The title of the blog has a little to do with what I will be writing about. I just received a heart felt email from a friend who was checking up on me and my "path of faith". We had a great conversation the beginning of my first year of medical school (about a year ago) that had to do with religion and faith and my relationship with God. As you can already tell, it was a pretty deep conversation. But it was well needed. At the time, I was struggling with a few things not really concerning my faith in God but with my faith in people. We talked about my struggle to really accept the fact that non-believers in Christ will quote unquote go to a place we call hell. First off, I am Catholic and was raised in a Catholic household. So, yes, I do believe there is good and evil present in our world, and in my mind, evil resides in a place called hell. However, I really have a difficult time digesting the fact that some people feel that all non-believers will go to hell. Growing up and educated in a Baptist school, we were always told that if you didn't believe in God, you were going to hell. I always had a problem with this because I constantly meet people who are great individuals and who are kind hearted and good souls, but yet do not believe in Christ. My reasoning on this is that they may have different religious views. They may not believe in my God, but they may have a "God" themselves. Who am I to tell them that my God is better or different than theirs? Who knows? They may be different interpretations of the same thing!
Needless to say, our conversation ended without a resolution. However, the conversation helped churn the wheels in my head about maintaining my faith. Part of this is my responbility to keep asking questions about God and how I can strengthen my relationship with Him. I was invited to my first prayer meeting with other medical students and from there came many many prayer groups and meetings. Although I still struggle with the same problems and questions I had at this initial conversation, I feel I may be getting somewhere with my goal. Some Christians may feel that living a life free of sin is the ultimate goal in life. I see things differently, because I think we are only humans and may strive to be perfect like God but fall short many times. But God knows this! He didn't make us from his own image to be perfect beings. He gave us the gift of choice and although we may make bad choices at times, He is loving and He forgives always. If there was one thing that I have learned from my journey of faith in the past year, it would be that God is always there for me. Although I may have a slanted view about faith and religion, that may be different than the books, I know and understand the big picture. He loves me always and will always forgive. And this is what keeps me praying and thanking Him everyday.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Reflection on this time last year
Wow, I cannot believe how fast time flies! Exactly this time last year, I was in orientation for medical school. I am writing this blog because of the numerous emails I am receiving daily about orientation week at GW. The Class of 2012 is currently there enjoying the free breakfast every morning and fun activities all the while meeting new faces and seeing new places. How exciting! I am giddy just writing about this because it brings fresh to mind how excited I was at that point. I was finally in medical school and ready to be on way to save the world! haha..it really was that dramatic in my mind:) Of course I'm still uber excited, but it doesn't compare to the initial feeling of disbelief I had that first week of school. I was actually in medical school and I was at a school I really want to go to! I am definitely excited to head back to another grueling year...although I'm currently pouting that my last summer of freedom is now coming to a close.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
I am proud to be an American..
Yesterday, I attended my mom's swearing in ceremony to become a United States citizen. My mom, dressed in her best and looking her very best sat in the front of the auditorium with an American flag on one hand and an expression of elation that this day finally came. Next July marks the ten year anniversary of when me, my little sister, and my parents moved to America from a little island in the South Pacific. I was starting my junior year in high school and my sister was starting high school. As I write this blog, memories of the many little adventures we had and enjoyed as a family at that time, come to mind as if it were yesterday.
My parents were business owners back in the islands. They set their own hours, which meant they worked all the time, but they enjoyed not answering to anyone about how they ran their daily lives. Together, we ran a sewing and boutique shop, a laundromat, a refrigeration company, and at one point a restaurant as well. Regular jobs are hard to come by back home. Most people choose to run their own bunsiness, which is exactly what my parents did.
