Sometimes

Once in a while the intriguing thought crosses my mind that I might never live in California again. At least, not in my young adulthood.

I wonder what the next ten years will be like. I wonder where I'll do residency (imagine The Powers That Be bounding you to a job in one city not exactly of your choice for 3-7 years, or more). I wonder if I'll settle down here in the Midwest. I wonder if I'm destined to follow in my parents' footsteps, which I said I'd never do, but history has a funny way of repeating itself. I wonder if any of my friends "back home" will ever meet my future spouse.

Back home. I wonder what it would be like to completely reinvent myself. It would be all too easy to fall off the face of the planet and never look back.

Minor Differences Part 2: Everything Else

• Water bottles here are recycled but cannot be redeemed for 5 cents. Only "pop" bottles have a cash refund. (Pop = soda, for those of you who don't speak Midwestern).
• People are friendlier here. A couple waved and said hi to me when I was walking home from the bus stop...from the other side of the street. 
• My class is roughly 90 men and 55 women. 
• I am one of three Chinese girls in my class.
• The highway I live along has a middle lane for turns...which is actually quite scary (Have you ever tried turning on a highway? No? That's because it's a RECIPE FOR DEATH).
• Uncle Byron has installed deer whistles on my car for when I drive to their farm. My new Iowan friends are all jealous.
• The water in Iowa City is extremely hard; soapy later seems to never wash off cleanly, dishes are left speckled, and the glass shower doors collect a filmy glaze.
• My lab coat and scrubs are both size XS. I've never worn extra small in my life. 
• A good portion of my class is already married...and graduated in 2013.
• I dress like I'm going to the gym every single day. Gone are the days of cardigans, skinny jeans, and scarves...and trying to look cute. Hello, 100 degree weather with humidity.
• The bus runs every 30 minutes (boo) but has numerous NextBus-like alerts available by text, QR scanner at the stop, or smartphone app! 
• Okay so this one is crazy. CRAZY. There are multiple dating couples here who went to the same college (in Iowa) and are now going to the same medical school. Like, they just applied to med school and knew that they would get in together. WHAT. WHAT. CANNOT FATHOM. (Californians everywhere are shaking their heads in disgust).
 

EDIT: 

Cicadas chirping at night. 

Letters. Part 1, I'm sure

There have a lot of things pressing on my heart lately. But let me just say, I am so richly blessed.

When I was feeling angry this week, a friend came over and sat with me while I poured out my grievances. When I was feeling lonely, a friend greeted me with a hot mug of tea and made me sober up before driving home. When I was feeling vengeful, a friend traveled 3 hours late at night to encourage me to do the right thing. When I was feeling numb, a friend pulled me along and made me hike in the splendor of nature until my lungs hurt. When I was feeling sad, friends near and far reminded me of how loved I am.

I am currently going through a box of letters and cards that I've saved over the years. 

Chances are, your letter is in here. I saved it. I looked at the stamp you stuck on the corner and chuckled that you would pick that one. I pondered the time stamp and felt grateful that you found time to go to the post office. I read your letter over twice before tucking it in my box carefully, in alphabetical order. You made my day. Truly. 

C, I thought that I would make a special mention since your letters have filled their own shoebox since you joined the army all those years ago! Even though we wrote about some insignificant things like what we ate for dinner and what we wrote about in our previous letters (haha!), I cherish them. You've sent letters to all five of my previous addresses! I've saved the envelopes as well (the ones that I hadn't ripped to shreds in my excitement). And O, your postcards and letters have kept me alive.  Like, really alive when I was feeling dead on the inside. What a gift to walk down lettered memories and see our friendship grow. I'm thinking of starting a new shoebox for you, too, but currently many of your cards are posted to my desk. 

Here are a few snippets I came across from my letter collection. I'll keep them anonymous, and in no particular order. 

Right now you are in the state of Virginia doing your medical boot camp program. This makes us approximately 4253 miles apart, which is about 1489 miles closer than when you were in Berkeley. -June 21, 2009

I just ordered you a pepper spray. Put it to good use. -December 17, 2009

Don't let the little mistakes and speed bumps (like a B on a test) make you feel unhappy, or worse yet, make you doubt yourself. I love you more than adenine loves thymine! -December 29, 2009

Every time you encountered a less than happy situation, I saw you grow. Most people grow hard when they encounter hardship. But you seek to find truth about God and about yourself. -May 15, 2011

Happy birthday! We hope you come to Iowa for medical school! -January 13, 2011

In the beginning of our program, the director asked us to draw a picture of the "quintessence of teaching." I drew a picture of me giving a child glasses to see the world around him/her. -June 2, 2011

