Hot n cold

[all in Taiwanese, unless otherwise noted.]

Grandmother
What's wrong with you? Why aren't you eating?

Me
Because I feel nauseous. I think I have the flu.

Daddy
No I'm sure it's just a cold.

Me
No dude, I think it's the flu. I have fevers and chills and my body aches all over.

Grandmother
Then you should take some [random Taiwanese drug].

Me
[in English]
What's that?

Daddy
It's a really good antibiotic. It just came out.

Me
[in English]
If it's the flu, antibiotics won't help. I need an antiviral.

Daddy
Stop being so stubborn. Just take the medicine. I'm sure it'll help.

Me
[frustrated, in English]
Dad, it actually won't help. I have a virus, not a bacterial thing.

Grandmother
Well, then - what DO you want?

Me
I dunno. Tamiflu?

Grandmother
Oh my goodness. Who cares about Tammy when you're sick like this?!

Right as rain

Guilty as charged.

Hey, before you go accusing me of hitching my wagon to the whole environmental movement, my dad is an architect and his specialty is sustainable living. So I grew up with this stuff, and was forced to live green before Al Gore and Leonardo DiCaprio made it all fashionable to save the planet. Yeah, I was into recycling before all the cool kids were. So there, pfft.

Also, I'm pretty sure that the Boy will see "unplugging everything" and start cracking up. Because that is so me. I love bare outlets. And line-drying laundry (helps prevent shrinkage!).

Raise the roof

I've never made a gingerbread house in my life. Well okay, I remember attempting to make one. In second grade, my teacher had the bright idea to have us all make gingerbread houses for our parents out of graham crackers and frosting and candy. But, when you have a bunch of six-year olds running the show, that just means lots of gingerbread house materials in our bellies, and less so on our plate, much less so in a nice house-like fashion.

Anyways, getting back to the point of this post. Just in time for the holidays, I ran across this contest, and lo and behold - the most beautiful gingerbread houses I've ever seen in my life!

I've never made a gingerbread house before. And now after seeing these ones, I probably never will. Because clearly, some things are best left to others.

Seriously, how can you make something so amazing AND edible?! This is impossible to me! Look at those lines! The shapes! The colors!!

Sure they say that things are made out of pretzels and gum paste and mashed up cornflakes and whatnot, but I don't believe it. These are clearly little house/cottage/lighthouse models that they must have stolen from architectural firms or something.

At least, that's what I tell myself so that I can sleep at night.
--
Also, another thing - I looked at the first couple of entries and was amazed that so many doctors have the time to make crazy intricate things like these gingerbread houses. Seriously, I was thinking things like, "Wow Mary E. Timonium, MD - that is an amazing lighthouse you made there. How many patients did you see while you were making this?" I then quickly realized that the MD following their names was referring to the state that they live in, not necessarily their occupation. See, my brain is fried from all this kidney studying.

You're not sorry

Once upon a time, a sleep-deprived young woman went to medical school to learn how to become a doctor.

On glorious wonderful days, she only had two hours of lecture. On terrible gloomy raincloud-infested gray skies days, she had four hours of lecture. Now, you might think that this sleep-deprived young woman was merely a big whiner, but brains are only so big, and can only hold so much information. Even with the help from a little sidekick named Coffee.

Today was a terrible gloomy raincloudy day. Oh crap, she thought as she opened her eyes to the annoying and cloying sound of her alarm. But nevertheless, the sleep-deprived young woman dragged herself out of bed and prepared herself for four hours of mind-numbing medical knowledge.

So as the young woman sat there in class, trying desperately to be like a sponge and soak up as much knowledge as she could, the third hour of lecture began and she realized something. This 3rd hour lecturer was someone different!! He was a substitute for the 1st hour professor! At first the young girl smiled brightly and said hallelujah as she cried tears of joy in her head, for the 1st hour lecturer had mottled things up and confused her brain greatly. And when things are that low, how much worse can it be?

But oh, you silly second year med student, you forget that it can always get much much worse.

As the 3rd hour guy starts talking, the young woman's head begins to explode, for you see, the man can barely speak English. Taking a subject material that is already difficult and throwing in a foreign language component just makes this all a recipe for disaster. And thus begins the agonizing trip through the third hour of lecture.

At 10:59am, a fellow young student raises his hand and lets their lecturer know that even though he is on slide 21 of 70, they have another lecture at 11am.

The 3rd hour lecturer can't believe it, "This class goes until noon!"
"Yes, but we have another lecturer," says the student, politely but firmly.
"Oh, I don't go until noon?" he asks, confused.
"No!" comes a booming voice from behind a pillar.

Lo and behold, it is the 4th hour lecturer, who had snuck in the back door just 10 minutes ago.

"Oh I'm so sorry! Um, let me just finish very quickly. Um....may I have just a couple of minutes to finish? SO SORRY!" he says, while looking meekly at the foreboding 4th hour lecturer.

The 4th hour lecturer appears to ponder this over, and when he seems to give the slightest of nods, the 3rd hour lecturer pounces and starts taking us through the rest of the slides.

Except he proceeds at the same pace as before.

The class titters, but no one says anything.

