White Coat Reflections

I slipped on the way to the White Coat Ceremony.  Luckily, I caught myself.  With my hands.  So my rear end was sticking up in the air a la Nicki Minaj in her latest video.  I was in a pencil skirt and a white button-down blouse.  It was all very professional, I assure you, although I hate to use the word professional considering my position.  It just so happens that my ironed white coat was also in my hands at the time, and before you ask, yes there were witnesses.  There's a lot of construction on campus (the pretty views make up for the dust) and I was rushing through some sort of red construction sand.  For those of you ready to hate on me, I was in ballet flats although I did want to wear the heels!

I was dismayed that the state of my white coat was . . . less white.  Thankfully, I was able to dust off the coat, return to standing on two legs and proceed with what little dignity I had left.  To compound problems, I was wearing make-up in 1000 degree weather with accompanying island humidity.  As I got to the venue in an all-out dripping sweat, I started fanning myself with my name-card and tried not to lick the sweat starting to run over my upper lip.  I felt a bit like a chocolate fondue fountain at this point, but I persisted.

I was rewarded with a surprisingly upbeat and uplifting ceremony.  The Master of Ceremony (oncologist) was a successful SGU graduate as was the speaker (rheumatologist) who reminded me of why I chose this path, to be able to alleviate suffering in some small way.  Both the MC and the keynote mentioned the importance of truly connecting with patients so that they trust you to take care of them.  The speaker recommended keeping a "Sunshine Folder" with a collection of cards, letters and pictures of and from patients to remind us of why we do what we do, because despite our every effort there will be poor outcomes.  I learned that there are 2 things that make a great doctor:  curiosity and never giving less than your very best.  I hope, when I actually start practicing medicine, both can be said of me.

I took an oath there.  I promised to work alongside my colleagues with tolerance, compassion and honesty and that my interests would be subservient to those who seek my assistance.  I promised to conduct myself with integrity and do all within my power to show in myself an example of all that is honorable and good throughout my medical career.  Lastly, I acknowledged my obligation to pursue knowledge and understanding until that day when I will cease to be a practicing physician (excerpts from the Professional Commitment written by the Student Ethics Task Force and Alexander P. Ross).  I cried and couldn't speak through parts of the oath.  I had to pull myself together and finish saying the words.  Truthfully, I don't know if I can live up to this standard, but I'm going to give it a try.

Despite a "rocky" start, I'm really glad I went and was reminded of why I'm here.

I Heart NY

I was ecstatic to return to NYC this summer and to return with family.  My sister suggested we travel there for Misty Copeland's debut in American Ballet Theater's Swan Lake at the Metropolitan Opera House and I thought it was a fantastic idea.  My mother and brother agreed to tag along and we had a mini family reunion where it all began.

Going back to The City (Manhattan) after so many years to find that in small ways and large ways it had changed somewhat surprised me.  It was like meeting up with an old friend to find that they've changed and you now have to get reacquainted.  So without further ado here are the top ten things I love, which may or may not have changed, about NYC:

1)  THE FOOD.
2)  THE FOOD.
3)  THE FOOD.  That being said, I was so very sad not to have had a slice of pizza, a shish kabob or a hot dog off the street.  I mean, the whole not having street food while in NYC is a complete travesty in my opinion and I count this as one of my biggest life regrets along with not becoming a ballerina like Misty and owning crocs.  Even though my favorite city street food was present, it had changed to include

Indian Food Cart (think samosas).

Really cool Food Trucks that offered Halal and Kosher food.

And healthy stuff-Who has a smoothie food truck?!

Lemme tell you something, if there was a Indian food truck that served samosas anywhere within a 30 mile radius of me, I would eat nothing else and be totally happy with both my diet and life in general.

4)  Number four is something I love to hate about NYC and that is yellow taxis, which still happen to be everywhere, making your travel time approximately two and a half hours longer than you anticipated.

But what's changed here is the addition of Uber and Lyft drivers.  Now there are number of shiny black vehicles also clogging city streets, so go ahead and add another half hour to your commute making it an even three.  The good news is that Uber drivers are just as entertaining as yellow cab drivers, maybe even more so because they are a younger, hipper crowd.  One Hispanic young man was regaling us with stories of his passengers the night before who happened to have a physical altercation in the backseat and ended up spilling wine all over the interior of his car.  The moral of his story was that New York City gets "turnt up!!"  His words, not mine.

5)  Beautiful people.  I always feel like a tourist when I stare at people with my mouth hanging open, but NYC has that effect on me.  I don't know if it's because NYC is a melting pot and mixed races make exotically beautiful people or because NYC is so diverse and non-mixed races also make for exotically beautiful people.  Listen, at least I don't drool at them.

