I was hoping you'd find me in Florida

I love the imprints my feet leave in the sand, the comical birds that are half stick legs and half rubber neck, the sound of the waves and nothing else, the knowledge that I have absolutely nothing else I should be doing. It's so freeing. Yesterday, we hit up Barnes and Noble, and within 10 minutes, I had an armful of books that had even Michelle laughing at me. It's not my fault that filling my budding library makes me giddy...Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, Charles Dickens. Having time to read them is of course the cherry on top. Seriously, nothing to do all day but sleep in, read, eat, enjoy the spectacular view, and watch Hallmark movies. Is this vacation or what? Did I mention the smell of homemade pecan pies wafting in from the kitchen?

I hope you all have the chance to relax a little this Christmas season.

The modern holocaust

Today at Mass, the most beautiful girl sat in front of me. About three years old, she had cute little bangs, and fat fingers, and tights with runs in them. In the middle of the second reading, she was facing back behind me and saw someone. She waved enthusiastically and whispered, "Hi, Tom! Daddy, it's Tom!" Her dad just held her and kissed her and shushed her appropriately, patiently enduring her smoothing his hair and kicking the pew and whispering to him. And I thought of how many parents would have chosen not to give her life just because she happened to have Down Syndrome. It's tragic, because she brought me more joy this morning than anything this week.

It's been difficult working in Ob-Gyn, where all the doctors are obsessed with birth control and women being able to control their health, which translates to the health of those inside them as well. I had one attending share that she felt blessed to have the opportunity to perform 2nd trimester abortions for women throughout the region. Yes, blessed. I wanted to throw up. They call it "family planning" and tiptoe around the issue with words like "termination" and "TAB" (therapeutic abortion) but they don't see it as murder. And I find it hard to pray for them rather than gloat that some day they will meet their maker and discover they were horribly mistaken and will have to face the souls of the many lives they destroyed. What is my role in this?

Please pray for all the doctors who are deceived into thinking they are doing right by their patients, and for all the mothers, fathers, and babies who are robbed of the life God wishes for them.

I'm pretty good at procrastinating too

Whoa, must be something in the air that I have so many things I need to say.
Last one for today, promise.
But I was just thinking today (and not for the first time) that I don't have anything that I'm super good at, or super passionate about. I mean, I'm not a musician, not truly an athlete (though I pretend, and live vicariously through Mary), not a writer, not an artist. Even the things I like--soccer, biking, hiking--I'm a far cry from a true enthusiast. I just want one thing that I can say I'm better at than most people. And yes, that's my pride talking. Even the Gospel this weekend talked about the talents God has given us and whether or not we've developed them, and at first glance, I can't say I've done a great job getting returns. At the moment, all I can think is that I'm pretty good at quoting movies, and I can successfully pull off a rainbow kick 3 out of 4 tries. Not exactly paths toward the kingdom. On the other hand, I know that many aspects of my so-called talentless life are enviable. I am in a career field that I love, one that every day leaves me in awe of the great responsibility and privilege that comes with it; I have a wonderful family; I have my health; I have a future full of possibilities. So who cares if I can't play a musical instrument to save my life, or that I can't cook, can't knit, and for all practical purposes, lack a bonafide hobby. It could be worse.

As I'm writing, I maybe found one. I think that most people are impressed by my constant reading. I do plow through more books in a year than most people I know, so that's something. And by and large, I try to pick books that in some way enrich my life, whether it be through exploring history, learning about saints, appreciating the classics, or just escaping for a bit. If you need recommendations, you know where to find me.

I think I need some ice cream

I couldn't taint the last post by adding non-smiley things, so I'm making a new post.
Just to say that even though five of my friends got married last year, and like 4 this year, and half a dozen new babies, and more engagements...it was being in a room with mostly couples at a party on Friday that made me feel the loneliest. I try not to fall into the "always a bridesmaid" mentality, but less and less of my friends are still single, which is a bummer for two reasons, 1) I'm more aware than ever that I still am, and 2) they're never around to hang out with. I'm filling my head with reassurances that God must have someone incredible out there for me, because His plan is supposed to be so much better than mine, but this sure isn't it. I used to very whole-heartedly say that I was fine being single, and still growing a lot, and wouldn't have time for it anyway. My arguments are getting less convincing. And yet, the thought of being so close to someone is terrifying, so I'm just hoping that somewhere in the midst of my making a mess of things, God can straighten out my head, give me courage and clarity, and place a man in my life that really will bring me more happiness than I could imagine for myself. Here's hoping.

Okay, sorry for the melancholy. Just needed to vent.

I smile when I think about...

Colorado blue skies and Colorado blue mountains
Crunching leaves on the sidewalk
Singing Christmas music in the car with Kelly
Sitting at home watching a movie, knowing I get to sleep in the next morning
Having nothing to do on a Sunday besides whatever I want
Twelve girls in a kitchen, all doing dishes even though no one asked
Knowing other people are thinking the same things I am
Falling asleep
Laughing till I cry

Even unto death

Fr. Felix gave an awesome homily today, one that I think will be relevant long after today's results are in. The reading was from Philippians, that Jesus humbled Himself, becoming obedient, even to death on a cross. Father reminded us that God has already given us His example of how to choose in this life. We must be obedient to our faith, even to death. How many of us do that? How many of us are obedient even though another choice is more popular, feels better, seems more rational, makes a bigger statement, or fuels our pride more? While I think this election is a great example of that, and the fact that our Church urges us to vote for life and to make it a priority, there are tons of other examples in our lives. It's not an easy message to hear. We're ingrained to avoid obedience and death at all costs. But Jesus also promises that for those who follow His example, the yoke is easy and the burden light. Be obedient.

Moving on

Well, two weeks of delivering babies, and as cool as it all is (and it is really cool), I admit I'm a little babied out. Although I still have to say, that one minute when suddenly two new parents are made and the baby takes its first breath and cries, it's pretty amazing. The hour spent stitching up a bizarre third-degree tear...not so amazing.

Tomorrow I'm moving on to Emergency Medicine. Okay, I realize that most people who come into the ED are not actually in an emergency. Most people use it as their primary care on a weekend or if they lack insurance. And that stinks. But I'm still scared for that one in ten that is really sick, really dying, really needing someone with experience, which is the opposite of me. So here's hoping I have really good residents and maybe actually learn something so that the next time someone breaks their ankle on the football field, I won't just stand around like an idiot.

It's a baby!

I saw two babies delivered today. Even if I weren't so tired, I think words would be beyond me. But I think I do need to at least document it somehow, get my thoughts down, process it a little bit. So here's just my first rehash of the day.

