Day 235: Ferraris and yorkies
One of my favorite perks of being a pathologist is that when you're not in the gross room, you're usually at a desk somewhere with a microscope and a computer... (I know that sounds super dorky) but on that computer, behind the windows of transcriptions and dictations and patient charts, are two things:
1) Pandora... how I've loved you since my first "Christina Aguilara" album, and even more now that there isn't a 40 hour monthly limit!
and
2) Gchat. With my bear. Like ALL THE TIME. Currently, he's a fourth year med student, so his hours are pretty chill, and he gets dismissed from his rotations around noon each day.
Not that we have intense conversations all day, but it's fun to have little quips back and forth... mini rants and raves through out the day. However, this leads to some pretty interesting one liners...
Here are a collection of phrases that I probably say waaaaay too often:
"brb.. gotta put some organs in formalin"
"ew. this placenta smells funny"
"bear!"
"bear?"
"Beeeaaaarrrrrrr????"
"I'm hungry."
"I think I'm gonna go home now" "it's noon" "yeah, i know. I'm done. :)"
Today, he texted me this afternoon.
"I'm sleepy, I think I'm gonna take a nap"
"You just woke up"
"Yeah, but I'm tired"
"What a life... You sleep more than Lina" (Lina is my little teacup yorkshire terrier who sleeps 16 hours a day)
"I have a Ferrari brain"
"???"
"I have a superior intellect, but it requires a lot of maintenence. I need to be well rested to be at my best."
"You may think you have a Ferrari brain, but you've got a Lina motor. The only thing keeping you going is a yorkie on a hamster wheel"
"I'm sleepy"
"Vroom vroom yorkie"
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Day 231: Valentine's Day and the Dark Spiral of Crazy
Day 231: Valentine's Day and the Dark Spiral of Crazy
Ahh... Vday.
Everyone hates it.
Single people hate it. Men in relationships hate it. Women in relationships secretly stress about it, then are relieved when they receive flowers/chocolates/cards/teddy bears/ lingerie/flavored condoms (hint hint)...
I will admit. I've always been disappointed by it.
Except that year in high school when my then-bf filled my blue chevy with helium balloons and teddy bears in the student parking lot... yeah... that was sweet, especially at 16... Come to think of it, that was the only valentines day when I was really spoiled...
I'll also admit, I'm somewhat to blame for this situation...
I was always the girl who was like "no, no, no... I hate flowers/chocolates/cards/teddy bears/lingerie/ flavored condoms (HINT HINT)..." so I never really put a guy in the position to show forced love on this bitter bitter day.
K and I started dating March 5th almost two years ago. So he didn't have an obligatory Vday with me that year... but we were definitely flirting and we were both trying to be coy in our feelings for one another. Here's how that conversation went down two years ago:
K: So what are you doing for valentines day?
Me: Actually, I have no plans. Was maybe going to take my roommate to the spa and have a single girls day if neither of us had dates.
(Which should have translated to "Ask me out on a freakin date you moron!")
Me: Why? What are you doing for valentines day?
K: Oh, I dunno. There's this one girl that I was thinking of asking out to dinner...
(and then, trying to play it cool like the big doofus he was/is...)
K: You can be my back up.
I took my roommate to the spa that year... and he missed his chance at a valentines dinner that year.
...
Last year, I was so busy with doing an intern year of general surgery, that I didn't even realize it was February... or 2012... All I remember was 12 months of misery...
In his defense, he did lots of sweet things and gave me a plethora of no-special-occasion gifts and dinners (which in reality are MUCH sweeter and nicer than being forced into displays of affections), but point being, Vday 2012 was not a memorable occasion.
...
Fast forward to Vday 2013, and we are living apart and I now work in an office/laboratory. The day started out with a "Happy Valentine's Day! I love you!" text message, which reminded me what day it was (I'll admit, I had forgotten too..) and thus began what can only be described as an emotional downward spiral of stupid female hormonal stupidity.
