My desk/cubby space looks such like the typical med student's. On the shelf, my binder with a month's worth of MNE (metabolism, nutrition, and endocrine) module notes, a used pen, a Starbucks cup (no, I still don't like coffee, however I will drink a mocha on weeks like this where my body simply decides it doesn't want to sleep), and my ID (so I don't forget it if I leave the library, locked on a Saturday). My desk has colored pens in a pile, my Life is Good Nalgene, papers with lists and charts (in color), reactions (also in color), bullet points. My laptop blasts classical music while displaying slides on the urea cycle. My backpack on the chair next to me has a sweatshirt draped over it (the library is as fickle as New England in mid spring, temperature-wise), notebooks filling it, and a pocket of snacks to keep me fed and sufficiently distracted. My bare feet are tucked under me as the sound of typing fills the air....
Such is the weekend before an M1 exam, filled with mild to moderate tension (sometimes more), friends a text away in a pinch, in those moments of "Wait, what?" Otherwise, silence reigns and even a ringing phone conjures dirty looks (though the student snoring on the couch only garnered soft chuckles and a bit of envy).
It's intense. I knew that coming in. I love it, love the science, love the students and the intellectual stimulation and shared passions, the moments of patient contact. I hate it, the hours in the library, the guilt when you spend an afternoon talking about the universe (quite literally) rather than studying. But ultimately, the end is worth it. This is where I am supposed to be.
People keep telling me when you put the white coat on, people's view of you changes. You know what--they're right. I wore my coat this morning for the first time in a non-PPC setting, introduced myself as "Hi, I'm Nichole, I'm a med student here, how are you?" before taking their blood for a prostate cancer screening and making conversation in the way PPC teaches us, though without the nerves, the effort, the staging, the observation. This is the first of many times when it's you and a patient. Sometimes you come bearing a needle, sometimes a chart, sometimes simply yourself. But it's the beginning, when people start to look to you as the one who knows. Sometimes I step back and wonder if this is real. Am I really a medical student, three and three quarters years and more modules and rotations than I want to consider away from becoming a doctor? Do I really have an apartment with a view of the cathedral in the heart of an upscale DC neighborhood (just down the road from Whole Foods, where I can buy broccoli sprouts, which have tumor suppressing properties, and steel cut oats, which are lower glycemic index, thank you nutrition class)? It is surreal, but yes, this is my life. Even if I pay my rent in loans and wear a short student's white coat, yes, this is real. I'm on my way! :)
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
From Trinidad to DC
Sorry for a long absence! My last weeks in Trinidad got progressively busier, with a lot of patients in the hospital and finally becoming comfortable enough with the country and making good enough friends that I spent much of my free time away from my apartment. And of course, once I got back to the US, the whirlwind began, and was immediately followed by this thing called med school that seems to have taken over my life :)
My last weeks in Trinidad were some of my most amazing and my most challenging. Clinic-wise, we had a week where every day there were ten patients in the ward, and most of them were very ill, were dying. The following week was filled with new patients (I think one day, there were six, ranging in age from 24 to 50) and carefully coordinated visiting (I do not visit new patients during visiting hours unless they never have visitors for the twofold reason of wanting the patient to be able to talk to me about HIV and ask me any questions without worrying about in front of whom they are speaking and also to prevent either of us from having to explain how I, clearly a foreigner, know the patient). The final new patient I worked with in my final days was 77 years old. Truly, HIV can affect anyone. I experienced miracles in my last weeks too, one big, many small. I learned about love, what love really is and its incredible power.
Outside of the hospital, I went on a cayman tour with fellow Fulbrighter Sam, and we saw caymans (sort of like crocodiles in appearance), watched Port-of-Spain from the ocean, and saw some brilliantly watermelon-colored scarlet ibises in flight. The last weeks were filled with rainbows, brilliant ones, ones that caught me off guard as I made breakfast, rainbows that glowed with the sunset. I also saw a wonderful production of Aida!
My last week was filled with roti and farewells. The clinic staff threw me a party I will never forget, where we shared stories of how we impacted one another, and I learned how to whyne (I learned how to palance while I was in Tobago). SAS threw me a party as well, as did the young adults at church, and I could not have been more at peace to see so many people and to know that I had made an impact, and also to have a chance to say how much these beautiful people had impacted me. I spent time with my good friends. My last day was perfect, with goodbyes at the clinic, the ability to see patients in the morning (and take lots of bloods), then an afternoon going for a drive, talking and enjoying sahina with Vidya, world-record time packing (45 minutes to take the stuff from the floor of the living room and deposit it in suitcases...thanks to Vidya for her company and encouragement, and to Kiba and Marsha for bring my overflow stuff to the US for me), Bible class and goodbyes to the my home congregation of San Fernando, followed by dinner with two of my favorite people who just brought me so much peace and calm. I had a rainbow when I flew out the next morning, and lots of texts to send when I got home.
Needless to say, I miss Trinidad a lot right now. I miss the country and the food (I crave roti at times and would be so, so happy to find an Indian grocery in DC), the ocean every day, the spot downpours, but most of all, I miss the people. I miss the clinic work, the patients, the staff, all of my beautiful friends. I learned so much though; from technical skills (like phlebotomy) and how to be a doctor (I realize my physician-patient communication class tells us how to deal with difficult patients, to break bad news, and to talk about sex and I've already done all of that). More importantly though, they have given me a concrete affirmation as to the doctor I aspire to be and have filled me, reminded me why I want to do medicine with all my heart. If ever I have a bad day, I just need to remember one of the many patients who encouraged me, wished me the best, told me I made a difference.