However, higher education was not available on the island and knowing that me and my sister were on track to go to college, they sacrificed and decided that a move to America was pertinent. And so began our journey from the little island of Samoa to the flashy and entertaining city of Las Vegas in Nevada. I remember me and my sister, Deidre, perusing through the brochure of our new high school. The girls wore fancy clothes, everyone looked so different, and there were so many clubs and sports to be involved in. At the time, tennis was the only thing on my mind and I was elated to find out our school had their own tennis courts! Our high school, Silverado High, wasn't unique in this, though. In fact, almost every school in the city had tennis courts. We were stunned to find the volleyball and basketball courts to not be made of concrete like they were back in the islands, but of glossy wood! And we had an athletic trainer...what is going on here?? America is AMAZING! Little discoveries like these were milestones to simple island girls. The super wal-mart was its own adventure and we gulped in every ounce of the American way of life.
Of course, everything wasn't all peaches and roses. Thank God my dad was able to find a job in the bank, which was pretty good money so we can afford an apartment and then finally a car. My mom then found a job with the Wal-mart down the street as a cashier. Slowly but surely, we built our lives as newly-crafted Americans. Of course, the idea of being American wasn't novel to both me and my sister. We, at least, were born on U.S. soil, albeit a territory located thousands of miles south of the state of Hawaii. We hold American passports and never felt different when it came down to our status of citizenship. The same thing goes for my dad. Back in 1962, he and my grandfather moved to the state of Hawaii. My grandfather was a lawyer and was invited to work for the U.S. Consulate office to the Philippines in Hawaii. This was the beginning of my father's journey to becoming a U.S. citizen.
My mother's journey, however, started nine years ago in July when our family moved to America. For this reason, yesterday was probably one of the most memorable days of my life, and I suspect of my mother's life as well. I don't know much about the way of life in other countries, but I humbly assume that nowhere else is the quality of life better than here in America. I love traveling and seeing the many faces of the world and although I can imagine to live in this place or that (specifically Florence, Italy), there is no other country I would rather pledge allegiance to. Earlier this year, I swore an oath to help defend the rights and liberties of this country when called upon by the U.S. Army. It wasn't until yesterday that I was proud to have made that decision.
In the nine years our family has been in the United States, we have been blessed tremendously. My parents own their own home, where we have enjoyed celebrating many Christmases, birthdays, graduations, family reunions and Thanksgiving dinners. My sister and I have graduated from college and are finding our own way through the world. This year, I will vote in the second presidential election. My mom will be able to vote in her first. And although we may vote for different candidates, that will be okay because we live in a country where different opinions are welcome. And although our country's history may be tainted by racism, sexism, and many other "isms", I am proud and happy to be part of a generation that believes in progressive thinking and in creating a world that will be greener, healthier, and more open-minded than ever before. Making a statement such as this is bold, I know. But how can I help but be optimistic and this ambitious when I know that I live in a country that affords us all the freedom to make big dreams possible and allows us to use all possible resources to get ahead in life? As of yet, I don't know of any other place like the good 'ol US of A:)
My parents were business owners back in the islands. They set their own hours, which meant they worked all the time, but they enjoyed not answering to anyone about how they ran their daily lives. Together, we ran a sewing and boutique shop, a laundromat, a refrigeration company, and at one point a restaurant as well. Regular jobs are hard to come by back home. Most people choose to run their own bunsiness, which is exactly what my parents did.
However, higher education was not available on the island and knowing that me and my sister were on track to go to college, they sacrificed and decided that a move to America was pertinent. And so began our journey from the little island of Samoa to the flashy and entertaining city of Las Vegas in Nevada. I remember me and my sister, Deidre, perusing through the brochure of our new high school. The girls wore fancy clothes, everyone looked so different, and there were so many clubs and sports to be involved in. At the time, tennis was the only thing on my mind and I was elated to find out our school had their own tennis courts! Our high school, Silverado High, wasn't unique in this, though. In fact, almost every school in the city had tennis courts. We were stunned to find the volleyball and basketball courts to not be made of concrete like they were back in the islands, but of glossy wood! And we had an athletic trainer...what is going on here?? America is AMAZING! Little discoveries like these were milestones to simple island girls. The super wal-mart was its own adventure and we gulped in every ounce of the American way of life.
