Monday, April 28, 2008
Admissions committee
Yay, I just got the email today that I got the position on the upcoming year's admission committee at GW! I'm so excited:)
The complexity of the heart
What makes the heart grow fonder?
Is it really time that makes it flutter?
Each beat strengthened more than the last
Its rhythm purposeful until it reaches fast.
Should we suppose this pattern is genius science?
A crippling reflex to feel compliance.
This tug and pull towards obligation
Because you become captured, body and soul, and stationed.
But what if one day the clock stopped ticking
The juice behind the wheel runs dry...the wheel goes creaking.
You feel like the blood of life is not flowing
For your heart has stopped, it no longer is glowing.
That love you once felt has changed to something else
An infection has seeped through and no intervention can help.
You reason why because that person, your partner, is still the same
But you don't recognize evolution, its hand difficult to tame.
For that person has changed as much as you,
Your steps away from each other, they weren't exactly a few.
Then desperately, you wonder, what is the cure to give this love its pulse
You will take any pill or syrup at whatever dose.
The many years gone by...this cannot be it
You’re in now and always
And your heart, you know is fit.
But your heart IS tired and old and weary
And the blueprint created this perfect fit in your lover’s hands…
…the problem is they know this clearly.
Is it really time that makes it flutter?
Each beat strengthened more than the last
Its rhythm purposeful until it reaches fast.
Should we suppose this pattern is genius science?
A crippling reflex to feel compliance.
This tug and pull towards obligation
Because you become captured, body and soul, and stationed.
But what if one day the clock stopped ticking
The juice behind the wheel runs dry...the wheel goes creaking.
You feel like the blood of life is not flowing
For your heart has stopped, it no longer is glowing.
That love you once felt has changed to something else
An infection has seeped through and no intervention can help.
You reason why because that person, your partner, is still the same
But you don't recognize evolution, its hand difficult to tame.
For that person has changed as much as you,
Your steps away from each other, they weren't exactly a few.
Then desperately, you wonder, what is the cure to give this love its pulse
You will take any pill or syrup at whatever dose.
The many years gone by...this cannot be it
You’re in now and always
And your heart, you know is fit.
But your heart IS tired and old and weary
And the blueprint created this perfect fit in your lover’s hands…
…the problem is they know this clearly.
Life Unwanted
Hey there, yes you
I saw you from across the room.
With sunken eyes, deep and sorrowful
Did you not know this plan came with a tomb?
The room seems cold to you
It does for me too
The only sound separating your world from mine
Changes your life as it does mine.
Where did you come from? How did you get here?
Questions that don't matter, for they are here to allay your fears.
Meet the 12 week mark and sign the dotted line,
The only thing against you here is time.
Protesting: WE WANT LIFE, WE WANT LIFE!
Their cadence unwavering, it pierces you like a knife.
This is the right thing to do, you think over and over.
...A boy, he could be named Trevor..and for a girl, maybe Serah.
Those thoughts pushed aside for the millionth and one time,
For you've opened their door..you're sure they heard the chime.
It's too late to rethink, you have made your choice.
You spoke up for the one who had no voice.
I saw you from across the room.
With sunken eyes, deep and sorrowful
Did you not know this plan came with a tomb?
The room seems cold to you
It does for me too
The only sound separating your world from mine
Changes your life as it does mine.
Where did you come from? How did you get here?
Questions that don't matter, for they are here to allay your fears.
Meet the 12 week mark and sign the dotted line,
The only thing against you here is time.
Protesting: WE WANT LIFE, WE WANT LIFE!
Their cadence unwavering, it pierces you like a knife.
This is the right thing to do, you think over and over.
...A boy, he could be named Trevor..and for a girl, maybe Serah.
Those thoughts pushed aside for the millionth and one time,
For you've opened their door..you're sure they heard the chime.
It's too late to rethink, you have made your choice.
You spoke up for the one who had no voice.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Ingrid Michaelson on Friday
Yeah, so that was a quick rebound from depression in the last post. I just wanted to mention Ingrid's awesome concert this past Friday night. It was for the Music Inspires Health concert series that was hosted at Lisner Auditorium at GW. I was actually surprised that it didn't sell out because Ingrid is HUGE! But, I'm not complaining because we got great seats and the tickets were 15 buckaroos. The opening acts were April Smith and Ari Hest. Ummm...tell me why I came home and downloaded their music??!! I'm currently obsessed with Ari Hest because 1. He's hot, 2. He sounds like Elvis with his deep voice 3. Although he has a deep voice, he has a beautiful falsetto and 4. He's hot. So yeah it was an eventful night because I got to finally see Ingrid live and I must say she's amazing and so lovable! There was some malfunction with one of her guitarists so she proceeds to play the piano and has the crowd singing with her on her version of the Intro song of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Amazing:) Musicians have the best job in the world. They play music all day everyday. What could be better than that?
