A Week Out West

I was supposed to go with Mom and Dad to hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearse tonight. Instead, I'm waiting in my hotel room for a phone call from Guatemala to finalize plans for next month's trip. I thought I'd post a summary of the past few days, but then I realized, "How do you summarize a week of memories and unforgettable moments?" How do you describe one of the best worship services on a Sunday morning in a small town in Idaho, the peaceful setting of an agrarian community, the feeling upon seeing those snow-covered rocky sentinels surrounding a placid mountain lake, the sounds of solitude when the only visible man-made thing is the trail in front of you, or the wonder of a myriad of different bubbling waters erupting from the ground?
There's something about being among such grandiose creations that calms the worries in your soul and causes you to realize that your problems and fears are trivial in the grand scheme of life. It has been a joyful week of picking up all those little pieces of my life that have gotten lost on the wayside the past few years and remembering to savor the small surprises found in every day.
I thought I'd share a few pictiures from the past week:

Magic Valley Christian College

The site of the building where my dad used to live at MVCC in the quaint and dying town of Albion, Idaho.

Caution: Slow Moving Vehicles

One of our many encounters with wildlife while at Yellowstone. At last count, we'd seen buffalo, elk, big horn sheep, buffalo, swans, bald eagles, buffalo, black bear, grizzly cubs, buffalo, geese, yellow-bellied marmots, ground squirrels, and numerous species of birds. Did I mention that we saw buffalo?


The Great Divide

Yes, that's snow in the background! It was freezing cold most of our visit which sent me scrambling to the store for a hat and wearing every bit of semi-warm clothing I'd brought (the weather man said it'd be 60 degrees-can't trust weathermen.)

Clepsydra Geyser

One of the many wonders of our nation's first national park.

Grand Tetons

This picture was taken from Jackson Lake. It certainly doesn't portray the imcomprable beauty of these lofty peaks.


What can I say? The West is a beautiful place. I wonder if they'll need an MD in a few years?

Blog on a Break

Last night was one of those deja vu moments. As we boarded the bus in the rain to traverse the city on our prayer campaign, I was sharply reminded of Tuesday nights in Honduras. You see, most Tuesday nights some of the Baxter students and myself would meet at the clinic to catch the church bus in the rain (it always rains at night in Honduras) to go to church. There we would spend the hour in small prayer groups praying for whatever was on our hearts or sharing how God answered our prayers the week before. It was a fond recollection as the church in Smyrna rode the bus(es) together last night and gathered in prayer.
Due to the overwhelming demands I have made on my blog, it has decided that it needs a vacation. Besides, I don't think that towns with populations of less than 300 people nor the vast wilderness of the national parks provide ready access to the internet. Therefore, it is unlikely that you'll be hearing from me for the next week or so. However, I will have my cell phone with me should it work or you can try to reach me by homing pigeon (I hear they find Old Faithful quite delightful.)
Trite as it may seem, I ask for your prayers for our safety and that everything goes smoothly the next week. I hope you all have a wonderful week wherever you may be!!!

Around the Town

Mom and I went shopping yesterday. Even though I'd only been gone for a period of months, this county is growing so fast that several times I had to ask her for directions to familiar locations. I remember when there were more cow fields in Smyrna than surburbs, and Nissan was the biggest employer. Now it's hard to find a cow, but subdivisions seems to be sprouting daily like unwanted weeds in a summer flowerbed. Even next door I'm forced to face the change. The verdant rolling hills of pasture that were my playground have now been replaced by mounds of dirt in the name of progress. Alongside the driveway that led to my grandparents' house, and the gravel track of many races of my cousins and me (Jim you always beat me), now stand a sentinel of bulldozers and other mechanical behemoths. All this construction and all this progress mean one thing: all kinds of people are moving into Smyrna including people seeking a Savior.
The leaders at church have also noted this influx, and Sunday they told us that Wednesday we'd be doing our part to minister to our new neighbors. So tomorrow night we will be loading our cars and headed out around the city to pray for her and her new inhabitants, to pray for ways to reach out to her occupants and to pray that our lights may shine. It's so wonderful to not be focusing on telling people what's wrong with Christianity, and instead, to be focusing on telling people what's right with Christ. I had never thought about praying for a city, yet Christ did that very thing. Upon a trip back to Jerusalem he saw the city and wept. I imagine that He wept for all those lost souls searching for salvation, hurting from life's burdens. I remember driving back one night from San Pedro Sula to Tegucigalpa, Honduras. I remember seeing the hills lit up with thousands of twinkling lights, each its own Christmas tree, but I did not weep for the city.
Maybe I should start praying for those "Jerusalems" I've encountered: for Johnson City and the thousands of students on campus seeking out the meaning of life, for Knoxville, for Smyrna, for Tegucigalpa, for Chicacao, Guatemala, and the list could go on and on.
So tomorrow night I'll be out somewhere around Smyrna praying. If you happen to live here, know that you are being prayed for. If you live somewhere else, use this as an opportunity to pray for that somewhere else. Prayer is a powerful thing and you can never do it enough.

"What's Playing at the Roxy?"

