All growed up?

My aunt commented the other day how residency seems to have already made me more mature.  In a month's time, I moved across the country, slowly settled into my own apartment (first time living without a roommate), met my amazing co-interns, and got thrown into the F5 twister named "Residency."

Scary? What's a heftier word than "scary"? I need something a little more substantial to describe this experience.

But it has been more rewarding than anything I could have imagined.  I have never felt more positive about being stressed, working longer hours than I anticipated.  Life is comfortable without a boy, without a puppy, without my parents being within driving distance.  I still struggle with waking up in the morning (thankfully I am a 2-minute drive away from my work!), but once I reach the hospital, I look forward to seeing all those little faces!  I just wish we had more time in the morning to hold those babies, tickle those little feet, and see those toddlers crack some smiles...

My first week was quite the rollercoaster.  I had a great senior and medical student who helped me transition into the world of becoming an intern.  Was I slow? Very. Have I forgotten everything medical school taught me? Feels like it. Was I concerned a child might die on my watch? Obviously.

And it happened. Sort of. It wasn't anything we did or didn't do. But it was the first time I actually saw a kid go from unstable, to stable, to unstable... to a critical care situation... to the parents making the decision to pull their precious little one off life support.

I wanted to say goodbye and express my condolences.  The family needed their time, understandably so. And so I had to stand outside the room and whisper my own prayers, as I nearly broke down in front of the patient's nurse.

And then I walked away, dried my tears, and had to move on to completing my work. I had to do justice by all my other patients and families. But it felt bizarre... I felt a little cruel. It felt like I was abandoning my patient that had just gone through so much pain.

But then there are the other kids who come to the hospital so ill... and I watch, as a part of the care team, as they recuperate and head back to their homes with their family.  I have realized that in this profession, as much as the patients and parents might need me in their toughest moments, I also need them.  These are the ones that are teaching me that "healing" does not always mean curing; it is sometimes just providing some comfort, or just finding a way to make their baby smile after all the obstacles they have faced. And I hope they know what satisfaction they bring to me.

I have had the opportunity to console crying mothers.  Clear up some misunderstandings (thanks, Google?).  Hold my "favorite chub chub" the last 5 minutes of hospitalization.  I had the chance to participate in, and (semi-) call the shots for a rapid response.  And I have had the chance to hear words of gratitude from parents.

Needless to say, I know I have chosen the best field in the greatest profession.  Obviously a biased statement!!  But, for me, this is the perfect fit.  I don't know much... but I want to learn and do right by my patients.

I love everything that I am getting to soak in here.  The medicine and learning, spending my mornings with children, seeing the mountains all around, basking in the sunshine and heat, and making new friends.  There's a certain friendliness and respect that fluorishes here.  I am blessed to have pleasant residents and teaching faculty to work with, and patient nurses who treat me with dignity (even after I make mistakes that might slow their work down).  I am greeted in the mornings and evenings by a jovial parking security guard, who makes sure to share a smile with everyone who goes in and out of the ramp... how does he do that, after standing in the 110F heat all day???

I am so grateful for all that life has brought me.  I made it here... so let's do this :)

A good life!! Cheers to the intern class of 2013!!

What an exhilarating time the last few months have been. *WHEW* I was on the interview trail from early November through the first day of FEBRUARY. *YIKES* But the good news is, my interviews paid off, and I successfully matched into my #1 choice for residency.  For the next 5 years, I will be a resident of Arizona, completing a 5-year combined residency and fellowship program to become a Pediatric Neurologist. *YAY* My first 2 years will be general pediatrics (at Phoenix Children's Hospital); year 3 will be adult neurology (at St. Joseph's); and years 4-5 will be pediatric neurology (back at Phoenix Children's Hospital).

(The title of this post is for my "happy" song by OneRepublic, titled 'The Good Life')

During the month of February, I stayed with my Aunt, Uncle and Cousin in Phoenix.  While there, I completed a rotation at the Phoenix Children's Hospital, with the pediatric neurology team.  I was instantly in love with the place for so many reasons.  In 2 weeks of inpatient, I saw more diverse cases than I had the chance to see in Detroit.  My assumption as to why, is that I was exposed to many more cultures out there, it is very different demographically.  I learned about neurological diseases that are more prevalent to the Hispanic peoples, and Navajo nation.  I had a chance to learn about Indian reservations, and how their own tribal courts and healthcare systems function.  I even re-learned a lot of Spanish!  I still was unable to speak it very well, but NO PROBLEM!!  The fact that there are so many Spanish-speaking families made LIVE interpreters much more accessible in the hospital and clinic there.  But by the end of the month, I found myself understanding the language fairly well (for not having been exposed to Spanish regularly since 2004).

