from its resting place and devour it. I was put in the literary mood this morning on the way to university when I heard a bit of poetry from days long past recited on the radio. Hm.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
The weekend brought a few surprises, all pleasant. For starters, someone had mentioned to me a site called Chatroulette, whereby one is randomly connected via webcam chat to someone else elsewhere in the world. The prospect of entertaining conversation with strangers was of interest to me one particular evening after another strange day at Big City Hospital. More on that in a bit.
What I found upon visiting the site was cause for alarm. The first three people I came across were young men in the nude. Thanks, just the same, but I'll take my business elsewhere. Had a lovely, albeit brief, encounter with a middle-aged couple (!!) from the Midwestern US. A Prairie Home Companion was mentioned and we were all in agreement on its entertainment value. Three French teenagers were next and they kept asking if I listen to Tupac Shakur. Had to reply in the negative as a general rule, but stated that there are occasions on which I may be found to be listening to the man's music.
My last Chatroulette encounter was nothing short of extraordinary. She was as blonde as the day is long, but it was all very natural in appearance. She was lovely, and when she spoke, I was but a smiling, blushing fool. She came from Edinburgh, you see, and my, what an accent. For nearly three hours we spoke, and laughed, and laughed some more. Out of nowhere, she told me that I'm "terribly attractive."
Hold the presses.
This is front-page news.
I told her so, and she seemed to get a great delight out of it. We laughed some more and, as the conversation carried on, I felt glad to speak to an intelligent, beautiful, and ambitious woman who generally found me attractive on all fronts. Gave me one of those little pushes of hope, a sort of, "Ah, go forth, boy!" from the lord above that come round, never a moment too soon.
We spoke until nearly 3 a.m. my time and I had to work hard to force myself away. We exchanged contact information and already she's sent an email. It was a lovely message, typical of what I romantacise all letters from the island to be like. Almost straight from literature, it was. Superb in its styling. Oh my.
Three and one-half hours later, I was turning off my alarm and trying desperately to chase away the fatigue from my eyes and mind. That morning, my dear, I had a date with the golf course. The end result was impressive considering the circumstances, just two over my approximate per-game average! Beautiful course, not crowded, and friendly residents. Good day.
Now, on to tales from Big City Hospital.
Traffic prevented me from arriving at my appointed time. It's an irritating occurrence for me, and surely for all involved, and I do my best to avoid it on a consistent basis. As I entered the nurse's station, The Nurse teased me a little about my tardiness. Off to a good start.
I scrambled around the hospital, running all manner of errands, and encountering generally friendly people wherever I went. Some tasks were executed with a speed unanticipated by the nurse who requested the favour, and I got many big smiles and warm expressions of gratitude. It was, as always, a pleasure to do something for people who do so much for others...and often without so much as a proper, "Thank you."
There were four, yes, four, would-be escape artists on the ward. It was an exciting prospect to me, albeit perhaps a bit on the scary side. These are, after all, not well-minded people. All but one of them were well-behaved, aside from a minor incident here and there. The one who would not comply was a bit of a doozy.
Never did find out his reason for taking up temporary residence on our floor, but he surely displayed signs of only having a lightly-placed foot in reality. Kind of a irritable chap, he was. When there was an emergency in another room, the "guard" for Mr. Houdini had to be called into action. He chose this opportunity to attempt an escape. However, he only made it ten feet down the hallway before he was escorted back to his room by me and one of the nurses. For a few interesting minutes, I stood guard. He was well-behaved and settled in his bed to watch a little television. Hmm! Upon the return of his previous "guard," he was up to his old tricks. Perhaps their personalities clashed. heh. Guards were exchanged and things went on without incident for nearly two hours.
I was on my way up on the lift from running an errand for a stunningly gorgeous nurse (married, of course). My mind was on The Nurse and if I'd have the opportunity to inquire as to whether she might soon be available for a night of entertainment when the doors opened. Standing there, gown half-open and a bag full of assorted items in hand, was Mr. Houdini. I had not anticipated this.
Three nurses and one tech were on the scene. I stood before the open lift, blocking his entrance. For a brief moment, I saw in his eyes a glimmer of, "You'd best remove yourself from my path, otherwise suffer the wrath of my anger and desperation."
