Resolute

Embrace it. Live it. Love it.

I don't wanna wait

ME

Hey! Dude! Your name! You're missing a 'der'!!

DUDE

What do you mean?

ME

Because your name is James van Beek. And that actor from Dawson's Creek is named James van der -- oh, you were being sarcastic.

DUDE

No really - you're the first person to ever point that out. Ever!

ME

There you go again with the sarcasm.

Let it snow

To those who are wondering about the Boston vs Mayo question, I ended up choosing Mayo.

I choose Mayo because it is the stronger program. The last time I was in Boston, I was very aware that unless you were at THE Mass Gen, your hospital was viewed as inferior. The other hospitals were just OSHs, sending their patients to MGH, or taking care of MGH patients who had stabilized and needed to be moved on out. And minus one Amy (who will be at the aforementioned MGH), I wouldn't know anyone in Boston. So heck, what's the difference? Me and my television can become even better friends over the next several years in Rochester, middle of nowhere, Minnesota.

And that's only if they'll have me.

Many thanks to everyone for contributing to the discussion. I'm very aware that Boston has far more real-life things to do, and infinitely more foodie places and crazier sports fans. But Mayo is Mayo, and if there's one thing I want to be in three or so years, it's a damn good psychiatrist. And that means seeing the whole spectrum of patients. Being at the hospital where the OSHs refer patients to. Even if it means lots of snow and no romance.

So if I end up at Mayo, I'm going to expect you all (especially everyone who voted for Mayo), to send me care packages filled with Asian foodstuffs.

-------

ME

If I end up in the middle of nowhere, will you send me food? And mail out a couple of boytoys every now and then?

THE AFOREMENTIONED AMY

HAHAHA, I'll get you an inflatable.

ME

That'd be great, thanks!

Do they know it's Christmas

I love the Boston Pops. And I love that they're able to carry on just fine with a hotshot celebrity guest conductor who clearly had no idea what he was doing, but faked it pretty well. Hahaha, I didn't know whether to cringe or applaud.

They were conducted by Shaquille Freaking O'Neal!! Who came up with this idea?? Hahahaha. I imagine the conversation went something like this:

Man, did you see that Celtics game?

Yeah, Shaq is awesome!

Hey, we should have Shaq come in and conduct a piece for our holiday concert.

Why??

Why not? Besides, it's Christmas.

Because, at Christmas, anything is possible.

Merry Christmas, everyone! Stay warm and cozy and full of hot cocoa and good cheer! I'm sending you all very merry tidings and lots of love from sunny California.

Though, I gotta admit that I'm kinda missing all the winter wonderland-y Chicago goodness today, as blasphemous as that statement may be.

More than words

At a recent interview, they asked us to go around and introduce ourselves, with a one-word description of ourselves. I was first.

Hi! I'm Michelle, and I'm wholesome!

Wholesome.

Of all the words in the entire English language, I choose "wholesome." Not gregarious or hardworking or efficient or responsible or dedicated or any of the other various words that are all interview-stamped approved. Heck, someone said he was "laissez faire," so technically, I could have said something in a different language as well. Even MORE words I could have chosen from to describe myself.

Nope, I chose "wholesome."

Of all words. Wholesome.

I basically branded myself as a terribly boring homebody who doesn't know how to let her hair down and have a night on the town.

The one upside? One of the applicants said she was "sacrificing." Which, I don't think is a good thing to claim unless you're Jesus. So at least "wholesome" was better than that.

Here with me

I first saw Love Actually with J when it initially came out. And then I saw it again with Lisa. And then every subsequent Thanksgiving and Christmas, I'd watch it another three to five times, sometimes deliberately, other times just barely knowing it was playing in the background. It's the quintessential holiday movie, the go-to that will make you cry and laugh and nostalgic all at once.

Anyway, whenever I think of Love Actually, I think of the Marc + Juliette (+ Peter) story. Because it's so sweet in its angst. Although, I wish she hadn't kissed him. That part rang a little false to me. Even if it was to cap off the end of his love story with her. She shouldn't have kissed him.

Regardless, I love the scene where she comes over asking for the wedding tape, and then as the video plays, she slowly realizes that he's been mean towards her and avoiding her because he's actually madly in love with her. So he leaves, because what else can he do in all the awkwardness of that moment? And then he does the swirly do-I-go-back-or-do-I-leave dance 3.5 times outside his entrance, before eventually pulling his sweater zipper up, and deciding to go on his way, as the beginning strains of Dido's song starts to play.

