Wacky

Gone

I was gone, far away into the stretches of nowhere and plains of ambivalence.  I go there to hide and there, the deep cruelty of it all creeps into me like an elixir.  There are breaths of nothingness, whispers of forgetfulness as I sink into this safe place.  I hear a voice and choose to ignore it.  It is much more comfortable in my sorrow.  It is my solitude, my fortress from facing myself in the mirror and realizing the depth and extent of my depravity and the hopelessness of my future.  In these moments, I steal time and do nothing for that is the most painful and easiest thing to do.

Children laughing lure me back into the light, into the true reality and beauty of it all. There is pure goodness and joy. It is in children. It is in people.  It is in this world.  It is in me. 

I seize this thought, this hope, and awaken again.

Hope.

I am silent, but the noises and sights surround me.  I am reminded of the great world around me–the people I have never met and will never meet.  Yet, in this moment, they are a part of my world –they are a part of this rhythm, this breathing, this sighing of life.  I hear conversations and questions and know that I will never lend my voice to them. Yet somehow, in this moment, I a am a part of them.  I am reminded that this world is so much bigger and more beautiful than I could ever imagine–there are so many more people to meet, so many more stories to hear, so much hate and love to encounter, so much pain and beauty to see.  It is a bit frightening to think of the endless directions and possibilities that my life could take me, but also for the possibility that I will remain in my safe place, never discovering the dangerous places and they beauty of it all.  This moment is fragile.

Later, I talk to two people as they chew on their free chocolate-covered bananas(courtesy of bananarchy)  They tell me of the tent that they will sleep in tonight, of the church they slept in last night that kept them warm, and of all the kindness that they have been shown in Austin.  "It's warmer than Missouri," remarks the woman.  I proceed to tell her that my parents both went to school in Missouri.  They smile at my eagerness to share in their story.  The woman tells me of her seven children. The oldest is 19.  When I ask if she has seen them lately, her face fades into a silent and deep sadness that pierces my heart. "Not lately.  The state stole them from me.  I haven't seen them in such a long time."  She is silent for a bit, contemplating.  However, she breaks the silence by promising me that she'll see them again, that she'll get them back.  My voice and heart wishes that those things will come to pass.  The man tells me of the job he starts the next day.  He seems excited and I am excited for him.  His job seems more important than mine right now.  Their bus comes, and I must go.  I say farewell, knowing that I will probably never see them again, never witness the rest of the scene,  never see the conclusion to their stories.  The crossing of our bright threads in the great patchwork was brief but necessary.  Before I leave, the woman tells me, "You'll be a great doctor."  "You think so?"  I ask aloud.  "Yes,"

Still, later, I watch a football game and eat dinner with an old friend.  Old friend.  I am 22 and I have an old friend.  I have an old friend, because I no longer live in this wonderful place.  This thought makes the food in my mouth taste funny briefly and my stomach knot.  In between the screaming, cheering, yelling, and singing (just like old times?), we talk about life and contemplate it.   These conversations sadden me in a peculiar way.  Our lives have moved in different directions and his is about to go far away.  I feel left behind in a way, abandoned but not by him.  Life has left me and I want to hold on to my familiar, comfortable places and ways. Why am I so sad that life must continue, for things and people to change?  Such a simple question and maybe a simple answer but no simple explanation.  We eventually part ways and say a goodbye(emphasis on the good).   My stomach knots and sadness overwhelms me that our fun times just hanging out may be over.   "You will learn so much and  be a great doctor,"he remarks to me. I nod but in my head I say doubtfully,  "You think so?"  I am still not sure, but I hope.

Even later, I watch a show on my computer.  The light reflects on my eyes showing me a story of adventure, excitement, and love.  I find momentary comfort in these imaginary characters' qualms of the future and battles with life.  It makes me forget about my own.  Yet, in the midst of it all, I am aware that I am alone but not alone.  My life feels stretched out and unmoving as I sit here, stagnant against the free flowing recognition and contemplation of my past and the future.  "You'll be a great doctor," I hear in my mind.  "You think so?" I breathe.  I am not so sure, but the hope of the possibility pushes me to continue.

Hope.  My hope in life. Where is my hope in life? People, places, ideas. Faith.  Love.  God above all this. He takes great delight in me, quiets me with his love, and rejoices over me with singing (see Zephaniah 3:17).  Even in these moments of cluelessness, of a deep and quiet melancholy, I can't comprehend it.  I am silent and I am reminded once again of the journey ahead.

