Thanks To That Bitch - Hurricane Sandy - Putting Me Under Apartment Arrest... You Finally Get An Update.

It is a little pathetic and slightly sad that it takes a hurricane to force me to stay home and give me time to sit down (lie. I've totally been in bed all day long) and update this damn blog.  Last update was June 12th?!?!? really girl? really? 
Pathetic. 

Since June 12th... 

Finished 5th semester in Miami on August 5th.  Thank you sweet-baby-jesus.  I really never want to look back on that semester. gag. 
In typical ridiculous-me fashion, I left the final exam and headed straight to the airport to high-tail my Canadian ass back home.  
Finishing yet another semester and arriving home was, however, anti-climactic as my family wasn't even there.  Although it was actually the perfect situation, since I had to isolate myself and go into crazy self-absorbed, intensely focused study mode for Step 1.  I went slightly insane for the next 15 days, but I successfully took Step 1 on August 21st.  
August 22nd - to Kelowna for a ridiculously amazing reunion with family. 
August 23rd - fabulous surprise 60th birthday party for the world's best dad. successfully planned and executed by the world's best mom. 

September long weekend - whirlwind of a time with the bestest-best-friend a girl like me could ever dream up.  
Back to red deer. 
12 hour road trip alone to Williston to visit niece, nephew, sister, bro-in-law... What. a great week that was.  I'm sure sis/B-I-L had days worth of laughter as they saw me - young, fit, non-stop-working, go-getter - struggle to make it through a day keeping up with an almost 3 year old and 5 month old. I swear, what I do (some of what you read about, and some you don't) is *nothing* in comparison to being a parent like them.  I hope I made that abundantly clear to B&C.  For shiznit. 

12 hours back home. 

Then shit hit the fan as I started all the preparation for starting rotations in New York.  Just all that miniscule paper work bullshit of scanning, submitting, getting messages back that you actually need this-that-or-the-other-thing.  So while I was doing well with dealing with all those little things and complying with the ongoing changes, I ran into some issues trying to find a place to live in the area close to the hospital.  As it turns out, no place will rent to you without a social security number.  Not even if you pay 6 months up front. For shits and giggles we even asked about paying 12 months rent up front. Still a big fat no. Then I find out from someone who rotated at this hospital that it would be in my best interest to not live in that area anyway as it is… shall we say  - “shady”.  

[Note. Looking back on this now... what a blessing in disguise. Because the area I was trying to live in just got destroyed by the hurricane. And the area I actually ended up living in was barely touched. More than just coincidence.  I'm well looked out for.]

 

So that at least opened my search up to other areas.  Which didn’t help with the SSN issue.  After many emails and phone calls, a lot of dead ends, a baby sized hand full of mental breakdowns, I finally was able to go through an agency for foreigners.  A nice place in a nice area in Brooklyn.  Albeit, over an hour commute on the metro x2 everyday. 

After countless hours of submitting all MY paper work for my visa, I was forced to play the waiting game… I submit all my shit. Wait for school to send me official letter, which states: I’m a student with them.  Where in my education I am. What I’m doing in the states.  What I’m doing at an American hospital.

Then the school sends that same letter to the hospital, and they send me a similar letter from them: I’m a student completing medical clerkship rotations with them on behalf of my school for specific dates etc etc.

My mom and I were literally just sitting around waiting to receive this final letter from the hospital so that we could book our flights to NYC.  Once I got the email it was like ‘all systems go… GO’

We were all set to fly out at 6am the next morning.  Bags already packed. Drive to the airport in the middle of the night. Calgary to Toronto. Once we landed in Toronto and got our bags to go through customs we were already pressed for time to make our connecting flight. We weren’t overly concerned, as the customs line seemed to be moving at a generous pace, and, after all, I had my paper work and documentation printed, organized, and in a special folder. I’m what immigration officers’ dreams are made of, yes? 

My mom and I decided to go through customs separately.  No problem. We will meet up in like 15 mins on the other side.

I stated my need for visa at customs, so off into the back I go into ‘immigration’ area.  There were only 2 officers working back there – one man, one woman, neither English as first language speaking.  Both were busy so I take a seat and wait around 10 mins before I get called up by the woman, who at this point has already read all my letters/paper work.

If ever going through customs/immigration… you don’t want the woman.  For the love of all that is good in this world, if you can, avoid the woman.

So I get up there, she gets me to state exactly what I will be doing at this hospital in New York.  Now, you have to understand, I have been prepped a lot from the Canadian advisors from my school on what to say and what NOT to say.  So I make sure to absolutely NOT say anything like “rotations” and course emphasize that I am NOT being paid for my work (something also stated in the letters).  She seems to be following along with what I’m saying as she continues to read over the letters… ‘mmhmm. Mmhmm’ says ImmiHagBag… “No.”