...and I reacted by nearly laughing.
Oftentimes in my life, when I'm experiencing something novel that perhaps I'd never imagined would happen to me, my natural reaction is to be overwhelmed with its novelty and be...well, entertained by it. It sometimes takes every ounce of effort to restrain myself and instead display the emotion appropriate to the situation.
So, there the six of us stood. The doors of the lift closed shut behind me. Mr. Houdini went for the button to call it back, but the five of us surrounding him moved accordingly, thereby denying his access. One nurse was gently trying to coax him back to his room with calm speech, but it was not having any effect. Another asked, "What's the matter? Don't you like us?" He said that most them were alright, but that he absolutely must leave to avoid being cited for an expired parking meter. I piped up and asked why he was in such a hurry to leave behind so many beautiful women, and that his insistence upon leaving must be hurting their feelings. He thought about this for a moment, but went right back to slight agitation and talking about insufficient funds to pay a fine.
Around this time, a couple of security guards showed up. Under their authority, he (mostly) calmly returned to his room. However, he lashed out at one of the guards and subsequently wound up being rendered unable to do anything of the sort again.
Just as that settled down, a man on the other side of the hall began yelling an endless stream of obscenities. The last thing that I heard him say before quieting back down was, "Well, I don't want to watch the (expletive) soccer, football, kick the (expletive) ball past some group of (expletive). This is unconstitutional!" It was a light-hearted, amusing moment for those of us at the nurse's station.
...but it did not last.
Stroke alert.
At the end of the day, a frazzled-looking RN hopped on the lift to head to the floor above my destination. I smiled and asked whether she was on her way home soon. She turned to face me. Her frizzy brown hair, pulled back, revealed hints of grey above her ears. Heavy bags, like someone had packed for a three-month expedition to the antarctic, under her bloodshot eyes... "This is only the beginning," she said. At this moment, the doors slid open and she made her exit. I spent a lot of the drive home wondering about her, what she'd experienced to make her look so war-torn.
Finally, in a completely unrelated note, as I made my way to an open desk at the library this morning, a book nestled in on one of the countless shelves caught my eye. It was an anthology of the works of a Japanese writer. A cherry blossom tree adorned the cover. I wanted nothing more than to pluck it from its resting place and devour it. I was put in the literary mood this morning on the way to university when I heard a bit of poetry from days long past recited on the radio. Hm.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Saturday, June 19, 2010
The Nurse and other minute tales
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
As I write to you this fine evening, the time is 8:48, Miles Davis' brilliant record "Relaxin'" is currently playing on my laptop computing device (song is an absolute favourite, "If I Were A Bell"), and the electricity is out due to a storm. It's actually kind of a lovely little moment and for it I'm quite appreciative.
My only wish is that The Nurse were present. Mmm, an incredibly romantic set of circumstances...a little slow-dancing by candlelight, a little whispering of sweet nothings, a little giggling. Ahem. Yes.
Blew an opportunity this week to ask her out. While I'm no great judge of when a woman is interested, I'm pretty sure that I was right this time. We sat in close proximity for a good half hour, laughing, talking a bit about ourselves, making a little physical contact... I lost myself countless times. My, what lovely eyes. Brown. Brown eyes! I never seem to go for brown-eyed girls. But my, goodness, they're lovely. Her eyes are not narrow and sharp as some of the other nurses' eyes seem to be...no, they're fresh and round and bursting with gentleness. She's incredibly sweet. Incredibly.
Overall, besides being all swept up in the clouds, the week went well. Some heart-breaking patient stories, some really beautiful stories, some just routine. One guy who has been there for months is starting to make great progress with his speech and ambulates well with assistance. When I started there, things looked grim for the poor man. It's an extraordinary thing, and one that I think is cause for cheer.
I took a little old lady under my wing. No visitors. At all. She was such a pleasant and upbeat person despite her circumstances. She's being transferred elsewhere before I go back next week, so we had a sentimental goodbye before I clocked out. Tears looked like they were being held back when she expressed her gratitude for my work. She told me that she just knew I'll make it to medical school and that I'll make a great doctor. Coming from her, that meant the world to me. She was a terribly interesting woman, having worked closely with a notable public figure for many years and then spending over a decade after retirement donating her time and efforts to a well-known charity. I hated to face the fact that she won't be there when I next clock in. All smiles, all the time.