All day I spent following my intern around like a shadow, doing nothing but watching, so when she got a call about some decelerations (slowing of fetal heart rate) in one of our patients, we went to go check it out. 25 minutes later, we had delivered a healthy baby boy by C-section. Everything moved so fast I tried not to get lost or stepped on or compromise the sterile field. Mom was crying. Even though she was a family practice resident, I think everything happened so fast that anyone would have been scared. "Tell my husband I love him" she said through tears right before she went under. And then we had 5 minutes before the anesthesia hit the baby. The second year threw me her ring and said "Give this to someone." Having heard the horror stories of wedding rings in laundry bins from discarded scrubs, I nonetheless tucked it away in my back pocket. There was a lot of blood; I was feeling the hurt mom would feel when she woke up. Halfway through, my senior got me a stool, knowing what it's like to be short. Thank you. When they pulled the head through, it didn't look human and the head was just flopping around. I was relieved when someone else said "That's a big baby!" so I knew I wasn't crazy. The cord was cut and he was thrown into the nurse's arms, finally filling his lungs halfway to the warming table, where the peds residents got to do the fun job. I kept wanting to go over and see the baby. Dad came in and you could see him beaming under the mask. Mom was stitched up and stapled (ouch!) and came out okay, and they wheeled her off. Lots of fanfare, and yet it wasn't even 10 o'clock yet, wasn't even time to check on our next patient.

Patient two was the opposite of quick. It was a 19 year old, "primip" (first pregnancy), and she took all day to get into labor, and then about 3 hours later, she was all tuckered out. I would have been, too, if I had had 7 extra people in the room staring at me in stirrups. Weird. The whole time I kept thinking, she is too young and not ready for this, and the father definitely wasn't ready, he kept smirking and looked like he hadn't graduated high school yet, much less ready to get up for 2 am feedings. We decided to go ahead and do forceps-assisted. I don't know what you think of when you think of forceps, but I was not thinking two huge Pampered-Chef-ice-cream-scoop paddles, and you just put 'em around baby's head and pull down. This baby came out more normal, more like I expected, head, then shoulders, then out. Mom was crying, her mom was crying, baby was crying. Again, a lot of blood. And again, I just wanted to head straight to the warmer and take Apgar scores, but instead I got to stay and see the docs try to make sense of the perineum and stitch it back up. Poor mom just wanted to hold the baby, but we spend 20 minutes sewing her back together. I stood there, waiting for "suture scissors" and then reached in to cut the line. It was a perfect first experience with gowning and gloving and assisting without the surgeon yelling at me (the OB was SUPER nice). And I wasn't even close to passing out for either delivery, until I was in the elevator ready to leave and the adrenaline crashed; then I got a bit light-headed. When they first brought the baby over to see mom, his face was still a little yucky and pale, but he was beautiful, and it was hard to believe that he had only moments before come into the world. You pretty much lose all semblence of privacy or decency when you're pregnant. Between the stretch marks and the fluids and all the doctors and nurses and gloved hands, it's less than ideal. I kept thinking of Christy, all 8 1/2 months and ready to pop and feeling sorry that she would have to go through that, but you just have to pretend it's as routine for you as it is for them (or us, I guess), and know that it is worth it in the end. A brand new little miracle.

And I go back and do it all again tomorrow.

Happy Birthday

9 months ago today, I adopted Luke. At a Sunday Mass at St. Vincent de Paul, we were invited to choose a blue or pink heart with a prayer written on it. By doing so, we spiritually adopted a brand new baby, just beginning its journey in its mother's womb. We were invited to pray this prayer daily for our growing baby, and for his or her family, who was facing the difficult situation of perhaps an unwanted pregnancy. I prayed for Luke (mostly) every day, taping the heart on my bathroom mirror, thinking each day about what new body part or function he was gaining that week, and how he was growing. And today, I trust that through God's grace and not my own offerings, Luke is born, a new miracle. Hopefully to be well-loved by his family, but I know he is well-loved and desired by his Father. And I hope to meet him some day in heaven to know this miracle that I've prayed for for so long.

Falling

I love fall. The smells of pumpkin and leaves and that cold, crisp air that makes you want to stay outside forever and hurry inside for cider or cocoa at the same time. Giant leaves curled on the sidewalk, making you guess which step will make the biggest crunch. Time to pull the hoodies and the hats out again, to snuggle under the electric blanket, to hold the coffee mug with both hands. The first falling flakes of snow, swirling in a silver sky. It makes me want to share it with someone.

Code Blue

"Attention: Code Blue, Outpatient Pavilion, 2nd floor, hallway G. Attention: Code Blue, Outpatient Pavilion, 2nd..." By this time we were out the door and running. No time to stop and ask if we were supposed to come along or what we were to do when we got there. Our team of four was joined by another team by the time we reached the stairwell. No telling how long the elevators would take, so we took the six flights as quickly as we could, picking up a few more responders along the way. It felt like a TV show, the way we dropped everything and started running the second we heard the word "Blue," the way you imagine a fire department responding with a call in the middle of the night. The way we jogged through the hallways, drawing curious glances and easily clearing the path in front of us by our calm urgency. We were on our way to save someone. Don't get in the way. It didn't matter that I had no idea what I would do when we got there. Or that the thought of someone actually needing a code called terrified me. Or that of course the ED and the PICU teams were much closer and already had the situation under control by the time we had traversed what seemed like the entire hospital. I've always thought that I couldn't do critical care because I don't like not knowing what's coming through the door, but my first code thrilled me. Experience will teach me the way to respond-the right drugs to use, the correct techniques for intubation and starting an IV, the protocol of a code. But the emergency itself was exciting. I found myself wishing we could do it every day, which makees me excited to do the ED and our critical care rotations. Either way, I'm in the coolest career field ever.

WPS showdown

Okay, Michelle made her picks (see her blog) so I had to make mine. Granted, she follows this much more closely than I do, but I, too, have some thoughts about the final rankings of the first WPS season, based solely on the recent allocation.

1. Sky Blue FC: Rampone, O'Reilly, Kai--You have experience and leadership in the backfield and pure fun up front...my pick to win (Michelle's pick: 1)
2. Chicago Red Stars: Lloyd, Markgraf, Tarpley--you have Rampone's counterpart in the backfield in Markgraf, as well as my new hero, Carli Lloyd...I think they'll make a run for the top (Michelle's pick: 3)
3. Los Angeles: Boxx, Cox, Wagner--Boxxy is who could knock this team to the front if she is on her game. I'm giving them the tie-breaker over Washington, but it's close (Michelle's pick: 4).
4. Washington Freedom: Krieger, Wambach, Whitehill--don't know much about Krieger, but Abby will make this fun (ironically, Freedom STILL gets THE face of women's soccer)...I'm torn on this one, but they barely fall behind LA (Michelle's pick: 2)
   
5. Boston Breakers: Hucles, Lilly, Mitts--yay for Kristine Lilly making a post-baby comeback. Heather Mitts should give them experience in the back, but not much speed. Hucles played well in the Games, so if they get good additions from other sources, they could be a better contender (Michelle's pick: 5).
6. St. Louis: Solo, Chalupny, Ellertson--I like Lori Chalupny, and with Solo anchoring here, St. Louis might be able to surprise, but it might be too little to work with compared to the other teams (Michelle's pick: 6).
7. Bay Area: Barnhart, Buehler, Osborne--"a fairly definitive last place". Agreed. Bay Area maybe got the shaft...or maybe they have given these players a chance to shine. But still last. (Michelle's pick: 7)

So there you have it. We're not much different, but this is me putting it in writing so we can fight about it in a year when the season ends. Loser has to buy the winner a new jersey. Just kidding. Maybe an ice cream.