Home
I have 4 weeks and 6 days left before I'm home. I don't know why but I am really homesick! It may be the everyday drone of medical school that is getting me a little down. I wish I can get on a plane and fly home even for a day. But, that isn't practical. To me the money would be worth it, but it's way too expensive right now. Anyways, this is a waste of a post..
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Clorox bottle
Today is Saturday and the image of a large clorox bottle has been burned in my mind since Thursday. I went out to Virginia to shadow my CAP physician while he worked at a women's clinic for the afternoon. I knew before hand what type of clinic this was, but I really did not realize just how this visit would affect me.
In summary, I saw nine abortions in the span of an hour and a half. Virginia law allows only first trimester (12 weeks) abortions. I believe the District of Columbia allows abortion up into the second trimester. The latest term I observed was 11 weeks and 2 days.
I will not go into too much detail here just because I do not feel like reliving that 2 hour span just yet. My CAP physician is an amazing individual, I must say. After the day was over, we had a recap session and he asked me if I had any questions. Of course I had a million questions at this point, but I filtered my questions to just those I won't be able to find on my own. This narrowed it down to one important question, which centered around how he felt after doing his first abortion on a woman and how he deals with it emotionally patient after patient. I asked this because almost every woman was crying during and after the procedure was done. Their tears may have initially been spawned by the brutal clamping of the cervix but may have been exacerbated by the finality of their decision with the last pressure sucking sound of the vacuum. Do you know that sound a vacuum makes when it is struggling to suck up an object from the carpet or floor and then when it finally gets it up through the tube and the object makes its way into the vacuum container, it makes that strong pressure releasing sound? Now imagine me intently observing my CAP right behind him and underneath the hot lamp waiting to see what was to come out of this woman and into the clear vacuum tube. It was as expected. Slowly at first, clear fluid came out and then bright red blood and then a dark red mass. The pressure within the tubes then increased to get the large dark red mass into the vacuum container. The sound I was describing earlier happens right before you see the dark red mass. I'm assuming this dense material was the target of the vacuum tube. Finally, a quick dip into the clorox bottle to disinfect the tubes from HIV and other viruses and the switch is turned off from the vacuum.
I just could not help but imagine myself in the place of any of these women and how this two minute procedure could change the course of their life. I understand that abortions are necessary to give women options. Like my CAP physician says, "Everyone makes mistakes but I'm not that person to make them live with that mistake for the rest of their lives. I give them options." I'm still contemplating on his words as I think about the events of that Thursday afternoon.
The problem here is not understanding the necessity of abortions in women's health. It's more my problem in dealing with them emotionally. I imagined myself in the place of these women, but I also imagined myself not being able to go through with it. I also imagined myself as my CAP physician and turning the machine off before I inserted the tube into the cervix of the patient.
But I'm trying to reason this out. I want to go into public health. I feel that my education teaches me to be objective and to see it from my patient's point of view regardless of how I may feel about the situation. This is a conflict...a conflict between what my brain tells me what is right and what my heart and soul says is right.
I see a young girl who may have just finished high school and may not have the resources to rear a child on her own and I see how this procedure can help her situation because who knows? She may be on her way to college or she may be one of the sole earners in her household and may not afford for another mouth to feed. Whatever the reason, there is one. But... all my little heart sees at this point is the little 11 week fetus with a head and hands and legs and feet all on a petri dish submerged in clorox.
In summary, I saw nine abortions in the span of an hour and a half. Virginia law allows only first trimester (12 weeks) abortions. I believe the District of Columbia allows abortion up into the second trimester. The latest term I observed was 11 weeks and 2 days.