My relations with the nursing staff continues to improve greatly, even to the point that we're all playing little tricks on one another. I'm feeling very comfortable and as though I'm amongst family.
Golf in the a.m. Got fit for some new golf balls and am anxious to see how they play. Looking to shoot an all-time low score...no cheating!
Ah, that's the power back on just now, 90 minutes almost to the second. Copy, paste, time for bed.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
As I write to you this fine evening, the time is 8:48, Miles Davis' brilliant record "Relaxin'" is currently playing on my laptop computing device (song is an absolute favourite, "If I Were A Bell"), and the electricity is out due to a storm. It's actually kind of a lovely little moment and for it I'm quite appreciative.
My only wish is that The Nurse were present. Mmm, an incredibly romantic set of circumstances...a little slow-dancing by candlelight, a little whispering of sweet nothings, a little giggling. Ahem. Yes.
Blew an opportunity this week to ask her out. While I'm no great judge of when a woman is interested, I'm pretty sure that I was right this time. We sat in close proximity for a good half hour, laughing, talking a bit about ourselves, making a little physical contact... I lost myself countless times. My, what lovely eyes. Brown. Brown eyes! I never seem to go for brown-eyed girls. But my, goodness, they're lovely. Her eyes are not narrow and sharp as some of the other nurses' eyes seem to be...no, they're fresh and round and bursting with gentleness. She's incredibly sweet. Incredibly.
Overall, besides being all swept up in the clouds, the week went well. Some heart-breaking patient stories, some really beautiful stories, some just routine. One guy who has been there for months is starting to make great progress with his speech and ambulates well with assistance. When I started there, things looked grim for the poor man. It's an extraordinary thing, and one that I think is cause for cheer.
I took a little old lady under my wing. No visitors. At all. She was such a pleasant and upbeat person despite her circumstances. She's being transferred elsewhere before I go back next week, so we had a sentimental goodbye before I clocked out. Tears looked like they were being held back when she expressed her gratitude for my work. She told me that she just knew I'll make it to medical school and that I'll make a great doctor. Coming from her, that meant the world to me. She was a terribly interesting woman, having worked closely with a notable public figure for many years and then spending over a decade after retirement donating her time and efforts to a well-known charity. I hated to face the fact that she won't be there when I next clock in. All smiles, all the time.
My relations with the nursing staff continues to improve greatly, even to the point that we're all playing little tricks on one another. I'm feeling very comfortable and as though I'm amongst family.
Golf in the a.m. Got fit for some new golf balls and am anxious to see how they play. Looking to shoot an all-time low score...no cheating!
Ah, that's the power back on just now, 90 minutes almost to the second. Copy, paste, time for bed.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Lover, come back to me
Dear Peace & Quiet,
I love you. I miss you. Please, come back to me.
Yours forever and ever,
J.O. Morris
I love you. I miss you. Please, come back to me.
Yours forever and ever,
J.O. Morris
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Better get some more practice in
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
This fine morning, over a lovely cup of coffee and note cards for my last exam, I made the decision to not only become a great doctor, but to become a reasonably good golfer, as well. My goal is to make it onto one of the mini tours. I reckon that if I keep putting in the practice as I have been, I can make it in another 15 years or so. heh.
One thing, however, that I won't do is get too wound up in the dream and forget to, first and foremost, have fun.
I have a date with some golf balls this evening and tomorrow morning. Mmhmm.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
This fine morning, over a lovely cup of coffee and note cards for my last exam, I made the decision to not only become a great doctor, but to become a reasonably good golfer, as well. My goal is to make it onto one of the mini tours. I reckon that if I keep putting in the practice as I have been, I can make it in another 15 years or so. heh.
One thing, however, that I won't do is get too wound up in the dream and forget to, first and foremost, have fun.