Aside from the new cultures, and my learning experience there, I fell in love with Phoenix and it's people.  Overall, that part of the country tries to lead a much healthier life.  There is more access to vegetarian eating options (which are still flavorful!), and I enjoyed spending time hiking outdoors.  Somehow, daily sunshine, and being around mountains was just what I needed.  I hadn't been so active in years!  It is just more exhilarating being able to take a scenic hike up and down mountains, than it is to walk on flat ground in Michigan (or on a treadmill in the gym).  My body simply felt better -- and I can already feel the difference after being back in the mitten for the past few weeks.  I'm already struggling to make it to the gym in this cold. Plus, no snow?! Phoenix might be heaven during the winter season.

However, this is all bittersweet.  I know my 5-year program will not be the same as a 1 month visit.  I am leaving behind the world's most dedicated parents, my closest friends, and I will also be farther than ever from my brother.  It will be my first time living outside of Michigan, farther than a 1 hour drive home.  Seeing my family will require more advanced planning. Through medical school, especially this final year, it has been so easy to make a last minute decision to drive home -- I know I will miss that.

This was something I felt I had to do for my career, my personal growth, and I hope it pays off in the long run.  The decisions I have to make these next few months are stacking up, and nervewracking.  I will need to make decisions about my car, make sure I have doctors I can see in that area, and learn details about housing that I have never had to think about before.

It's all a part of growing up, and learning to be a little more independent. God has allowed me to match across the country, simply because He knows I can make it through these obstacles, and become a better person through it all. It has been, and will continue to be, A GOOD LIFE. <3

Thank you to my parents for supporting me through this decision.  I am sure I will cry at times, and be terribly homesick... but you are my greatest strength and inspiration.  If you both could make the move across Asia, Europe, and into North America -- crossing the ocean into a new culture -- then with your love I can do this.
-----

[Panoramic view of Phoenix from Thunderbird Mountain.]

[With my beautiful cousin and her dog, Nala; during our hike up Mormon Trailhead, one of many trails at South Mountain.]

[Just seconds away from opening the envelope, which sealed my fate for the next 5 years!]

[With my parents, who I adore.  I am glad they were able to be present for the biggest day of my life.]

[Friends since undergrad.  We both matched at our first-choice programs. This was taken after we cried happy tears; and exchanged hugs with our families, and friends at nearby tables.]

[Celebrating the evening with my wonderful roommate!]

The glass is always full.

We have always heard the cliche that an "optimist" views the glass half full; a "pessimist" views the glass half empty.

However, a search last week on Pinterest led me to a graphic and quote that said: "The glass is ALWAYS full."  The diagram had a picture of a glass with 1/2 water. The other 1/2 was air. And I believe this view.

Hope is always important in life.  Positive thoughts yield positive results.  And I must say I am so proud of my parents for understanding the truth, exploring the facts, and remaining faithful through my dad's diagnosis.

I am not going to disclose much in a public place like this.  If you feel compelled to ask, then please don't shy away -- I would love to share his story!  But neither is this the right avenue, nor the right time.

But what I do feel comfortable telling you all is that while he has a diagnosis, which was scary for us initially, he is doing well.  He does not "look" sick, he does not "feel" sick.  He is still the same (hyper)active man that he was just 2 months ago, and a year ago, and even 3 years ago!  It has allowed all of us, though, to evaluate what is important a little more deeply.

For me, personally, it has given me more courage to pursue my own dreams.  If he can do this with such a fighting spirit, then I can muster up enough strength to face the reality that I might be across the country from my parents in just a few months.  And that I can survive it.

The interview process has been such a rush.  I was granted interviews from a few of my dream institutions.  These were programs I thought about NOT applying to, because the first thoughts to myself were "they will never consider me for an interview."  I remember sitting with one of the peds neurologists that I worked with in September, a nervous wreck in her office, as I asked her, "What if I don't get any interviews? What if I don't match?!"

After that time, I was humbled.  I was offered interviews at 20 institutions, a near impossible task to fulfill when pediatric neurology interviews often span over 2 days!  I was lucky to be able to decline several interviews, be a little more picky on what regions I preferred, what type of hospital was important for me.

And now, I am going into March with the attitude that Pinterest has evoked in me: to remember that "the glass is always full."  If one opportunity falls through, then another will present itself.  I have done my part, and now I must remain faithful that life will happen as it is meant to.  I cannot control each and every detail of my life.  All I can control is my attitude towards whatever comes my way, just as my mother, father, and brother have done the last couple months.

I haven't been able to blog for quite some time.  The interview trail has kept me running to and from airports.  During the days that I do manage to be in Michigan, my time is spent with family and friends here.  But I do hope that you all find yourselves enjoying the first month of 2013!!  I have a feeling it's going to be a great year :)

Chasing the sun

I just returned from Texas yesterday.  People close to me know that I went with a heavy heart... and returned with an even greater weight on my shoulders.  Prior to heading there, I was regretting purchasing my ticket.  It was a rocky situation for a number of reasons -- but in the end was well worth it.

