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Oh yeah… actually, I really need to go. More depressing musings on hitting a huge wall my second year of residency to come!
It’s a funny thing, to be in love with a city. I’ve been in love with New York City for years. I still remember how I met her and that instant that I knew I wanted to return and stay. I was seventeen years old, in high school, and visiting Columbia University for a second-look. I had walked in from 116th street, not in the center of College Walk, but on the north side. It was night, and campus was lit like it always was. Looking up, I saw the stone and brick rising around me and I knew.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like, if I had chosen New York over everything else. What if I had turned down UCSD to stay on the East Coast? It seemed like such a brainless reflex decision back then, as I stood in my baby blue gown on May 16th, telling the Dean of the Medical School that I’d go- I’d come! Only afterwards, when the gravity of those flippant excited works sunk in, did I realize what I had done. I booked a one-way ticket and spent a few last days with my then boyfriend. The morning of my flight, he made me a Nutella sandwich and as my plane lifted off from JFK, I cried. Holding on to everything from then, I kept the leftovers from that Nutella sandwich in its Ziploc back in my room until my mom, completely grossed out, threw it out for me. My memories of the City then became a series of short 30-second scenes: walking off the elevator on the 16th floor of my dorm and seeing the Empire State Building at night; curling up on my windowsill in the daylight and watching students come back from class; standing on subway platforms with my practiced unfocused stares; a few steps on dirty cracked sidewalk on a sunny day.
Promises were made that I never kept- that I’d go back, that I’d always go back.
I’m always being told that making plans is always the best way to ensure that your life doesn’t turn out the way you had planned. I don’t regret leaving. How could I, when I met Husband in California? On days that I especially miss being in the City, I remind myself that I’d rather be married and in Salt Lake City than single in New York. Cities are cold creatures who will never love you back.
All the same, I’ve never forgotten about New York; she will always be the one who’s gotten away.
So, this post, as the title notes, has no substance. I just felt like I should leave a note here because I have a second right now and I have other things I’d rather not do. Those things would include: working on our wedding book (still, again… ), finishing up reading all of the papers my fellow gave me before this rotation ends (in like, 2 days), restocking our fridge with frozen Chinese goods, napping, exercising…
Most urgent, strangely enough, is getting this wedding book done with so I can use these groupons before they expire!!! Yikes.
Husband is post-call today and still not home. I cooked myself breakfast this morning after going to the VA to round, so myself and the entire place smells like bacon.
So our condo doesn’t really get great natural light. It’s something I realized before we bought the place, but something about not being able to buy the place just made us want to have it more. No, just kidding. The lack of natural light is a bit obnoxious to me, but I know that we’re not living here forever, so I’m dealing with it. I’m the sort of person that if I’m indoors and it’s sunny outside, I want to open all the window shades to let it in. In fact, it doesn’t even need to be sunny. The sun just needs to be UP. It is for this reason that during daylight hours, I don’t really like to stay at home to study or work at my computer; it’s just too dark inside and I feel like it’s nighttime instead of daytime and it makes me sad. Of course, this is worsened by the fact that our study/guest room/extra room/storage space doesn’t have much of a dedicated window, just some ambient filtered light.
The problem then is that my dual display (I love you, dual display!) is in the study/office/room and this photo book project which is quickly overcoming my life and becoming less and less fun by the day is best done with a dual display.
Jeez, how am I complaining already?
In the lines of other updates, Husband and I went to our first ever Yelp Elite event a few nights ago. It was fun! It was a surprisingly diverse group as well, which was surprising and really nice. You could have picked up the entire party and moved it to LA or NYC and it would have made sense: maybe 15% Asian, 20% Hispanic/Latino, and the remainder “other.” (And by “other” I mean Caucasian…)
Okay and this photo book is staring me in the face and asking to be completed.
