Review and Edits

July 29, 2011
Well that is basic how I feel sometimes.  It's a twisted friggin' rollercoaster.  But totally the kind where I get off after the one ride, maybe stumble around for a couple steps until the endolymph in my semicircular canals sorts it shit out, stand up and shout, 'that was AWESOME!'  Then run back around to the entrance and do it all over again.  And even though I'm just a teeny tiny baby in this journey through med school, I know myself well enough to know that no matter how loop-de-loopy it gets, I would never want to be on any other ride.

Oh honey.  Oh sweetie.  No.  
I did not know myself.  Things got pretty damn loopy.  I totally wanted to get on a different ride at several significantly loopy turns.   I mean, I'm glad I didn't!  But, you know...

July 30, 2011

let me repeat. He needs. To watch. His back. and front. and sides for that matter!

How can one human being possess so many annoying qualities. And how did I look past them until now? Doesn't he get the message that I've had enough of him. We had a good run as friends. But then I woke up and decided it was over. Not everyone can be my friend forever. Obviously that's reserved for the super special. geez. I can't go whoring around my borderline amazing friendship. It's for the elite.  And my version of the Elite are not people who ooze OBNOXIOUSNESS by simply breathing.

It's over dude. give it up. leave me alone. when you come thru the barn door in the morning you turn right and go to the cubicle. Don't even look left to where I am. You know what, while we are on the topic of looking.. How about we just make it simple and you just avoid looking at me. Always. If you haven't noticed yet, I'm doing that to you already. Get the message and get on board the train (obviously the train heading in the opposite direction as the one I am on. durr).
  
I may have been under the weather with a touch of the 'stress induced bat-shit-crazy' virus. 

April 22, 2012 

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. 

I really don't know what to say to this.  I just... Ya.  I have nothing. This was end of 4th semester.  I literally could not have cared about anything less than I did then.

October 31, 2012

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.”

I really had some fatass bad luck going through immigration.  What. A fun experience that was.
 
April 23, 2013
Me, post call. Probably the ugliest side of me.  I get all curled up in bed, resume watching an episode, and one of my favorite characters dies!!! *Normal* me would be all, 'aw that's to bad'.  *Post-call* me was freaking hysterical.  Face half covered with blankets as I sob! You know what I mean? The 'ugly-cry'.  Through broken heaves and sobs I'm crying out in a deep manly voice - NOOOOOHOHOHO!! WWWWWWHY!?!? NOoooohohoNoo! Wwwwhy!!  Not. *choke on tears* Jer-e-my *choke on tears*  My eyes quickly became swollen from the fast escape of tears, which is when I finally had some voice of reason say "what is happening to you right now!? stop this! sleep!"
So I listened.  I passed out instantly.  Woke up 6hrs later - it was 3pm.  I got up to eat, and resumed watching more of the episode.  Started bawling again.  Turned it off at 5pm.  Then woke up next to my alarm at 5am to go back to work.  That's right. Do the math - I slept 18hrs.

One would think this amount of sleep would cure any illogical, unreasonably excessive emotion.

One would think.

However, add a dash of effed-up hormones to the mix and a dollop or heap of misery while in Ob-Gyn rotation

Oh OB-GYN.   You truly were my low point.  My dark, dark, low point. 


June 15, 2013
It is time to take a step back. Relax at The Lake with my family and Biffle.  Regain some perspective.  Uterus Up (lady version of 'man up'), and keep pressing on because it-is-what-it-is, and deep down I know everything will work out in the end.

Probably.

And if it doesn't - - -

I'll take out an ad in the classifieds section - Looking For Your Trophy Wife? You Just Found Her.  Fully Qualified, Class A+ Trophy Wife.  (references available upon request).
 
This still holds true. 

August 26, 2013
had a 400lb patient with severe heart failure because his little heart had to work so hard to supply his huge body, as well as a big ol' fat infected leg because he is huge and diabetic. I had the pleasure of seeing him every morning for a week and listen to him whine about one thing after another, the best being a bitch fest to me over what a terrible place this was and he was getting poor care because we didn't have an MRI machine that he could fit in.  I wanted to say, 'sir do you realize that theoretically we take people like you to the zoo to be imaged? If you don't like our care maybe try checking in there first next time.' But instead, I just had to fake empathy for 3 seconds and then examine him --- putting my stethoscope on his hairy. sweaty. oh-so-sweaty. body.  Then spend the next 10 mins disinfecting and questioning my life choices.  