I genuinely would have loved to have had tea with you, because tea with you is always and without exception lovely. Anyways, this is a grossly overgrown prelude to a letter. I always say too much when I'm nervous. -June 2010

My life would definitely be much worse without you...and oh, you provide an endless amount of entertainment for me on a regular basis. -January 13, 2010

Even though I don't know you that well yet, I think you are BEAUTIFUL. I've already seen you broken and vulnerable, yet so completely covered by God's grace. And if that's not beautiful, I don't know what is. -January 09, 2009

I've learned that it could get tiring meeting new people all the time in college, but seeing you continue to make an effort to reach out inspires me to do the same. -September 7, 2010

Connie, you are so good. You are the best girl I know. So many of my past hurts and fears are dissipated when I'm with you. -July 2011 

For the first time since high school, I am wearing shorts. I just remembered that time you made me wear shorts to go spinning. -July 3, 2011 

Did you know that in the 1950s, you couldn't get shallots in America? Nobody sold shallots! -June 7, 2012

Thank you so much for the book you sent me! I'll write you a letter when I get to Rome tonight. I probably won't send it from there because I don't have Italian postage. Nevertheless it'll still be a letter from Rome, right? -July 31, 2008

I lost my soap yesterday and now I'm sad and will have to borrow soap from other people in the showers. -May 23, 2008 

Dere Cony, I had so much fun with you. You are nice and fun to play with. Why did you cut your hair? I want to play every day. I hop you have nice day. -undated

A tale of a pitiful weekend

On Saturday night, I was feeling unsteady on my feet and decided to go downstairs to get a mug of hot tea. Without real awareness of the placement of my feet, I ended up tripping down the stairs and twisting my right ankle, along with scraping up my left hand. Carpet burns are strange things. How does something so fluffy create such monstrous gashes? That night concluded with an Advil for my body aches, Neosporin for my scrapes, and reassurance that tomorrow will bring more coordination.


On Sunday, the headache and chills began. I am the type of person who sleeps with an electric blanket (thanks YDY!) most nights, because I can't seem to maintain enough body heat. But it was still pretty ridiculous to have four layers of clothing, two comforters, and electric blanket on some of the warmest days the Bay Area has seen. I had hot soup for dinner. I finished re-reading A Thousand Splendid Suns in bed and cried a bucket. My parents thought I was the most miserable creature, ever.


On Monday, I called into work, sick. Fever and body aches generally don't translate into good productivity at the. busiest. medical. office. ever. I knew that I was leaving my coworkers in a lurch, but in the January-February months when everyone was taking vacations and changing their school schedules, I took on a 4-person staff load by myself. I'm not really sure how I did it. So I figured that having 3 of 4 medical assistants on staff would be just fine. I was right. The sun rose and the sun set, and I didn't hear of any casualty reports on the news. I took Nyquil before bed, hoping to have a restful night's sleep.


Three hours later, at 2:00 am, the vomiting began. I was jolted awake in a cold sweat with an urgency to empty my stomach. I could hear my stomach saying, "Haha! Joke's on you, I've been empty all day." Cue the bile. Or maybe it was leftover Nyquil, I don't know (green is green?). I sat at my computer bleary-eyed for hours, and got confirmation that we are no longer in college--no one is online at that hour. Good thing I saved my episode of Revenge. When that ended, I decided to drink some water. Bad idea. By the time my stomach stopped rebelling, it was 5:30am and I was reading Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking (thanks, O!). I got through Chapter Two: Jellied Stocks and I decided that I was calm enough to sleep. Funny enough, I was able to read about food and not get nauseous. Even gross French delicacies like jellied stocks.


This morning, I decided to go to the grocery to buy some Gatorade and chicken noodle soup. It was bright and sunny out, and I hadn't left the house in days. I felt like a vampire. A dehydrated, still slightly nauseous, weak-kneed vampire. I decided to walk the half mile to Safeway instead of drive, since I felt uneasy operating a motor vehicle in my current state. Going downhill to the store was easy. Coming home wasn't. I had forgotten to factor in the weight of my groceries...darned liquids! Those 1-quart bottles of Gatorade weighed like, ten pounds each. So I only bought two. And had to start drinking one on the way home (along with a short sit-down break in front of someone's house...sigh). Feeling better, I trudged home and proceeded to watch five hours of daytime television. I'd say it was a productive way to spend the last day of April. 

Valentine's Day

When I opened up The Office in the morning, I noticed that the alarm system wasn't on, and a door was open on the third floor when it should have been closed. At 7:08am, there was barely daylight out and I was scared. If any axe murderers or rapists were lurking, no one would find me until at least 8:40am, when everyone else got to the office. But after patients started trickling in, I became more at ease.