My little eyes suddenly go wide.

“No” she says again.  “This isn’t going to work. We have a problem.”

My feel my stomach, small intestine, large intestine, and probably uterus, all drop.  I can literally feel my blood pressure start to rise but continually tell my self to remain calm and go into crisis-dealing-mode.

“Okay, so what do you mean? What is the problem?”

“Well this letter from this school just says you are going to one of its ‘affiliates’, and this letter from the hospital just says they are taking you on from this school.”

“Yes ma’am. So, again, what is the problem?”

“Well I’m just supposed to take your word that they are associated?”

“Well there’s no way this letter from the director of the hospital could have been sent with my information and schedule attached had they not been in contact and associated/affiliated with this school…” uncomfortable. Disbelieving. Breath holding pause.

Exasperation and annoyance from ImmiHagBag – “NO!! You aren’t understanding!”

“I’m sorry ma’am. But I do understand and I feel like maybe you’re not understanding what I’m explaining.  Both of these letters have offered these numbers to call if you had any further questions if that would help?”

“I do NOT make any phone calls. You should have had all your affairs sorted out before you came here!”

How does one prepare to have an argument with an incompetent, pissed off, bitch over the semantics and cause-and-effect type relationship between letters?

We go in circles for a few more minutes. 

“Okay ma’am, I need you to tell me where we go from here?  What happens now?”

“Well I turn you away and you come back in a few days when you have your paperwork sorted out.”

“Okay well here’s an issue – my mother is on the other side already as she has come with me to help me move.”

Even more pissed off, “well I really wish you didn’t do that.”

Trust me bitch. There’s a lot I wish right now too. That wasn’t one of them.

“Okay.  Can I try and make some phone calls and see if there is anyone I can get ahold of to make a couple of word changes in these letters to satisfy you?”

Big sigh.  “fine. But you have to go back out into main terminal.”

So ImmiHagBag escorts me back out through customs and back into the main terminal as a huge line of people look at me like I’m a friggin’ terrorist being turned away. 

I start stripping off all my layers at this point as my sympathetic nervous system is in hyperdrive and sweat is starting to pour off of me. I’m madly going through every email I have on my phone searching for any number to call.  To add more cow dung to this shitshow, it was Saturday so trying to reach anyone at the office numbers listed = impossible.  Of course that didn’t stop me from calling every number and leaving messages of urgency.  Then, by some miracle I had an email from the director of hospital relations from my school… and he just happened to have listed his cell number. 

He answers.  I explain the situation I’m in.  He is dumbfounded.  Basically there is nothing “official” that can be done until Monday.  I start picturing mom in NYC alone with me in a hotel alone in Toronto for 2 days at best.

Then he’s all, “I am literally out doing errands in town right now, but what I could do is head into the office and write out a detailed explanation of the affiliation between hospital/school on email with the letter head and my credentials.  Do you think the officer would accept that?”

Honestly I thought no effing way.  This bitch wants official letter shit. But I need to still ask. 

He’s all “okay go ask her if she will accept reading the email from your phone.  And if she will, call me back, and I will go ahead with it.”

So I head back in.  First having to wait in the customs line again. Go through customs again.  And walk back into immigration office past the 3 police man guarding the way.

I’m all “I’m baaaaaaack!”  Big ridiculous smile.

This pleases the policemen as they smile back and are all “good luck in there!”

I figured being on good terms with the police couldn’t hurt in this situation.

I sheepishly go up to ImmiHagBag and explain.  Much to my surprise she agrees to accept an email from my phone.  So then I every so gently ask, “okay so now is it okay if I call this man back in here and tell him that you agree to this?”

Well shit. If ever I poked a bear…

“I TOLD YOU TO MAKE ALL YOUR PHONE CALLS ALREADY!”

“Ma’am I had to ask you if you would even accept this before he drove 45 mins into the office to write this email!”

“Fine. Go sit down over there and sort out your business.”

Like a scolded little child heading to the corner for her time out, I obey and sit in the corner and make my phone call.  Thankfully my mom had just messaged me to inform me that we were set to get on the next flight 5 hours away.  So at least I wasn’t having a heart attack over time constraints anymore. 

After 30mins of sitting in silence later, ImmiHagBag yells over at me – “did you get the email yet!?”

Whaaat a great question.  Yes. Yes I got the email but continue to sit here because I’m just soooo comfortable and don’t want this dream to end quite yet.

Dumbass.

“No ma’am.  He should be at the office soon though.”

2 mins later.  ImmiHagBag turns to male officer and is all “okay I’m going to go take my lunch break”.  Throws on her sweater. Starts to walk away.  Stops. Turns back to ImmiMan and is all – “uuuuggghhh. I quit smoking 2 weeks ago and I’m craving a cigarette sooooooooo bad.”

I.