6)  Scaffolding.  At any given time in The City, half the buildings are under some sort of construction/renovation.  To avoid disrupting sidewalk traffic, a certain type of scaffolding is built that people can walk under.  It's as pervasive as cockroaches.  Well, maybe not that bad . . . yet.  I was happy to find that the city is still undergoing its permanent facelift.

7)  Creativity.  The level of creativity in everything from the things people wear to amazing street art makes the city feel entirely unique.

In front of a graffiti wall in NYC.

Love this logo above the street.

8)  The Culture and the Sub-Culture.  I had never been to the Metropolitan Opera House before and I loved my experience there.  I felt so Dynasty (think Linda Evans with shoulderpads).  "Excuse me usher, could you send our champagne and caviar over immediately?"  Just kidding, you can't eat or drink in there, and just so you know a mini water bottle at intermission will cost you your first-born child.  I had to wash dishes.

That's the thing about New York, it's so very gritty but still so sophisticated.  The amazing museums (Museum of Natural History), the galleries (Guggenheim) and Broadway are wonderful attractions I feel everyone should experience at least once in their life.  Contrast that with the projects, the subway and the homeless problem means it's a city that keeps it real and keeps you grounded.

9)  Street Salespeople.  You can get anything from a faux gucci watch to cheap tourist paraphernalia on the streets of New York.  Whadaya need?  Latest pirated DVD?  Check.  NYC Skyline postcard?  Check.  Bob Marley T-Shirt?  Check.  Incense?  Check.  If you need something in The City, just go for a walk and I have no doubt your needs will be met.  Specifically, I would suggest Canal Street for that walk.

10)  Living on the edge.  By living on the edge I mean street grating.

Although there is no logical reason to feel like I will plunge to my death onto a subway track or the subway train itself when I walk over these, I can't help the twinge of fear and doubt I experience as I wonder if this is the day that the grating will yield me to the lower (and homicidal) depths of The City.  So if you're a thrill seeker in New York City, go for a walk.  You never know.  "They all float down here."

11)  Did I mention THE FOOD?!  Amaze-balls, awesomesauce, delish and life-changing.

All in all, I still love The City.  The changes were mostly cosmetic so I found my crazy, hyper, chaotic and crowded city to be just as I had left her in all things that truly mattered, and it was like coming home.

Movie Buddies

My movie buddy skipped town.  Okay, so my movie buddy was my mom and she had to go back to working her full-time job after a 3 month vacation during which we saw Oblivion, Iron Man 3 and Olympus Has Fallen among others.  So I kinda blame my mother for sending me into a tailspin of the dreaded "Single Blues".  Don't get me wrong, I'm really comfortable being single these days and am okay with the idea that I might always be.  To be honest, it usually bothers other people much more than it bothers me that I'm 36 and single.  I feel like I have finally come into my own and I like not having to answer to anyone.  I enjoy my freedom and independence.  When I think about what a man can do for me, I'm pretty sure whatever that is, I can do it for myself and ten times better.  Nevertheless, this does not solve the movie buddy problem.

The second runner up as a movie buddy, my sister, is really busy taking over the world with her 10 25 32 kids.  Alright, alright, it just seems like 32.  Third runner ups are the girlfriends, the one getting her doctorate at Duke University (always studying), the newly pregnant (too sick) and the recent graduate (crazy as a junebug).  Seriously, the newly pregnant and I have been trying to set up a get-together for a month now.  Maybe I smell.

So to solve my movie buddy woes I signed up on the website www.blackpeoplemeet.com.  You know,  to meet new people, socialize, yada yada.  I thought it would be a great venue to get myself out there and I could simultaneously screen individuals that had the potential to be, or the qualities of a great movie buddy.  Now, I know that profile pictures are a land mine of sorts, and I hope you don't think I'm too selective by generally sticking to these rules:  first, if you have a doorag on, or a wifebeater on, or both--I'm sorry, it's just not going to work out between us.  Second, if you have reflective sunglasses on a la TOP GUN, I am not thinking how cool you are, I am thinking "What are you hiding?" or "Who are you hiding from?"  I guess you could turn out to be The Phantom of the Opera like the incomparable Gerard Butler, but I'm betting it's more like Quasimodo under there.  Third, if you state in your profile "To know me is to love me-believe dat," then maybe you need an ESL course because the last time I checked, DAT is the dental school entrance exam.  Lastly, if your thumbnail/username is BIGWILLY plus some number (meaning, unfortunately, that there is more than one BIGWILLY) or MACKTHEMAN, I think our priorities are different and we should go our separate ways.  Basically what I'm trying to say is fifteen dollars later, I'm back at square one.  I could have seen 2 matinees for that price-sheesh!

Well, lucky for me, I'm great company and I will just have to take myself to see the new Star Trek.