Of course, everything wasn't all peaches and roses. Thank God my dad was able to find a job in the bank, which was pretty good money so we can afford an apartment and then finally a car. My mom then found a job with the Wal-mart down the street as a cashier. Slowly but surely, we built our lives as newly-crafted Americans. Of course, the idea of being American wasn't novel to both me and my sister. We, at least, were born on U.S. soil, albeit a territory located thousands of miles south of the state of Hawaii. We hold American passports and never felt different when it came down to our status of citizenship. The same thing goes for my dad. Back in 1962, he and my grandfather moved to the state of Hawaii. My grandfather was a lawyer and was invited to work for the U.S. Consulate office to the Philippines in Hawaii. This was the beginning of my father's journey to becoming a U.S. citizen.
My mother's journey, however, started nine years ago in July when our family moved to America. For this reason, yesterday was probably one of the most memorable days of my life, and I suspect of my mother's life as well. I don't know much about the way of life in other countries, but I humbly assume that nowhere else is the quality of life better than here in America. I love traveling and seeing the many faces of the world and although I can imagine to live in this place or that (specifically Florence, Italy), there is no other country I would rather pledge allegiance to. Earlier this year, I swore an oath to help defend the rights and liberties of this country when called upon by the U.S. Army. It wasn't until yesterday that I was proud to have made that decision.
In the nine years our family has been in the United States, we have been blessed tremendously. My parents own their own home, where we have enjoyed celebrating many Christmases, birthdays, graduations, family reunions and Thanksgiving dinners. My sister and I have graduated from college and are finding our own way through the world. This year, I will vote in the second presidential election. My mom will be able to vote in her first. And although we may vote for different candidates, that will be okay because we live in a country where different opinions are welcome. And although our country's history may be tainted by racism, sexism, and many other "isms", I am proud and happy to be part of a generation that believes in progressive thinking and in creating a world that will be greener, healthier, and more open-minded than ever before. Making a statement such as this is bold, I know. But how can I help but be optimistic and this ambitious when I know that I live in a country that affords us all the freedom to make big dreams possible and allows us to use all possible resources to get ahead in life? As of yet, I don't know of any other place like the good 'ol US of A:)
Monday, August 11, 2008
Rock Bottom
Will you make it stop for one moment?
When my eyes close and you're still there,
With a voice speaking tongues blowing commanding air.
Willingly, this room gets smaller and I suffocate
Wishing upon my lungs to suppress its rate.
Wasting away painfully as all exits point to you
While you sit there, waiting, all along knowing the truth.
Withhold from me, this you do, of seconds that turn into days
Which makes me write this doctrine of deep sorrow and hate.
Waiting outside is harsh...BUT IT IS MINE and mine without these chains.
Wishful thinking...when I know Seclusion protects me even from the rain.
Withstanding the real world by closing doors and my eyes,
While you put me to bed and numb body and soul through the night.
When my eyes close and you're still there,
With a voice speaking tongues blowing commanding air.
Willingly, this room gets smaller and I suffocate
Wishing upon my lungs to suppress its rate.
Wasting away painfully as all exits point to you
While you sit there, waiting, all along knowing the truth.
Withhold from me, this you do, of seconds that turn into days
Which makes me write this doctrine of deep sorrow and hate.
Waiting outside is harsh...BUT IT IS MINE and mine without these chains.
Wishful thinking...when I know Seclusion protects me even from the rain.
Withstanding the real world by closing doors and my eyes,
While you put me to bed and numb body and soul through the night.
Away From Boredom
Away From Boredom
What is your high and what is your low
A question weighted heavily, when thrown
To be a skeptic of the past of your day
And not knowing a thing about what went each way.
Bumping people...a system like crashing cars
Suppose if you hit hard enough and they can be pushed far...
..far far enough into the distance of the higher mind
To be connected with what is important and how little we have in time.
Sell your soul to that devil who is unknown
But who is evil enough to own the everyday drone
Walking purposeless into each task
Thinking not of your impact, for you are just a parasite in a flask.
You drink up the sun, the moon and life
And discard nothing usefull but cries
Your tears, even, go without notice
For nothing substantial can grow out of useless.