Die.

This bitch put me through hell because she is in nicotine withdrawal!!!

I stare in disbelief as she walks away.

I’m sure not even 30 seconds later… ImmiMan – “hey you. Come up here.”

Thinking he’s going to give me shit now, I walk up cautiously like an abused little shelter puppy.

He’s all, “what is her problem??”

I quickly give the big picture explanation of what I tried telling ImmiHagBag.

He looks at me and says, “I know exactly what you are talking about and I don’t know what her problem is. I will stamp you through but we need to hurry before she gets back!”

I.

Die.

Again.

Completely shocked, my fight-or-flight mode (ironic?) kicks into super-duper-hyperdrive. 

ImmiMan is all, “you need to run back to terminal and get new boarding pass and new bag tags for your new later flight…don’t wait in line for customs, just tell them I told you to come straight back. Got it? Hurry!”

I take off running with all my bags. Fly past the police again and turn back smiling and declaring “I’LL BE BAAAAACK!     Again!!”

They just laugh and are all “we believe you!”

I didn’t just run through the terminal. I sprinted.  Find the westjet check-in and through heaves of catching my breath state “I. Need. New. Ticket.  New.  Bag.   Tag.  Fast.”

The lady looked at me like I was 8 shades of crazy, seeing as the flight I’m on is at 7pm and it was currently 245pm at best.  I’m just acting like the flight is boarding in 15mins.  Little does she know.  Little. Does. She. Know.

I get what I need from her and take off sprinting again through the terminal. 

Run back through customs.

Run past my policemen friends. “I’m baaaack!”  “Go girl go!” (they may have not acutally said that, but in my head they did).

Back into immigration holding area.  Big sigh of relief as I see ImmiHagBag has not returned yet.  I fill out the visa form as fast as humanly possibly.  ImmiMan stamps the shit out of it.  Hands it back to me, looks straight at me and says – “run.  Run as fast as you can.”

And I do.

I get the hell out of immigration holding. Run to security screening on the other side – once again out of breath.  The guy was all “looks like you’re in a hurry!”

I’m all, “no sir. Just excited!”

I get through to the other side and take off running to find my mother.  Finally I spot her.  I run up to her and see her face filled with complete shock – matching mine – and we both burst into laughter.

We spend the next couple hours going over and over every ridiculous detail of what just happened.  Swinging from laughter to stunned silence, then back to laughter. 

We calmly board that later flight.  Fly into NYC at night taking in the surreal birds-eye-view of the city lights. 

Check into hotel. Go for much deserved drinks.

End scene.

True story.

Much more to come.

Xoxo

Little Latina. Vents.

I've been in a post-COMP slump.  One would think I would still be riding the high from comp-scores, but that elated feeling lasted all of... oooo I don't know... a day? maybe two? It's like my brain and body were all "awesome! we did our job. namaste-and-peace-out-muthaf****aaaa".  And the one gyri of my brain that I have left is all "please noooo come baaaaack!!!! We aren't done!! that was just the freakin dress rehearsal!!!! doooon't leeeeeave!"

and you know how the rest of my brain has responded to that desperate plea?

With silence and abandonment. That's how.  

What. An A-hole. 


So you know how the people in my class suck? and for some reason don't see me for the bright-shining-star that I am? Well, it turns out that 5th semester has way too much free time, and seeing as I have no friends here and my own brain/personality is on a *temporary* hiatus, it consequently turns out that an American-portion size of loneliness follows suit.  So while I may have a shell made of many-many types of bulletproof material, I have discovered my shell free zone...

Zumba.

I went for the first time here a few weeks ago.  I show up early, and already it was packed.  But I found myself a lovely spot and quietly stood there, minding my own business as everyone else had their spanish social fest.  [have I noted before that I live in an area where 99.9% of everything is spanish? well now I have.]  But then the music started.  o.m.g.  1 hour of non-stop intense shimmy-ing, salsa-ing, cha-cha-ing, and letting these hips go wild.  I. die.  I have a perma smile on the whole time and reach my socializing maximum by smiling at my dance neighbor and use gestures that say "wow I'm sweaty" [*wipe sweat from brow and fan face with hands] and "this is fun!!" [*2 thumbs up + big smile].  I totally become one of those sexy latinas.  I *totally* fit in.  Before I know it I'm shouting "ARRRRIBA" with them and chanting for "meringue la proxima".  I can "para bajar" like nobody's business.  And at the end I was clapping and saying "gracias! gracias! gracias!"


