Tag: medical school

Another Word For It

“People may call what happens at midlife “a crisis”, but it’s not. It’s an unravelling- a time when you feel a desperate pull to live the life you want to live, not the one you’re “supposed” to live. The unravelling is a time when you are challenged by the universe to let go of who you think you are supposed to be and to embrace who you are.” – Brené Brown

I believe that I truly started “unravelling” when I turned 40 and the Great Recession started the ball rolling for me, in a big way. Unravelling can be painful, but it can also be so liberating. And it’s funny, we sometimes smugly think that we get to a point of being completely “unravelled”, but then we realize that we still get all tangled and tied up in knots, reminding us that we still have a long ways to go.

Our middle son is in medical school, and we were Facetiming with him last night. He is currently working and learning in the Crisis Trauma Unit in a major hospital in a major city in our country. He has seen and witnessed more in a few weeks than I hope to ever experience in my lifetime. (Those of you who are in the medical arts, thank you for heeding your calling. Thank you for putting your incredible talents towards the healing of others. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.) I asked our son last night if anything really unnerved him the most about his experience. Was there anything that really gave him pause, more than anything else that he had experienced? He told me that it was surreal to see a patient die who had been all “done up” for the day. Their makeup was in place, and their nails were freshly done. It struck him deeply that they had no idea that this would be their last day alive on Earth.

Maybe we are all just balls of yarn, unravelling. We will unravel until we come to the end of our own line of string. Our string gets intertwined and tangled up with others, throughout the days of our own unravelling, making patterns and connections, and then sometimes it rolls on, in a line, all by itself. We have no idea when or where our own ball of string ends, so we may as well enjoy our own unravelling. We may as well get all made up, get a manicure, and roll on with our days with purpose and curiosity and gusto, until one day, much to our own surprise, we reach the end of our string. We are completely unravelled. We are no longer twisted in knots. Our own unique line has been added to the blanket of Life. And we are free.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

2319. Do you prefer vertical or horizontal stripes?

Blocked

I have a rare case of writer’s block today. It doesn’t happen to me often. I think that it is related to the time change, and the achingly distracting pinched nerve in my neck. It is said that when you have writer’s block, you should just write. Just write.

It’s times like these when I am feeling sorry for myself that I get a text like I just got from one of my sons, who is in medical school. He said that he just met a patient who survived being trapped in rubble for three days, during 9/11. I have espoused more than once on the blog that just because someone else is having a heart attack, doesn’t mean that your broken toe doesn’t hurt, but sometimes a little dose of perspective comes right when you need it to come, also. There are some hardcore survivors all around us. People’s stories and backgrounds are fascinating and we know so few of them. If you ever want to be truly entertained, ask some questions of a stranger. People are more fascinating than any of us realize, especially if you ask the right questions.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

The Price

“You cannot have diamonds without paying the price. Even those who come by their diamonds via gifting, pay the diamond price one way or another. It is something to consider before purchase or reception.” _ unknown

(I think that the quote above is a fancy, riddle-ly way to say, “Be careful what you ask for.”)

Ever since the Mega Millions lottery has been over $500 million dollars, I’ve been buying a couple tickets. Why not? Whomever wins has the same abysmal odds as I do. It’s actually been an interesting, life-affirming self-awareness exercise. In thinking of what I would do if I won, I immediately thought about how I would want to keep the winning of the Mega Millions relatively secret, not just for safety, and not out of greed, but mostly because I wouldn’t want much to change in my life, at all. Of course, I would want to help out my friends and my family but I think that I would do so, in nonchalant, secretive ways. I wouldn’t want the important relationships in my life to change, and I am old enough, and I am wise enough to know that they inevitably would, if I were revealed to be an instant multi-millionaire.

We were having a Facetime catch-up with our three sons last night, and our middle son who is currently in medical school, said that he and some of his fellow students were talking about what they would do if they won the Mega Millions (which is now currently worth more than a billion dollars). Would they finish medical school? Would they go on to practice medicine? My son said that he thinks that he would finish pursuing his medical degree, but he is not sure if he would go on to do his residency. Some of his friends said that they would quit altogether. That made me sad. It is incredibly difficult to get into medical school. (I witnessed the process with my own eyes. I have mad respect for those in the medical fields. It’s one of those needle in a haystack processes, getting into medical school, and then being totally dedicated to the daunting undertaking of seeing it all through.) It made me secretly hope that none of these students would experience huge windfalls before they realized their dreams. We desperately need dedicated, smart, resilient people in our healthcare system.