The latest rant

Last week I was in the nursery at the U. It was the well nursery, so nothing exciting going on except healthy babies and a handful of circumcisions (which, FYI, is the same word in Spanish, just with an accent). However, it was so fun to get to play with the babies and just hold them, because we were in no rush. We had one tiny girl whose mom had probably the least maternal instinct of anybody ever. "How long do I have to give her this milk stuff?" You mean the formula? Um, about a year. Did you think babies came out eating philly cheese steak and salad? Anyways, we made up for mom's absence by loving the heck out of that little girl. She was like our little nursery mascot, ready to be a Broadway singer when she grew up (you had to be there). Here's hoping little J does okay.

I was at the Fox and Hound for the Nebraska season opener on Saturday. Husker fans are hysterical. Several hundred red shirts crammed into one bar, "Go! Big! Red!" filling the room every few minutes, and total pandemonium if we scored. They even played the fight song over the speaker system. It was almost like being there. Maybe I did miss out by not having a college football team. But I'm more than happy to fall on the wagon now, given that all my friends are Husker fans, and so too me by default.

I'm in outpatient peds this week. My accomplishment for the day is successfully recognizing two ear infections and a middle ear effusion. Trust me, this is a lot harder than it sounds. You try looking through a 2 mm hole into a squirming kid's ear and trying to discern what color the fluid behind the ear drum is. I feel very proud of myself, thank you very much.

10 minutes was enough to get me hooked on "Chuck." You know, the "He's the Secret. She's the Agent" NBC show. Came home from the Husker game and Kelly had it on. I was like, "Oh, this does look cute." Well, over the next two days, we watched 11 episodes online. Exxxxcellent. And the Bones season premiere is on tomorrow. And The Office in like 3 more weeks. Woohoo!!!! I've never been into so many shows at once. What am I going to do?

Also, my dad just corrected me while quoting "13 Going On 30." Sad.

Golden Girls

The US Women's soccer team just did what ABK Girls have never done--back 2 back titles--2 Gold medals! When Carli Lloyd's ball beat Brazil's keeper far post in overtime, at least 3 people in our class visibly jumped, focused more on the live feed than on the lecture. The next 17 odd minutes were some of the longest of my life. I'd said going into this match that even a silver would be an accomplishment given our young team, a new style of play, and the absence of our most dominant scorer, especially given that I knew this team could beat Brazil after our lead-up "friendlies." However, watching the game, I realized how much I can't stand Brazil and wanted to just pound their faces into the dirt. I don't like how negative I am towards such talented players, but it can't be helped when Cristiane ruins a good scoring chance by faking an injury just to catch her breath. And what's with the first name thing. It was fine with Pele. Even Ronaldo. But every player? They're not ALL good enough to just be one name.

But props to a great Brazilian team for a good game. They truly are talented. But make no mistake. They are second best. Pia pulled out the best in this team, utilizing our speed, experience, leadership, and talent like Greg Ryan never had to. Seven different players scored goals in this tournament, proving that this truly was a team effort and that Abby Wambach was a leader, but not our only weapon. For such a young team, this shows great promise. And it was what the new Women's Professional Soccer league could have only dreamed of the year before exhibition.

If I weren't sitting in class, if I could vocalize the crazy soundtrack in my head, it would be something along the lines of, "HECK YES TAKE THAT BRAZIL AND GREG RYAN WE ARE THE BEST IN THE WORLD CARLI LLOYD IS MY HERO AND LORI CHALUPNY AND REAL SOCCER MOMS LIKE MARKGRAF AND RAMPONE AND POOR LIL WHO MISSED THIS AND TAKE THAT WHOEVER BROKE ABBY WAMBACH'S LEG WE WON WITHOUT HER YAY PIA FOR TAKING A RISK WOOOOOOHOOOOO!"

But I'm in class, and I have to pay attention now. USA USA USA!

Hey batter batter

Tonight I donned my cleats and glove for the first time in...it's been too long when I can't even remember the last time I really played softball. And it's probably been 6 years since I've been on the mound even though I can't believe it's really been that long. I love that feeling of being in control, making sure the infield is ready, yelling "2 outs, play's at 1st", taking a breath, releasing the ball...I'm totally in my element. Even in a group of strangers, like tonight, I become like a different person, it's hard to explain. We talked a while ago about how, for athletes, playing sports is the ultimate ice breaker. You don't need small talk or awkward conversations. You really don't even need to know people's names. But you can encourage each other and celebrate and create memories all the same. Of course, for those for whom sports are a dreaded nightmare of embarrassment, it's not such a pleasant situation. But for me, it's where I can shine. It's not even that I'm fantastic, because I never made it to the varsity level in any sport, but I just feel at home on the field, any field (well, not the tennis court). Still...I badly need a trip to the batting cages. Six years is TOO LONG.

Speaking of sports, how freaking awesome are the Olympics!!! I love watching all of it (okay maybe not watching the Chinese take 8 diving golds and both team gymnastic golds). It's such sportsmanship and glory and sheer talent and determination that you only get to see every 4 years. It's beautiful. And Michael Phelps looks like a boat gliding through the water when he does freestyle. He didn't even have to try to win his heat in the IM prelims. And even though they've cost me a lot of good sleep...USA USA USA (I LOVE SOCCER!!!!!!!!) I won't attempt a full blog on that very worthy topic (maybe at some future date...perhaps after a gold medal...), but I will say that I woke up my whole house with a "YES!" when Carli Lloyd knocked in the goal against Japan, and seeing us crush New Zealand was fantastic, even though I managed to miss the setup of 3 of the 4 goals. I have such bad timing for getting coffee, flipping pancakes, etc. But my play-by-play was about a minute ahead of the video feed, so I was prepared for the 4th goal (of course it took me until the 4th goal to figure that out...naturally). Anyways, here's to a rockin' game on Friday.

Tradition...

It's amazing how different I feel after 3 days off work. Technically 5 days since I've had to be at the hospital. I told my classmates, "I miss being a normal person." If I had written any time in the last 4 weeks (and I considered it many times, even drafted one), it would have been depressingly negative. Not that expressing my true feelings isn't important, but you'd rather not hear about that, right? Right.

I am realizing as I get older how much I love and value traditions. Sometimes stupid little things, sometimes great moments of marking times in our lives as monumental.

My dad and I tackled Mt. Elbert today, tallest peak in Colorado. My legs won't thank me tomorrow, but it makes for an impressive addition to my list. When my dad and I climb 14ers, we go to the store the day before to get food for the hike, make our sandwiches, pack our CamelBaks and print out the maps and directions. We get up early and usually have egg sandwiches and coffee, eaten in the car. When we get to the top, we usually start with a picture, a handful of gummi bears (affectionately called "Summit Bears" when hiking), then eat lunch, sign the log, and head back down. The drive back usually involves a stop for coffee (today it was ice cream). It's nice to be able to count on things.