Everyone wore pink and red today at The Office, except for me. I wore all black and I didn't comb my hair. I wasn't protesting Valentine's Day; I was merely tired and didn't have plans anyway. Danny has been home in Irvine for a couple of weeks, and I have no one at The Office to impress (all of our patients are at least 60 years old....hahaha...). I even volunteered to work early and stay late to cover for all of my coworkers who were going out to fancy dinners in the city. You can call it sad, but I call it saving money for med school.


Here are a couple of random things:


-I'm watching Friday Night Lights at the behest of two of my friends who passionately love it. I have devoured three seasons in the last two weeks. Danny says that is called addiction.

-I have four pairs of slacks for work that I rotate, from skinny to trouser. As the week progresses, my pants get looser and looser. My shoes also get more and more casual, from taking on the week's beatings.

-I am giving up caffeine. Or trying really hard to. I am also trying to get a Gold Card from Starbucks, so it looks like all I will be buying from Starbucks now are tea and chocolate croissants.

-When life gives you lemons, you should zest the peel and juice them and freeze the juice in the ice cube tray for later. Because when you need one tablespoon of lemon juice and have to run to the store to buy a single lemon, you're going to wish you had heard this advice. 

-My mom bought guacamole from Costco in a three-pack and I ate an entire pack. And now I never want to eat guacamole again in my life. The same thing has happened to me with peanut butter sandwiches (2 per day everyday for 4 years in college) and Ling Ling potstickers.

-Today is my baby brother's 19th birthday! I can't believe it.

-And here, a picture of Danny and me: 

Asian Massage

I once got a spa massage as a birthday gift from two of my friends. It was heavenly.

This year, my mom treated me to an Asian massage. It was recommended to her by a friend after her car accident. My mom bought a package deal of 10 massages, and we went in together as a mother-daughter experience. 

Technically, we went in for the 60-minute foot massage/reflexology session. I had already read on yelp that it's actually a full-body massage with a concentration on the feet. Cool.

Upon entering the spa-looking lobby, we were led into a dimly lit room with six beds in a three-by-two grid. My mom and I were led to opposite sides of the room, since there were other customers already on the other beds. Our session started with a foot soak, which was nice and warm and relaxing. I did my best to tune out the other patrons grunting, and the sound of banging (?!). 

My masseuse was a surprisingly strong petite Chinese lady. She covered me (fully clothed) with a blanket, and then sat at the head of the bed. I heard oil being pumped, and then suddenly her hands were kneading my face--forehead, cheeks, chin. Oil. On. My. Face. Who knows what kind of oil! I could only think of washing my face as soon as I got home. I would really, really like to not be broken out for my interview later this week. Another weird thing was my masseuse stuck her fingers in my ears, and then gave me a scalp massage. Huh.

After the face and scalp massage, a towel was placed over my eyes so I could only see a sliver of light if I looked down my nose. Then my masseuse started working on my shoulders. It was actually really nice, as my shoulders are tense probably 90% of my waking hours. When she started working down my arms, I let out a little yelp because my left arm is still not 100% from my snowboarding accident. She reduced the pressure a little and then both arms were kneaded without incident. I think that covering the eyes was supposed to make a more relaxing experience, but in all honesty it only made my ears more keen to sounds of a man groaning nearby.

The 'foot' part of the foot massage was interesting. I'm not normally ticklish on any area of my body, but it was all I could do to keep from laughing uncontrollably in that room full of other people. While my masseuse was rubbing and kneading, I thought about dungeons. I thought about the MCAT. I thought about how sad Anne Hathaway looked in Les Mis (which Danny and I watched yesterday). I got through the foot massage with only a stifled chortle and clenched fists. It could've been much, much worse.

I was told to flip over, and to put my face into the face donut thing, you know, for breathing. But this face donut wasn't particularly well designed, because I couldn't breathe. With every knead on my back, my chest was compressed and my throat pushed against the bed. I'm fine though, because I learned very quickly to alternate my breaths with the kneads. Normally, when Danny gives me shoulder massages, I make a huge scene and sort of noisily laugh-cry because it hurts and I have a low threshold for muscle-related pain. But I resolved to keep silent during this massage, even when my masseuse used her elbows to scrape my shoulder blades. I amuse myself.


My mom and I emerged slightly out of breath. She beamed, "Good, huh? Too bad you didn't get a man. Mine had so much strength! Maybe next time."

The Homeland Part 3: The Finale

On Sunday, I woke up to a blanket of white fluffy snow. I've seen snow a couple of times in my life, but it was still awesome to experience. But I'm sure the novelty wears off somewhere between shoveling driveways and salting sludgy roads.

The House.