I met new faces.  Saw familiar ones.  In retrospect, it was necessary.  I believe the worst of times often allow you to re-evaluate certain things in life, and make new discoveries.

My conclusion is that this is my year of "discomfort."  People, places, and things that have been a part of us for so long become a comfort, but that doesn't always make it the best for us.  It is never easy thinking that in less than a year, I could be across the country from my parents, when I have never lived more than 1 hour and 10 minutes from them.  It's unnerving playing the waiting game for interviews, thinking about traveling to places I would never otherwise visit... and doing it all alone.  And it always hurts when an unfortunate situation shatters an old friendship.

We have to keep moving, allow ourselves to change, and let go in order to allow EACH OTHER to grow, become a little more confident, and stronger.  Life is ever-evolving, and that is okay... I am okay with it... and I will learn to be 'comfortable with the uncomfortable.'

We may steer our own ship, but God has all the storms written in his book -- we have no control over when and how our lives, surroundings, and relationships with each other could change.  We can only control our response to the situation, and our own beliefs.  For a moment we may be taken off track -- but if we allow ourselves to open the new chapter, only then can we make it through our own life story, and continue to turn the pages, finding the way back to our destination and fate.

I am so grateful to everyone who allowed me the chance to grow on this trip, reflect on life, and shared their own hardships with me.  I now feel more confident that if I have to leave home in the near future, it will be okay.  I am ready, and more willing than ever to step outside my comfort zone into a world of uncertainty.  Perhaps I will fall at times, but I have great friends and a loving family who will listen when the time calls for it.

There is a reason, and a season, for everything in our lives.  A wise physician once told our AMWA group, "You can have everything you want in life....... just not all at the same time."  Truth.  Fact.  Not opinion.  Yes?

As the plane took off from Detroit, it was a gloomy day.  As we ascended through the clouds, we found our way to the sun.  It was gorgeous.  And a great reminder that no matter how dreary life may seem at times, if you allow yourself to be free, to love, and to grow, you will (most certainly) find yourself chasing the sun... and within reach of it.

The Prophet.

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

-----

My favorite book of all time would definitely have to be "The Prophet."  Many a times, I have turned to the passages within this book, written by Kahlil Gibran, to come to an understanding and acceptance of a situation I am facing.

Just last week I turned to one of the passages, titled "On Friendship."  I was recently reminded of it today, when I saw a friend (Christion) reading this during his shift on duty at our medical school.  [[PS -- shoutout to Christion for always being a kind, smiling face at the entry of the building -- and for keeping it a safe environment for those of us who pass through!! You are often a blessing to so many of us at the end of (or in the middle of!) a stressful day!]]

If anyone is looking for a good, thought-provoking book to read, I highly suggest The Prophet.  The pieces are wonderful.  I hope someone out there finds inspiration to get swept away by the truth within Kahlil Gibran's words.  His poetry is beautiful.  I don't know how else to put it!

And may all of you find peace and happiness in each of your acquaintances and friendships as they are.  Appreciate any and all individuals who have crossed paths with you in your lifetime.  They will be there, are there, were there for a reason -- just as God intended them to be.

May you always love others, share smiles, and believe in your own strength.  Goodnight. :)

[And thank you, readers, for putting up with my crappy writing!!! What I blog about makes sense in my own head. I don't know how it translates to the rest of the world...]

Too Blessed to be Stressed!

The title of this post comes from a lady's tote that I saw last week.  It had a picture of 3 women walking into Church, in their Sunday best, and had this quote written across the bottom.

"Too Blessed to be Stressed." How true it is.

As I reflect on this past month, there are so many blessings for others -- and myself -- that I have witnessed. I have endured countless reminders of what I have. I have a functioning brain (...that could be debatable at times, lol), so it was devastating to see so many kids after severe brain injuries, brain surgeries, whatever it was!! How can God let someone live through that??

But it was beautiful... because I got to witness many of them regaining basic abilities that we all take for granted. Some made full recoveries... others were a little slower, taking a couple days to regain a function as simple as lifting their left thumb up.

I have movement in my fingers. I have the ability to walk to an elevator on my lazy days, and up the stairs when I have a little fried cafeteria food to burn off. I have the ability to speak words and sentences to make my wishes and thoughts known -- not always understood, but at least they are out in the open and fair game.

I have my eyesight. A seizure-free life so that I can drive at any moment to go home. The ability to coordinate the activities of chewing and swallowing, so that I don't require a feeding tube, and I can savor the taste of my mom's homemade Indian cooking. I can dance with my friends, sing obnoxiously to a Nicki Minaj song, and contort my face into what must be ridiculous expressions.