Losing Myself

   I just watched Christiane Amanpour interview the head of UNICEF Anthony Lake about the refugees from the Syrian civil war.  The piece was entitled "Syria's children search for hope and a place to live".  Listen, I know I sit in air conditioned rooms both at home and at work and even drive a car that's air conditioned so I don't have to be hot or cold while I'm en route to those places.  I know I eat too much and can have dessert anytime I want to.  I can buy clothes and shoes and I live in a country where I feel my opinion matters.  I know I have been blessed with a overabundance of resources although you may hear me complain about the lack of them when I start to feel entitled, but lemme tell you something, nothing breaks my heart more than to hear of children anywhere without food, without a home, or without someone to love them.  I have such a low tolerance for the suffering of children.  I look at my adorable niece and nephews and of course I want to strangle them sometimes when they ak like they got no sense but I love them dearly and I know they are cared for by others who also love them very deeply.  I can't stand to think of a flood of children escaping the horrors of war with no one there to meet their needs.  Halloween is just around the corner and we scare ourselves just for entertainment here but to these children, life itself is frightening and uncertain.

   And here I sit.

   I have a beautiful cousin who's my age and she's an activist in every sense of the word.  She has been known to ask others "What are you doing to fight injustice?"  If you're like me, when you hear this question you stare dumbfounded into the air and think "Uh, I dunno.  Nothing, I guess."  I mean, I have a hard time making it through the week sometimes.  A hard time?  Really?  The truth is I don't know the first thing about a hard time.  The other truth is that I want to make a difference but sometimes become overwhelmed trying to figure out how to do that, exactly.  I don't want to throw my few pennies at a worthy cause to show I'm willing to help (outside of the Obama campaign, that is).  So what do I do?  I have a friend from high school that became a fundraiser for an organization called Mothers without Borders maybe I should start there, but I have a day job.  How much can I possibly do?

   Let's talk about my day job.  I'm on day 3 of working for The Man.  Sure I get paid a decent wage and sure I get to use my chemistry degree, which I like because I get to think, but I looked into this worldwide company that had the good sense to hire me and I found out that it's an old German company that started out making dyes through a special chemical process.  I also found out that the company eventually provided the lethal gas used by Nazi Germany to kill Jews in concentration camps.  I was shocked.  I'm still shocked.  I knew I was working for THE MAN, but how morally outraged can I be if I stay?  Have I officially sold out?  Am I losing myself, you know, the part of me that knows what's right and good and humane.  I am left wondering about my own humanity and wondering if I really am this person and if so, when did she become me?

   I'm not sure it's enough to tell myself one day I'll become a doctor (applying to Ben Gurion next year . . . AGAIN) and I'll work in those refugee camps and I'll love all the little kids that come my way.  I'll tell you why it's not enough, because in the meantime I'm not so sure who I'm becoming.  Have I really become a person who works for those who contributed to genocide?  Have I really become a person who knows there are children in danger and in need, but lays her head on her pillow every night in her queen-sized bed in a temperature controlled room doing nothing?  I'm not sure I want to be that person.  I'm pretty sure I need to hop on the road to finding myself.  I'm 36 and it's really about time I started making a difference where it matters most to me as a person.  This post is an appeal to my own humanity and I guess, in the event that I find something spectacular-which is what I hope I'll find, I'll keep you posted.

   "He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it."
                                                   -Matthew 10:39

Vice Grip

I've been lazy about laundry.  I have two pairs of pants I wear to work.  Actually I have one pair of black slacks and a pair of jeans.  I'm currently working in a biological lab, so my legs have to be covered due to hazardous chemicals and the potential to be infected by blood borne pathogens.  Please don't even ask about the safety training-I'm surprised I don't have to come to work in a Hazmat suit (and I thought wearing pants during the summer in North Carolina was torture!).  I realize this makes my job sound adventurous, but just do me a favor and shake that Indiana Jones theme song right out of your head for now (but feel free to resume if something exciting really does happen).

Back to my dirty pants, by the end of the week my pants can usually go a couple of rounds with Manny Pacquiao by themselves.  It just so happens that this weekend I was too busy being lazy by the pool and hanging out with my cool nephews to do laundry so those pants just sat there and, well, festered.  So yesterday I wore the slacks and hoped bystanders couldn't smell me coming.  Today I just couldn't, in all consciousness, subject the public to my rank jeans.  A note on my jeans, the back pockets are bedazzled.  Don't laugh.  I know I'm 35, but some well placed rhinestones/sequins never really go out of style.  If you're dialing the Fashion Police as you read this, put the phone down and hear me out here.  I wore holes in my other jeans and my bedazzled pair were only $20 at Ross Dress for Less.  I'd bet you'd commit fashion treason for a much less worthy and practical cause.