Grandpa Clifford and Grandma Marcie left for Florida on this day in their van! It's a road trip they make every year for the winter months when it's not growing season. They are cast characters and tour guides at Disney World, so if anyone ever wants free tickets, hotel discounts, or cruise discounts, they get loads of them every year. Didn't I tell you they are awesome? 

The Road

I frolicked outside for what felt like hours but was only 20 minutes before my nose started running and I couldn't feel my hands. 

The silo AFTER. Check out the previous blog post for BEFORE.

Later that night, I was back in relatively mild San Francisco. I narrowly missed the Midwest blizzard and went to bed in time for work the next morning. I was so, so sad to leave Iowa and my host family.


What a difference one day makes.

The Homeland Part 2: A different world

On Saturday, I woke up early to explore the farm with Grandpa Clifford. And by early I mean 10am which felt like 8am PST to me, so that was my excuse. I would never make it on this farm.

Did you know that silos are used for storing fermented
animal feed? Yeah, me neither.

This burns liquid propane! But I thought it looked pretty.

That's the combine. I found out from "How Stuff Works" that
it COMBINES multiple tasks of cutting corn stalks, shucking them,
spinning out the corn kernels.

I had the best time sitting in tractors and asking Grandpa Clifford about farming. They farm 750 acres of corn and beans! Grandpa Clifford is 77 years old and Grandma Marcie is 75 years old. They still do everything by themselves--the planting, the fertilizing, the harvesting, the drying. I asked if they hire any workers during the growing seasons, and they said, "Well, a cousin of mine comes to help out." Dude.


Later in the day, Grandma Marcie and Grandpa Clifford packed me into their car and took me to a "secret location." It turned out to be Amish Country.

Don't mind the buggies crossing.

We first went to the grocery store to purchase some groceries "for the Amish." I thought it was so peculiar. As we loaded six cases of Cheerios, salami, marshmallows, and saltines into the car, I wondered why can't Amish people buy groceries themselves? Well, the answer is, it depends.


Amish people can't own phones, but they can use other people's. They can't drive, but they can ride in cars. They also can't be in photographs and their dolls can't have faces because according to scripture, creating images is blasphemy. Grandpa Clifford said, "I bet if you take a picture of them from a distance real secretly, they won't even notice."


Grandma Marcie first became friends with an Amish man named Hersberger at a county auction. They bid on the same John Deer tractor manuals and he invited the family to their residence. Eighteen years later, Grandma Marcie knows all of their 8 kids by name, buys them groceries whenever she can, and sends them birthday cards without fail.

Inside the Hersberger store. They sell everything
from empty coke bottles to cattle plows to old
battered magazines from 1975 to pickled pork.

It was really interesting to see how Amish people lived. It was also kind of sad, because it is a culture of oppression and limited education. The women essentially have no power and if their husband leaves them, they can never remarry and must rely on her in-laws to take care of her for the rest of her life. They also have no education past 8th grade, and no reproductive education. The woman we visited had eight children and had no idea where they came from. Women don't talk about pregnancies, and some don't even know when they are pregnant! When it's time to deliver the baby, they send their existing children to relatives' homes nearby or to bed. And in the morning, surprise! a new baby has arrived. Around child #6, Mrs. Hersberger was given "the talk" by Grandma Marcie, and did not believe her. 

Grandpa Clifford: "I hate horses. You stand in front of them,
they bite you. Stand behind them, they kick you. Go on, pet it."

It was Saturday when we went to visit the Hersbergers and sit in their house for a visit. It smelled quite ripe in the house, since they only bathe on Sundays. I shook everyone's dirt-crusted hands and stood politely inside the dark (no electricity, remember) by the wood-burning stove. I was always introduced as their granddaughter, and one little boy asked, "Are you sure?" It was really funny. According to Amish people, everyone not Amish is considered "English"--even me.


All in all, Saturday was the strangest day I'd ever had in my life.

Never have I ever regretted

-Taking time to put my glasses back in their case

-Going for a jog

-Making my bed in the morning

-Checking my purse for chapstick before I leave home

-Drinking another cup of hot tea

-Charging my cell phone 

-Vacuuming my room or organizing my desk

-Bringing my jacket to work in the city

-Reading scripture or doing quiet time

-Asking someone for prayer

Books I read in October

The Philanthropist's Danse 
Reading time: 8 hours on/off flights

Plot in a nut shell: A rich man's last wishes are that twelve seemingly random people come to his mansion to decide amongst themselves who gets his inheritance. 

Why I liked it: The plot line follows each character from their perspective and is very well-written. I can't quite put my finger on it. It's like a murder mystery novel...but not. It's like the Wizard of Oz who controls things from behind a veil...but not. It's like the "Motivation/Greed" chapter of a college psychology book (if there was such a thing--I don't know, I only took Psych 1)....but not.