I have a date with some golf balls this evening and tomorrow morning. Mmhmm.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sweet dreams
Just dozed off for a bit whilst revising for my finals and had a lovely little dream. It was a Saturday morning and I was lounging around on the couch reading. A small child, my child...a boy, maybe 6 years old, with a mild case of bedhead (obviously does not take after his father) and footed pajamas...came running up to me. "Daddy, daddy! Can we play golf today? Can we!?"
I grinned.
"Yeah! That sounds like fun! Let's get some breakfast and see if mama wants to go, too."
My son ran before me into the kitchen. I was ecstatic and thankful.
I woke up and was disappointed to be faced with reality. No child, no wife...not even any prospects for the latter. Feeling a bit lonely. Longing for the day that my dream is reality.
I grinned.
"Yeah! That sounds like fun! Let's get some breakfast and see if mama wants to go, too."
My son ran before me into the kitchen. I was ecstatic and thankful.
I woke up and was disappointed to be faced with reality. No child, no wife...not even any prospects for the latter. Feeling a bit lonely. Longing for the day that my dream is reality.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Strange days have found us
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
Another really cute nurse was added to the growing list today. She approached me and we had a great series of conversations throughout the day. Her name, however, is not one that I've ever been too terribly keen on. In fact, it draws to mind 1980s hairspray hair, gum-smacking, and loop earrings so large I could put both of my fists through with room to spare. An unattractive mental image. She was cute enough, though, that I didn't think much about it. Besides, she can't help the name her parents pinned on her.
It was a strange day. Quite slow, lots of discharges. When I went round to each room to have a bit of a chat with the patients and fill any requests that they may have, I found that everyone was asleep, with a room full of visitors, or with their door shut. I didn't feel that I should go barging without a good reason besides friendly banter.
Later, one of the patients called and when I answered, he asked if I could hear him. I answered in the affirmative and asked what he sought. No answer. Hello? Hello? Hellllooo? I hung up and went briskly to his room, thankful for the opportunity to do something productive with patient interaction.
He just wanted to know when the doctor would be in to speak with him. I told him that I didn't know, but that I'd ask his nurse and get back to him. As the words were leaving my lips, I noticed his peculiarity...not what put him on this floor, but probably occurring simultaneously with the injury that did. I felt my eyes go wide. Stop it. STOP IT. I resumed eye contact, but I wanted out of there in a hurry. I felt awful that he'd suffered so, especially since every yokel he comes across upon discharge is going to stare mercilessly. I felt awful that I was briefly one of those yokels. I've always prided myself in being highly sensitive to the feelings of others, especially in situations when other folks would just gawk, moths agape. I've seen my fair share of terrible injuries on television and online. I even have been known to eat lunch or dinner while watching surgery videos, so something so tame in comparison shouldn't have been worth a second glance. Sort of disappointing, that was, but I suppose it's only natural. As time goes by, I'm sure I'll be less affected.
During my break, two nurses were sitting across the room in the cafeteria. I smiled at them, but got nothing in return. They looked back to each other and kept talking. Ooh. Par for the course today, I'm afraid.
Not long after resuming position at my desk, the call bell went off. It was the patient who spoke very little English, only some dialect of Chinese, and surprisingly had no family or friends. He said nothing on the phone. I entered his room and spoke slowly without being patronising. He was not understanding that I was asking what he needed. I asked if he wanted a nurse. Blank, frightened look. "Maybe later." ...so, what do you want? I asked if it was his bed or pillow which needed adjusting, or if he wanted the rolling tray pulled closer. I pointed to each item as I asked about them. "No," to each. Silence. Blank, frightened look. I began to feel frustrated, but certainly not at him. I want to help, but don't know how! He was holding the remote with the call button, tv button, etc. and kept looking at it. Finally, it came out that he wanted to watch television. I showed him how to turn it on, change channels, and adjust the volume. That was all he wanted. He looked sheepish and thanked me. It must be very hard for him to be hospitalised and not be able to meaningfully communicate with anybody. I kept thinking about that blank, frightened look. It was like some sort of primal fear that a wild animal might exhibit. No family. No friends.