This morning I woke up in a quandary, since the jeans AND the slacks were a no-go, do I wear my jeans with holes in them or a skirt?  Now, I should impress upon your minds the delicacy of the situation.  This could very well may be my last internship at Duke University, and believe it or not, I work very hard to make a good impression.  You're thinking "bedazzled jeans do not equal good impression."  Rest assured, I only wear them with a collared button-down, of which I have a few.  Do I have to take that phone away from you?!  But truly, the reasons I strive to make a good impression are as follows:

1. I just graduated with a BS in chemistry from a HBCU (Historically Black College or University), and I want to make sure my school's image is one of excellence and that my alma mater is not seen as providing an inferior education or producing below par graduates, especially by the likes of THE Duke University (aka whities r us).  Think of it as pride from below.
2. I'm working in the Department of Obstetrics & Gynecology of the medical school and as I am interested in medicine as a career, I hope to get a stellar letter of rec out of this that will catapult me onto the front lines of potential candidates for medical school.
3. Lastly, I got this position because my physical chemistry teacher recommended me and I would not like to sully her reputation or her name.  

So I decided to go with an older pair of black slacks I brought with me to North Carolina nearly four years ago.  Did I forget to mention that I weighed ~50lbs less back then?  I want you to play around with the logistics of that for a moment.  Somehow I squeezed myself into these slacks, but given the situation I'd like to refer to them as a tourniquet for the lower half of my body.  By 3 o'clock I knew I would never make it to 6.   I felt like I was in a medieval torture device.  I texted my sister telling her I couldn't breathe.  She has three boys and is breastfeeding a newborn.  She wasn't sympathetic.  These pants were so tight they were changing my genetic code.  I had to survive.  If I did, I would probably create a whole new species of people that can endure extreme discomfort for unimaginable periods of time-oh wait they already exist, they're called ultra-marathoners.

You will be glad to know I made it to 6pm with nary a button unloosed, and through the ride home, and through the walk from the car to my apartment door.  Then WHEW!  When I undid those buttons and that zipper I felt like everything was right in the world.  My mid-section has never suffered more and I almost swore to wear workout pants everyday for the rest of my life.  There is that letter of rec, though.

Tracy

The best live concert I've been to hands down.  Can you believe she sounds better live?  Anyway, I ran across this song on a record of hers I didn't even know about and fell in love with it.  I hope you do too.

Finish Line

     I graduate with a second bachelor's degree in Chemistry on May 12th and I am crawling to the finish line.  What I really need is to be tied to Conan the Barbarian as he forges ahead and drags my limp body behind him.  My journey to that diploma feels like I am walking through waist-deep snow, every step a major effort.  I'm floundering under papers, lab reports, homework assignments and presentations wondering if someone has alerted the lifeguard that I'm drowning.  Given, I don't have a newborn, breast cancer or marital problems so I have no reason to even try to claim that my life is hard right now, but let me just say that for some reason I feel like I'm at max capacity. Can I trade DNA with the Energizer bunny?  That would solve all my problems.
     During the daily treadmill run that is currently my life, there are some lifesavers, music being one of them.  I was listening to my IZ Kamakawa'ole Pandora radio station when I stumbled upon a song that made me stop in the middle of the paper I was writing because it is was so achingly beautiful.  So if you need a sliver of peace in a day that's feeling like Hurricane Katrina, close your eyes and listen to this song.  It will take you to a perfect place.

     Another thing that has saved me is humor.  Those moments when I am not winded from running from academic fire to academic fire, or wondering if this is all worth it, I sometimes get a good laugh.  You would be embarrassed to know how rare those moments seem these days, but I want to give a shout out to both my sister in SLC and to my good friend Dale for showing me the Saturday Night Live skit "The Real Housewives of Disney" which almost made me pee my pants, not to mention the SNL Weekend Update featuring "Paula Deen." If you haven't seen it and laughed-out-loud, you have no soul.  Plus, I'm really blessed to have a hilarious sister, living a block or two away, that has the wonderful talent of making entertainment out of everyday life.  I swear she did a five minute bit on foaming hand soap that still has me laughing when I think about it.
     Lastly, a few lines I've heard my Mom say a million times keep running through my head, "The race is not always to the swift, but to those who finish."  I'm counting on her being right about that, even if I have to roll to the finish line.  My life IS that joke about eating an elephant one bite at a time.  I'm in the binge and purge stage a la Hunger Games, but speaking of finishing and at the risk of being a little media heavy in this post, allow me to link you to one last video that makes me want to keep going because I know I'm not alone.

http://www.godvine.com/What-This-Racer-Does-is-the-Most-Inspirational-Thing-You-ll-Ever-See-1169.html

     In short, I AM going to make it to the finish line, even if I have to hunt down a modern day Conan (who I might hit on, by the way).  These are just a few of the things that are helping me get there:  music, laughing, Mom and God.  If you are struggling through one or two or forty things in your life right now, feel free to use one or all of the above in tandem to get you through.