Now let me tell you a little bit about my living situation right now.  While there are wonderful aspects to the arrangement, such as nice/safe area, I'm going to bypass talking about that - because that's boring. So here's the situation: this is Candice's Great-Aunt's apartment.  Great-Aunt is like, 80, and still runs a newspaper in the Bahamas, and even when she does come to Miami she stays in a hotel because it's not worth opening up this condo for her 1-2night stay.  Great-Aunt has a son. Candice's 2nd cousin.  Let's call him douchenozzle.  He also lives/works in Bahamas for the newspaper.  He is the epitome of a spoiled brat.  So he knows Candice is going to stay in the condo, knows I'm going to stay as well.  All is fine. However, then he has a hissy-fit because he doesn't want anyone to use his room.  Um yea, it's a 2-bedroom condo.  He assumed Candice and I would share a room.  Um yea, he's in his 40s.   Comes to the condo all of 2-3 times a year.  But God-forbid someone use his room.  So, greataunt informs Candice of this objection from douchenozzle, but even she knows hes an effing brat so she's all "your friend can use the room and if douchenozzle does end up coming I'll give you a heads-up and she can move her stuff into your room". 

"My" room has 2 single beds. like the ones you had when you were 6 and had to share a room with a sister.  Whatever, I can deal with a single bed.  But, I can't use the bathroom or closet in the room. Instead I have the hallway coat closet for all my clothes.  and the foyer-ish bathroom. Still.  whatever.  I can handle it.
In the 4 weeks that I have been here, effing douchenozzle has said he was coming 5 different times.  so 5 times I have had to pack up the shit that I did have in the room, and be ready to move my bags into Candice's room (king bed). Each time, he never ended up coming.  He was supposed arrive yesterday, but greataunt calls and is all "he decided to stay for dinner in london (UK), but he says he will for sure arrive tomorrow".  So Candice is all "okay he for sure has ticket". 

I pack up my shit today. Move my bags into Candice's room and she's all "what are you doing!?" I'm like, what does it look like. duuurrrr.
She laughs and is all 'he might not even stop by the apartment now".
I'm all "well this is a fun game".

*SO* from fun-game to fun-fact, he has gone from poking-the-bear to waking-the-bear. and she is effing pissed.

Dear spoiled-bratty-prince-douche-of-doucenozzleland.  should you ever meet me.  watch your 40-something-year-old-balls.  they are about to get kicked in by this QUEENbitch.


latina. out.

xoxo

Dear Comp. Suck It.

5th Semester so far...
I will begin by stating the obvious - life/school off the island is a completely different experience.  They are dichotomous worlds.

Since my last over enthusiastic and sleep deprived entry I have gone from Alberta to North Dakota to California to Florida.

Start at my arrival at home in Alberta.
J-bird picked me up and the airport, which could have been a scene from a RomCom movie (if they ever made a movie on the love of best-friends-and-happen-to-be-cousins). I busted through those final arrival doors, turned the corner, eyes locked with my J-bird, and started running towards my darling cousin.  Bags dropped.  I lept into her open arms as she steadied herself with a wide-based-stance, prepared for the fullness of my weight.  Nailed it. 
Let's just say it was a beautiful moment.  Did we turn some heads and get some suspicious looks? Sure did.  And did we stay arm-linked together as we got my bags and walked out? Sure did. 

Live out movie scene.  Check.


The next morning - when I woke up at 445am because I was so excited to be home - I saw the email telling me I now had a nephew!!  Brodie Mitchell.
Chelsa is a friggin superstar.  She does all the work, and I still get to share in the high of endorphins at the news of his arrival.  Awesome.

My time at homehome was spent studying all day then going to hot-yoga with J-bird when she got off work.  We would sweat our lives away as we opened our hips, cleared the fog from our third eye, aligned our chakras, and did whatever else is supposed to happen in yoga.  Personally, I focus so hard on not falling over or passing out, such that yoga has become the only time when my mind will STFU for a wonderful-torturous hour.
 
In addition to sweating it out at hot-yoga with J, we practiced some 'free-style' yoga at home.  This picture is self-explanatory. 




Doubles Yoga.  Check.

Nailed it again.

Of course once I got settled into my routine at home it was time to pack up and head to North Dakota.  I spent a short 3 days there with my sweet, "preth-ous" (A's form of 'precious'), beautiful nephew and niece.  Chelsa rocked my world when she decided to join me and the parents in PS with Aubrey and Brodie.


We all spent a wonderful week in PS, even though I struggled with trying to find a sliver of balance between studying and soaking up the family time.  I mostly was isolated in my office-cave doing countless practice questions/studying for the upcoming COMP exam (comprehensive of all 4 semester. which equals the first 2 years of med school). 

My cave of scieneee-wonders

Finally, I made the trek to Miami.  There was a bit of apprehension and dread going on in me because the comp exam was getting *that* much closer, but even more than that, the idea of seeing people from the island again was super unsettling.  Eugh. 