The clock slowly ticks away, and after another agonizing ten minutes but only five slides later, yet another student raises his hand to inform the 3rd hour lecturer of the time. "Oh, but I still need to show you..." the 3rd hour lecturer begins to say. But the 4th hour lecturer can't take it anymore, and cuts him off, "NO, YOU ARE DONE."

It turns out that the 3rd hour lecturer was a fellow. And the 4th hour lecturer? Oh, he was merely THE CHAIRMAN OF THE DEPARTMENT.

The young sleep-deprived girl then went to the library to study, and was sad that she could not yet take a nap.

And so they lived very unhappily ever after.

Gotta get thru this

Knowing that I'm just a week away from good food and family and lots of mornings sleeping in, makes me very happy. Knowing that I've got to get through a massive test first, makes me less happy.

I can do this. And as my mother keeps promising me, there will be a giant bowl of Taiwanese beef noodle soup at the finish line. She clearly knows what motivates me.

I can do this. I will do this.

---
Yeah, I know the picture really doesn't have anything to do with this post, but they're cute and it makes me happy. And when I'm stressed out, I like things that make me happy. That probably explains why there's popcorn and candy and Oreos galore surrounding my desk.

Take a bow

I didn't really believe it when I first heard about it in October.

What? Us? Really? How is that possible?! Why? Are you sure?!

I was flabbergasted. And then earlier this month, we got an official email - an email sent to everyone across the nation.

Northwestern University's APAMSA chapter was honored with the Best Fundraising and Chapter of the Year awards for the 2007-2008 school year.

I still don't know why we got it. I knew our group was active and very involved in everything, but never did I think we would walk away with the Best Picture equivalent at the APAMSA Oscars. When I sent in our application, I was about to board a plane for Taiwan, and so, needless to say, our good deeds and merits were mentioned, yes, but only very briefly.

I guess all those leadership forums and high school clubs did teach me something after all.

I'm very proud of my school and my chapter and the rest of the officers and of course the members, and gosh darn it, I can't stop grinning.

I can't quite believe it, but I'm definitely not going to refuse it. We worked hard, and it's nice to be recognized. I lived and breathed for APAMSA, and it feels so good to get a little love back in return.

Chapter of the freaking year!! Holy moly!

Got me going crazy

Every year around the holidays, Victoria's Secret unveils an amazing fashion show on primetime television that features Heidi Klum, Miranda Kerr, and Alessandra Ambrosia posing seductively in skimpy little nighties and other such naughty lingerie.

During the commericals, there are a variety of VS ads. One campaign in particular has been around every year and asks the viewer "What is SEXY?" clearly expecting the answer to be Adriana Lima or any other young Brazilian model.

And while I do find a good push-up bra to be pretty amazing for cleavage, this is what I find sexy.


Boys doing housework.

Seriously, it's a wonderful thing. It's even better when they don't ask you if you need the help, and merely take up the vacuuming for you when you go for a bathroom break.

It's only life

Darren: Aw man, I've got Daft Punk stuck in my head...
Me: Yeah? I've got the new Britney Spears song stuck in my head.
Darren: Okay, you win.

Darren and I were small-talking right before our midyear Clinical Skills Assessment. Given how last week was the terrible Hematology-Oncology-Endocrinology test and Thanksgiving break, I definitely did not study for this properly. I wrote out what questions I was supposed to ask, did a quick run-through of all the physical exam steps I'd have to perform, but I was by no means prepared.

And now, here I was - about to knock on my fake patient's door and somehow stumble my way through the test, all while Britney sang songs about circuses and ringmasters in my head.

Yeah, this was gonna be real great.

So I knock, get the "come in!" and somehow manage to trip myself on the door frame. Seriously, how does that even happen? Thank you, Foreshadowing, nice to meet you.

So my patient actor was given a character to play. Specifically a 41 year old man who has chest pains and might be an alcoholic. I introduce myself, and with that ubiquitous "so what brings you in today?" question, the exam starts.

The history-taking went okay. I asked all the questions I could think of. Actually, it probably would have been great except for all my nervous chatter about how he looks much younger than 41, and how even though he doesn't have an actual exercise regimen, he looks good. Buff. Tan.

Did I mention my patient actor was really cute? And young?

Yeah. Word vomit.

But I think he liked me. That, or he felt sorry for me. See, before I moved on to the physical exam, I asked my catch-all throwaway question, "Is there anything else you think I should know?"

It would have been easy for him to say no. And I expected him to say no. But instead, he furrowed his brow, and said, "You know, I think I'm just really anxious about this 'cause my dad died of a heart attack at age 48. And you don't think my meds could have caused this, do you?"

Oh crap. Family history and medications. Two things that I forgot to ask about. Two very important things I forgot to ask about.

Thanking him silently, I asked him questions from that section of the history, and then after getting the all clear, moved on to the physical. Where I also proceeded to trip all over myself. Literally. I tripped over the little step stool that patients use to get on the exam table. The first time I took the blood pressure, I forgot to put the hearing pieces of my stethoscope into my ears. During the ear exam, the speculum came out and got stuck in his ear canal. When I listened to his heart, I didn't hear a thing because my own heart was about to pop out of my chest from nervousness.

But I got through it, and somehow managed to score pretty well. I even got high marks for smiling (read: dying of embarrassment) and making conversation (read: word vomit).

I don't know whether to be proud of myself or be worried for the future of medicine.