...

The Flu (A Novel of the Outbreak) 
Reading time: 6 hours in one sitting

Plot in a nut shell: A strain of flu virus spreads across continents and kills 90% of its victims. Only one town is spared because it keeps everyone else out. The plot follows a family who suffers tragedies and a doctor who tries to save as many people as he can. 

Why I liked it: I'm drawn to the medically grotesque, remember? If you've seen the movie Contagion, it's kind of like that. The chapters switch from different locations and different days, so it's kind of like a chronicle of the flu spreading. It's realistic right down to the gory details (in this book though, the flu more resembles the black plague in which patients' internal organs are liquified...)The story is actually quite humorous at times. I cried a bucket reading it though.

...

Spare Change 
Reading time: 3 hours

Plot in a nutshell: A young boy witnesses his parents' killings and hitch hikes across the country to find his grandfather. Instead, he meets his grandfather's unlikely widow and gets into some good old fashioned Southern shenanigans.

Why I liked it: It was a simple read but masterfully told by the unique characters in the story. It's quirky and humorous, which is strange because uhm, did I not say that the boy witnessed his parents' killings? Okay. And there are lots of guns in this book. Everyone, even the child, knows how to shoot. Well anyways, I read the whole thing in a Southern accent (in my head) and it was cool.

...

Tell Me When It Hurts 
Reading Time: 4 hours

Plot in a nutshell: A woman is a part of a secret organization that assassinates murderers who go free because of technicalities in the legal system. She lives like a hermit in some isolated woods and is a skilled marksman.

Why I liked it: I'm drawn to criminal masterminds and it's my secret Plan B to become a criminal investigator if medical school doesn't pan out (uhm maybe I've said too much)...but yeah. It's a well-written and easy read that is just really, really fascinating.

...

Running Barefoot 
Reading Time: 4 hours

Plot in a nutshell: Set in a small town in Utah, a girl befriends a stoic Navajo Indian boy on a school bus and they have a really complicated friendship that revolves around music. They grow up to have a really complicated relationship.

Why I liked it: It was a heartwarming story and I actually cared about the characters, which is something that I personally challenge authors with. I like reading about characters growing up and developing personalities.

...

Contingency (Covenant of Trust)
Reading time: Days

Plot in a nutshell: This story is about a woman who discovers her husband has cheated on her. They are Christians. They deal with raw emotions involving pain from violation of trust, jealousy, healing, and accountability.

Why I liked it: This was actually a very painful read for me, because it's always hard to read about betrayal and heartache. But it is also quite scripturally sound and encouraging. It was a slow read for me, because I needed to digest it in small doses.

...

Wool
Reading Time: 1.5 hours

Plot in a nutshell: This is a really bizarre dystopian short story in which everyone lives in a single silo/barn/warehouse-like building and those who commit the "crime" are sentenced to death by leaving the silo and cleaning camera sensors. Yes, cleaning camera sensors. With wool. Get it? Wool? It's only part 1 of 5...and I haven't read the rest.

Why I liked it: It was free on Kindle e-books (where I get most of the rest of these titles!) and it was short. Haha. And also because it is really abstract and I had to read it twice...and I still don't get it. I do enjoy a literary challenge though, so maybe I should purchase the sequels 2-5.


Happy reading!

And just like the movies

If there's one thing that I'm absolutely terrible at, it's remembering what happens in movies. It's far worse than not being able to quote lines from memory. Every movie to me is like watching it for the first time. Even if I've seen it 3 or 4 times, it's unlikely that I'll remember the title, who stars in it, what happens, or how it ends.


Case in point: I had a day off last week and was feeling like a hermit, so I watched Batman Begins and the Dark Knight in preparation for seeing the Dark Knight Rises at the theater. I had seen both twice already, and knew I'd be whispering in the theater in confusion if I didn't brush up on my batman background. 


During Batman Begins in the scene in which young Bruce falls into the well, I cried when Bruce's dad lifts him out. I gasped in horror when Harvey Dent turns to the dark side (I did not see that coming at all). I cried sad tears when Commissioner Gordon's family was told of his death, and was seriously befuddled and relieved when scenes later, he bounded back on Gotham's streets. Every time is like the first time.


Yesterday, D and I watched Good Will Hunting. I just knew that I've seen that movie before. It's about dog sledding in Alaska. Because you know, they're hunting for goodwill out in the snowy wilderness. I also know that Ben Affleck and Matt Damon starred in Pearl Harbor together. All of this frustrates D to no end, and I think it might even cause him physical pain. But I think it's pretty hilarious.


I don't really know why I have such a small capacity for remembering storylines, movies, and their actors. Maybe because it didn't actually happen to me.