It started with the secretary getting flowers. And it was a sweet bouquet of daisies, carnations and other cheap little flowers. Then another doctor got a small bouquet of mini-roses in a coffee mug. This was followed by about 3 more sets of flowers, each rosier and more expensive than the last, and countless boxes of chocolates and even some home baked fudge... along with conversations of "we have reservations at this restaurant..." and "he's taking me to there..." and someone else even had a boy who was flying in that evening for the weekend. All of which I thought to myself 'Aww... how cute. How sweet. How thoughtful..'
However, by the end of the day, every time a person opened the door, I was growing more and more desperately hopeful that maybe something would come for me... The odds were increasing in my favor as the number of ungifted recipients in the department diminished...
It didn't help that mid-afternoon, when I began wallowing in thoughts of 'he didn't get me anything... He doesn't love me' I got an email from my apartment complex stating that a package had arrived for me.
He DOES love me!
I then proceeded to daydream about what he could have sent me... flowers, jewelry, stuffed animals...
By the time I left work that evening, I was half expecting a new puppy or a car or for him to jump out of a giant box, yelling "Surprise! I love you!"
I eagerly went to the office to pick up my package that I was sure would be wrapped in pink hearts and scented like cotton candy, and was ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATED when it turned out to be a brown paper bag from China containing some black leggings I had ordered off of Ebay earlier in the month.
I trudged up the stairs and headed towards the apartment when the last evil thread of desperate hope whispered "I'm sure he AT LEAST sent a card"
I turned the little key that opened the little gray box marked 4112 on it... and there it was.
NOTHING.
A cold dark empty metal box where my heart used to be....
Once in my apartment, I threw my stuff on the floor, defeated by the holiday and sulked about being unloved. My phone beeped. A text message: Hey honey, how was your day?
I am deeply ashamed of my behavior, as I write this three days later, having regained my sanity as demon cupid has disappeared for yet another year... I proceeded to sulk/tear/cry/sob and whimper like a kicked puppy about how I didn't get any flowers and he didn't love me.
"...but honey... I ... "
"... and all the OTHER girls got flowers, and they all have DINNERS that they get to go to, and all I got were these stupid Chinese pants that I had to pay for myself!"
".. but I... wait, Chinese what?"
I was full-blown crazy wet face.
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU HAVE A LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP.
YOUR WOMEN GET AFFECTION DEPRIVED AND BAT SHIT CRAAAAZY.
An hour later I had calmed down with promises of three-foot tall teddy bears and a really really large engagement ring to come... but the damage was done. Day 231, I cracked a little.
Ugh.... what a terrible day.
Ahh... Vday.
Everyone hates it.
Single people hate it. Men in relationships hate it. Women in relationships secretly stress about it, then are relieved when they receive flowers/chocolates/cards/teddy bears/ lingerie/flavored condoms (hint hint)...
I will admit. I've always been disappointed by it.
Except that year in high school when my then-bf filled my blue chevy with helium balloons and teddy bears in the student parking lot... yeah... that was sweet, especially at 16... Come to think of it, that was the only valentines day when I was really spoiled...
I'll also admit, I'm somewhat to blame for this situation...
I was always the girl who was like "no, no, no... I hate flowers/chocolates/cards/teddy bears/lingerie/ flavored condoms (HINT HINT)..." so I never really put a guy in the position to show forced love on this bitter bitter day.
K and I started dating March 5th almost two years ago. So he didn't have an obligatory Vday with me that year... but we were definitely flirting and we were both trying to be coy in our feelings for one another. Here's how that conversation went down two years ago:
K: So what are you doing for valentines day?
Me: Actually, I have no plans. Was maybe going to take my roommate to the spa and have a single girls day if neither of us had dates.
(Which should have translated to "Ask me out on a freakin date you moron!")
Me: Why? What are you doing for valentines day?
K: Oh, I dunno. There's this one girl that I was thinking of asking out to dinner...