I miss the traditions at Christmas from my grandma's house. Mini pizzas and little sausages, making gross faces at the thought of oyster stew, running around in our church clothes trying not to get them dirty. Trying to stuff about 20 of us in one pew at St. Louis for Christmas Eve Mass. Coming back for ham sandwiches and cheesy potatoes, sneaking some of Aunt Lori's fudge before dessert started, and then scoring a huge piece of mayonnaise cake before the presents were opened, always in order from youngest to oldest. I miss that. In fact, I miss everything about my grandma's house...Pippi Longstocking and the ceiling fan and baseball in the back yard, and the bear in the shed, and Grandpa's grape juice, and Rainbo drinks and too many snacks before bed, and being "punchy." At least I still have those memories to treasure.

I hope I can stay on top of it enough to start my own traditions as life goes on.

For now, Summit Bears will have to do.

Reasons why

I like bulgogi:
-it's fun to say
-it forces everyone to stay at the table
-you get to use chopsticks
-only really special people get invited
-you make it on a special grill that you can only buy in Korea (you know it's authentic when you can't even find it on eBay)
-you don't have to eat for like a whole day afterwards
-it's pretty much the best tasting thing in the whole world

the US WNT rocks my face off:
-Hea-O is super fun to yell
-Natasha Kai's shoes
-"friendlies" are not friendly
-Natasha Kai placing the other team's free kicks
-they redefine "soccer mom"
-Natasha Kai's tattoos
-they're going to bring home GOLD

How do you say "hippie" in Greek?

Smells of home-baked spanokopita wafting through the air along with the sounds of laiko tragoudi (Greek folk music), Greeks and non-Greeks and part-Greeks flocking to take part in a celebration of great culture. Or maybe just to play Break-a-Plate. Opa! Grateful to have the chance to once again partake in the Greek Festival, I donned my "Made in America with Greek Parts" shirt and headed out hoping to score some pastichio and dancing entertainment. Well, despite the claims of the combo plate having said deliciousness, no pastichio was to be found, although I got over it quickly when I had a bite of the gyro. Yum! Opa! So, after lunch, a second round of coins was obtained for beers and desserts. Guess which one I went for. So I'm over in line and barely get a "I'll have a cookie and..." out of my mouth when the lady behind the table freaks out at my shirt. I'm not kidding, this is how the conversation went (slightly abbreviated because blogger might have a word limit on posts...seriously):

Her: "I love your shirt. What are you half Greek?"
Me: (I wish) "No, not quite that." (rather large fib)
Her: "Where did you get it?"
Me: "My sister made it."
"She made it????? (extreme amazement) Does she have any more?"
"No, just for the four girls in my family."
"Can I buy it from you? Seriously."
"Haha (no, you can't buy my homemade shirt from me)."
"Here, show this to (other Greek lady behind the table). Hey, look at this girl's shirt. Isn't that great? Her sister made it."
Next lady behind the table: "How much do you think she'd sell them for?"
Me: "Oh, probably at cost (mostly joking of course)."
"She should sell them here next year. She could make a fortune. How'd she do it?"
"Just a bleach pen. (I explain the very easy process)"
"Yeah, but it looks so perfect. Here, go show Teresa. Her sister made this!"
Teresa: "Oh my gosh! I love that. That's one I actually like. Not like the one that says 'Desperate Greek Wife.'
First lady: "I know, like 'Got Ouzo?' No I don't got ouzo. Or 'Greek by Marriage.' My husband would never wear that."
Teresa: "How do you do it?"
Me: "Just a bleach pen. (I explain the process again.)"
Second lady: "Oh, but that takes a steady hand. We could stencil it."
Teresa: "Yeah, look at how well this year's stencils went (holds up a nice visor stenciled with the Greek flag...I liked it. Not the visor, the stencil). Okay, you have to go over to the calamari stand and ask for Sophie and tell her Teresa said she should see this."

And then I got to finish my order "...and one of the custard." But I obligingly went and showed Sophie the wonder shirt (and explained the bleach pen again). Who knew, Michelle? If you don't pass your boards (you will), you can sell Greek shirts to excitable women.

So then, leaving the Festival, I head over to the Bonfils bus to donate blood, cause I got a call last week that my 8 weeks was up and could I please donate again. An hour later (mostly wait time cause the bus was small...no, I got rid of that blood fast once they got me hooked up--8 minutes 32 seconds) I'm off to ride my bike back home with a red gauze bandage around my arm. After stopping off at my apartment to grab my reusable grocery bag, I once again headed off for the grocery store to get fresh fruit and whole wheat pasta. With my reusable bag. On my bike. After giving blood. In a homemade t-shirt and birkenstocks. I've never felt so much like I belonged in Colorado in my whole life.

A true friend loves at all times

I think that's in the Bible somewhere. If it's not, it should be. I've been struck a lot recently by my increased need for real friends, and thankfully, also by the presence of such friends at the right time.

So, good friends, I had hoped to finally be inspired to wow you with my wit and perspective, but I've gotten very little sleep this week, on top of being sick now for 5 days straight, and having seen very little of anybody besides my team at the hospital. And so hopefully you understand that I'm having a hard time staying upbeat right now. But I know I should try, me being the textbook melancholic choleric and all. So...good things are:

-Friends that are true friends. Enough said.
-I have the whole weekend off for the WNT game. It's like they knew.
-Food is finally starting to sound good again.
-I still have time to read for fun.
-Panera continues to bring good food and good memories.
-I am so looking forward to my new house and roommates, and have even had multiple people offer to help me move.
-Rachelle's coming to visit soon.
-I get to wear scrubs half the time I'm at work (which means tennis shoes. bonus!)
-Reba makes me laugh. Out loud. A lot.
-I maybe think I might know how to sorta read an EKG (that inspires confidence, doesn't it?).

Okay, given all that, like I said, I'm still tired and lonely, and I feel as if much of my life these past several weeks, and for the next several months, consists largely of going to the hospitals, being at the hospitals, and coming home from the hospitals. Not to mention that I doubt I'm done getting sick from those at the hospitals. So, the best thing you can you for me (I'm not trying to be selfish, but this is a little cry for help) is keep checking in on me, call me, email me, and let me know if I can call you up randomly to come hang out (and by "hang out", I probably mean sit on the couch and talk or watch a movie cause I won't feel up to much else). I'll need the social interaction, and I know I won't always think I feel up to it, even if it is what's best. And in return, I promise that this won't last forever, and someday I will go back to being a good friend. Promise.

...I'm on your team and we just scored

Postcard from Edinburgh, Scotland today from my current favorite world traveler, who might be usurped by Mary if she brings me Fatima souvenirs.

In my dream last night, I was awesome at Guitar Hero. Obviously a dream.

Cried laughing quoting Ellen last night. I love it when people think I'm funny.

5 more whole days of having a life. I'm trying to see the bright side.

I scored 9 points in our football game (a girl extra point from 10 yards is worth 3) and mercy-ruled the first team in the playoffs. Championship here we come.

Good things

I spent yesterday in Evergreen, the way a weekend should be spent. Even driving up I-70, I was in such a good mood--evergreens, blue skies, good music, no agenda. The afternoon was filled with Saturday perfection: paddleboats and picnic on the lake, horse-drawn trolley rides, live music x2, monster burgers and greasy fries, and the ever-present Colorado sun.