PS. Anyone catch the Alien Ant Farm reference...?

Baby brother leaves for college

When my brother left for college just a few days ago, I didn't know what to do.

Earlier that morning, he suggested the two of us go eat brunch at Denny's before my parents drove him down to San Diego. I decided to honor his wishes and squeeze in a last meal. We each ordered a coffee and the same breakfast combo (mine without eggs, of course). I had already exhausted my stores of 'college advice' and so instead we talked about silly things like we always do. We took our sweet time and only left the restaurant when my mom called us to stress that they needed to hit the road.

Here is a typical conversation with my brother:

C: "Hey Con, what's the best industry to go into with a degree in chemistry?" 
Me: "I don't know."
C: "Like a poot?"
Me: "On a monkey."
C: "Yeee-es!"

So okay, 90% gibberish. But it makes total sense to my brother and me, or at least is hilarious to us. We have mannerisms that just feed off of one another. You might find this hard to believe (because I'm so mature and dignified--hah!) , but we burp and roll around and giggle like little girls, all the time at home. Especially when things are tense at home, or my ailing, elderly grandparents are staying with us for an extended period of time, we resort to humor to get by.


He has said repeatedly that in a crisis, I'm the first person he would call. College brings up a lot of challenges. I wonder if I'll get any of those calls...


I had joked to D that because UC San Diego School of Medicine put me on hold, my dreams of following my brother to college were dashed. But I'm actually quite proud that he is going to venture on his own, and to forge his own college life as a chem E! I made him promise to check out a fellowship or two, which isn't on his list of priorities ("Con, I'm a social guy. I don't need clubs"). He really is a social guy--extremely funny and witty. I like to think I challenged him throughout his childhood to think critically and formulate his own opinions. 


It's weird to think that if I go to medical school, this might be the last time we ever live under the same roof. I guess in this upcoming year, I'll get to experience what it feels like to be an only child for a change.


That morning, when he left, I didn't know what to do. So I vacuumed the whole house, washed the sink full of dirty dishes, folded laundry, and then cleaned my brother's room. Here is how I made his bed:

It's like he never left.

30 apps in 30 days

Hello! So I guess there are no takers for the tea. Oh well, I may try to find some recipe that calls for braising beef in chai tea--not sure if that exists yet. UPDATE: Remember when I said Safeway was having a sale on my favorite tea? Well...that's because they were getting rid of the entire stock, and THEY NO LONGER CARRY IT. cry.


August is usually when I get antsy for school to start again. But today marks my 3 months of working at The Office, and there is no end in sight. I have to admit, I am somewhat relieved that I am still employed--not because of anything that I did wrong, but because The Office supposedly has a high turnover rate in the 3-Month Danger Zone (my coworkers like to gossip). Anyways, I have my review on Monday with Boss Doctor and we'll see about that raise...


Today I went to Safeway and bought 4 ears of corn, white mushrooms, avocados, tomatoes, red grapes, a seedless watermelon, and cucumbers. All for $10. Now I have a bunch of fresh produce to eat, but no one to help me eat it.


I have decided that I don't mind running in the fog. I usually get extra motivated when the sun is shining, and lace up my shoes that much faster. Seeing as how I live in Fog Town, those days are precious and few. I guess I just miss being tan.


Happy Saturday! I'm going to keep chugging away on those secondaries...

On the contrary

I have a secret to share. On this blog, I have written a bunch of stock posts (such as the previous one) that really have nothing to do with my current life. When things on my end feel uninteresting or I'm stuck in a rut, out come the random topics, elaborated on in more-than-you-care details. Stay tuned for thoughts on laundry, graduation gifts, ever-changing book lists, even a post titled "Things People Said That Have Stuck With Me #2."  It keeps things spicy, I know. Hah.


In the last weeks, I've plunged into the dreariness of working nearly full-time at a high-stress job and the emotional drain that followed certain recent events. In short, I've decided to take a leave from the emergency department and instead, shadow at the pain management clinic at The Hospital. When contacting my department lead friends, I decided that pain management sounds pretty good to me right now. Since it's an integrative treatment clinic, maybe I'll even get to sit in on some psychiatry sessions for my own mental well-being tomorrow. Fingers crossed.


But this all sounds like I'm spiraling into some miserable abyss. I'm not! I've been able to find simple joys in the everyday. Here is photographic proof of such joy:

See? We are able-bodied, healthy, young friends enjoying the sunshine! Which is at least four things more than I can say for most people I interact with on a daily basis. What a blessing that is.


I've been realizing more and more that everything is about posture. Posture before people, posture before self, posture before God.The sooner I accept grace, the better I can reflect it.