I have a home, with an amazingly dedicated, unwavering set of parents. I have a mother and father who are able to speak up for my needs and wants at the moments in life where I haven't been able to... I don't remember everything from when I was 6... but I remember things clearly from when I was 21. The feeling of being so jaded, so limp and lifeless, unable to respond in full sentences and explain how you are truly feeling, even when you are fully conscious of your every breath; the fact that you just want the complications to stop, and for someone to just make the exhaustion and sickness go away.......... you feel helpless. And for a while you are vulnerable, understanding that life isn't all about "independence" the way our American society makes us believe. Rather, it's about your relations with all those around you. Understanding the compromises and sacrifices that must sometimes be made for others -- because perhaps one day, they will be your lifeline. They will love you no matter what. And they will make the right decisions for you so that you can continue, once again, to remind yourself that you are "too blessed to be stressed."

I am not sure, though, if it's fair to even try to relate my situation and experience to those of the children I've seen this month. I am not the 8-year-old child who lost her mother in a car accident, and ended up a quadriplegic as a result. I am not the infant who has clearly been shaken by someone multiple times, to the point that he can no longer grasp onto a caretaker's hand, suck on a pacifier, or cry.

To my friends and family: thank you for always putting up with my nonsense.

I really am trying to remind myself to not be so stressed. Whatever the situation in life, things always work out the way they should.

I hope that all of you can take some time to appreciate all the reasons that you are blessed!

Goodnight, and wishing you all a happier tomorrow :)

A mother's angel

I have to write about one of the most precious moments I witnessed today in the hospital. Kids are always a joy, and even a simple game of peek-a-boo with a smiling child is enough to make my time in the hospital more than worth it.

This month I'm rotating on pediatric neurology. It's been such an exhilarating month, and working with the kids and their families has definitely been a gratifying experience. But this afternoon, my most memorable was not seen in the ED, or on the inpatient floors... but instead occurred within the walls of the outpatient clinic.

The resident presented the case to us med students, as well as the attending. It was a mysterious story. As the resident dictated the details of the history to all of our listening ears, we tried to develop our differential. That's the routine: discuss, plan... and be prepared to say what you need to the family.

We entered the room, and seated inside the room was the father, mother, and 2 adorable little girls. You would guess they were twins, from how they were dressed! Both had matching hello kitty outfits, and they were playing peacefully in the corner. I glanced at mom, and noticed her eyes were red from crying. As we explained our thoughts, and proposed plan of action, the mother continued to sit quietly in tears, as the father did most of the talking. I slid the box of tissues closer to her on the counter, and just gave her a friendly rub on the shoulder. The usual. But I could understand her frustration and fright (I mean, I'm not a parent... but... you get the point). This was something new for them, and I can't imagine hearing 4 doctors within 2 days say, "We don't really know what this could be." As the neurologists, we were the final resort, and yes, we were #4 to say we don't REALLY know. But we had a plan to develop a starting point for workup. This is someone's child, and they deserve an answer... or at least a strong effort to try to arrive at one.

We examined the 4-year-old on her mother's lap. Meanwhile, the slightly older sister (my guess is she was 5-years-old), walked up to her mom and sister. She wanted to be held too. Siblings often do that, when one gets attention, the other one also wants some love.

What I didn't expect was for this little 5-year-old girl to grab a tissue, fold it gently, and dab at her mother's eyes. It was the way a mother would delicately dab at her child's tears... I could tell she was being soft and cautious. And then she leaned closer to her mother and whispered, "Don't cry, momma. It'll be okay," and continued to dry her tears. She then planted the softest kiss on her mother's cheek.

All I could think is how lucky this mother was to have such an incredibly mature, caring daughter. She's so young, and I have never seen a child perform those actions so flawlessly. I've seen kids plant kisses on their parents' cheeks. I've heard them say things like "mommy! don't cry!" (usually without any effort to say it quietly, lol). I've also seen the child who doesn't know what to do except look frightened, or even start their own crying, at the sight of their parent's tears (I believe I'm usually the latter, unfortunately). It really was like watching a young angel, planted here on earth, to take care of those she loves. I was left in awe at that moment. No, I don't believe she was an "overly" mature child, because aside from that she was playing like a typical 5-year-old girl, holding her doll tightly, and maintaining her shy, soft-spoken demeanor around us.

One day she WILL be the caretaker of her own mother, and I hope she remains as angelic then as she is now. I wish I had taken a minute at the end of the visit to tell her to ALWAYS love her mother the way she does now. I hope she continues to dry her mother's tears, and that she will never be the one causing them to fall.

And -- to my own mom -- I may not say it, but I Love You. :)