:)

Today, I was reminded of how wonderful it really is to be in med school.  In lab, we ripped back the rib cage and saw the pink lungs underneath (our cadaver has random pink and red splotches–usually, bodies are grey or brown after time).  The lungs were certainly not what I expected them to look like: they were smooth and felt like play-doh or tempuric material.  It may be disgusting to say, but I wouldn't really mind a pillow that felt like lungs.

Squish Squish. 

I couldn't stop pinching and playing with them. A bit of a non sequitur, but I was reminded of biology in high school and how I really wanted to name my dog Alveoli.

We then cut through the fibrous pericardium which is the net of tissue that surrounds the heart and extracted the heart from the body.  Our TA cut through the aorta and Vena Cava, pulmonary veins (all 4 of them) and pulmonary trunk in order to remove the heart from its chamber.  It's a bit disturbing how satisfying it is to remove the coagulated blood from the vessel, but I am sure others can relate to the satisfaction experienced by seemingly gross tasks.  Then, each of our tank members took a few minutes to hold the heart in our hands.  The heart was not as delicate as I had imagined it to be.  Fat glossed the outside of it and it was tough, almost like rubber.  The heart is beautifully complex with chambers, valves, and encircling arteries and it is very mind blowing to think that it is sitting in each of us, beating, and keeping us alive.  The inside of the heart is also not the smooth material that you would imagine it to be but is filed with folds, valves, muscles and projections.  Truly amazing.

All in all, things are going as smoothly as they can.  I passed my first test (below average but when the average is 85.5, I think I'm okay).  I've found a wonderful church and small group.  I've found a few study buddies, one with whom I really click and study well together with goofiness, silliness, seriousness, productivity, and food.  I love my classmates and I love my school.  Although I still miss undergrad and my friends, I am happy and busy.  Please keep in touch.

 

Family.

I have found a family of sorts in Houston.  I will write about it more next week after Block 1 exams and also share some of the fascinating things we are learning.

However, now, I have to study so that I can become a better doctor.  Please pray for me!

Home is where the heart is...

And that is definitely not in Houston, but I'm hoping that my heart will grow to love it.

I went home last weekend to see my parents, brother, sister, sister-in-law, and most importantly, nephew (who is arguably the cutest baby ever).  It was probably the hardest goodbye I have had in awhile.

Family is wonderful and spending time with me makes me wish that we all lived near one another.  I can be the worst person I can be around them, and they understand and love me.  It makes me feel nostalgic of the days when we did live under one roof. 

There is a sense of belonging that I have with family and with my friends in Austin, which is a bit lacking here.  I do have friends and am making more despite my awkward comments, my excessive apologizing, and my non sequiturs. However, I'm still not sure if I can totally come out of my shell and find that people will not only accept me but love me for it.

I'm also feeling stressed.  I'm way behind on material but I can't seem to find a rhythm to my studying–it doesn't help that I never learned how to study in college.  I keep on getting distracted with thoughts, internet, etc.  I will have learn before my first test in 2 weeks.

Today, we dissected the posterior leg muscles (including the gluteal meximus which looks like rump roast). It's sad how easy this is now....take the scapel and cut away the flesh..dig your hands into the muscles and fat with your blunt scissors....you get the picture.  It should be a crime.

In the end though, I have to remind myself how lucky I am to be here–to be learning the things I am, to have this chance to actually directly impact people's lives, to train to be a physician, to wake up and know that this is God's plan and that I will not only be able to serve Him through the tools I am getting but that I am in His hands now and am able to serve him even in my present circumstance.  

Last week, I woke up depressed but then saw the sunrise on one side and the softly painted clouds on the other and I couldn't help but feel in awe of what the receptors in my eyes were transmitting to my brain.  If God can create such magnificent things and complex beings to enjoy them and Him, how much more so can he use a fallible person like me.  

This post is a bit more religious than I'm sometimes used to writing.  Sometimes, I think that people might perceive this sort of writing as cheesy, shallow, and unintelligent.  It is truly hard for me to be open about my faith and how it impacts me so I'm taking it one and a time and letting people into my thoughts.

Thoughts.

I forget that I am living in the present.   Curious, it seems like something impossible to forget and yet, I find that my mind wanders to the future, unfulfilled dreams, and regrets  way too often: simply put, I remember everything and anything but the present.  I have heard many a self help book and person recommend to me to live in the present (carpe diem! seize the day!  Live in the now!, etc.), but what does that mean?  How is it pertinent to my life when I am still in school and everything I am doing is simply a means to an end?  In fact, I cannot remember a time in my life when these feelings were different.