"It's a self-preservation thing, you see."

Sigh, it still breaks my heart, every single time.

[Click here to play scene. Really, it's so so amazing, you must watch it.]

Again, sigh. So good. Such perfect editing with the music and the pulling of the heartstrings and the gorgeousness of London in the background.

I am convinced all the half zipper sweaters that became so popular made their comeback because of this scene. Heck, Lisa and I bought J one of those sweaters for Christmas '03. And he would do the manly zipper pull-up every now and then for us. Sadly, it was always for laughs, as it never quite had the same sexy resonance as it did in the movie.

This post has no point. Except I saw a promo for The Walking Dead and the lead of that show plays Marc in Love Actually, which reminded me of this scene. And that reminded me of all those times J did the stupid zipper pull for our amusement. Man, I miss Lisa and J. I miss spending the holidays with them, doing silly things of absolutely no importance, just hanging out and enjoying each others' company.

I miss them, and I wish we weren't so far-flung across the country.

Dilemma

I have a dilemma and I need you all to weigh in to help me make this decision. I have 2 interviews on the same day, and unfortunately since I can't cut the baby in half (a la King Solomon), I need to decide which one to go to.

MAYO CLINIC

• Pros: really awesome program (ranked #8 for psych), will get amazing training and will be able to diagnose and treat EVERYTHING when I finish, they're paying for my hotel, flights will be ~$120, they've also been actively recruiting me.
• Cons: it's in freaking Rochester, MN. Seriously. SO MUCH SNOW. SO MANY MARRIED PEOPLE.

BOSTON UNIVERSITY

• Pros: good program (unranked, but highly regarded), it's BOSTON!!!
• Cons: got my invite now (read: I'm much lower on their prelim rank list), flight ~$350 (in addition to the $150 fee from American Airlines to cancel my flight to Mayo), hotels are also $200 a night - and I don't know anyone who can host me (J&V will be on their honeymoon). ACK, SO MUCH MONEY I DON'T HAVE.

So now, where do I go? What do I do? Vote now, because I'll need to tell them later today. Because while Boston just gave me the invite today, they also want me to RSVP by the end of the day as well. So considerate.

--

Also, I apologize if this post makes me sound like THAT guy from the forums. You know, the person who agonizes over whether to go to Mass Gen or John Hopkins or Stanford, when in reality, he's just trying to brag about all the awesome places he's got. That's not my intent at all. These two programs were definite surprises for me in that I didn't expect to get invites from them (in fact, my program director told me NOT to apply to these places as it'd just be a waste of money), and now I honestly don't know how to choose which one to go to. Anyway, just wanted to clear the air because I really don't mean to be Douchey McDoucherson, and I apologize if the above post came off as so.

We go together

First monthiversary together in a while.

I didn't realize how much I've missed him.

Back to December

I told him I loved him, on our last night in Europe. We were in Rome, strolling along the Tiber River, the gorgeous St. Angel's Castle lightly lit behind us. I told him I loved him, and all he could say was "okay." He was my first big crush, and my first big heartbreak. We were both sixteen.**

Fast forward ten years, and here I was, about to see him again.

And standing there, on the doorstep to nostalgia, I was more than aware that in the game that we all play in our heads - the game where you determine who's done better for themselves since you'd seen them last - he had tallied up far more points in the WIN column than I had. He was MD/PhD at Harvard, discovering the better cure for tuberculosis, all while going on mission trips to South Africa. And he was getting married to a girl at Harvard law. Whom he'd dated for the last six years of his life. And along with paying for the wedding all on their own, they had also just bought a gorgeous apartment in the cutest little neighborhood Boston has to offer. Win win win.

Me? I couldn't even muster up a 2nd place win in the looks department, since I was tired and haggard from traveling all day after being completely demolished by my ICU test and OSCE. And I was very aware of the giant pimple just waiting to burst, conveniently located exactly right between my eyes, that I could swear pulsated on its own volition.

Really, just shoot me now.

But I rang the doorbell. And he and his very adorable fiancée came to greet me - he taking my suitcase up the 5 flights of stairs, and she taking my coat. And even though I hadn't arrived until midnight, thanks to layovers and delays, we stayed up until 2am, catching up and getting to re-know one another.