(and then, trying to play it cool like the big doofus he was/is...)
K: You can be my back up.
I took my roommate to the spa that year... and he missed his chance at a valentines dinner that year.
...
Last year, I was so busy with doing an intern year of general surgery, that I didn't even realize it was February... or 2012... All I remember was 12 months of misery...
In his defense, he did lots of sweet things and gave me a plethora of no-special-occasion gifts and dinners (which in reality are MUCH sweeter and nicer than being forced into displays of affections), but point being, Vday 2012 was not a memorable occasion.
...
Fast forward to Vday 2013, and we are living apart and I now work in an office/laboratory. The day started out with a "Happy Valentine's Day! I love you!" text message, which reminded me what day it was (I'll admit, I had forgotten too..) and thus began what can only be described as an emotional downward spiral of stupid female hormonal stupidity.
It started with the secretary getting flowers. And it was a sweet bouquet of daisies, carnations and other cheap little flowers. Then another doctor got a small bouquet of mini-roses in a coffee mug. This was followed by about 3 more sets of flowers, each rosier and more expensive than the last, and countless boxes of chocolates and even some home baked fudge... along with conversations of "we have reservations at this restaurant..." and "he's taking me to there..." and someone else even had a boy who was flying in that evening for the weekend. All of which I thought to myself 'Aww... how cute. How sweet. How thoughtful..'
However, by the end of the day, every time a person opened the door, I was growing more and more desperately hopeful that maybe something would come for me... The odds were increasing in my favor as the number of ungifted recipients in the department diminished...
It didn't help that mid-afternoon, when I began wallowing in thoughts of 'he didn't get me anything... He doesn't love me' I got an email from my apartment complex stating that a package had arrived for me.
He DOES love me!
I then proceeded to daydream about what he could have sent me... flowers, jewelry, stuffed animals...
By the time I left work that evening, I was half expecting a new puppy or a car or for him to jump out of a giant box, yelling "Surprise! I love you!"
I eagerly went to the office to pick up my package that I was sure would be wrapped in pink hearts and scented like cotton candy, and was ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATED when it turned out to be a brown paper bag from China containing some black leggings I had ordered off of Ebay earlier in the month.
I trudged up the stairs and headed towards the apartment when the last evil thread of desperate hope whispered "I'm sure he AT LEAST sent a card"
I turned the little key that opened the little gray box marked 4112 on it... and there it was.
NOTHING.
A cold dark empty metal box where my heart used to be....
Once in my apartment, I threw my stuff on the floor, defeated by the holiday and sulked about being unloved. My phone beeped. A text message: Hey honey, how was your day?
I am deeply ashamed of my behavior, as I write this three days later, having regained my sanity as demon cupid has disappeared for yet another year... I proceeded to sulk/tear/cry/sob and whimper like a kicked puppy about how I didn't get any flowers and he didn't love me.
"...but honey... I ... "
"... and all the OTHER girls got flowers, and they all have DINNERS that they get to go to, and all I got were these stupid Chinese pants that I had to pay for myself!"
".. but I... wait, Chinese what?"
I was full-blown crazy wet face.
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU HAVE A LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP.
YOUR WOMEN GET AFFECTION DEPRIVED AND BAT SHIT CRAAAAZY.
An hour later I had calmed down with promises of three-foot tall teddy bears and a really really large engagement ring to come... but the damage was done. Day 231, I cracked a little.
Ugh.... what a terrible day.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Day 220: Bear in Chicago
Day 220: Bear in Chicago
My bear comes to visit tomorrow evening until Sunday! I'm so excited to see him. This is the first time we're seeing each other since finding out that he'll be moving to California. :)
My bear comes to visit tomorrow evening until Sunday! I'm so excited to see him. This is the first time we're seeing each other since finding out that he'll be moving to California. :)
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Day 210: Options and cubs
Day 210: Options and cubs.