Not half an hour had passed and a white coat enters the room...and plops down right next to me at the desk. Ohmyohmyohmy. Doctors don't stick around long during my shift. They probably sense that I am pre-med and want to avoid my thirty trillion questions and requests to shadow. Don't blame them...sometimes. He was around for nearly 40 minutes. My hands were shaking, as if it were someone I've long admired. When calls from other departments came in, I bumbled around like a fool...uncertainty and a lack of confidence had set in. I tried to talk myself out of it. These people don't know just how little confidence you have. You're an actor in a film; be what the scene calls for. No one will be the wiser. It worked. Soon, I was joking with the charge nurse and handling calls confidently...but I couldn't muster the courage to say anything to the doctor. Part of that was not wanting to bother him.
The doctor was looking at MRI images. Somebody had something bad going on. Tumor.
Another doctor came in and I got to listen to a bit of the conversation about risks and benefits of surgery. They ultimately decided that the best course of action would be to try to cut the beast out.
They turned to me, asking whether or not I knew if the patient's family were around...to translate.
Oh, my. It was Mr. Blankenfrightened.
Someone actually happened to be around, a nurse on another floor, who spoke the patient's dialect. After a 5-minute discussion, everyone exited and the doctor sat down beside again and began dictating. The patient wanted to proceed with surgery.
Good for him, I thought. I began hoping that the surgery would be a success and there'd be no lasting effects from the invasion (and removal) of that awful mass.
I carried on, having a good time joking with the charge nurse. Very funny, very, very dry and morbid sense of humour. It was brilliant. Everything about him was slow and calculated and he always appeared to be on the verge of a smile. He was a reassuring presence, and I do hope that in the future, my attendings are all like him.
Not going to happen, but it's nice to dream.
As my shift winded down, I couldn't shake the feeling of strangeness that had been cast over the entire day. I was glad to clock out and be on my way home.
After dinner, I was still feeling a bit off and had a fair amount of pent-up energy I wanted to rid myself of before resuming my studies. Ah, let's take it on out to the driving range. I'm happy to report that the funk that I'd been in is getting further and further away in the review mirror. I even had an enourmous drive of nearly 270 yards...that's about 40-50 yards more than usual! That was just a one-time deal, you understand. It was a nice surprise.
Upon returning home, three hours somehow passed without an ounce of studying taking place. I can't, for whatever reason, particularly account for them. I was watching a bit of golf and had some physio slides pulled up, but I guess the distractions of the Internet got the better of me. I dozed off at one point...and woke up about 1 a.m. I stumbled into the bathroom and performed my nightly routine. By the time it was over, I was wide awake.
I crawled into bed, passively wishing that I was joining someone, and didn't feel a bit like sleeping. I've been absolutely devouring a book lately, so I picked that up to read a couple of chapters. The book, Something for the Pain: Compassion & Burnout in the ER by Paul Austin, had me hooked in the first couple of pages. It was nice to read the words of a man who made it through medical school talking about his pre-med experience and to find that there are overwhelming similarities. I found his personality to be a lot like mine, as well, which was all the more engaging. I'm nearly through with the book. I started it Monday and have been reading as much as I can when I can.
Later in the book, he treats the broken leg of a woman with Down Syndrome. As he described her howling in pain, the mental image of the woman became the image of Mr. Blakenfrightened. He wasn't screaming and didn't seem to be in any sort of pain, but the barrier to being particularly helpful seemed similar...obviously it isn't, but let's just go with it.
I started feeling a little guilty for, of all things, not speaking the man's dialect. This is irrational. There is nothing you could've done about that! I began thinking about him, all alone, in a big city hospital with a tumor about the size of a ping pong ball in his head, and it started eating at me. My mind began searching desperately for ways that I could've had a positive impact on his stay, even if it meant walking into his room and just smiling and waving. With each possibility, I asked myself why I didn't think of it then. That poor man doesn't have anyone to console him. No one in which to confide his fears about his future health. I thought about how I'd feel in that situation, and a creeping, chilling panic swept up my spine.
Maybe there are some things I could've done. Maybe not. Maybe my patient presence as we worked out that he wanted to television on was enough. I smiled a lot. He was smiling when I left. Maybe that's all anyone could've done.
I passed out last night while writing this entry. Looking back on it now, it seems a bit melodramatic and I'm almost embarrassed to have written some of it. It was such a weird day, all the way around. I'm happy that it's over, but not happy about the mountain of work before me today. Three exams this week. Three finals next week.