I’ve written previously about a babysitter we had for our first son, when we were new parents. Her family won millions in the lottery. Her father told me that the best part of winning the lottery for him, was feeling “secure.” Later I learned that our babysitter’s parents divorced, and her father and her brother were killed in a four-wheeling accident. Security comes in many forms, and security comes in many illusions.

That being said, I’ll probably buy a couple of Mega Millions tickets before Friday. It’s fun to get caught up in the excitement. And if I win, you may never know . . . .

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Callings

Our middle son is a first year medical student and on our Family Facetime last night, he told us that he was shadowing the orthopedic doctors in the emergency room on Friday night. He described a man who had lost the tip of his finger and then he told us about another poor man whose hand was completely disconnected from the rest of his wrist and was describing how he had to help hold the arm of the man (who was in agonizing pain), as the orthopedists worked to get the man’s hand back into proper position before it would be too late for the hand to have any hope of any sort of recovery. My son was so enthusiastically describing all of these maladies and remedies, that it got to the point that my younger son said, “Okay, Hannibal Lecter, pipe down.”

Our middle son swore that the only reason why he was smiling, while telling us about his latest medical experiences, was because the mortified and horrified expressions on the rest of our faces, were absolutely hilarious to watch. Every time that he describes one of his medical school experiences, such as holding a cadaver’s heart in the palm of his hand, I softly and weakly say, “So, honey, are you sure that this is still your calling?” And our son is always so enthusiastic in his response, “Yes, Mom, YES!”

Medical professionals, I am in awe of you. I am so grateful for you, and for what you do, and for what you are able to handle. I have trouble digesting our son’s stories, much less witnessing them, or having to be a vital part of these stories. There is no doubt in my mind, that like so many professions, medicine is a special calling. I think that if we would all listen to our deepest selves, and follow our own callings, we would see a world like no other. At the very least, it would be a happier, more passionate world. Thank you to all of you who are living what you are called to do, and made to do. It makes all of the difference in our shared world and experience. We all have our part to play. We are all a thread of The Tapestry. We are all a single cell of The Body.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

The Magic Wand Lesson

As the final part of his undergraduate study, before he starts medical school in the fall, my son is shadowing a doctor this semester. The doctor he is working for is a physiatrist. A physiatrist is a medical doctor who works on reducing a patient’s pain, and then moving the patient towards full rehabilitation, of total health and function, after a major injury or illness. A physiatrist uses all sources of tools in the medical arsenal such as medications, physical therapy and other healing modalities. My son has been learning so much from this wonderful man, and we look forward to my son’s interesting stories from his internship, every single week.

On an aside, my family loves to laugh. We crack a lot of jokes. My eldest son is very animated, expressive and self-deprecating. His imitations are hilarious. My youngest son is a natural clown and comedian. He has expressed the desire to give stand-up a go, more than once in his life. My daughter’s friends always tell her how much they love how funny she is, as anecdotes on her birthday cards and such. My middle son (the one working with the physiatrist) has a very dry sense of humor. He is more often the instigator, the one to get the more rowdy others around him going, and then sitting back, and enjoying the mayhem. So, one of my favorite things in life, is watching my middle son tell a story, without even realizing that the way he is telling the story is quite amusing, and then, everybody getting a big laugh out of the story. This roar of laughter and amusement always seems to take my middle son by surprise, realizing that his story is so enjoyable, and he gets this cute, little boy, slightly embarrassed grin on him. His big, brown eyes sparkle, and it is like seeing a glimpse of my adorable, mischievous, little three-year-old baby boy again. Our children don’t realize how many versions of them that we hold and that we safekeep in our minds, and in our hearts. They have only known us as adults, but we get to experience their blossoming and progression, from the very start.