Yet, it's funny how the world looks through a different colored lens. Something shifted recently and I am magnificently starting to see the world differently.  Those brief glimpses are extraordinary and awe-some. 

For the first time today, I listened and truly felt alive.  I saw the cross on a hill, rushing water, and snow.  This is my present.  My church is the people, the faces around me not just in Austin but in my present City, Houston.  I have been given opportunity not only with this wonderful educational opportunity but with the people I will meet during these four years, the city in which I live, and the conversations that I will have.

I drove home from Austin today and I cried a little.  I mourned not only because I felt like I was leaving family and true community and traveling back toward somewhere where it was uncomfortable and lonely, but because I knew that this weekend finally marked my final goodbye to Austin as a home.  No matter what, my friends in Austin are my church and I am connected to them through glistening threads and their experiences and struggles will be mine because we are one church.  However, God has given me another opportunity with new faces and new things to learn and grow and I must look ahead and look backward with regret.  It's hard to start all over but in a way, it can be exciting.  I am still excited to go back to my family in Austin sometimes to reconnect and get excited with the changes in their life.  And maybe, I can offer something back–a word about things that are exciting about the church in Houston.  That's the beauty of the church, I guess–that we are not static, that we grow and evolve and form in beauty but that we are never separate.  We breathe with one breath, we shed the same tears, we look forward together.  Beauty.

Quite happy...

Quite happy.

White Coats

We got our white coats today and I can't feel but "unfit" for such garb.  I feel unfit not only because I know so little about the medical profession but it makes me wonder if any profession should have a uniform that distinguishes and distances itself so obviously from the people that they serve.  What does the color white on a coat communicate to others?  Does it instill confidence in the physician's ability to help and heal or only reinforce the pretentiousness that people are beginning to feel of the profession?

I remain negative about my profession, and I keep on having to tell myself that this is my future profession, these are my colleagues, and I am a part of them.  And yes, I do feel bigger, prouder, and more confident while I dawn the coat.  I feel even better...this is the precarious nature of my new uniform.  It makes me feel more of a physician and part of the medical team and thus, instills the confidence that I so need but it also begins to create that gap between me and the people toward whom I wish to be a servant.

I am beginning to lose a grasp of why I entered the profession and want the things that I'm supposed to want like a good career, name, and distinction.  I am scared in class because I don't know anything and am falling behind.  I can't get a grasp on these feelings and will have to think on them more before I blog again.

:)

I've been nothing but negative, negative, negative and I really would not like those kind of sentiments to be tied with my medical school experience.  I tend to be a pessimist and when things don't go according to the ideal that I have planted in my head, I cry, whine, etc.  It's really a sad thing for me to do.

So, I'd like to share some of the amazing things happening in hopes to help my readers and me not grow tired of these long, sad, ramblings. I have met some incredible people here, two of whom I have formed a friendship of sorts (we sit together in class and endure each other during study sessions and if that isn't friendship, I don't know what is!).  I really am enjoying the collaborative nature of medical school.  People share things, ideas, resources, help...no one is ever turned away.  It is certainly a change from undergrad and although I came in initially, worried about bringing out my competitive nature, it is quite the opposite and I am gladly forced to show my generous side.  I am being challenged day by day by the brilliance of my peers and I love it.

We are learning some incredible things both in class and in lab.  Sometimes, I have to step away and forget the fact that this is a lot of material for us to learn/memorize and just appreciate the complexity and at the same time, simplicity of how the human body works.  We are  studying the brachial plexus right now which is this large net of nerves that innervate your arm.  It's hard for me to describe to you how the body looks from the inside with the mesh of nerves, arteries and beautiful striations of muscles. It's like this puzzle that needs solving and in the end, it leads us to admire how wonderful God is and wonder in awe how any of this could NOT have a creator. The arm works so beautifully and efficiently with so many muscles and innervations and...you get the point.  Both from an anatomical and cellular level, it is a never-ending landscape of detail and flow.  I wish I could communicate the frustration and joy that I experience when I study the material, but it is to difficult to do so.

As far as church-wise, I am still not sure where to go.  Do I go to a smaller, new Asian-American dominated church where the community is supportive and loving and close and looking for new ways to serve Christ?  Or should I go to a church where the vision and theology deeply resonate with me and where the service and music makes my soul feel whole again?  This is part of the things I hope to decide soon.

I am feeling better now...

I am feeling better now and more positive about my experiences here.  :)  I was a little tired and needed a nap.