Funniest thing I've ever done (in recent memory): we were in the Evergreen Lake welcome/wilderness center and across the lake at the rec center, there was a wedding going on, right on the water. The guy in the shop said we could use the bird-watching binoculars to get a closer look. So the three of us stood there watching a hot-pink-clad maid of honor precede the bride and her dad down the aisle, her parents giving her away, etc. We actually probably got a better view than most of the guests. The shop guy said sometimes the groom and best man come in from the lake in a canoe instead of the bride coming down the aisle. Awesome.

I've settled on a house for next year, with two awesome roommates, which is a huge blessing and relief. Indeed, God does provide. If I can only survive the process of moving, since somehow I have once again accumulated more stuff. Once I decide on a moving day, I promise all helpers free lunch.

Football playoffs today...it's raining...oh well.

Brains and Bobas

"From Arapahoe High School, a Creighton University graduate, yes, she is a Bluejay...Ladies and gentleman..." My attending is so weird. That's how he introduced me to present our case at case conference today. He likes to guess the mascots of our patients' schools, but he doesn't phrase it like a question. It goes something like this: "East High School, home of the...Eagles." And then they'll make a face and say, "Noooo." It's hysterical. He took me and the residents out to lunch today, to some local Thai place, where I had the opportunity to try bobas for the first time. Little tapioca balls in the bottom of your drink, made in any variety of flavors (the drink, not the bobas). Basically...disgusting!!! But, I'm glad I tried it. Add it to the list.

One week into neuro, way too much to learn, a few really sick kiddos. But I like it, not as much as I instantly liked psych, but it's growing on me. Check back in three weeks.

From the diary of a health professional

The House was reunited last weekend. Almost. Sr. Susan Francis was there in spirit (and in photo). Thanks to Michelle (and April and Therese) for giving us a very good reason to come back together and celebrate. I would say it's been a long time since I've laughed that hard, but we must not forget Retarded Vegetables at our last sleepover or Mike's antics during Beyond Balderdash. What I can say is it's been a long time since I've been in such an environment that allows me to be completely who I am and just have fun. The 16 hours of car time and complete lack of sleep was totally worth seeing Bre's "Time of the Month Bunny" and retrying the cup trick and comparing freak triangle muscles. And seeing my very own DNA awarded a doctorate, "with Honors." And taking credit for teaching her about antimicrobial-induced hemolytic anemia in glucose-6-phosphate dehydrogenase deficient patients.

In other news, I had my last day of Psychiatry rounds on the Turquoise Team today. Many pastries, desserts, and other goodies were passed around in celebration (any excuse for chocolate cake). I got to share my best and worst moments, which, thankfully were hard to pick due to the paucity of worst and the abundance of best. Sorry, four weeks in psych has me using words like "paucity." I was thinking last night that it can be a very depressing field, if you focus on how messed up some of the kids are, and how you can't fix them completely. On the other hand, we laugh a LOT; you almost have to, but seriously, these kids do some pretty funny things. One schizophrenic boy just started a new med trial, and we're pretty sure he got the med and not the placebo, because he was walking around the unit smiling and saying "I can't stop being happy. It's so WEIRD." We're like, yeah, welcome to normal life. He's the same kid who was watching a movie and all of a sudden told his mom, "I feel like I just ate potato salad." Hmm...gustatory hallucinations. And there are the two day-treatment patients who have crushes on each other and have caused so much drama that the whole milieu is on "Slow Down" for like the 5th time in 7 years. . Every time it comes up, one of the therapists makes an "L" on her forehead because she thinks our patient can do much better than a kid who drinks Benadryl daily to get high. We spend our rounds reviewing things like, "Well, is he at least cute?" Oh, I'm going to miss this kind of entertainment.

P.S. I LOVE The Office, and Bones, and the US WNT and their videos. Yay.

Here's a tip for you...

When you're giving a presentation, try not to kick the outlet and unplug the computer in the middle of it. It tends to disrupt the flow.

Saturday morning post

Buckle in, this is going to be random:

Yesterday, one of the therapists on the wards said, "Laura, please tell me you're going into psychiatry. You're so good at it." Totally made my day. Although on Thursday, one of our patients had pink eye, and the attending is all staring at it from five feet away going, "I think it's a stye" and I'm like "I want to touch it so bad." So I got some gloves, poked, prodded, and promptly diagnosed her with pink eye, sent her to her PCP and she got some antibiotic ointment and came back clear as a whistle the next day. So yeah, psychiatry is nice, but I guess not hands-on enough for me. And it's hard, to see kid after kid come in with suicide attempts. I'm not saying it's easier to treat kid after kid with chronic kidney disease or cancer, but...at least we've seen some kids get better. For every new admit, we've had a discharge, and it's fun to see them getting better.

Last weekend, we beat the 2-time-defending-league-champion football team, including their foul-mouthed receiver that made me think violent thoughts. I threw the first touchdown pass, cause it was a girl play (every 4th play), though it was a floater, and only not intercepted due to Andy's mad hops. Oh man, it was fun.

Finally rented Juno last night. I know everyone said it was hysterical, but maybe all the lines had already been revealed or maybe I'm just too deep for light fun, but I found myself more appreciating the drama of it than the humor (although the "nasty eye" was classic). The tragedy of teenage pregnancy and prevalence of abortion, the miracle of new life, the heartache of divorce, the support of a family--those were the things that touched me. Although the image of drinking one's weight in Sunny D was certainly poignant as well. Maybe I'm just a sap. Although I can hear Kelly watching it this morning, and it's a little more funny. Maybe it was just my mood.

Saw "A Man For All Seasons" at the seminary last weekend. So high quality. Just witty dialogue, powerful story, men in tights. Fantastic.

Bones and Women's Murder Club are back, and my addiction to The Office has been fueled by cranking through Seasons 1 and 2 in two weeks (good thing I'm on my psych rotation and not surgery). So good.

Our hidden capes

"I want to dedicate this award to my son, who has been wearing a Superman costume for the past 47 days."
"Yay Supermommy!" The 4-year-old yells from the back. We all laugh.
"Every day he asks me to tell him stories of people who need 'Help, help!'" More laughs. "Lots of people told him that they liked his cape when they came in, but the truth is that we all wear capes underneath our coats."

It's daunting. Knowing that in 3 days, I will become my patient's biggest advocate, the member of their health care team that sees them the most, knows the most about them. No matter how much we remind them that we are still only students, we become "Doc" to them. We will become, in a very real sense, heroes. Heroes who have to break the news of cancer to a man with 4 small children at home. Heroes who get to assist on emergency surgery to save someone's life. Heroes who bring their patients ice cream sandwiches, and who understand what it's like to be in an unfamiliar environment, with everyone speaking a language you don't understand, not knowing what will happen to you. It's daunting. And it's thrilling. I am about to embark on a journey that will teach me more and push me more than I would have ever dreamed. I will have the opportunity to touch people in their most vulnerable moments, to see real healing. It's a calling that has few equals in this world, and I don't say that out of arrogance, because I question every day whether I have what it takes, and why God brought me here. I say it out of reverence and awe for the things I know I will experience in my career, for the gift of being a physician. I hope that I will be able to share some of it with all of you, but the longer I'm in this field, the more I realize how hard it is for outsiders to understand the great responsibility we hold, the gravity of our decisions, the toll it takes on us, but how we wouldn't trade it for anything. (Again, I say that not out of arrogance, but awe.)