Pray your roles are reversed
You're in the other car, the one that gets hit hardest
So your life, its beauty and real essence impacts you
Revealing a generous gift...one that was always right in front of you.
What is your high and what is your low
A question weighted heavily, when thrown
To be a skeptic of the past of your day
And not knowing a thing about what went each way.
Bumping people...a system like crashing cars
Suppose if you hit hard enough and they can be pushed far...
..far far enough into the distance of the higher mind
To be connected with what is important and how little we have in time.
Sell your soul to that devil who is unknown
But who is evil enough to own the everyday drone
Walking purposeless into each task
Thinking not of your impact, for you are just a parasite in a flask.
You drink up the sun, the moon and life
And discard nothing usefull but cries
Your tears, even, go without notice
For nothing substantial can grow out of useless.
Pray your roles are reversed
You're in the other car, the one that gets hit hardest
So your life, its beauty and real essence impacts you
Revealing a generous gift...one that was always right in front of you.
Friday, August 1, 2008
My first time in the delivery room
It is near impossible to describe in words my first night in the delivery room. I believe it was a Thursday night at LBJ Tropical Medical Center in Pago Pago, American Samoa. I was spending a couple months as a student interning through the OB/GYN department and following around the Chief of obstetrics. My mentor, Dr. AC, is this amazing guy who has spent the last 15 years or so working in Pago, although he's originally from another island called Samoa. I know, it's weird that there are two islands with similar names, culture, and people but are yet run by different governments. Well, Dr. AC is amazing! It's just inspiring to work with people who are so passionate about medicine and taking care of their patients, despite the gruesome hours and lousy pay. But that's another blog story so back to the delivery room...
It's a thursday night and Dr. AC is on call but is catching a few zzz's since the midwife is also on duty. I get a phone call that a couple women have reached about 8 cm's and I rush to the hospital. At the moment of the phone call, I was drinking a diet coke and playing dominoes with my drunk cousins who were all trying to convince me to stay and party with them. But, being the nerd that I am, I wasn't about to give up this awesome opportunity to see a baby brought into the world. So off I went.
The mother is a girl about the same age as me and when I got to the hospital, she was already in the delivery room and pushing. I must admit that I didn't know what to expect when I got there. I always thought the delivery room was a serious place to be, and I guess it could be at times, especially when you have a difficult delivery. But that night, it was one of the funnest places I've been to in a hospital. The nurses were laughing and cracking jokes at each other. The midwife was telling me funny old delivery stories. I was feeling guilty having a jolly good time while the poor patient was writhing in pain from the contractions and pushing a baby that wasn't yet ready to see the world. But who am I to question? Afterall, I am just a student starting out in medicine.
After two hours of coaching the patient through her delivery, we finally see the head of her baby boy. A medio-lateral episiotomy was done to prevent eventual tearing and assist the delivery of the baby out of the vagina. Oh man..when I saw the midwife take that pair of scissors to cut the perineum, all I could do was look at the patient's face to gauge her reaction from the pain she will be experiencing. But...I did not see a reaction from her! I'm assuming that the pain of the contraction was so severe at that point that it masked the pain of the scissors tearing through the tissue. I really don't know how often this procedure is done in U.S. hospitals, but according to the midwife at LBJ, it is a pretty standard procedure that is done based on the decision of the delivering healthcare provider. Being the inquisitive student that I am, I asked the midwife on what grounds she based her decision making process to go ahead with an episiotomy and her answer was that "25 years of delivering babies just gave her an inkling to know which women will pull through without tearing and which women, she would have to make the tear for them." I really don't like this answer. It's like when I ask my dad exactly how much soysauce or vinegar to put into a dish where I'm making 3 pounds of chicken and his response is, "Years of making this dish and you just gauge what's enough soy sauce and vinegar..you throw in a splash of this and that..maybe a half a cup and just season to taste...that's all!" GRRRRRrrrrrr.