Oh but one more thing! There was this OR circulating nurse yesterday who before tying the back of my gown, gave me an AMAZING back rub. I am saying “back rub” instead of “massage” because it sounds less creepy. However, it was not really a back rub. It was a massage, and a damn good one. Apparently she does it for everybody and it’s her “thing.” But OH MY GOODNESS it made me realize how badly I’d like a nice long massage right now…
Here’s a survey- being on home call puts a bit of a damper on things. My “rule of thumb” for being home call at the VA is that I’ll never be 30 min out from the hospital. However, I haven’t decided on a rule for call backs. Honestly, I never gave it a thought because I always call back pages within 5 minutes; more like 1 minute, really. So doing things like skiing and cycling are out. But now I’m wondering- what about things like… getting a massage? Going to a yoga class? I would really like to go to a yoga class. But can you imagine my pager going off and then I have to run out and possibly get called back to the hospital? Ugh, I’d be so pissed if I had paid for a class. I’m sure too that all of the other students in the class would also look at me in disgust and think to themselves, “Why didn’t she turn her pager off?” Hahaha! I’m saving the world, one vet at a time…
I have gotten close. I have found that previous pie crust recipes I’ve tried that have had variations on flour+butter+ice water have been flavorful, and others have sworn by them, but although I get big delicious flakes and don’t overwork the dough- AND keep it as cold as possible, there has just been something not quite right. For some reason, they’ve always been way too difficult to cut, making serving beautifully uniform slices almost impossible. Absolutely nothing wrong from the flavor perspective, but a complete fail as for texture.
And then a completely different and radical recipe showed up, ingredients including now white vinegar, a beaten egg, and a goodly amount of salt. AND the claim that it can be frozen and when baked would become even MORE flaky. Tempting! I had tried the all-butter crust over and over again without complete success, so why not give this recipe a shot?
Really freaking flaky. Not the huge flakes that made my other crusts difficult to cut, but a nice almost-crumble that make the pie ridiculously easy to cut and serve. But… there was something missing in the flavor department. Maybe next time a touch of sugar? Maybe next time I’ll split the dough into half instead of thirds so I could get a thicker crust?
Well, this one’s definitely the current winner. Now I have only a few more pie crust recipes to try on for size.
(And by the way, has anyone else noticed that on every blog, the author has discovered THE WAY to make pie crust? I swear, it’s as variable as how different surgeons put in ports for laparoscopic surgery. I do it the way someone else does it, and it just doesn’t work out for me. But it sure does work for him/her! Maybe pie crust works the same way. I just need to try how all the different “experts” claim is the “best,” and then decide which works the best for me. Oh well. We’ll see.)
Happy thanksgiving, all!
It’s 10:14pm, past my bedtime, and this is one of the rare days that I’ve even had my laptop on. It takes my computer a good 5-7 minutes nowadays to get running, and that just seems like too much time and effort most days.
Today, I got home around 3pm, and was trying to figure out loan stuff. So there I was. Computer on. Oh, right, once upon a time, didn’t I used to have this blog thing?
I have so much swimming around in my head that I want to share, but I can’t. Anybody could be reading this and unfortunately damn HIPPA and patient privacy keeps my mouth shut.
I’m so frustrated yet so satisfied yet so exhausted and SO over hours. And that’s about all I can say.
Reading papers about a melanoma trial. I’m totally confused because the attending with whom I worked with last told me to read up on this paper, but the results that he quoted me with are completely contradictory to what I’m reading. I am SO confused right now.
I am trying my bestest not to let this blog lapse into disrepair while I struggle to become a surgeon. So far so good? Unfortunately, most of what I have to talk about involves work, which is not fun at all for most people. (Maybe for one. You know who you are…)
So here’s something new! Yesterday, Husband and I tried our hands (legs?) at road biking. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that I start disliking doing new things- mostly out of fear: fear that I’ll hurt myself, and possibly worse, fear of embarrassing myself. There’s something a little undignified but adventurous and carefree about trying new things, and as the “investments” that I’ve put in myself keep piling up, I’ve found myself shying away from indignity and staying the safe known route.
And so I’m getting old.
So Husband’s been on me to try some sort of biking since we’ve moved to Utah. People here seem to have a “winter sport” as well as a “summer sport.” I really only have a winter sport- downhill skiing and snowboarding. So following a few weeks (at least) of cajoling and bargaining, Husband got me out in Park City to try out road biking. Let me tell you, as I struggled to just get ON the bike, I kept thinking, “Oh God, what have I gotten myself into….?”
But biked we did! And it was fun! Road biking is SO much better than mountain biking. (Although some may argue with this, that is my final opinion on the matter.) Hills are intimidating, but at least you don’t feel like you’re fighting gravity times two (or four, or ten) in order to get up a hill. On a road bike, I think I could possibly even get to work!