I had six days in NH when I came home before flying to DC. It was certainly whirlwind of seeing family and friends, packing, cooking. I set more world records in packing, getting all my stuff for DC in 6 bags under 50lb in 90 minutes. I got to see my friend Kate before she flew to Ireland for her own life-changing experience. I got to see my aunts and uncles and cousins, my cousin's 7-year-old miracle daughter who I love more than I thought I could love a child. I got to see my beautiful 90-year-old grandmother which is always a gift.
And now I am in DC, have been here more than four weeks. I have a lovely 10th flood efficiency with a view of the National Cathedral. I'm four weeks and one module into medical school. It is, of course, the most intense academic experience of my life, but I knew that. Having Trinidad and Cambodia behind me, I know with certainty that I need to be here and this a necessary step in living my dream. The white coat ceremony at the beginning of the school year was incredible, just to stand together and say the Hippocratic Oath, to wear the coat and know I was that much closer to living a dream (as cliche as that is, I know). My fellow students are wonderful and bring with them a variety of passions and experiences that are teaching me, and I appreciate the friends I have made already and the camaraderie that is the library the night before an exam. Here's to hoping for the best.
I do promise to write from time to time, so you all know I am alive and well :) God bless you all, much love, and thanks for listening :)
My last weeks in Trinidad were some of my most amazing and my most challenging. Clinic-wise, we had a week where every day there were ten patients in the ward, and most of them were very ill, were dying. The following week was filled with new patients (I think one day, there were six, ranging in age from 24 to 50) and carefully coordinated visiting (I do not visit new patients during visiting hours unless they never have visitors for the twofold reason of wanting the patient to be able to talk to me about HIV and ask me any questions without worrying about in front of whom they are speaking and also to prevent either of us from having to explain how I, clearly a foreigner, know the patient). The final new patient I worked with in my final days was 77 years old. Truly, HIV can affect anyone. I experienced miracles in my last weeks too, one big, many small. I learned about love, what love really is and its incredible power.
Outside of the hospital, I went on a cayman tour with fellow Fulbrighter Sam, and we saw caymans (sort of like crocodiles in appearance), watched Port-of-Spain from the ocean, and saw some brilliantly watermelon-colored scarlet ibises in flight. The last weeks were filled with rainbows, brilliant ones, ones that caught me off guard as I made breakfast, rainbows that glowed with the sunset. I also saw a wonderful production of Aida!
My last week was filled with roti and farewells. The clinic staff threw me a party I will never forget, where we shared stories of how we impacted one another, and I learned how to whyne (I learned how to palance while I was in Tobago). SAS threw me a party as well, as did the young adults at church, and I could not have been more at peace to see so many people and to know that I had made an impact, and also to have a chance to say how much these beautiful people had impacted me. I spent time with my good friends. My last day was perfect, with goodbyes at the clinic, the ability to see patients in the morning (and take lots of bloods), then an afternoon going for a drive, talking and enjoying sahina with Vidya, world-record time packing (45 minutes to take the stuff from the floor of the living room and deposit it in suitcases...thanks to Vidya for her company and encouragement, and to Kiba and Marsha for bring my overflow stuff to the US for me), Bible class and goodbyes to the my home congregation of San Fernando, followed by dinner with two of my favorite people who just brought me so much peace and calm. I had a rainbow when I flew out the next morning, and lots of texts to send when I got home.
Needless to say, I miss Trinidad a lot right now. I miss the country and the food (I crave roti at times and would be so, so happy to find an Indian grocery in DC), the ocean every day, the spot downpours, but most of all, I miss the people. I miss the clinic work, the patients, the staff, all of my beautiful friends. I learned so much though; from technical skills (like phlebotomy) and how to be a doctor (I realize my physician-patient communication class tells us how to deal with difficult patients, to break bad news, and to talk about sex and I've already done all of that). More importantly though, they have given me a concrete affirmation as to the doctor I aspire to be and have filled me, reminded me why I want to do medicine with all my heart. If ever I have a bad day, I just need to remember one of the many patients who encouraged me, wished me the best, told me I made a difference.
I had six days in NH when I came home before flying to DC. It was certainly whirlwind of seeing family and friends, packing, cooking. I set more world records in packing, getting all my stuff for DC in 6 bags under 50lb in 90 minutes. I got to see my friend Kate before she flew to Ireland for her own life-changing experience. I got to see my aunts and uncles and cousins, my cousin's 7-year-old miracle daughter who I love more than I thought I could love a child. I got to see my beautiful 90-year-old grandmother which is always a gift.
And now I am in DC, have been here more than four weeks. I have a lovely 10th flood efficiency with a view of the National Cathedral. I'm four weeks and one module into medical school. It is, of course, the most intense academic experience of my life, but I knew that. Having Trinidad and Cambodia behind me, I know with certainty that I need to be here and this a necessary step in living my dream. The white coat ceremony at the beginning of the school year was incredible, just to stand together and say the Hippocratic Oath, to wear the coat and know I was that much closer to living a dream (as cliche as that is, I know). My fellow students are wonderful and bring with them a variety of passions and experiences that are teaching me, and I appreciate the friends I have made already and the camaraderie that is the library the night before an exam. Here's to hoping for the best.
I do promise to write from time to time, so you all know I am alive and well :) God bless you all, much love, and thanks for listening :)
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