I feel selfish for acting the way that I had earlier. K had been accepted to STANFORD. There are people who would give their balls and ovaries to be able to have the same opportunities as he just got.
We had some time to sit and think and talk it over and we are both feeling much better about the whole situation. After some stroking of his ego, he is much more excited about the move and we have decided that we do have a few options...
First options that are not really options, let's get these out of the way and just say that these are not going to happen:
1) K not go. This is stupid. Enough said.
2) I drop out of medicine and move to Cali. This is equally stupid. Be sure to hit me if I ever seriously contemplate this in a moment of weakness. Hard.
Next, we have some remote possibilities that are not necessarily good ideas either:
3) I appeal to the Cali board of medical licensing and attempt to transfer residency programs. The appeals process can take up to a year... after which I am only transferring for my last year, which is questionable in good ideas, seeing as I'm set up in my current program already. Plus the restrictions are fairly clear, so it may all just be a wasted effort anyhow.
4) K starts and transfers out. But where could he transfer to that would be as awesome as where he is about to go? Most other prestigious programs are either in bumfuck or snowy locations. And we are both sooooo over snowy locations. (It was 7 degrees this morning. Yuck.)
Then, we have some reasonably decent ideas:
5) I finish my residency and move to Cali and pursue academic work that doesn't necessarily require a license. Ie Research. Stanford is a HUUUGGE research institution and although I'm not cocky enough to say 'I can get a job there', I am confident in my research CV which has several publications and conferences on it over the span of the last five years or so. I'm sure I could find something somewhere. I can resume licensure later.
6) I finish my residency and try to get an attending job or fellowship in Reno, NV. It's not commutable, but close enough for weekend trips. Being in the same time zone would be a huge improvement.
And best case scenarios:
8) California decides to approve my appeal and I get to move to the West coast for either fellowship or attending job.
9) I finish residency here and digital pathology is in full swing, allowing me to live in the San Fran area while working for a hospital NOT in California. What a dream that would be.
Having a plan makes things a lot easier to digest. Plus, looking at two more years apart is much less daunting than six.
I was talking these things over with my mother, who is a full fledged Korean mother... and she patiently waited until I had wrapped up my options. I felt like I was pitching a sale to her "Love versus Work"... and I anticipated what pearls of motherly wisdom she may have to impart...
"Why don't you finish your residency. Move to California. And have a baby?"
"Whaaaaaa....???"
"K will be there for how many more years?"
"4."
"You can have two babies."
Not what I was expecting. But interesting...
One of the issues women in medicine have is 'when the frack do we have time for babies?'
K liked the idea. He always wanted to have kids. Lots of them. Or 'cubs' as he calls them, as I often call him my 'bear'.
So if all else fails. I have 2.5 years before I'm expected to start popping out babies.
Somewhere in California, there is short man in a cubicle who will soon receive an application for medical licensure in his state, and his decision will determine whether the population of San Francisco will increase by one korean-jewish bear. :)
I feel selfish for acting the way that I had earlier. K had been accepted to STANFORD. There are people who would give their balls and ovaries to be able to have the same opportunities as he just got.
We had some time to sit and think and talk it over and we are both feeling much better about the whole situation. After some stroking of his ego, he is much more excited about the move and we have decided that we do have a few options...
First options that are not really options, let's get these out of the way and just say that these are not going to happen:
1) K not go. This is stupid. Enough said.
2) I drop out of medicine and move to Cali. This is equally stupid. Be sure to hit me if I ever seriously contemplate this in a moment of weakness. Hard.
Next, we have some remote possibilities that are not necessarily good ideas either:
3) I appeal to the Cali board of medical licensing and attempt to transfer residency programs. The appeals process can take up to a year... after which I am only transferring for my last year, which is questionable in good ideas, seeing as I'm set up in my current program already. Plus the restrictions are fairly clear, so it may all just be a wasted effort anyhow.