Cabinet full of coffee? Check.
We're cleared for take-off.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Another really cute nurse was added to the growing list today. She approached me and we had a great series of conversations throughout the day. Her name, however, is not one that I've ever been too terribly keen on. In fact, it draws to mind 1980s hairspray hair, gum-smacking, and loop earrings so large I could put both of my fists through with room to spare. An unattractive mental image. She was cute enough, though, that I didn't think much about it. Besides, she can't help the name her parents pinned on her.
It was a strange day. Quite slow, lots of discharges. When I went round to each room to have a bit of a chat with the patients and fill any requests that they may have, I found that everyone was asleep, with a room full of visitors, or with their door shut. I didn't feel that I should go barging without a good reason besides friendly banter.
Later, one of the patients called and when I answered, he asked if I could hear him. I answered in the affirmative and asked what he sought. No answer. Hello? Hello? Hellllooo? I hung up and went briskly to his room, thankful for the opportunity to do something productive with patient interaction.
He just wanted to know when the doctor would be in to speak with him. I told him that I didn't know, but that I'd ask his nurse and get back to him. As the words were leaving my lips, I noticed his peculiarity...not what put him on this floor, but probably occurring simultaneously with the injury that did. I felt my eyes go wide. Stop it. STOP IT. I resumed eye contact, but I wanted out of there in a hurry. I felt awful that he'd suffered so, especially since every yokel he comes across upon discharge is going to stare mercilessly. I felt awful that I was briefly one of those yokels. I've always prided myself in being highly sensitive to the feelings of others, especially in situations when other folks would just gawk, moths agape. I've seen my fair share of terrible injuries on television and online. I even have been known to eat lunch or dinner while watching surgery videos, so something so tame in comparison shouldn't have been worth a second glance. Sort of disappointing, that was, but I suppose it's only natural. As time goes by, I'm sure I'll be less affected.
During my break, two nurses were sitting across the room in the cafeteria. I smiled at them, but got nothing in return. They looked back to each other and kept talking. Ooh. Par for the course today, I'm afraid.
Not long after resuming position at my desk, the call bell went off. It was the patient who spoke very little English, only some dialect of Chinese, and surprisingly had no family or friends. He said nothing on the phone. I entered his room and spoke slowly without being patronising. He was not understanding that I was asking what he needed. I asked if he wanted a nurse. Blank, frightened look. "Maybe later." ...so, what do you want? I asked if it was his bed or pillow which needed adjusting, or if he wanted the rolling tray pulled closer. I pointed to each item as I asked about them. "No," to each. Silence. Blank, frightened look. I began to feel frustrated, but certainly not at him. I want to help, but don't know how! He was holding the remote with the call button, tv button, etc. and kept looking at it. Finally, it came out that he wanted to watch television. I showed him how to turn it on, change channels, and adjust the volume. That was all he wanted. He looked sheepish and thanked me. It must be very hard for him to be hospitalised and not be able to meaningfully communicate with anybody. I kept thinking about that blank, frightened look. It was like some sort of primal fear that a wild animal might exhibit. No family. No friends.
Not half an hour had passed and a white coat enters the room...and plops down right next to me at the desk. Ohmyohmyohmy. Doctors don't stick around long during my shift. They probably sense that I am pre-med and want to avoid my thirty trillion questions and requests to shadow. Don't blame them...sometimes. He was around for nearly 40 minutes. My hands were shaking, as if it were someone I've long admired. When calls from other departments came in, I bumbled around like a fool...uncertainty and a lack of confidence had set in. I tried to talk myself out of it. These people don't know just how little confidence you have. You're an actor in a film; be what the scene calls for. No one will be the wiser. It worked. Soon, I was joking with the charge nurse and handling calls confidently...but I couldn't muster the courage to say anything to the doctor. Part of that was not wanting to bother him.
The doctor was looking at MRI images. Somebody had something bad going on. Tumor.
Another doctor came in and I got to listen to a bit of the conversation about risks and benefits of surgery. They ultimately decided that the best course of action would be to try to cut the beast out.
They turned to me, asking whether or not I knew if the patient's family were around...to translate.