Better than TV

I decide to put on another piece of clothing before leaving for dinner with my mother. It's chilly out, and we are walking to a Korean restaurant nearby my house. After a minute of contemplation, I decide to wear my Hospital sweatshirt, which I hadn't worn for months. On the front, it says "Emergency," and on the back, it says, "Hospital ER, Better Than TV."


My mother and I walk to the restaurant, and are seated at a table for four. We order the combination tofu soup and bulgogi, which is a better deal than if you were to order them separately.


As we wait for our banchan to come, my mother waves hello to someone at the table behind me. "My students," she smiles. My mom is very popular. I think that if she had a Facebook, she'd have more friends than I do. I turn and look.


At that moment, a peculiar scene catches my eye: seated at the head of that table, an old woman in a wheelchair. Her back is facing me, but it's apparent that she has choked on something. The uncles are prying into her mouth and patting her back. I turn back to my mother and we continue talking.


I tell my mom a story in which one of the doctors at the office told me that in an emergency situation (like for example, a birth on an airplane) if someone asked, "Is there a doctor here?" she would not volunteer. Ophthalmology is a very specific field, and she said she would not be useful in any emergency. My mother chuckles.


A minute or two later, there is commotion at the table behind me. "She's turning purple!" a waitress exclaims. The old woman who choked is apparently not breathing. The waitress hoists the old woman upright in her wheelchair and tries the heimlich unsuccessfully. At this point, the entire restaurant (which happened to be full) turns to watch. One of the grandchildren starts to cry. An aunt calls 911. The uncles lift her out of the wheelchair and lays her down on the floor.


At this point, a waitstaff starts CPR. I get up from our table, and tell her that I am also trained, and roll up my sleeves. I instruct the uncle to take the chopstick out of her mouth (what the heck?) and tilt back her chin, and take over the chest compressions.


The old woman was completely purple. How did no one notice at the table? Perhaps she wasn't very verbal to begin with. I actually feel the sternum crack as I compress, but I don't stop. There is no stopping. Not until the paramedics get here. 


The paramedics arrived with their fancy equipment and take over CPR. I stand up awkwardly, slightly sweaty, and avoid the eyes of all of the diners. I look at my mother. Her face is stern but relieved. What should I do? Sit back at my table? The waitress who brought our food is standing and sobbing with the tray of banchan.


I decide to just stand by and pray. I tie my hair back, since it flounced back and forth into my face while I did compressions. I really hope no one is looking at the words on my sweatshirt. Oh, the irony. A paramedic interrupted my selfish thoughts and asked me to do CPR again. They cut away the old woman's clothing and suction out food to try to intubate her. I pump, pump, pump.


I'm not sure what happened after. At some point, I was told to stop so the woman could be strapped into a gurney and whisked away. I straighten up. One of the uncles thanks me for helping his mother. I nod. The entire family of perhaps twelve people leave the restaurant in tears. My mother waves a sad goodbye to her students.


I sit down next to my mother. We stare at the food, now cold. Neither of us really wants to eat. A woman at the adjacent table asks me if I'm a nurse, and I mumble something about volunteering at an ER. She said, "It was good that you are here!"


Was it really?


Earlier in the day, D and I talked about the cost of pursuing medicine. I prayed in that moment that I would receive affirmation from God that this is the way that He wants me to live. Was this it? What makes the pursuit worth it? A life saved (or not)? Or is it the purposefulness of being able to stand up, and take action when everyone else watches helplessly?


How different it is to do CPR in an emergency room, than to do CPR at a restaurant. My mother and I tried to eat our dinner in peace, which is hard to do after that ordeal. My arms are quivering from the compressions, and I can't quite use chopsticks correctly. We eat slowly and sullenly, ruminating on life and purpose. I pray that the old woman made it, and for the family to remember to love each other more.

Information Age

I googled myself the other day and was shocked to find my full name listed, along with my age, address, phone number, and "Associated With" (family members) on white pages. Of course, I immediately removed the listing (I actually had two--my home address and also my previous apartment) and also that of my family members.


Try it for yourself. Chances are, you or your family members are listed for some reason or another (I don't know why--taxes? Phone bills? Public records?). Whatever it is, I don't appreciate my personal information so easily accessible....which I guess is unavoidable in an increasingly invasive internet age. I'm probably still listed in the paper book version of Whitepages, but who really reads those anymore? 


It's crazy what people can find out about you these days from the click of a button. I'm not just talking about Facebook and blogging, which actually I have few qualms with because I'm conscious of what I post. But I'm having serious second thoughts about creating a LinkedIn account even for professional networking. My resume, for everyone to see, really? Something about having a traceable trail with concrete place names and titles bothers me. (Okay I'll admit, sometimes I read people's LinkedIn profiles just to see how they describe/sensationalize/upgrade their experiences.) Anyways...hopefully this will give you something to think about.