It could have been awkward, but it wasn't. And that's to his credit. Even after the Roman disaster, we had stayed friends. Mainly because we were forced to, as the powers to be decided that we would continue to be standpartners for another 2 years, but also because he made an effort not to make things awkward.

So now I'm going to his wedding. And I'm determined to not make it awkward. Because it's not, and it shouldn't be.

---

**Man, re-reading that first paragraph, I'm realizing that it's very similar to something hackneyed Taylor Swift would sing about. Seriously, you could probably sing those words to Love Story. "We were both young when I first saw you..." Anyway, I apologize. Teenagers and their heartbreaks, you know.

I'm missing you like candy

As some of you may know, I have a ferocious appetite. My friends are always amazed by how much I eat, and what I eat. I am not one of those salads + fruit kinda gals. I like my meat. And I usually like it medium rare.

And when I'm studying, the amount of food I eat goes disproportionately up up up. Disproportionately, because well, it doesn't make any sense; I'm sitting at a table studying, and presumably not using up many calories at all. But I eat, and I eat a lot of crap like Twizzlers and chips, because heck, if studying is not a time for comfort food, I don't know when is. So yeah, I eat my weight in potato chips, chocolate, candy, and wash it all down with some caffeinated soda.

So this morning, I realized that my supply of Twizzlers was getting dangerously low, and it was starting to affect my practice test scores. So I rang up my mom, who was conveniently at the grocery store, to ask her to bring some back for me.

MOM

Twizzlers? More??

ME

Yeah, I only have like 2 sticks left.

MOM

I can buy you some healthier snacks, like grapes or bananas or something....

ME

[bratty]

No. I want Twizzlers!

MOM

But...see, the thing is...Michelle, you're getting a little chubby.

ME

[loud audible gasp]

Mom!! Did you just call me fat?!?!

MOM

[defensive]

But it's cute! [realizing that's the wrong thing to say] I mean, I'm just joking!

SISTER

[who is with my mom, cracking up in the background]

Hahaha - no you're not. And only babies can be chubby and still cute.

ME

Whatever. I still want my Twizzlers, thanks. Cherry flavor, please.

I'm taking Step 2 soon. And apparently, the only way I'm going to pass is if I'm 20 pounds heavier. So bring on the Sunkist. And definitely bring on the Twizzlers.

A little fall of rain

This was my view of Portland, on my way up to the hospital via sky gondola. Yes. A sky gondola. Like a Disneyland tram ride. Or a ski lift.

Ladies and gents, we took a freaking gondola to get to the hospital. Talk about fancy.

Also, it was very gray. I don't think it stopped raining/drizzling/whatever-they-call-that-constant-damp at any point during the three days that I was there.

**Shoutout to the very awesome Nancy (NU c/o 2009) for not only hosting me and picking me up at the airport and then personally driving me to my interview and thus was late for her own clinic, but also for taking me to THE BEST TAPAS RESTAURANT I've ever eaten at. Yum. Man, I'm seriously thinking about ranking OHSU higher than I would have initially thought, purely for the food. For THAT food.

Lifelines

[while taking a tour of the premises]

PGY-2

So here is the Institute for Genetics - you'll only go into this building for didactics. I don't even know if that's the actual name...I just know you go in the doors, go up to the second floor, and we're in that giant lecture room. Upside is, the seats are real cozy. Oh, and fun fact! The building is shaped like a chromosome!!

APPLICANT 1

No way!

PGY2

Yeah - if you were to look down on the building from space...or an airplane, you'd see the legs and the centromere and all that stuff.

ME

Haha, so if you guys wanted to expand the building, you could change the focus to Huntington's.

APPLICANT 2

Or Fragile X!

APPLICANT 3

Or spinocerebellar ataxia!

APPLICANT 4

Oh man, this is TOO much nerd humor. You guys need to stop.

APPLICANT 2

Awww, way to be the stop codon.

APPLICANT 1

Actually, is this the only building? Or is there a sister building somewhere?

APPLICANT 2

Haha, like the daughter chromosome?

APPLICANT 1

Well, if there's only 1, this building is like Turner's syndrome, right?

PGY-2

I'm speechless. Absolutely speechless.

I'll just say goodnight...(part 2)

Seriously?