The resident (Supermommy) closed by thanking the students she'd had the chance to work with, commenting that many times she found her patients' rooms empty when she went looking for them. The students had taken their patients for a walk around the hospital. "And as they walked," she said, "I could just see a flash of red underneath their short white coats."

Brian Larkin Sunday

Hazzah for a near perfect Sunday. Started with a low key morning with the comics, followed by a near perfect football game (except for the extra point I dropped because my hair was in my eyes) in which we mercy-ruled the other team and posted a shut-out. Our defense was so on. That alone would have been a day-maker. But then I got to spend the rest of the day enjoying the beautiful sunshine at Wash Park playing volleyball. And now I am just killing time until school starts tomorrow, might read a book or watch a movie.

My roommate and I were just talking about how we're so excited to take a giant step towards becoming normal people. Not sure if that needs clarification. See, when all you do is study all the time, not only are you a hermit, but when you do show your face in social situations, you don't have anything to talk about except what you studied that day, and any mention of virtually anything just triggers a dozen word-associations to medical terms and conditions. But now, as third years, our studying will consist of interacting with real people, not books (at least not solely books), and when we get off work (granted, that won't happen very often), we are done. No longer hermits, just workaholics, but at least we'll now have something to talk about, because sick people (especially sick people in the psych ward, which is our first rotation) are always interesting.

I don't know if this holds any weight, but I read "90 Minutes of Heaven" and his description of heaven is exactly how I pictured it. Constant joy, surrounded by people we love who have been a part of our spiritual journey, not given the chance to miss anything about earth because all we're experiencing is perfection. A decent read, if you get a chance.

RedBox Recommendations--Dan in Real Life. Pretty funny and totally real people and real conversations. "You are a MURDERER of love!!!!!" Hahaha.

True Devotion

"a lady called to me, so blessed, so lovely
that I implored to serve at her command." (Canto II-Inferno)

Ignoring for a moment my nerdiness at reading the Divine Comedy during my week off...
I was really struck by this line; although Virgil is describing Beatrice, I thought it appropriate for Mary as well. It falls right in line with "True Devotion" where St. Louis says that slavery to Mary is not something we are forced to do, but something we gladly submit ourselves to out of love. I didn't quite understand that. Serving someone out of love, yes. Slavery? Not so much. But this quote made me think of people that I love and how, if they were sick or in need, I would ask how I could serve them. Then go exponentially beyond that both in love and in worthiness of the person I'm serving, and I can see where slavery might be a privilege. Granted, it's still hard for me to picture Mary in my head, the crown jewel of creation. It's beyond me, but if I picture the most blessed, lovely woman, and then push it even further, how could I not implore to serve her, especially when her command is "Do whatever He tells you." Gives me something to think about the next time I do my Total Consecration.

Step 1...Check

I know I've probably told some of you this, but I am just still in awe of how smoothly these last four weeks have gone. Touted as the worst weeks of medical school by my predecessors, I have to say I was essentially dreading my time studying for and taking the boards. But I know that all of your prayers must have been working, because I was somehow able to stay focused and get through it without too much of a struggle. I mean, of course I would have rather been outside playing frisbee or going to happy hour or watching movies or just about anything else, but with four weeks of no one keeping tabs on me, it's still hard to believe that I sat down and studied every day, kept on schedule, and managed to get through everything. I know that many graces were keeping me from freaking out or blowing it off or getting depressed or having panic attacks (at least too much). So I wanted to thank you for your prayers and say that they truly worked. Now, the whole matter of grading will take six weeks to decide, but honestly, I was more worried with making it through the studying than the test. So thanks.

High: I got to catch up with an old high school teacher and coach today, one of the few who probably even remembers me. It was just a highlight of my day, I think also because I could tell he was proud of me and what I was doing.

RedBox recommendations (movies I've rented and liked recently): The Jane Austen Book Club, No Reservations

Good song: What If You Stay-Chuck Wicks

God's will

Tonight on Total Axxess, Wally was doing his Monday School, talking about how the verse "Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path" was literally talking about small candle-like lamps that attached on the front of sandals for walking at night (note: the truth of this historical fact has not been verified by me. who cares). So instead of today, where we can see a whole city block with one street lamp, road-weary travelers circa 1000 BC could see just the dirt in front of their feet, far enough to take the next step. That's as far as most of us can see of God's will for our lives, just enough for the next step. God sees the whole road, all the obstacles and crevices and raging streams with rickety bridges, and He knows we would bow out if we could see all that too. So we put one foot in front of the other, praying not to know the Master plan, but to know enough that we stay on the right path, wherever that may lead. And we know that looking back, we can see God's handiwork all over our lives, His plan intricately woven for each one of us. That where we are now is only possible because of how we've come, and Who has been leading us.

Blessings.

(Wally gets the credit for this, I just wanted to share)

Thoughts to ponder

I'm studying pysch/neuro today, and standard treatment for specific phobias is gradual exposure. Not only am I opposed to this when it comes to my own fear of spiders (I don't care how successful it is), but I'm wondering at the wisdom of this technique when dealing with a gamophobe (someone afraid of marriage)...hmmm. Perhaps not.

Although sometimes we lament sticking our feet in our mouth--"What I should have said was nothing...What I said was (fill in the blank)"--it certainly is hysterical when other people do it. I have never heard Laura B. laugh so hard.

However small, the thermic effect of food is very real. Good Friday, I found myself huddled next to the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, not having the energy to do much except lay down and study. I began to appreciate how difficult it would be to truly be starving, and to lack the energy to do anything about it. Needless to say I was very glad when the day was over. Though perhaps not as glad as my neighbor, who was planning a breakfast of chocolate-chip cookies the next morning.

It's finally spring. I wore my birks yesterday, all day. Woohoo.

Seeing people I know at daily Mass is one of my favorite blessings. Especially today as we all stood in line for confession, "Consecration" in hand, smiling at each other knowingly. For as much as I enjoy daily Mass, it sure is too rare an occasion.

I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels as if life will seem better when I (fill in the blank: get married, have kids, become a doctor, buy a house), but I'm more than open to suggestions of how to get the most out of life now. Sort of in that vein, I'm tentatively planning trips during fourth year to Peru (for an elective, hopefully), to Vancouver for the Olympics, and one other one that I am suddenly blanking out on...oh, I think the Grand Canyon, or maybe another good backpacking trip. Travel buddies welcome.

Alright, kids, back to studying. For me, not for you.

Hear the bells ringing

He is risen (Christos anesti), Alleluia!

Happy Easter!