Okay, so since I got here on May 9th... moved in with the one friend I have in my class - Candice.  We studied out asses off until we finally took the comp exam May 18th.  The exam was a horrific experience.  I really felt like I was prepared enough and sat down confidently at the beginning of it.  That was quickly sucked out of me as I hit the middle of the exam, where it seemed almost every question I read and stared at and thought 'WTF ARE YOU ASKING OF ME!?!?!?'
or it was a type of question where I knew what they were talking about in the question stem, but then what they were asking you to extrapolate from it and answer in a very specific way made my brain cry and say 'wwwwhhhhhy are you doing this to me you A-HOLE!?!?'

To top off the ulcer inducing experience was the issue of time management.  This has never been an issue for me.  I have always been a relatively fast test-taker.  On average for all the exams on the island, I finished with 30-40mins left over. 
BUT. O.M.F.  I have found out when you are thinking SOOO hard and trying REALLY hard to get to the answer in your brain... time speeds up. and when this happens a lot... those 4 hours are over before you know it.  I kept looking at the clock. Panic set in when I knew I would not finish if I was to actually read the questions fully.  So I shit you not, the last 30 questions at least, my eyes would take in the last 3 words of the first sentence and last sentence then go straight to the answer choices. make a quick judgement on what the question was asking based on the answer choices. pick one. and move the hell on. 
I was shaking. I was circling in the very last question and finished Lit-cher-ally as the proctor called "pencils down".  I almost shat myself.  I had a tremor for a solid hour after the exam.  I walked around in a zombie-like daze trying to process what had happened. 

The next 10 days were a combination of bliss and torture.  (The comp was on a Friday) and 8am Saturday I was in the group that had all weekend training for ACLS (advanced cardiac life support).  However, once I got that out of the way, I really perfected my slothness/ability to watch countless episodes of movies and shows. Netflix really knows the way to my heart. 
How much are you envisioning me watching as you read that? Well, whatever it is. Double it.  I am truly amazing like that.


Okay, fast forward to Tuesday May 29th.  Release of scores day. Anxiety filled.

When I clicked on the grade page and saw that not only did I pass, but did beyond my expectations, I just sat there staring at the screen making sure I was reading it correctly.  My heart was pounding so hard and fast that every beat was palpable. That moment was probably the best so far of my schooling. 

Bascially what passing the comp means, is that I can now sign up to take the exam that actually matters - Step 1 - which is the first board exam.

So without going into more detail and boring you, I'll just leave it at that for now.

I'll leave you with some of my favorite tumblr posts.  A site that was a great source of tear-inducing-laughter.

So obnoxious. 

Pretty much universally true.

Truly my greatest fear.

Going through my med school class book.

Kids these days.

I realize this and I'm sorry. Thanks for still loving me. 

xoxo

Holy Hydrocele Balls.

I'M BACK IN CANADA! 

AND I NEVER HAVE TO GO BACK TO DOMINICA. EVER. 

EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Are you grasping the excitement in my voice?! are you? ARE YOU!!!?!?!

ohmygosh. The past few days have been so surreal and I feel as if I have robotically gone through the motions, all the while stuck in a numbed-state-of-mind.  

All of a sudden I am sitting in the Toronto airport and I'm thinking 'how the fudge-nugget did I get here?'

So let us back this crazy train up for a second...

To say that I have been a bit of an anti-social-hermit for the past while is a gross understatement. Essentially I did not leave my apartment in 3.5 weeks, except to gym (early in the morning as to avoid any crowd there), get 'groceries', study with Megan (and only megan), or to take my exams. 

I have not worn a real bra 4 weeks.  A sports bra for the gym. A bandeau for the rest of my existence. No makeup. Nothing. Effectively, any last glimmer of 'caring' was lost. Very very lost. 

One time I showed up to my review with Megan and she's all "oh did you just shower?"

I'm all "what's that now? No. Why do you ask?"

She's all "oh your hair looks wet."

Then I remember that my hair is soaked in coconut oil. I mean really, that could happen to anyone. I’m not going to lie though – I totally rocked that look…  Enough to convince Megan to also give her hair some coconut lovin.

Another time, someone knocked at my door, I open it, and it was my landlord wanting to let a prospective new tenant girl see the apartment.  I’m all ‘of course! Come in!’ 

I answer her questions about the place. They thank me and leave.

Then I went to the bathroom and actually looked in the mirror, only to realize that I still had some mud mask left on my face (I may or may not have left it on for a good 6 hours or so) such that I looked like I had a very sickly looking derm disease.

Sadly, it did not stop there. I also happen to have had my hair in 2 side buns held in with neon colored scrunchies.  Loose buns.  Such that they were kinda just dangling like borderline amazing head accessories.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that girl put her deposit down right after that – once she drew the conclusion that living there created an 8-shades-of-crazy beauty queen.

Bottom line. Each semester I feel I have gone deeper and deeper down the vortex of isolation.  I really out did myself this last semester.