Life choices. 

 

Back In Canada. Childless.

Before I get into catching up to the present, let me reverse to the past so I can give you another wonderful story from December to give a picture of the glamorous life of medicine.

Fecal.  Transplant.

The patient (recipient) comes to the colonoscopy suite prepared like any other.  Empty.

The great friend/family member (donor) goes into the bathroom and deposits their gift into a catcher.

The shit is then *blended* up with some saline... in a *standard regular blender*... then poured into a large basin.

The doc performs a regular colonoscopy, reaches the end of the colon, and then it's time for 'transplant'.  My job?  I had to take large syringes, stick them into the bucket of shit, draw up said liquid shit, pass off to doc, and assist in plunging it through the scope.  Over and over and over.

The smell was so strong my eyes literally burned.  This was one of 5 times in clinical rotations where I was actively concentrating on suppressing my gag.  A lot of shit would squirt out from the plunging site, so by the end it seemed as if shit was all over the place.  Which I know it really wasn't.  But it was far more dispersed than any adult shit should ever be.

The end result of this procedure is actually quite extraordinary to treat recurrent/treatment resistant C.diff.

However, while I can appreciate the success rates of this procedure, I never want to be actively involved in it again.  In any way.


After Urology finished in February, I went to Radiology for the month of March.  Then moved from Pontiac to Saginaw, where I stayed for 2 weeks of Geriatrics.

From Saginaw, I drove to Halifax.  Approx 1400 miles.  26hrs.  It actually went by surprisingly quickly!

I have been in Halifax for almost 5 weeks, with 1 week to go.  Even though I'm actively making plans for coming back to Alberta, it hasn't *really* sunk in that this is the real end.  It's an incredibly surreal feeling.

I am loving being back in the field of Psychiatry while in Halifax.  While this area of medicine is always throwing fascinating situations your way, I have found that living with the wonderfully, amazing, Kelly Family often does the same.

Cole, age 7.  Chloe, age 5.  Cohen, age 4.

I picked up a few catch-phrases...
From Cole ----

• "Cole go back to the mud-room and put your shoes, coat, and backpack away properly"
• "EUGH!!! WORST.  DAY.  EVVVVER." 
• "No Cole,  you cannot have the ipad"
• "EUGH!! This is the WORST day of MY LIFE!"

From Cohen ----

• After his dad gives him a snack.  As he chews very fast and is still chattering very fast.  He suddenly drops fork or whatever food he is holding, begins wailing and madly shaking his hands. 
• "ooooh buddy did you bite your tongue?" (*this happened borderline often)
• Through breaks of pain-filled sobs, he channels his pain into anger - "Daaaaaddy it's ALL  YOUR SAULT" (he can not make the 'ffff' sound and they come out as 'sss'.  As in, "I'm Sor year old and this is my sork")

• Cohen is. Adorable.  During his super sweet moments he gets cuddly, gives kisses, and lets you hug and kiss him.  These moments often lead us to say things like, "Oh Cohen you are such a sweet boy! I love Cohen kisses! Oh you're so cute!"
• These moments add up.  Cohen, while in his sweet moods, will now enter a room with a big smile, and as if to proudly announce his presence will say - "Whoooooo wants to kisssss meeeee!?"
• I predict great things for this child in grade school.  Keep it up buddy.  Keep. It. Up.

On a daily basis, for unknown reasons, Cohen would ask me how old I was.

On too numerous to count occasions, at least one of the kids would ask me if I was married and had my own kids. The conversation would go something like:

"do you have kids?"

"No. I don't"

"How come?"

"Well, because I'm still in school.  I need to finish ALL my school work."

"And then you'll have kids?"

"Well. No. Then I am going to work as a doctor and try to make people feel better when they are sick"

"And then you'll have kids?  No wait, then you have to get married first!"

"That's would be a starting point. Correct. Yes."

"AND THEN YOU'LL HAVE KIDS?!"

Knowing I couldn't crush their souls and spirits, this is where I finally cave and say:

"Sure. That's when I could have kids."

Being 26 years old, single, and childless is just *a lot* for their precious young minds to grasp.


My personal favorite moment was with Chloe during our bedtime routine.  Instead of a book, we would lay on her bedroom floor and sing her choice of 2 songs from Frozen. As we lay there giggling after singing "In Summer", she asks, "are you part of our family now?"

My own frozen heart is now a little more melted.