I mean, really. Seriously?!

At Program That Shall Not Be Named, there were 25 applicants in one day. In other words, a crap load of people. It was nice in some aspects, because I ended up seeing a lot of applicants that I had met before. And it's always nice to catch up and see how the interview process has been going for them. And then it's not so nice, because you end up seeing a lot of fellow applicants from before. [See prior post on slightly strange applicants.]

So anyways, the program director, the chair, the director of this and the director of that, all gave us welcome spiels, and it was all very nice until they asked us to go around the table, introduce ourselves, say a little bit about ourselves, and a quick snippet of "why psychiatry."

We started going around the table, and then I quickly realized I would be giving my spiel after my friend sitting to my right. I would have to give my bland "I'm just a medical student who was fortunate to live in a house all my life" 2-minute intro after THIS guy.

I never thought I'd ever be ashamed of having a roof over my head. Until now.

Seriously. Why, why, why!

I should have just walked out the door, but I actually really really really want to go to this program.

Like, with a cherry on top.

Man, what luck.

What crap luck.

Freak the freak out

There are a lot of interesting characters that you meet along the interview trail way. And while most of them are pretty normal and awesome, there are a few that just seem a little bit...off.

The Gunner Applicant: At one program's pre-interview dinner, one applicant sat down next to one of the chief residents, and proceeded to tell him all about his CV, while the rest of us tried to interject the typical questions about living in the area and attending/resident relationships. Then, halfway through the dinner, he stood up, took his dish and without so much as an adieu, moved to the other table where the other chief resident was sitting - and per the grapevine - he then proceeded to repeat his entire resumé to that table.

The Sexual Harassment Suit Waiting To Happen: While we were going on a tour of a particular program's amazing facilities, we walked by what our tour guide fondly referred to as the Bariatric ICU, since that's where all the CPAP patients go after surgery due to their "impressive girth," she said. This particular applicant then nudged me and whispered, "I have impressive girth. I can show you later tonight." I was so flabbergasted I didn't know what to say, so I just replied, "Erm, you don't look that overweight to me." To which he said, "Oh I was referring to something else..." I chalked that up to him just being awkward - he was from a rather impressive and prestigious East Coast medical school after all, and we all know that the more prestigious the program, the more awkward the students - but then he continued to make comments laced with sexual innuendo. One conference room didn't have enough chairs, so he made the offer, "The pretty ones can sit on my lap...it's nice and hard." Also, he winked. A lot.

The Possible Serial Killer: She was super quiet throughout the entire interview day, choosing to merely observe the conversation instead of being part of it. Which would be fine, except there were only four of us, and her silence and lack of smiling was uncomfortably obvious. At the end of the day, she finally said the first words of the day to me, when I mentioned that I was taking a cab back into the city. Could she share a cab with me? Of course. So we got into the taxi together, where she proceeded to mouth off on everyone we had met that day - from residents' perceived dirty looks, to subtle insults the program director had apparently directed towards her. It was all the stranger because she had seemed like such a quiet plain Jane, and her taxicab rant was filled with f-bombs and see you next Tuesdays.

The One Who Personally Needs Ritalin: So I feel a little bad posting about this applicant, because he's actually quite nice. Very pleasant and easy to talk to, and I wouldn't mind being his co-resident. But when we went on a tour of the psych hospital - full of locked doors and doubly locked units - he would wander off and get distracted by random things, so that our tour ended up being a huge game of hide and seek. He got lost not once, not twice, but THREE times on our hour-long tour.

And of course, at the interviews where there's no one outwardly weird, I start worrying that I might be the token strange applicant. Because there's always gotta be one. And if you can't identify that person, it's probably you, right?

J'adore

Reason #37859 why I desperately want to come back to SoCal:

Macarons. Lots and lots of macarons.

Sigh. I could eat them all day.

And I love that there's a specialty store in LA dedicated to selling just macarons, seemingly personally catering to my every macaron need and desire.

I'll just say goodnight, and I'll show myself to the door

Going into psychiatry, you know you're going to hear some crazy stories. That's part of the reason why I like asking people why they ended up in the field. Everyone has such great responses - whether it be memorable patients or memorable personal experiences. But I've only ever asked residents and attendings that question, so I've never really heard my fellow applicants' stories, even though that's one of the standard interview answers that we know we're required to give.