I will not go into too much detail here just because I do not feel like reliving that 2 hour span just yet. My CAP physician is an amazing individual, I must say. After the day was over, we had a recap session and he asked me if I had any questions. Of course I had a million questions at this point, but I filtered my questions to just those I won't be able to find on my own. This narrowed it down to one important question, which centered around how he felt after doing his first abortion on a woman and how he deals with it emotionally patient after patient. I asked this because almost every woman was crying during and after the procedure was done. Their tears may have initially been spawned by the brutal clamping of the cervix but may have been exacerbated by the finality of their decision with the last pressure sucking sound of the vacuum. Do you know that sound a vacuum makes when it is struggling to suck up an object from the carpet or floor and then when it finally gets it up through the tube and the object makes its way into the vacuum container, it makes that strong pressure releasing sound? Now imagine me intently observing my CAP right behind him and underneath the hot lamp waiting to see what was to come out of this woman and into the clear vacuum tube. It was as expected. Slowly at first, clear fluid came out and then bright red blood and then a dark red mass. The pressure within the tubes then increased to get the large dark red mass into the vacuum container. The sound I was describing earlier happens right before you see the dark red mass. I'm assuming this dense material was the target of the vacuum tube. Finally, a quick dip into the clorox bottle to disinfect the tubes from HIV and other viruses and the switch is turned off from the vacuum.
I just could not help but imagine myself in the place of any of these women and how this two minute procedure could change the course of their life. I understand that abortions are necessary to give women options. Like my CAP physician says, "Everyone makes mistakes but I'm not that person to make them live with that mistake for the rest of their lives. I give them options." I'm still contemplating on his words as I think about the events of that Thursday afternoon.
The problem here is not understanding the necessity of abortions in women's health. It's more my problem in dealing with them emotionally. I imagined myself in the place of these women, but I also imagined myself not being able to go through with it. I also imagined myself as my CAP physician and turning the machine off before I inserted the tube into the cervix of the patient.
But I'm trying to reason this out. I want to go into public health. I feel that my education teaches me to be objective and to see it from my patient's point of view regardless of how I may feel about the situation. This is a conflict...a conflict between what my brain tells me what is right and what my heart and soul says is right.
I see a young girl who may have just finished high school and may not have the resources to rear a child on her own and I see how this procedure can help her situation because who knows? She may be on her way to college or she may be one of the sole earners in her household and may not afford for another mouth to feed. Whatever the reason, there is one. But... all my little heart sees at this point is the little 11 week fetus with a head and hands and legs and feet all on a petri dish submerged in clorox.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
status updates
Nothing stresses me out more than status updates. Not even med school. These bastards who create functions like these drive me nuts because they really don't understand how it affects innocent people like myself! First off...status updates expire. Is there no way to just keep the status you chose a week ago..the one where you spent hours agonizing what to put there in the first place??!? For those who are lost to what I'm yapping about..I apologize. Sometimes, the faucet of words in my mind is on full blast and my fingers can't keep up with the typing. Stalker websites like facebook and myspace and bebo and gchat (yes, I have them all) will ask you what "your status is" and it usually will start with the words, in my case, "Annabelle is..." in which you fill in the rest of what you're currently up to.
The thing is, it's just absolutely boring when you put something like "tired" or "hungry". No one cares about those updates. They want something juicy like "..angry about something he/she just read" or "..thinking something dirty" or whatever. These updates are great because all the obsessive stalkers will be prompted to ask "what the hell kinda dirty thoughts you have?" And then life can progress as normal beyond that. The problem is thinking about things to write as the status update. In my case, great and spontaneous ideas come at the worst times! Like when I can't get to a computer fast enough because I'm stuck in a claustrophobic room listening to a biochem professor for more than 3 hours...or..this is even better..when I'm SLEEPING! I would be tucked oh so peacefully in my wonder bed when wham! A status update just appears and I'm forced to debate with my better half "myself" whether I should get up and turn on the computer or just give up on possibly the best idea of what a status update should be.
*Sigh* This is what I struggle with everytime I log into any of these accounts and see the words "PLEASE UPDATE ON YOUR STATUS" because my last update expired. So what does a girl do? Give up and resort to putting b.s. like "tired" and "hungry". B-O-R-I-N-G!