So, that was my big adventure for the weekend. Now I return to night float again at the Pediatric Hospital- and maybe this time I’ll get some learning in.
A real quickie because for once I actually have my computer out…
I got complimented on my knot-tying skills today. And apologized to because I wasn’t allowed to do anything in the OR.
We (finally) got our professional wedding photos back! I haven’t even finished going through them all. That’s because there are like… 800+ of them and I’m trying to update my iPhone at the same time and browse and read Sabiston’s so I don’t look like a complete idiot during didactics tomorrow. The med students know more than I do. And that’s no lie. When the pimping starts, I pray to God that the med students know the answer so the pimping doesn’t get to me. So far… pretty good.
I counted. I’ve logged 40+ cases so far. Not even a month in. Thank you, Utah.
I am going to miss operating on skinny little people. Everything is so much cuter. Tiny gallbladders, tiny livers, teeny squiggly bowel…
I think tiny gallbladders are my favorite. Followed by tiny liver edges.
And before I melt into delirium, I’m going to finish reading and go to bed.
At our new condo complex, our door opens up onto a common hallway. We began running into new neighbors immediately, as people began hearing the whole ruckus associated with moving in the hallway. (That and moving inherently involves entering and exiting your unit constantly, increasing the probability that you’ll run into somebody else sooner or later.)
I grew up never really knowing who my neighbors were. In our “old house”- what we now call the house that my sister and I grew up in, our neighbors for a while were two senior women living alone and an older couple across the street. When I was in high school, a family moved across the street whose son also attended my private high school. We stomped in different crowds however, he the popular jockish crowd and I the Asian and nerdy crowd, and I never really got to know him well. They didn’t even realize that we had moved until the moving van for the family moving in arrived.
Then in college, I got to know my neighbors my freshman year, as all freshmen do, but afterwards, had my own group of friends and rarely bothered to associate with the people who lived near me. In medical school, I lived in apartments, but never met any of the people who lived next to me. Once I borrowed an egg (well, more like took) from my neighbor across the hall, but that was the one and only time I ever interacted with him.
So, it’s super weird for me, moving to a new place and all of a sudden knowing who my neighbors are. Is this normal for most people? Across the hall is a 2nd year anesthesia resident named T, down a ways is a family with 20 month old twins, on our left is a family with a 2 year old, and on the right is an older lady who can get particular about people following the rules. One of our neighbors helped us move a desk in from the car, and we had movie night tonight next door.
The two of the families that we joined for movie night- we’re pretty sure they’re LDS. In Utah, nobody says “Mormon.” Maybe the term is passe. Or really, I think that LDS just has fewer bad connotations for somebody unfamiliar with the term. They’re super nice and normal and all- great people, really, but I sort of wish we had neighbors with whom we could break open a bottle of wine or a 6-pack of beer and swear around and not be afraid of offending. Somebody with no kids might be nice too. Maybe we just haven’t met them yet.
On a completely different note, apparently all these thunderstorms are weird for Salt Lake City. And tonight, toward the end of Anger Management, it started hailing like nobody’s business. I felt a little bit better that I wasn’t the only one surprised and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the weather.
I would just like to announce that I gave Husband’s computer a virus today.
So, as a fair warning to all internet users, please refrain from doing the following:
- Browsing the internet unprotected. It’s just as dumb as having unprotected sex- great while it’s in the moment but in a few minutes, you realize that it was a bad, bad idea.
- Attempt to stream the original 2001 Korean version of My Sassy Girl from the internet. It’s not worth the $5 and 10 minutes you are saving by not going to Blockbuster. Instead, it will cost you 2 hours of your husband’s time while he tries to fix the computer, a great deal of embarrassment, and your husband swearing that he never wants to watch the original My Sassy Girl with you. Plus, in my case, it will cost me a new computer because getting a virus is great justification to perform a complete reformat, sell the old computer, and buy a new one.
However, as of now, Husband has successfully fixed the computer, has not actually done the complete reformat, and has not actually bought a new computer yet (although I saw him looking!)… but the old computer is already on craigslist awaiting a new owner to call.
Anyways, moral of the story: please browse the internet using updated protection and refrain from questionable browsing behaviors. You know, like trying to watch the 2001 version of My Sassy Girl. Sad.