4) K starts and transfers out. But where could he transfer to that would be as awesome as where he is about to go? Most other prestigious programs are either in bumfuck or snowy locations. And we are both sooooo over snowy locations. (It was 7 degrees this morning. Yuck.)
Then, we have some reasonably decent ideas:
5) I finish my residency and move to Cali and pursue academic work that doesn't necessarily require a license. Ie Research. Stanford is a HUUUGGE research institution and although I'm not cocky enough to say 'I can get a job there', I am confident in my research CV which has several publications and conferences on it over the span of the last five years or so. I'm sure I could find something somewhere. I can resume licensure later.
6) I finish my residency and try to get an attending job or fellowship in Reno, NV. It's not commutable, but close enough for weekend trips. Being in the same time zone would be a huge improvement.
And best case scenarios:
8) California decides to approve my appeal and I get to move to the West coast for either fellowship or attending job.
9) I finish residency here and digital pathology is in full swing, allowing me to live in the San Fran area while working for a hospital NOT in California. What a dream that would be.
Having a plan makes things a lot easier to digest. Plus, looking at two more years apart is much less daunting than six.
I was talking these things over with my mother, who is a full fledged Korean mother... and she patiently waited until I had wrapped up my options. I felt like I was pitching a sale to her "Love versus Work"... and I anticipated what pearls of motherly wisdom she may have to impart...
"Why don't you finish your residency. Move to California. And have a baby?"
"Whaaaaaa....???"
"K will be there for how many more years?"
"4."
"You can have two babies."
Not what I was expecting. But interesting...
One of the issues women in medicine have is 'when the frack do we have time for babies?'
K liked the idea. He always wanted to have kids. Lots of them. Or 'cubs' as he calls them, as I often call him my 'bear'.
So if all else fails. I have 2.5 years before I'm expected to start popping out babies.
Somewhere in California, there is short man in a cubicle who will soon receive an application for medical licensure in his state, and his decision will determine whether the population of San Francisco will increase by one korean-jewish bear. :)
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Day 207: Match Day
Day 207
Most journals start on Day 1. This one starts today because I didn't know I was going to be writing a journal back then. I didn't think the days would count this many. But they have. And as of today, they will continue to grow. Much larger.
207 is the number of days my boyfriend and I have lived apart.
207 days ago, I stuffed a rental car so full of stuff, my dog was confined to the center console, and I drove over 16 hours from New York City to Chicago, where I had accepted a new job in a pathology residency program. My then boyfriend of two years was still a fourth year medical student in Manhattan, and stayed behind to finish his studies. We had hopes that just a few short months later, we would be reunited in Chicago's windy city, when he Matched into a residency program here.
We would have monthly trips to see each other as our schedule permitted. Sometimes for a weekend, maybe a three day holiday, and when we were lucky, a whole week. Those were the best.. When we could roll over in the morning and feel a warmth that wasn't normally there. When you could close your eyes and not have to imagine what the other person smelled like... When you smile for no reason because you knew you are loved.
But the rest of the times were not always so easy. Loneliness crept in on quiet Friday nights, and frustrations bubbled over when the Internet connections were poor. And when you have a funny story that you just want to share, but you can't for another couple hours because of distance and time zones... Well, they just aren't that funny anymore...
But this was temporary as we had planned it. A lot of people live apart, especially now more than ever with more career minded individuals in a fickle economy, and the long term deployments. I googled inspirational stories online and reaffirmed, "we can do this!"
Today was supposed to be a happy day. A day that ensured us that our time waiting wasn't for nothing. That the light at the end of our lonely love boat tunnel was near... Today was the Urology Match day. 'K' had decided a few months back that he wanted to do a surgical sub specialty, but wanted as much freedom with lifestyle as he could afford. Urology was that field. It was competitive, but he had a strong application. He had great test scores, grades and publications from his years doing research in the lab we met at three summers ago. He had an impressive number of interviews, at some top institutions, but his first choice was at Northwestern to be in Chicago with me.