The cumulative evidence was made overtly clear at the 4^th semester banquet.  Our “island prom”.  And it was clear on 6 different giant screens as they played a slide show presentation of all the pictures people had sent in of all the fun stuff they did.  Beaches. Hikes. Parties. Passed out in the classroom. Big groups. Small groups. A good 500 pictures or so, of which I was in li-tcher-ally none. Not one.  As the slide show keep rolling, I sat there smiling, taking it all in and thinking ‘well. That’s about right.’

And I felt nothing but content in that moment.

It was a fricken tough 16 months. And now I get to keep moving forward.

New chapter. Starting now.

xoxo

Boys In Suits. Ladies in Heat. Dignity Lost At Sea. We Hit the Trifecta.

I am going to attempt to go back and fill in some holes in stories I left. Some of which I'm sure you probably didn't even know about or even remember.

Let us first rewind to "Norman"  - there really isn't *much* involving me, but there's at least one semi-decent story I can share.... Near the beginning of the semester the Pediatric Club held a "Date Auction" fundraiser.  My "friend" (the quotations were not needed at the time of this event, but undoubtedly are appropriate now - but I digress) is a part of this club and was volunteering, so I went up with her in support. And for entertainment.  Before the auctioning began, there was a ping-pong tournament, so I was just mingling and being social - because let us be real for a second. I'm ah-mah-zing at it.
Of course I turn around and at that moment who should be walking in but Captain-American-Honey himself.  We stood around talking for a bit, which as with most people here is simply awkward small talk. When I am in these situations, I definitely have a tendency to dig deep into my bag of borderline-amazing conversational topics and pull out the trusty 'talk about school' card.  This is particularly useful here because when it comes to this, I am an overflowing fountain of chatty. As well as the fact that it has a unique way of asserting my seniority. Seniority on this island. Which is a *fleeting* moment one should take in before it slips away for a long.long.long time.
Norman asks me "are you getting auctioned off?"
I'm all "oh Norman. Nono. Nono. Just No.  I feel like it is appropriate to assume that you are though."
Which he was.
He's all "it's for the kids. Help raise some money. Bring in an extra 50ec or whatever."
I'm all "well let's not be too over-reaching here. maybe 20ec"

We parted ways and while I was across the room with some 'friends', I saw this little cute brunette nugget walk in. Eyes zero in on Norman. Smile. Walk right over to him. We all creepishly observed as if we we were watching a show on the Nature Channel about the stereotypical-mating-dance-of-the-female-in-heat.  She gazed up at him with her big-doe-eyes batting shamelessly, screaming 'want me. want me. want me' as she gave the tell tale sign of attraction: touching her hair much more than deemed normal by any standard.  It was extremely clear this brunette nugget wanted him, and wanted him bad.

The auction finally got started and it first began with this adorable guy who wore suspenders with his suit. Can't say I've ever really seen that before. Turns out - kinda cute. His time up on the auction block was fairly tame, with one girl coming up and loosening his tie a bit and taking down one of his sexy-suspenders. Sold for $500ec (185us).

Next guy up - ladies and auctioneer all having more drinks in them - got a little more involved. The auctioneer got the ladies a lap-dance if they bid 700ec. This was after his shirt was entirely unbuttoned. In the end he went for $900ec.

Norman's turn.  Girls were SCREAMING their bids out, as well as running thru the crowd to undo his shirt button-by-button.  The look on his face was priceless.  Because it was that of pure mortification. There is this one hot mess of a girl here (she has created a reputation her parents must be so proud of) who was 5 shots of tequila too many past the point where she should be allowed at any public gathering... What happens when you take an already loose girl, feed her inordinate amounts of alcohol, put a hot shirtless boy right in front of her nose, and put a 'for sale' sign over his head?? Determination. That's what.
Hot-Mess was screaming for more clothing to be taken off.  Hot-Mess was going up and taking Norman's shirt off.  If the bid was $500, Hot-Mess threw up her hand and screamed $600!!!!!!
Girl2: $625!!
Girl3: $650!!!
Girl4: $675!!!!
Girl5: $700!!!!!
Hot-Mess: $900!!!!!!

Let us not forget about brunette-Nugget.  She was most definitely a part of this bidding war. Hot-Mess may have been, well, a hot mess.... but Brunette-Nugget was sober. She was there with a clear mission. She countered with $950.
Hot-Mess scream $1000
B-N quiet and steadfast. $1100.
H-M waving arms and dancing around $1200!!!
B-N clearing getting frustrated.  You get the feeling that this is a girl who is used to getting what she wants. Her smile says 'oh it's all in fun'.  Her eyes say "I'll effing kill this girl in her sleep tonight if she ruins this for me". $1300.
H-M actually taking some time to consider the extreme she got herself in....$1400!!!
For a second I thought B-N was going to push through the crowd and right hook this girl in the ovary. Instead she just turned around, trying to regain her composure, paced around for a minute, then countered with $1500ec.
H-M finally concedes.