Why lamaze classes actually are important

Top o' the morning (afternoon) to you! Just had a hilarious story that I heard last night that I had to share with you. So, when my mom was pregnant with Michelle and me, we tried to come out very early, as is common with twins, especially ones as big as we were. We were so rarin' to go that my parents only got one Lamaze class in before she was ordered to bed-rest to try to delay labor as long as possible, so we could continue developing. (Apparently one class isn't enough...) By the time she actually went into labor several weeks later, her muscles had all wasted away from inactivity, including any muscles she would have used in delivery, so when the doctor said, "Push!" she had a nurse on either side, literally pushing on her huge belly to get us out. Well, my dad, this being the first delivery he had seen, didn't think anything of it until four years later, come Mary's time to be born. This time, my mom still had plenty of muscles to use, so she didn't need extra help. However my dad thought that since no nurses were present, when the time came to "Push!" my mom was going to put her own hands on her stomach and "push" Mary out. Thankfully, mom had enough common sense to do it the right way, and Mary came out just fine on her own. Note to all those having twins...start Lamaze classes early just in case.

Becoming a healer, part 1

While I maintain that my desire to become a doctor didn't take hold until my sophomore year of college, I find a few memories of my childhood that betray my innate desire for healing others. I remember our Fisher Price doctor's kits, in the black faux-leather bag with the interlocking plastic handles. The stethoscope that actually did work somewhat aas an amplifier, but not enough to really hear heart sounds, which was of course a disappointment. I think there's something captivating about uncovering the mysteries of the human body that even a five-year-old could have appreciated if given a real stethoscope. I was also disappointed to find that the thermometer didn't actually give a temperature reading, but merely had a red line that gradually turned to show "fever" and if you kept turning, would return to normal. The greatest addition to our kits was the Ace bandage that showed up probably soon after we started playing soccer (and therefore would have probably "needed" it frequently). This was such a great replacement for the plastic band-aids and casts that were hardly convincing, and I remember we would spend hours wrapping and re-wrapping each-other's wrists and ankles, pretending that we were truly injured and in need of a doctor's touch. I remember one time Michelle got wrapped up and limped around the house, fooling my parents into thinking she had really hurt herself. Perhaps this was the "cry wolf" that made them not believe her years later when she shattered her tibia and my mom told her to "Get up and walk on it." I think even then, the Ace bandage provided us with an outlet for what I think is one of the most basic human instincts: to love each other. In a very simple, playful way, we were taking care of each other, trying to prove our ability to heal part of someone's life. That's what excites me even now about being a doctor. I think the desire to love is one of two yearnings burned into us at the moment of our creation, the other being a longing for Truth. Too bad there are no Fisher Price kits to help us out with this one.

My brain is fried

Two and a half days in and I already want to scream. I'm not surprised, just hoping that I get a little energy here to plow through the last 350 practice questions that I just did to see why I got so many wrong. I'm slightly more confidant that I can actually get through these four weeks than I was a few days ago, but I now know that there is way too much information for me to learn...in pharmacology alone. I'm screwed. Oh boy. All I really want to do is go outside and sit on the grass with a big piece of caramel cake and read the rest of Dr. Sri's book, which is fantastic by the way. At least at Marian group last night, I got to unload a bit, though not completely; that would have taken far too long, and I'm not sure anyone deserves that kind of punishment. Also, if I keep writing, I think I'll get more sarcastic and bitter about the fact that I have to study, so I'll leave off. Hasta.

Ojos asi

So I was listening to Shakira while working out today, and I decided that upbeat music with words I can't understand is a pretty good combination for pumping me up without distracting me. Makes up for the chocolate cake I had in class today (I can't help myself). By the way, in case you were wondering, that class was the last class that I will ever have (minus some competency-type stuff between rotations). A-woo-hoo.

Red carpet nonsense and something to truly celebrate

I'm gonna go ahead and say that this was a pathetic Oscar year, and I'm going to base that very sophisticated and I'm sure valued decision on the fact that I have seen none of the winning films (save The Bourne Ultimatum which won for sound and editing). It's not that mere fact that I didn't see any of the films, but more the fact that I had virtually no desire to (besides Juno and perhaps Michael Clayton) and the movies that won were even decried by the Vatican as showing America as a "hopeless" society. What happened to truly good movies? We can be artistic and talented and moving without being morbid and shocking and rated R. At least I think we can. I'll take a line from Bob Halligan at this point and say I'll stick with my own.

Side note--gorgeous day out. Got to walk around at Wash Park, which, let's be honest, makes any day better. A piece of mine was selected for publication in our school's literary journal, which I think I've already shared with most people who would care, but the reason I'm proud is not so much that I was selected, but that I had the guts to submit in the first place, because I've always wanted to do that kind of thing and never felt I had anything good enough to show. And I have the most wonderful friends in the whole world. Friends that make me smile, let me cry, share a meal, or a walk, or a phone call, or even a memory. Friends that can turn a day around just because. Friends that make life worthwhile. So thanks to all of you, because if you're wondering if it applies to you, it probably does. You rock.

The Child in Me

So I've been looking forward all spring to our "Pediatrics" curriculum. I should put the "curriculum" in quotes because I hardly think that 5 1/2 hours plus one physical exam session should count as a curriculum. I mean, we have spent almost as much time talking about hand-washing and proper precautions to take against infection in the hospital (not including sterile OR technique). Not joking. However, that minor disappointment aside, I will say that the hours we have had have been great. Though many of my classmates thought our two hours on theroies of development were a waste of time, I was engrossed and entertained. Kids are so cute! You know, like when they're learning object permanence and will play peek-a-boo for hours because they are so entertained that you disappear and then reappear over and over and over.

We got to have several kids come in for physical exams (a toned-down version of what I do at preceptor every week) and I got to see an 8 1/2 year old boy who was an Irish step dancer, figure skater, piano and snare drum player, and in the choir. I felt so untalented. His younger brother had us building bridges with ear speculums and tongue depressors and all-together wrapped around his finger. So cute. I can't wait to see kids everyday (I mean as patients, not just like on the street). Just wanted to share my excitement, though nothing I write could probably adequately express my feelings. YAY! That's as hard as I'm going to try.

Just Mustard

I walked by the hot dog stand outside the VA today and wondered to myself what the vendor's reaction would be if I ordered "the usual." I laughed to myself. But then I was sad because if I had to order, I'd have to say, "Mustard. Coke." and I don't like mustard. So there goes that idea.

New life

I got to help welcome a new member into Christ's family yesterday. One of the most beautiful baptisms I've ever witnessed, because it truly was a celebration of new life. A soul was claimed for the Kingdom, and there was truly much rejoicing (yay). Children of all ages gathered 'round the font as Fr. Pat plunged the tiny baby into the water in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The choir burst into a chorus of Alleluias as he held her up for all of us to see. And then the community stood and welcomed our newest member. I only cringed because I knew that all those hands touching her face as she toured the sanctuary were riddled with germs that she didn't have immunity to yet. But it was only a passing thought. Mostly I was filled with tears of joy (which thankfully kept their place). I love experiences that make me so grateful to be Catholic, to be able to experience the fullness of truth, the beauty of the sacraments, and the union of the Church. I'm hoping, too, that as we start Lent, and I renew my consecration, my heart may be gently led towards conversion and held firmly in peace (since I know that the rest of my world will be crazy). May you find those same blessings this season.