Getting back on track to my story (please forgive my sentimental rambling): This week’s lesson from my middle son’s work with the physiatrist was “the magic wand” lesson. The patient who needed “the magic wand”, had come to the physiatrist for help. This patient was a tad “scattered.” He had many, many stories of many, many horrific accidents and harrowing incidents, from throughout his whole life. His companion was his elderly mother, who sat patiently, nodding her head beside her son, only occasionally adding, “Yep, that’s true. Umm-hmm,” to each of his accountings of all of the unimaginable incidents and ordeals in his life that had lead up to his debilitating physical pain, which seemed to be in every part of his body. In short, he was an interesting, but longwinded character, who was emanating pain, all over and needed some relief. My middle son says that the physiatrist says that these are the types of patients who you must help to focus. With these patients you must ask the question, “If I had a magic wand and could fix just one element of your pain, what would I fix?” My son said that the patient looked instantly relieved and relaxed, and pointed to one spot on his lower back.

After hearing the “magic wand” lesson, I thought to myself how helpful that question can be for any of us, at any time, and it doesn’t have to be related to physical pain. What about those days in life when you feel like you have 800 things going on at once and you don’t even know where to start? If I had a magic wand, and I could have just one of these tasks completed, which task would it be? This magic wand question/trick immediately helps you to calm your mind, and to focus in on your highest priorities and values. What about times in your life where you feel you could use some self-improvement, with healthier habits, in order to lose weight or to have more energy? A lot of times we get so overwhelmed with everything that we think that we have to do, and change, and improve in our lives, that we tend to get frustrated, and then, we end up giving up on all of it. If I had a magic wand and I could just change just one element of my daily habits, what would that be? This question really helps to hone in on what is really the most pressing and urgent, out of all our concerns. And once we have mastered and healed the particular area of our life, and of our health, and of our daily chores and routines, that the magic wand has helped point us to, we can use the trick again, to point us towards our next priority. Perhaps, magic wands are not pretend after all. Perhaps, magic wands are really quite magical, indeed.

Thomas J. Leonard | Dream quotes, The witches of oz, Magic wand

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Friday’s Arrival

Hi friends and readers!!! Friday is here. Love it!! Here at Adulting – Second Half, Fridays are all about the light stuff, the fun stuff, or just plain stuff. On Fridays, I list three favorite things, or songs, or books, or movies, or food items, and I strongly encourage you to add your favorites, to my Comments section, so we all have a lot of fun things to buy, or to try, or to experience, over the weekend. A lot of our best ideas and inspirations come from outside sources. Creation is meant to come from collaboration! Please also check out my previous Friday posts for more favorites.

How did yesterday’s “luckiest day of the year” work out for you? Ours was amazing. Our middle son got accepted into medical school, which has been his dream, since probably middle school. We are beyond thrilled for him, and completely relieved. I had no idea how grueling the process is, to get into medical school, until he began this journey. Medical professionals, I have even more mad, mad respect for you now, than I ever did before. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Here are my favorites for today:

Match 3D – This is my newest phone game addiction. I am surprisingly good at it. Essentially, the premise of the game is that you are given a big pile of stuff to go through, and you can only make the pile go away, by finding the matches. I find it so satisfying to clean up a big messy pile of stuff, in the matter of a few minutes. (if only this could happen in real life) I am not one to pay for anything on my phone games, but I did break down and I paid a couple of dollars to get rid of the advertisements. It was worth it. Otherwise, you lose your concentration when they interrupt you in the middle of your game, to advertise another game which they think that you would probably get addicted to, as well. I think that phone games are a satisfying, inexpensive, harmless way to keep my 50-year-old mind sharp. They help to keep my mind clear of worries and distractions, and keep my fingers and hands out of the cookie jar, so I don’t snack so mindlessly anymore.

Orchidaceous – This my is my favorite word of the week. It is a real word. It means flashy and showy, like an orchid. I always fall for the orchids blooming in the grocery store, and then I buy them, and I bring them home and then they promptly lose their “orchidaceous-ness” and never bloom again. I had given up on some of my orchids as of late, and I ignored them and I probably didn’t water them in weeks, and surprise, they got me. They started blooming again! They are so orchidaceous, that way!

And finally here is my favorite quote of the week, from a great author, Anne Lamott. I washed every stitch of our bedding yesterday and this quote says it all:

“When you crawl between your clean sheets, after a hard day, you are saved. You feel like you are the best sandwich ever.”