$1500ec.
Norman sold for $1500ec.
$567 us

I can imagine the phone call home - "Hi Mommy. Hi Daddy. Um so I'm going to need a little more money put into my account this month.... what for? oh um. well you see... I bought a boy... well obviously I thought it was a good investment for my future... no....ummm I got a dinner...the chips didn't fall *quite* the way I envisioned them..."

Whoopsies.

But it was "for the kids" after all.

Try Not To Be Jealous. I'm Just A *Really* High Functioning Person And Happen To Be Really Normal. I'm Just Naturally Blessed Like That. Please Contain Your Envy.

Once again, I am in the full shit storm of another mini season.  And I'd love to write, but the issue is, I have *too much* in my head right now that it comes out super schizo. Major underlying cause for this - other than me just  being me - is lately I haven't *just* been my crazy self. I've been my insomniac-crazy-self.  Full disclosure.  It is. not. pretty.
In light of not having enough time (cause it would take ma-ha-ny hours. and probably should be billable by a trained professional) to give you deeper insight into what I mean, I am just showing you a couple emails that have been sent. These are snippets.

This one was sent before mini 1. When I was still 'holdin it together'.  May I add, quite well.

My first exam is monday and im in full stressed out freak out mode. fine tremor in distal extremities. heart burn. 
I have no freaking filter right now. 
blurting out whatever comes to mind. walked past this douche wearing those sock shoes. and I turn to katie and said in whisper (!!) I hate those shoes. 
shes like 'girl you can't say that out loud!" im all "it wasn't loud!"
and even if he did hear. I don't care. and as if he can make the connection. I mean, I could have been talking about anyone's shoes. who's more correct in this. tell me please. me. 

In recent news... I thought I was going to get a negative P card (professionalism) today because I kinda snapped on my ICM preceptor. the woman is freaking tough. which i am all for. she likes perfection and has high expectations of us. frankly I'd rather have that than someone who is lax and I learn nothing from. her I am scared shittles-skittles. So I friggin learn. however, she crosses a line and is disrespectful and tears people down. You can be asked a question, answering correctly. She will stop you if you even take a breath, then finish to make it seem like you are an idiot and don't know the rest.  There's some people in my group who literally have shaky voices and shaky hands they get so rattled by her. 

so today she is yelling at us to feel our own thyroids. in this specific way. which i was. and she yells at me "WHY YOU NOT LISTENING. WHY YOU DOING IT LIKE THAT! YOU DO IT WRONG!"

so I look up at her. lock eyes. and  I'm all "listen. I AM doing it!" and then repeat, verbatim, what she just told us to do. and demonstated it as such. and then went 2 steps further than she had even told us (because i got together with another doc on the weekend and went thru this exam with her so that i WOULD BE PERFECTLY prepared for today!!) 
I said all of this is a sharp tone keep in mind. as soon as it was all out of my mouth. I sat there. eyes locked on hers. my head was all "shit.shit.. I'm soooo getting a P card."
but you know what. I WILL FRIGGIN GLADLY TAKE IT. I stood up for myself. and everyone else she already kicked in the balls. so be it. 

Her response. 'okay fine.'

then she kept going thru the physical exam and pointing to something and be like "why would you look here." or "what would you find in this condition". and i nailed EVERY one. 

which forced her to say over and over. yes Elle is correct. 

suck it. 

and I never got a P card. 

then I went to go tutor with katie. and there is a PBL session in there til 450 technically. and we start at 5pm. 
they were late to leave last week and we told the facilitator that we had a tutor session in there. 

so its 510. and we are still waiting. so i knock and open the door and he's like 5 more minns. so I say 'okay thats fine. but we have a tutor session in here. so thanks for keeping that in mind."  I said it respectfully!

katie was all "i cant beleive you did that!!!" 

we knew no on ewas even going to come anyway so we really didnt need the room. but I'm all 'IT'S THE PRINCIPLE!!!!"


then we waited more than 5 mins and eventually just left. so now im trying to study.

oh gawd. im totally going to end up in jail one day for murder. 

will you be my conjugal visit??


fill me in. i need a laugh.or just hearing the inner workings of a sane mind. 

obviously im long past that. and i dont think i ever really began there. so im just screwed 



This was more recent.   
I think I'm getting more and more socially awkard. It is deeply upsetting. today I got sucked into going for lunch break with the group of people I'm 'friends' with. [side note: I use friends in quotes like that because, well, they all have expiration dates and would stab me in the back if given the opportunity] and we're all sittng at the picnic table and i was being quiet. just so out of place for some reason. then all of a sudden i could feel this anxiety build up inside of me and started getting flushed. Heart pounding. and I just had to leave. so I got up. and everyones all "umm where are you going??" I practically stuttered 'i.i.i.i.just need to get back to work. bye.' 

and then walked away. 