Living and learning

Aw, Susan totally went and showed me up by posting twice in the last few days, so I'm not feeling quite as creative and witty as I sometimes do. But neither am I tired, so I'll tell you a few things about my trip to California anyways.

I cannot describe how much I love little shops and brick streets and pastries in the window and Italian restaurants whose names and menus are actually in Italian, nor can I articulate what it is about all of it that I love. I think it speaks of a simpler time, when attention was paid to the details, to sitting down and really sharing a meal, instead of just eating; when passers-by knew each other by name; when we weren't constantly running from one thing to the next and had time to swing in for a cup of coffee or a glance around the art gallery. Not that my life has ever been like that, but I have this distant dream that it might be someday, and I often spend my mental wanderings living such a life. But I'm starting to realize that I'll never actually live on a vineyard in Tuscany, and if I did, I'd have to worry about the huge insects and not knowing Italian and being far away from family and sinks that drip constantly. But I can take those moments in every day that remind me to slow down and appreciate life, to savor each breath, and to not let people look down on me for my somewhat disproportionate excitement at seeing cannoli and autographed pictures of Mia Hamm, dog bowls on each doorstep and the mesmerizing waves crashing against the beach, seals playing on the docks and vintage American memorabilia.

I also have un-ruled-out academic medicine from my career path. There's a lot to be learned from current research and those who are passionate about it. Like nanotechnology with the capability of delivering cancer drugs with an exponentially increased efficiency. Or something as simple as the rising incidence of sports injuries or accidental deaths from the "choking game." I learned that I really do know a lot about autism, but only because as a whole, there's still a lot we don't know. And I learned that there's always more to learn. There's a reason I didn't balk at 7+ years of medical education: I like learning. All of you out there who think research needs to be done at a bench with a microscope should take heart. I did. There might be academic medicine in my future yet.

The Great Adventure

I realized that I miss writing. Even if it's not something I'm particularly good at, I enjoy it, and I think I'm going to try to do more of it, even if it is just journaling and blogging.

This afternoon, during free time on our retreat, we headed out to the frozen pond, where the boys had played hockey earlier in the week. We were content to slide around in our shoes, although I'm proud to say that my shoes were by far the slickest, and I did win the contest to see how far we could slide after being slingshotted (is that a word?) across the ice. I also managed to fall unintentionally far more than anyone else, though maybe that has little to do with my slippery shoes. We were joined on the ice by Petrus, a Bernese mountain dog who lives at St. Malo, wanders the grounds without a collar (though has to be locked up during Mass or I'm told he's quite disruptive), and plays a mean game of tug-o-war. After our ice time, we hiked the John Paul II Trail, so named because the late pope hiked that path during his retreat to St. Malo during his stay in Colorado for WYD 1993 (btw, we held our meetings in the room he stayed in, and it was awesome to reflect on the amazing man that he was and how much he affected our whole generation, as well as each of us individually). Petrus led the way, stopping occasionally to make sure we were following him, using the break to veer from the trail to eat fresh snow. On the way back, he bounded ahead of us like a little puppy, stick in his mouth, begging us to chase him. Of course we obliged.

There were many other great moments this weekend, laughing hysterically at meals to stories of sleep-walking and marathons ("Tell the girls downtown..."), learning about the start of Marian groups in Denver, hiding in laundry hampers and scaring the crap out of Rachelle and Laura...you know, the usual stuff.

We also had plenty of time for prayer, sharing, reflection, and learning about ourselves and each other. I don't know that I made concrete steps in any direction this weekend, at least as far as my faith goes, but I know that God just wants me to stop worrying and love Him, because in the end, that's the only thing that matters, and nothing I can do is big enough to screw up His plans if He doesn't want it to. So I rest knowing that I am surrounded by holy, loving, funny, profound women of Christ and that I am never alone in my walk with Him.

A sad commentary

I wasn't expecting great moral theology to come from today's lecture on sexual dysfunction, don't get me wrong. But I certainly was dealt a blow when our lecturer said, and I quote to the best of my memory, "The whole point of sex is to use each other for your own pleasure." What? Yup, that's what he said. Reiterated it a few times just in case we missed it, too. And here I thought the whole purpose of sex was to so give of yourself as to become one and to share in the procreative work of the Creator. I was just disgusted and saddened, especially after the Life-Giving Freedom conference last weekend. Not only was it ignoring the truth that man can only be found in a sincere gift of himself (GS), but it was the complete opposite. I don't think it's any wonder that we are coming up on 35 years of legal abortion in our country, that divorce rates are so high, that so many children grow up with single parents, and that so many people are still so unhappy. It's because our society (and apparently our doctors!) tell us that other people are there for us to use for our own pleasure. Which inevitably permits other people to use us for their purposes. Twisted. I can't imagine anyone sits around thinking, "You know, I'd rather be used as an object than loved as a subject." But that's what our world tells us to settle for. You guys, we've got a long way to go in spreading the GOOD news. I just hope we're strong enough and convincing enough to do it.

Today's Secret Ingredient...

I've discovered I'm not the only one who can be put in a good mood by eating of sushi. Spur of the moment (for me) trip to Japon for Ann's birthday tonight. Nothing quite like edamame and avocado to put a smile on your face. I think there were 15 of us girls crammed back there in the red room, wielding chopsticks like nobody's business. I think the highlight of the night (besides the amazing cake that Ann--not the birthday girl--made--holy cow was that amazing!) was the quail egg tasting. It started as more of a joke, but I'll take any chance to feel like I'm on Iron Chef America. On 3, pour it on your caterpillar roll and try to stuff it in your mouth without 1) breaking the yolk or 2) letting it roll off the side onto the floor. It's so much fun checking things off my list of things to do before I die, especially things that I never knew were on the list. I'm still not quite ready for caviar. One step at a time.

The other real highlight was just being among so many wonderful Catholic women, a frequent occurrence for me in Denver. When Ann--again, not the birthday girl--gave the toast, I almost cried. Yay for those kinds of friends. The kind that you know you will keep even if they do decide to move to Kansas City. :)

NEW and exciting!

So today was the first day back to class. A big deal. New campus, new library, new lecture halls (so new they weren't ready, so we had to change location), new light switches (with plates that fall off when touched), new water bottles for all of us (complete with Tootsie Rolls and pedometers to walk it off--I'm not even to 3,000 steps and it's 7:30...I think I maybe shouldn't have eaten the Tootsie Rolls), and a news crew to document the whole thing. But we've since failed to find any news with us on it. I like the new campus. Got in a full 8 hour day and still home for dinner. And still can't get any work done at my apartment, which is why it's good that I stayed on campus.

Also in exciting news--I have 3 friends that are expecting babies this year! Woohoo. I'm super excited to see new little babies! Of course, 2 live out of state, so I'm super excited to see new little baby! Nonetheless, it's awesome.

And hooray for a super exciting FOCUS conference that I'm missing. There's are definitely a handful of talks and Third Day concerts I wouldn't have minded going to. But alas, no rest for the future doctors of America.