Oh, my. It was Mr. Blankenfrightened.
Someone actually happened to be around, a nurse on another floor, who spoke the patient's dialect. After a 5-minute discussion, everyone exited and the doctor sat down beside again and began dictating. The patient wanted to proceed with surgery.
Good for him, I thought. I began hoping that the surgery would be a success and there'd be no lasting effects from the invasion (and removal) of that awful mass.
I carried on, having a good time joking with the charge nurse. Very funny, very, very dry and morbid sense of humour. It was brilliant. Everything about him was slow and calculated and he always appeared to be on the verge of a smile. He was a reassuring presence, and I do hope that in the future, my attendings are all like him.
Not going to happen, but it's nice to dream.
As my shift winded down, I couldn't shake the feeling of strangeness that had been cast over the entire day. I was glad to clock out and be on my way home.
After dinner, I was still feeling a bit off and had a fair amount of pent-up energy I wanted to rid myself of before resuming my studies. Ah, let's take it on out to the driving range. I'm happy to report that the funk that I'd been in is getting further and further away in the review mirror. I even had an enourmous drive of nearly 270 yards...that's about 40-50 yards more than usual! That was just a one-time deal, you understand. It was a nice surprise.
Upon returning home, three hours somehow passed without an ounce of studying taking place. I can't, for whatever reason, particularly account for them. I was watching a bit of golf and had some physio slides pulled up, but I guess the distractions of the Internet got the better of me. I dozed off at one point...and woke up about 1 a.m. I stumbled into the bathroom and performed my nightly routine. By the time it was over, I was wide awake.
I crawled into bed, passively wishing that I was joining someone, and didn't feel a bit like sleeping. I've been absolutely devouring a book lately, so I picked that up to read a couple of chapters. The book, Something for the Pain: Compassion & Burnout in the ER by Paul Austin, had me hooked in the first couple of pages. It was nice to read the words of a man who made it through medical school talking about his pre-med experience and to find that there are overwhelming similarities. I found his personality to be a lot like mine, as well, which was all the more engaging. I'm nearly through with the book. I started it Monday and have been reading as much as I can when I can.
Later in the book, he treats the broken leg of a woman with Down Syndrome. As he described her howling in pain, the mental image of the woman became the image of Mr. Blakenfrightened. He wasn't screaming and didn't seem to be in any sort of pain, but the barrier to being particularly helpful seemed similar...obviously it isn't, but let's just go with it.
I started feeling a little guilty for, of all things, not speaking the man's dialect. This is irrational. There is nothing you could've done about that! I began thinking about him, all alone, in a big city hospital with a tumor about the size of a ping pong ball in his head, and it started eating at me. My mind began searching desperately for ways that I could've had a positive impact on his stay, even if it meant walking into his room and just smiling and waving. With each possibility, I asked myself why I didn't think of it then. That poor man doesn't have anyone to console him. No one in which to confide his fears about his future health. I thought about how I'd feel in that situation, and a creeping, chilling panic swept up my spine.
Maybe there are some things I could've done. Maybe not. Maybe my patient presence as we worked out that he wanted to television on was enough. I smiled a lot. He was smiling when I left. Maybe that's all anyone could've done.
I passed out last night while writing this entry. Looking back on it now, it seems a bit melodramatic and I'm almost embarrassed to have written some of it. It was such a weird day, all the way around. I'm happy that it's over, but not happy about the mountain of work before me today. Three exams this week. Three finals next week.
Cabinet full of coffee? Check.
We're cleared for take-off.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
Friday, April 16, 2010
A thought, just now
My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
I think that I should someday like to have a small, yet diverse, library in my home. To own several old books with relatively drab and unassuming covers, but with a wealth of entertainment and that comforting smell of aged paper contained within, would be delightful.
My children, should I ever marry and produce some, will most certainly be read Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything. I would hope that it would inspire some of the same awe and wonder that I experienced, and most importantly, the desire to understand more than superficially many of these phenomena.
At the present moment, I think being a father would suit me just fine.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
I think that I should someday like to have a small, yet diverse, library in my home. To own several old books with relatively drab and unassuming covers, but with a wealth of entertainment and that comforting smell of aged paper contained within, would be delightful.