Back to studying for cell biology! My last program final tomorrow morning, and then I am free from school for at least one whole year. It's almost like I am graduating myself!

Tidbits

D and I witnessed a rear-end car crash today at an intersection near The Hospital, when he picked me up from my shift. It didn't seem like anyone was hurt.


I've been wanting to check out the campus swimming pool. But I had some weird health issues two weeks ago. Last week it raining. This week, campus is closed. And next week, I'm crazy busy. Sigh.


I haven't eaten a single peanut butter sandwich since moving home last summer. In fact, they don't sound appealing to me at all. (In case you didn't know, I ate 1-2 peanut butter sandwiches per day, every day in college--you do the math).


Today a hostile male patient threatened to kill the security guard and the security guard's family, and nurses, doctors, and whoever was around. Tensions flared and fingers hovered near gun holsters.


Sometimes I ponder what the heck health care involves, and what I am getting myself into.  


My guilty pleasures are Desperate Housewives and Dear Prudence on Slate Magazine. Some people have some really intriguing issues.


I would really like a week away from technology. Camping in the woods is a good solution to this. When I proposed this as a senior trip last year, it was as if I had suggested a dive into a sleeping bag filled with beetles and spiderwebs.


Home is nice, and probably five times more spacious, but I miss living in an apartment.



And because I get asked this question sometimes, no, I'm not in med school yet. I haven't even applied. But I am going to apply in approximately two months. The cycle lasts about a year. Therefore, I'd be applying for the class of 2017--far, far into the future.

Resolution, but nothing new

I developed a habit in my sophomore year of college, the year I moved into an apartment with a kitchen and began cooking meals for friends. That habit is one of eating too quickly. During meals, before the company at my table finished their food, I would spring up from the table to either refill water, give second helpings, or bring out dessert. If we were pressed for time, like we so often were with LD dinners, I would start clearing the table and washing dishes while still chewing my last bite. A good friend once remarked to me, protesting, "You're always getting up early to do dishes," and I realized that it was the only time anyone ever noticed--including myself. Truth be told, I can count only a handful a times in which someone served me, so I can't really compare the experience. I'm not sure if this is normal host behavior.

What was born out of a desire to exude hospitality has become something of a strange unrest since moving home. The old habits are still there. Every morning, I spend a considerable amount of time preparing a leisurely breakfast for myself. I love breakfast. I usually grind coffee and brew it, toast some sort of bread or croissant, and peel and cut some fruit. I have everything set out nicely and enjoy it...at first. I find myself always getting up from the table with an unfinished bite in my mouth, rushing to clear the table even if I don't have anywhere to go. In less time than I had spent preparing the meal, I had already left the scene spotless. I don't really know why I still do it.

I've read all the verses in the Bible about feasting at banqueting tables, wedding banquets, and the like. They sound like such happy occasions. But I never imagine myself sitting at the table. I'm always among the waitstaff, whisking away plates and refilling glasses--and not without bitterness and resentment. Is that what being a wife or mother is like? If so, I think I've already fulfilled enough motherly duties for a lifetime. Has it just been ingrained in my being, this inability to enjoy things without feeling responsible, guilty, or restless? I have a feeling that it's not supposed to be this way. That one day I'll realize the worth of sitting still at the table and knowing it's okay to finish chewing.

2011 in pictures

Just kidding, I'm not actually going to post iconic photos from every month of last year, as fun as it sounds to root through the 24,737 photos (actual number!) of my external hard drive's memory lane. Sorry if you feel cheated. But feel free to peruse my Facebook photos now that I've reactivated my profile...I will most likely still be MIA until after my MCAT--26 more days!

That being said, 2011 was a transformational year.

I finally learned how to take things easier as a second-semester senior with 9 academic units. I baked a lot of desserts and enjoyed the company of good friends. I started dating a boy. I graduated from college. I moved out of my apartment of two years and back home. I struggled with the transition to life after college. I witnessed my first death in the trauma room and grappled with tough questions. I baked a lot of desserts and had no one to share with. I started running more. I church hopped, joined a new church, and later went back to my old one. I spent the first three months of dating on the phone, long distance. I learned how to communicate my feelings. I started a post-bac pre-health program. I made some new friends, mostly older. I started observing surgeries at the hospital. I more or less disappeared from all social spheres and started studying for that pesky five-and-a-half hour test....

And now, it's 2012! Just like that. It never ceases to amaze me how much things can change in only one year. But of course, none of those things were ever really doings on my part.

The finer things

Berkeley Marina

View from the top

Fort Funston

Pacific Ocean

Sandy trails

Cousins