Bonus: Although I wouldn’t put either of these movies in “my favorites” column, they are certainly good, worthy of your time, interesting films to watch this weekend. News of the World and The White Tiger are these films. I’ll leave it up to you to research them, to decide whether they should be part of your weekend repertoire of things to do.

Have a great weekend, my lovely, cherished friends and readers!!!

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 

The Worst Day

My middle son is working on his medical school applications. He asked me to edit the personal essay section that he wrote. This filled me with pride, seriousness and a great deal of trepidation. You see, my middle son’s major motivation to go to medical school started mostly with an experience that he had in high school with his younger brother. My youngest son is epileptic and my middle son witnessed my youngest son’s very first grand mal seizure (now called tonic-clonic), while he was driving them both to school. That day was categorically among the very worst days of my life – of all of our family’s lives. I cannot convey, in words, the desperate fear and the pure helplessness you experience, watching your child seize, lips turning blue, praying for it to end, as you hold him, trying to stop him from hurting himself, as his body flails uncontrollably. Every second of one of these seizures, feels like an eternity. It is scary as hell. My son’s neurologist told us that a grand mal seizure is like doing the most intense workout that you have ever done, in the concentrated time span of a few minutes. The experience is terrifying and the aftermath, is exhausting and painful. My youngest son experiences headaches that last a day and an unfathomable level of exhaustion, after coming out of one of these major seizures. Luckily, my son’s seizures are now controlled by a cocktail of medications, which unfortunately also have a bevy of undesirable side effects, but that’s for a different blog post. This post is about my middle son.

My middle son loves science. He loves technology. He loves fast cars and understanding how everything works. My middle son was my child that I was always having to pull his hands off of the buttons that he wasn’t supposed to be touching and pushing. My middle son is talented, smart, and extremely dedicated. He is meticulous and yet underneath all of that heavy, responsible armor that he carries around with him every day, lies a big, old heart of gold. I think there was a part of me that always knew that my son would be attracted to the medical arts, but the day that he witnessed his brother’s first major seizure, and was able to handle it all, in such a self-possessed, astute manner, despite tears flowing down his cheeks, as he calmly called us, and drove the car down a grassy median, avoiding the rush hour traffic, to get his brother home safely to us and to the paramedics, sealed the deal. He knew right then, that he wanted to use the gifts that had been given, to become a good, talented healer. There are silver linings in the bleakest of moments. This I know for sure.

When the paramedics loaded my youngest son into the ambulance, as he was now coming out of his seizure, I stepped up into the ambulance to sit by him and to comfort him, on the way to the hospital. Before they closed the back door of the ambulance, I glanced back at my middle son, standing in our driveway looking up at us both. If a mother’s heart can be ripped into two, it happened to my heart, in that moment. Part of my heart was beating for the welfare of my baby strapped to a gurney, and the other part was beating for the comfort of my brave, young man-child, who handled the situation so heroically. I wanted to comfort them, and me, and the rest of us, all in a steely envelope of relief, but all that I had was a fleeting glance, conveying worry/pride/gratitude/awe all at once, before the doors were quickly shut.

While my youngest son recuperated at the hospital and we knew that he would be okay, my middle son assured my husband and I, that he, too, was fine. In fact, my middle son wanted to head back to school because he had an exam that he didn’t want to miss and a soccer game to play in that night. It was evident to me that he was back to his level-headed, matter-of-fact, goal-oriented self. But I could also see that he was in a serious state of contemplation.

This morning, I made small edits to my son’s personal essay about what events motivated him to get into the medical arts, the most consequential event, being the day he witnessed his adored baby brother’s first major seizure. This essay that he wrote for the application, is his story. It is not mine to change. The story is his perspective and each member of our family has a different “story” about that very same life-changing event that happened in the lives of our family, and each of its members. We knew that this experience would change and affect all of our lives in some ways, forever, but in my middle son’s case, the change for him, came mostly, in the form of an internal, directional sign, pointing forward to his purposeful calling in life. Life works and moves in us and through us, sometimes, in the most poignant and mysterious of ways. We have no choice but to accept this fact, and let it flow.