I recently had to participate in a duo interview. It was me and this other applicant (hence the "duo" part of the duo interview). Both of us simultaneously being interviewed by the chairman of the program. He quickly outlined how this was going to work. It was to be a conversation, so he wanted us to start off with some introductions and how we ended up sitting here in this chair, in this office, in this suit, and this particular moment in time. And then we'd go from there, he said.

Easy peasy.

I had gotten this question multiple times already, so I went into almost an autopilot mode. My name is Michelle. Born in Arizona. Moved to California when I was little. Essentially raised by my grandparents. Went to Northwestern for the HPME program. Yada yada yada.

It was the typical applicant response, and I knew it. But this was just fodder for further conversation, so I didn't think it mattered if I hadn't seen my first psychotic break patient by age 7.

I smiled, indicating that I was done, so then my fellow applicant started his story.

"So my parents are very religious, so I was born and raised basically in a LDS compound. I was homeschooled, forced to wear hideous clothing and eat very bland food, and every day I had to follow religious doctrines that I didn't necessarily believe in."

I was impressed. This was a story I wanted to hear. It was intriguing.

He continued. "So given all that, I ran away at age 15. And hitchhiked my way to Philadelphia where I busked to feed myself. "

Cue open gaping mouth amazement.

"Of course, that didn't lead to a whole lot of money, so I worked a series of very odd jobs as well. I was a ladies nylons traveling salesman at one point. But anyways, I ended up being a janitor in a mental health hospital, purely because it meant I could get out of the snow and wintry conditions at the time."

Cue realization that this guy is the next Lifetime movie special.

"After a few months of working there, the attending psychiatrist actually took an interest in me, and after hearing my story, instead of being impressed as I thought she would, she essentially yelled at me and asked me what I was doing with my life. And that really resonated with me. So I got my GED. And I applied - and got! - a full scholarship to a small community college. And from there I went to Temple University Med School. And you know, my experiences in the mental health institution always stuck with me. The psychiatrist's words always stuck with me. And so now I'm here. Where I will hopefully get great training, and I will be able to work in community psychiatry and help out the homeless, seeing as I used to be one of them."

He finished his story to complete silence. I didn't know whether to stand up and give him a standing ovation or to start slow clapping, that's how good his story was. I might have had tears in my eyes at the conclusion. And I wanted to know more. That's when I quickly realized that my application had basically been tossed out the window. I might as well not have been sitting there. Where was the door?, because I could let myself out. This program was definitely gonna take him over me.

I never stood a chance.

That's not my name

I'm interviewing at Program That Shall Not Be Named this Friday. And minus the very first interview request email, all of the follow-up emails have addressed me by a different name. Dear Melissa. Dear Ms. Lupsa. Dear Dr. Tung.

So now the real question is, when I show up this Friday, what name do I check in with? Because frankly, I have a real fear that my real name might not be on the list anymore. I'm very strongly tempted to introduce myself as "Hi, I'm Melissa Tung Lupsa - but all my friends call me Michelle."

Actually, now that I think about it, the first interview request email just addressed me as "2010 Interview Applicant."

Don't stop believing

Well, now we know that it's not just all post-production. Glee is just as good singing live. This was amazing. Sing it, Miss Amber Riley - you show Simon what a fool he was for passing you over on American Idol.

I should also be studying, instead of blogging and youtube-ing. Bleh. Don't stop believing, right?

My kind of town

So during my travels, I've taken to asking taxi drivers about the city I'm visiting, to get a better idea of what's there, what the locals tend to do, where I should visit, so on and so forth. All the cabbies have been super effusive, heaping praise over their respective fair cities. And then I got to Boston.

ME

So sir, how long have you been in Boston?

CABBIE

Too long. Too long.

ME

Aw, you can't mean that. You don't like Boston?

CABBIE

Well, Boston's fine. It's okay, you know? But I've been to a lot of other cities - New York, San Francisco, Atlanta, Chicago - oh Chicago! Now, THAT'S a great city. Beautiful, you know? Where you flying in from?

ME

. . . um, Chicago.

CABBIE

Chicago! My beautiful Chicago!! Why are you here? I turn this car around and take you back to the airport, yeah??

ME

Haha, no no. Just onwards to the hotel, thank you.

CABBIE

You're crazy for choosing Boston over Chicago. Crazy.