Neither of us slept much last night. Anyone who has been through the process knows how stressful it can be... And this morning, we waited...
Congratulations. You've matched. At Stanford.
We couldn't believe it. Stanford was a great program. It should have been a dream come true. What a prestigious accomplishment. He had to take it! You can't turn an offer like that down...
...but California is so far away... And I couldn't transfer. I had gone to a Caribbean school, and was not approved to get licensed in California by the medical board.
So what is there left to do?
I cried a little. Okay, a lot. I was so proud of him, but the selfish part of me grew sad and angry... This was not the deal! You were supposed to come to Chicago! But it wasn't his fault... He applied
and interviewed and ranked Chicago. Chicago just didn't want him... But I did...
We talked about it all day, but I the end, what was there left to do? He had to go. The job starts July 1st. He graduates in May. We had no choice but to continue living apart... For 6 more years... The length of his training program.
Me in Chicago. Him in Stanford.
The distance from here to there: 2166 miles.
Most journals start on Day 1. This one starts today because I didn't know I was going to be writing a journal back then. I didn't think the days would count this many. But they have. And as of today, they will continue to grow. Much larger.
207 is the number of days my boyfriend and I have lived apart.
207 days ago, I stuffed a rental car so full of stuff, my dog was confined to the center console, and I drove over 16 hours from New York City to Chicago, where I had accepted a new job in a pathology residency program. My then boyfriend of two years was still a fourth year medical student in Manhattan, and stayed behind to finish his studies. We had hopes that just a few short months later, we would be reunited in Chicago's windy city, when he Matched into a residency program here.
We would have monthly trips to see each other as our schedule permitted. Sometimes for a weekend, maybe a three day holiday, and when we were lucky, a whole week. Those were the best.. When we could roll over in the morning and feel a warmth that wasn't normally there. When you could close your eyes and not have to imagine what the other person smelled like... When you smile for no reason because you knew you are loved.
But the rest of the times were not always so easy. Loneliness crept in on quiet Friday nights, and frustrations bubbled over when the Internet connections were poor. And when you have a funny story that you just want to share, but you can't for another couple hours because of distance and time zones... Well, they just aren't that funny anymore...
But this was temporary as we had planned it. A lot of people live apart, especially now more than ever with more career minded individuals in a fickle economy, and the long term deployments. I googled inspirational stories online and reaffirmed, "we can do this!"
Today was supposed to be a happy day. A day that ensured us that our time waiting wasn't for nothing. That the light at the end of our lonely love boat tunnel was near... Today was the Urology Match day. 'K' had decided a few months back that he wanted to do a surgical sub specialty, but wanted as much freedom with lifestyle as he could afford. Urology was that field. It was competitive, but he had a strong application. He had great test scores, grades and publications from his years doing research in the lab we met at three summers ago. He had an impressive number of interviews, at some top institutions, but his first choice was at Northwestern to be in Chicago with me.
Neither of us slept much last night. Anyone who has been through the process knows how stressful it can be... And this morning, we waited...
Congratulations. You've matched. At Stanford.
We couldn't believe it. Stanford was a great program. It should have been a dream come true. What a prestigious accomplishment. He had to take it! You can't turn an offer like that down...
...but California is so far away... And I couldn't transfer. I had gone to a Caribbean school, and was not approved to get licensed in California by the medical board.
So what is there left to do?
I cried a little. Okay, a lot. I was so proud of him, but the selfish part of me grew sad and angry... This was not the deal! You were supposed to come to Chicago! But it wasn't his fault... He applied
and interviewed and ranked Chicago. Chicago just didn't want him... But I did...
We talked about it all day, but I the end, what was there left to do? He had to go. The job starts July 1st. He graduates in May. We had no choice but to continue living apart... For 6 more years... The length of his training program.
Me in Chicago. Him in Stanford.
The distance from here to there: 2166 miles.
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