The thing is, it's just absolutely boring when you put something like "tired" or "hungry". No one cares about those updates. They want something juicy like "..angry about something he/she just read" or "..thinking something dirty" or whatever. These updates are great because all the obsessive stalkers will be prompted to ask "what the hell kinda dirty thoughts you have?" And then life can progress as normal beyond that. The problem is thinking about things to write as the status update. In my case, great and spontaneous ideas come at the worst times! Like when I can't get to a computer fast enough because I'm stuck in a claustrophobic room listening to a biochem professor for more than 3 hours...or..this is even better..when I'm SLEEPING! I would be tucked oh so peacefully in my wonder bed when wham! A status update just appears and I'm forced to debate with my better half "myself" whether I should get up and turn on the computer or just give up on possibly the best idea of what a status update should be.
*Sigh* This is what I struggle with everytime I log into any of these accounts and see the words "PLEASE UPDATE ON YOUR STATUS" because my last update expired. So what does a girl do? Give up and resort to putting b.s. like "tired" and "hungry". B-O-R-I-N-G!
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Restless....
Tell me why I have a biochem and physiology exam coming up in a week and all I can do is dream about summer vacation?? To make matters worse, I'm counting down the days already...7 weeks and 2 days exactly! This is when my happy ass will be on a plane to the city of sin to visit my familia and sit on the couch and wait for my 10 hour trip to Samoa, a place I still consider home after moving away 9 years ago. Gosh, it's going on ten years now that my family moved from a tiny little island in the South Pacific to Las Vegas, Nevada. It still feels like yesterday when I first walked into a Wal-mart and was absolutely amazed at how many cereal brands they had! I was used to choosing between corn pops, frosted flakes, or raisin bran.
So, yeah, it should be interesting to go home and see how things have changed. I'm sure there are many things that haven't though and these are the things I look foward to. For instance, there is this particular aroma that permeates the villages on Sunday morning. It smells like burning leaves mixed with a rich "green" smell. I know it doesn't make sense because green leaves don't really burn that well but that particular smell reminds me of home because every Sunday right after church at about 8 or 9 in the moring, you will see a haze of smoke all over from families making their sunday feast or toona'i. Samoans still cook through traditional means with what is called the "umu", an outdoor makeshift oven that uses hot stones to steam cook food under a blanket of banana leaves. This is where the smell of burning leaves and green leaves come from because you start burning dried leaves to make the stones hot and then with the food underneath the hot stones, you cover the whole spread with fresh green banana leaves.
Every Sunday, this toona'i marks the end of a long hard working week where extended families get together, eat good food, and spend quality time together. The only establishments open on Sundays are churches (of course) and a few mom and pop shops. What I remember most about Sundays is the ride home, on the back of my dad's pickup truck, from spending the afternoon at the beach. Before heading home, we would stop by the bakery to buy a loaf of freshly baked bread...the kind that you have to slice yourself. Me and the little sister would just pick out the center of the loaf and squish the bread between our fingers and mold it into little bread balls. These were the good old days of having salty fingers molding hot bread on the back of a truck and not looking forward to getting home to prepare for school the next day. This memory just makes me smile at how simple life was back then. Now, it's medschool stalking me to get off the computer to get back to studying....
So, yeah, it should be interesting to go home and see how things have changed. I'm sure there are many things that haven't though and these are the things I look foward to. For instance, there is this particular aroma that permeates the villages on Sunday morning. It smells like burning leaves mixed with a rich "green" smell. I know it doesn't make sense because green leaves don't really burn that well but that particular smell reminds me of home because every Sunday right after church at about 8 or 9 in the moring, you will see a haze of smoke all over from families making their sunday feast or toona'i. Samoans still cook through traditional means with what is called the "umu", an outdoor makeshift oven that uses hot stones to steam cook food under a blanket of banana leaves. This is where the smell of burning leaves and green leaves come from because you start burning dried leaves to make the stones hot and then with the food underneath the hot stones, you cover the whole spread with fresh green banana leaves.
Every Sunday, this toona'i marks the end of a long hard working week where extended families get together, eat good food, and spend quality time together. The only establishments open on Sundays are churches (of course) and a few mom and pop shops. What I remember most about Sundays is the ride home, on the back of my dad's pickup truck, from spending the afternoon at the beach. Before heading home, we would stop by the bakery to buy a loaf of freshly baked bread...the kind that you have to slice yourself. Me and the little sister would just pick out the center of the loaf and squish the bread between our fingers and mold it into little bread balls. These were the good old days of having salty fingers molding hot bread on the back of a truck and not looking forward to getting home to prepare for school the next day. This memory just makes me smile at how simple life was back then. Now, it's medschool stalking me to get off the computer to get back to studying....
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