A vida
Exams and exams and exams. I bury myself in my books and microscope. I am very tired of books and tests and microscope.
We had our final evaluation of our clinical exam skills yesterday. Six patients, four hours to go to the different stations and perform different patient histories and different aspects of the phyical exam.
The woman on whom I performed the neural exam had severe neural and muscle deterioration on the right side of her body due to a car accident ten years prior that dealt a blow to the left side of her head. She had to wear a leg brace and cane to walk, she had severe impingement of her motor control because her cerebellum had been damaged, and she could not feel on her right side....
And yet, she was so happy. She felt blessed to be alive and thankful to UCSD for discovering a seizure disorder that developed and curing it so she could lead a more normal life. She volunteers her time to medical students so that we can learn.
The doctor who was evaluating me during her case said to me "The people who come in to the office who are depressed, are depressed about trivial things. It is those of us who have gone through hell who learn to be truly happy after."
I started crying when I left the room. Crying for the beauty of that woman's bravery, for the wisdom of the doctor's words and how they rang true to my life, for the reminder of WHY I am putting myself through this in the first place. Because people are too beautiful to ever quit helping them. Even when you are shaking from exhaustion and so tired of books and tests and microscope.
Inspired by a text conversation my friend Anthony and I had..
We are wanderers you and I , I told him
Home is but a figment, a weatherspun dream
fragments we dance along a twindling thread
He glanced away, glanced to the billowing waves
splattered foam against his red rust cheek.
Disparate equal are the paths trodden
Rocks and cutting branch and brick and marble
Tender soles lacerated healed and scarred over
Bound are we, bound to wander and drift the waves
of soil and brine, ebb and pulse, our bodies beating
and flowing like the heated crashing bubbles,
glistening foam upon our windswept faces.
The salty haze of a distant sunrise
It swims over the morning of citrus cerulean fog
It, we, meander, endless, sky prints evermore, along
cloud strewn trail kissing tide and whirling depths
You and I are empty, he told me.
We wander to fulfill, to fill
gathering gossamer to spin a dream unknown
As I glanced away, glanced to the billowing waves
foam spattering the dancing shards of dawn
We had our final evaluation of our clinical exam skills yesterday. Six patients, four hours to go to the different stations and perform different patient histories and different aspects of the phyical exam.
The woman on whom I performed the neural exam had severe neural and muscle deterioration on the right side of her body due to a car accident ten years prior that dealt a blow to the left side of her head. She had to wear a leg brace and cane to walk, she had severe impingement of her motor control because her cerebellum had been damaged, and she could not feel on her right side....
And yet, she was so happy. She felt blessed to be alive and thankful to UCSD for discovering a seizure disorder that developed and curing it so she could lead a more normal life. She volunteers her time to medical students so that we can learn.
The doctor who was evaluating me during her case said to me "The people who come in to the office who are depressed, are depressed about trivial things. It is those of us who have gone through hell who learn to be truly happy after."
I started crying when I left the room. Crying for the beauty of that woman's bravery, for the wisdom of the doctor's words and how they rang true to my life, for the reminder of WHY I am putting myself through this in the first place. Because people are too beautiful to ever quit helping them. Even when you are shaking from exhaustion and so tired of books and tests and microscope.
Inspired by a text conversation my friend Anthony and I had..
We are wanderers you and I , I told him
Home is but a figment, a weatherspun dream
fragments we dance along a twindling thread
He glanced away, glanced to the billowing waves
splattered foam against his red rust cheek.
Disparate equal are the paths trodden
Rocks and cutting branch and brick and marble
Tender soles lacerated healed and scarred over
Bound are we, bound to wander and drift the waves
of soil and brine, ebb and pulse, our bodies beating
and flowing like the heated crashing bubbles,
glistening foam upon our windswept faces.
The salty haze of a distant sunrise
It swims over the morning of citrus cerulean fog
It, we, meander, endless, sky prints evermore, along
cloud strewn trail kissing tide and whirling depths
You and I are empty, he told me.
We wander to fulfill, to fill
gathering gossamer to spin a dream unknown
As I glanced away, glanced to the billowing waves
foam spattering the dancing shards of dawn