I went to the gym this afternoon. got groceries. made dinner. showered. got ready. and was walking bck to the classroom and passed 2 guy 'friends' who were just coming back from the gym. we did the curteous stop. Which I really am just not into these days, because I have nothing to say. Small talk is ridiculous. and these are the times I'd rather just not engage. and keep walking. maybe give a head bob + 'hey'.  Not even a "how's it going", because that's rhetorical. and I really do *not* care 'how it is going', so just keep walking buddy.  
Having nothing else to say, my brain came up with 'oh you're really sweaty. good for you. mmm'


then I kinda stepped off the curb weird, and my 'friend' was like "whoa there slick' and I couldnt even come up with a sarcastic remark. just a stare. yea. that just happened. 

evidently, this is how i get when im super-intensity-intense now.  very socially awkward. this is a new thing for me. im *pretty* sure I never used to be like this. 

even at the gym, the boys were all there. I finished my run. 'normal' me would go over, have a ridiculous conversation, spoken exclusively in the language of sarcasm. Say "bye" like a normal human being living functionally in society.

but did I do that?? noooooo. I just keep my head down and run out the door.

Sooo.. this was all *before* the insomnia hit. 

xoxo

First Hospital Visit.

As I mentioned before, on Tuesday of this week I went for my first hospital rotation.  I am quite sure I will look back on this as a kindergarten-like-hospital-experience. But for now, it marks a milestone.  

We left the campus by 8am. Drive over an hour to the hospital. Get a quick introduction, and then assigned our rotations.  I was placed in Internal Medicine with 2 other colleagues and we were supposed to be shadowing the doctor for the morning.  This more or less happened.  She was coming off a night shift and was catching up on paper work, so she's all "okay I'm going to finish this... but you go talk to those patients, do a physical exam, and then we will discuss later."  So we just jumped right in there.  And it was awesome.  It was the first time I've truly felt like "omg. those things I've spent so much time studying are really in my brain, and I know how to apply them!"  Talking to real patients, getting their life stories, putting together the pieces of their puzzle and coming to the right diagnosis.  

While we were pretty much on our own, the doctor finally came over and I presented the patients to her.  We discussed differentials, diagnostic work ups, and appropriate treatment options.  

The afternoon was essentially the same, except instead I was placed on the men’s surgical ward. I was with a different doctor who was definitely more than intimidating.  Afterwards he made us debrief for a long time, present our patients to each other, and probe the more urgent/relevant questions.  He was incredibly harsh, but in the best sort of way. He had his own high level of expectation and he was going to get - it even if he almost made one guy cry (I'm pretty sure he cried when he got home though).  You just guard-your-nutsack and take it because it wasn't personal.  I walked out of that debriefing feeling like I learned more with that man in 30 mins than I could just studying for 100hours. 

I wish I could have pictures to show you all, because I am *not* going to do this justice... this hospital in and of itself is heartbreaking.  It's third-world. I walked into the ward and it was a definite "oh. my. gawd." moment.  It was basically an extra wide hallway. Very very sick patients crammed in there.  The beds are what we would consider 'cots'.  There are no complete walls.  It's all open to the outside and the fans and cross breeze are all you get.  

Randomly, all the nurses wear totally white outfits, white tights, complete with those stereotypical white nurse hats that you have to pin in.  

The only hospital I have seen so far worse than this one was during YWAM outreach in Vanuatu. 

I was told by several people (who know I am 99% sure I am staying in Dominica for 5^th semester) that as soon as I do my hospital days here I would change my mind.  Everyone typically comes back from PMH days and thank the Good Lord they are out of there and off this island in 60 days (as the countdown stands now).  However, I truly feel it is a unique and amazing opportunity to get experience in a hospital like this. I’ve always wanted to do medical missions, so why would I shut away being able to start here? Plus, I'll be able to have a lot more hands on experience during 5^th… seeing as they don’t care * quite * as much about, you know, laws and regulations, and such. 

Getting a bit off topic, but point being, I had an amazing experience on Tuesday.  It was incredibly hot and exhausting. My feet were swollen like a MoFo. I friggin had Charlie-horse-cramps in my calves the rest of the night, as I lay motionless in bed.  Turns out there was not a lot of time for eating and drinking all day. 

I am definitely still catching up on the week.  Having a mini exam takes A LOT out of you.  It really takes a couple days to recover from them. But there was no time for that this time with having hospital the next day.  But I think I finally made up for it – last night I was sleeping (non-drug induced!!) before 7pm. Yes. That is correct. 7pm.  And slept in till 740am this morning.  Grandma status: Check Check.