My children, should I ever marry and produce some, will most certainly be read Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything. I would hope that it would inspire some of the same awe and wonder that I experienced, and most importantly, the desire to understand more than superficially many of these phenomena.
At the present moment, I think being a father would suit me just fine.
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
An interruption of my regularly scheduled programming
Hahaha, wouldn't you know it that my usual Friday afternoon study spot is as jumpin' as I've ever seen it. There are six individuals, engaged in three different conversations, and they, like my flatmates, are trying to outyell each other.
Oh, here comes a pack of five more...three giggling girls wearing sorority shirts, and two guys (one with his ballcap tilted severely off to the side). These folks are a long way from the business building. Hmm.
I've forgotten my headphones, you see, or else this wouldn't be too big of a problem. Furthermore, I have a quiz for which I'm just now able to begin revising.
It seems as though I can't get away from excessive noise to save my life. I should give this up and be a monk, taking a vow of silence... mash up grapes and make wine all day... hmmmm.
Aha, just as quickly as they all appeared, they've scattered! Now, back to interlobular arteries and proximal convoluted tubules...
Oh, here comes a pack of five more...three giggling girls wearing sorority shirts, and two guys (one with his ballcap tilted severely off to the side). These folks are a long way from the business building. Hmm.
I've forgotten my headphones, you see, or else this wouldn't be too big of a problem. Furthermore, I have a quiz for which I'm just now able to begin revising.
It seems as though I can't get away from excessive noise to save my life. I should give this up and be a monk, taking a vow of silence... mash up grapes and make wine all day... hmmmm.
Aha, just as quickly as they all appeared, they've scattered! Now, back to interlobular arteries and proximal convoluted tubules...
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Notes
Aggravations associated with being a chairman of the board-type... grumble grumble.
I thought that people from this particular population would be free from flakiness and irresponsibility... grumble grumble.
Going to the driving range tonight, that's for sure!
Happy posts to come, especially once finals are over. Feeling the stress. Would like to just be done with my current university, done with med school, done with residency, and just seeing patients full-time.
...although, I KNOW that all of my patients (ALL OF THEM) will be the same type who are aggravating me now.
Knowing this, I still want to put myself through all of the craziness to get there.
Perhaps I'm crazier than once thought.
Haha.
I thought that people from this particular population would be free from flakiness and irresponsibility... grumble grumble.
Going to the driving range tonight, that's for sure!
Happy posts to come, especially once finals are over. Feeling the stress. Would like to just be done with my current university, done with med school, done with residency, and just seeing patients full-time.
...although, I KNOW that all of my patients (ALL OF THEM) will be the same type who are aggravating me now.
Knowing this, I still want to put myself through all of the craziness to get there.
Perhaps I'm crazier than once thought.
Haha.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
A remote control to change your situation
Wouldn't it be lovely if there existed a remote control capable of muting others (including the noises they cause)? Yes, I suspect it would be quite lovely.
I don't reckon that I'd use it on too many folks, but you can rest assured that my flatmates would be on permanent mute. How can people stand so much noise?
Currently, Party Boy I and The Pompous One are in the living room with some war-time video game on full blast. Explosions, incessant gun fire, yelling...I've been living in a warzone since August. Can't say as though I'm all that happy about it.
A lot of my problems could be solved with such a simple device. Perhaps a few swift punches to the noses of these animals might do the trick...
Now, now, Josiah.
P.S. In search of some sort of high point today, I went to the driving range. Didn't find what I was looking for at all. Every last shot was worthless...most aggravating time of it I've ever had.
I don't reckon that I'd use it on too many folks, but you can rest assured that my flatmates would be on permanent mute. How can people stand so much noise?
Currently, Party Boy I and The Pompous One are in the living room with some war-time video game on full blast. Explosions, incessant gun fire, yelling...I've been living in a warzone since August. Can't say as though I'm all that happy about it.
A lot of my problems could be solved with such a simple device. Perhaps a few swift punches to the noses of these animals might do the trick...
Now, now, Josiah.
P.S. In search of some sort of high point today, I went to the driving range. Didn't find what I was looking for at all. Every last shot was worthless...most aggravating time of it I've ever had.
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