Well let's just say that the patient survived my screaming and I survived the pain of seeing scissors cut through tissue without local anesthetic. Yikes! But big day folks! I just saw a delivery. It wasn't what I imagined. I thought angels would start singing as soon as the baby was out and that there would be this unbearable silence as soon as the head poked out..almost like a silent anticipation. Well, I was right about the latter but the angels singing....well that was probably all in my head. But honestly, it was by far the coolest thing I have ever seen! To see a baby poke through a canal that you know in your mind to be a very narrow hole which then transforms to be this gaping hole leading to the inside of a woman's uterus...I mean...wow! The wonders of the human body...well a woman's body in this case!
So yeah, baby and mama were doing great the next day when I rotated through the post-partum maternity ward. It's funny how weird babies look as soon as they're delivered and then you see them afterwards when they are all cleaned up, bundled in a pink or blue blanket, and looking infectiously cute in their head warmers. As I tickled the little guy's foot, I couldn't help but think in my head.."Dude! I was there when you entered the world!" How cool is that?
It's a thursday night and Dr. AC is on call but is catching a few zzz's since the midwife is also on duty. I get a phone call that a couple women have reached about 8 cm's and I rush to the hospital. At the moment of the phone call, I was drinking a diet coke and playing dominoes with my drunk cousins who were all trying to convince me to stay and party with them. But, being the nerd that I am, I wasn't about to give up this awesome opportunity to see a baby brought into the world. So off I went.
The mother is a girl about the same age as me and when I got to the hospital, she was already in the delivery room and pushing. I must admit that I didn't know what to expect when I got there. I always thought the delivery room was a serious place to be, and I guess it could be at times, especially when you have a difficult delivery. But that night, it was one of the funnest places I've been to in a hospital. The nurses were laughing and cracking jokes at each other. The midwife was telling me funny old delivery stories. I was feeling guilty having a jolly good time while the poor patient was writhing in pain from the contractions and pushing a baby that wasn't yet ready to see the world. But who am I to question? Afterall, I am just a student starting out in medicine.
After two hours of coaching the patient through her delivery, we finally see the head of her baby boy. A medio-lateral episiotomy was done to prevent eventual tearing and assist the delivery of the baby out of the vagina. Oh man..when I saw the midwife take that pair of scissors to cut the perineum, all I could do was look at the patient's face to gauge her reaction from the pain she will be experiencing. But...I did not see a reaction from her! I'm assuming that the pain of the contraction was so severe at that point that it masked the pain of the scissors tearing through the tissue. I really don't know how often this procedure is done in U.S. hospitals, but according to the midwife at LBJ, it is a pretty standard procedure that is done based on the decision of the delivering healthcare provider. Being the inquisitive student that I am, I asked the midwife on what grounds she based her decision making process to go ahead with an episiotomy and her answer was that "25 years of delivering babies just gave her an inkling to know which women will pull through without tearing and which women, she would have to make the tear for them." I really don't like this answer. It's like when I ask my dad exactly how much soysauce or vinegar to put into a dish where I'm making 3 pounds of chicken and his response is, "Years of making this dish and you just gauge what's enough soy sauce and vinegar..you throw in a splash of this and that..maybe a half a cup and just season to taste...that's all!" GRRRRRrrrrrr.
Well let's just say that the patient survived my screaming and I survived the pain of seeing scissors cut through tissue without local anesthetic. Yikes! But big day folks! I just saw a delivery. It wasn't what I imagined. I thought angels would start singing as soon as the baby was out and that there would be this unbearable silence as soon as the head poked out..almost like a silent anticipation. Well, I was right about the latter but the angels singing....well that was probably all in my head. But honestly, it was by far the coolest thing I have ever seen! To see a baby poke through a canal that you know in your mind to be a very narrow hole which then transforms to be this gaping hole leading to the inside of a woman's uterus...I mean...wow! The wonders of the human body...well a woman's body in this case!
So yeah, baby and mama were doing great the next day when I rotated through the post-partum maternity ward. It's funny how weird babies look as soon as they're delivered and then you see them afterwards when they are all cleaned up, bundled in a pink or blue blanket, and looking infectiously cute in their head warmers. As I tickled the little guy's foot, I couldn't help but think in my head.."Dude! I was there when you entered the world!" How cool is that?
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