So I finally went to see Star Wars. My cousin had been wanting to see it so I agreed to see it with him tonight. It met my expectations though it is a much darker film than the previous four. I won't give away the story line, but it reminded me of how powerful evil can be, especially when we let our own pride and priorities take precedence over our calling. On a brighter note, Disney is releasing a movie version of one of my favorite childhood books, C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. The movie promises to be every bit as creative and unique as my imagination envisioned the book to be some years ago.
Unfortunately, tonight happened to be Lebanon's annual "Slammin and Jammin" event aka an opportunity for every redneck to come out of the local communities and towns, like cockroaches out of the cracks in the walls at night, for the purpose of displaying their low riders and sports cars with shiny blue flames emblazoned on the side. I regretfully forgot to bring my nun's habit to wear as I was driving down "the strip" trying to get home. Needless to say, the exit for I-40 didn't come a yard too soon. What was appalling was all the young girls running around with the much older proud owners of the vehicles. It still amazes me that parents take such little interest in their precious children's lives to permit them to behave in such a way. Maybe I'm just an old fogey.
Only a week until I fly Northwest. Hopefully, I won't have encounters with such uncouth individuals. If I do, maybe I'll just have to have my own line of redneck show cars. I'll call it, "Customs for Christ" and instead of throwing Mardi Gras beads out the window and whistling cat calls, maybe I'll shout "Jesus Loves You," and hand out flyers to a local revival. Ok maybe not. It's late. I should probably sleep. Thanks for reading another one of my stream-of-consciousness posts.

Pearls of Wisdom from a former M1

After many tests the past few weeks and much activity and travel the past few days, I can finally say I'm done, I'm home, and I'm officially to be called "M2." It's a wonderful feeling though sometimes I still feel like I'm just on a break and that the craziness starts back in a few days. Spending 6 or more hours on the road the past two days (I took a few detours) has given me lots of time to think about the past year of my life and what exactly I learned as an M1. Enjoy!

1. When they said medical school was hard, they were right. Medical school is hard.
2. Buying 3 inch binders is a good idea.
3. Joining student interest groups is a good way to cut your food budget in half.
4. The speed limit on campus is 20mph. Repeat: the speed limit on campus is 20mph
5. Cadaver Ball has nothing to do with cadavers.
6. "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven," including studying.
7. Even though you may be wearing a white coat and say that you attend medical school, people will still ask you, "So are you going to be a doctor or a nurse?"
8. Chocolate cake with the girls makes everything better.
9. Despite being medical school nerds, we still know how to play a little football.
10. Through prayer and faith, God can take even your most obscure talent and weave it into His perfect plan.
11. An open heart and an open mind open doors to many opportunities.
12. Movie nights and pizza after exams are a requirement.
13. Once a Vol, always a Vol
14. Cell and Tissue is a lot more fun on the "big screen."
15. Prayer is a powerful thing; be careful of what you pray for because it just might happen.
16. God never gives us more than we can bear, but sometimes He weighs us down enough to bring us to our knees.
17. There is life outside of medical school, albeit a small one.
18. I still don't know anything.
19. Appalachia is pronounced "Appa-lat-chuh" not "Appa-lay-shuh"
20. Johnson City drivers are worse than Knoxville drivers but better than Honduran drivers.
21. I will never be a perfect physician. I only need to remember to refer my patients to the one who was.
22. "Air goes in and out. Blood goes round and round."
23. Professors aren't scary monsters.
24. Skipping class can be good for your grade.
25. It is possible to survive the first year of medical school.

Pictures and Print

While my parents were in town this past weekend, we found ourselves out running errands. Since I actually have time to read something besides pages of notes about cholesterol synthesis and degradation, a stop at Barnes and Nobles was a must. After viewing the newest must-haves and surveying the store, I was drawn to the travel section, particularly to the books about local culture. I scanned a few paragraphs about Sneedville's famed Melungeons and then picked up another book about 50 day hikes in Southern Virginia. On the top rack were a number of photography books about Appalachia and the region. Curious, I opened one up to the middle and began looking at the pictures. What I saw astonished me. These pictures of rural Appalachia could have almost been pulled from the landscapes of Central America. In particular, one picture burned an imprint on my mind. It was the inside of a house, if you could call it a house. The walls were constructed of degrading weatherboard painted a soft blue green, like a robin's egg. On them hung icons of the Christ and Mary cradling the infant Jesus surrounding a larger picture, presumably of a loved one. Below the walls sat a simple wrought-iron frame bed with a feather-stuffed mattress. An elderly lady sat in the middle of the bed; squat and stolid in her expression. Simple cotton garments hung from her elderly frame. The lines of poverty had worn deep furrows in her brow, leathery from years of work out in the hot sun. I looked in the back of the book to see when this picture was taken: 1998 and less than fifty miles from where I sit tonight.
In a few brief moments, this book of photographs had given me a deeper and more complete perspective of a culture than any Tennessee history book I studied in grade school ever did. Why is it that a piece of paper with colors and lines formed in the shape of the human countenance evoke such emotion, such thought? Why is it that an image will be forever ingrained in my memory while I can't remember two sentences from a book I read last night?
The photography book inspired me to re-read Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, a collaborative work by James Agee and Walker Evans. Walker Evans didn't write a single word yet his contribution is just as great, if not greater, as Agee's. Prefacing the four hundred pages that follow are fifty or so photos. With careful study, those fifty photographs unfold the entire story that Agee would become famous for writing.
So why is it "a picture is worth a 1000 words?" Why is it that the written word fails to capture the observed image? Maybe I should refrain from using words and just post pictures to my blog. Below are two images which evoke the same emotion and interest as the photograph of the Appalachian woman. Words aren't sufficient to describe them so I won't even make the attempt. All I can say is their date and location: 2003, Montaña de la Flor, Honduras.



Just some ponderings about pictures and my inability to convey what I see by what I write.

Off the Beaten Path

What do thirty-three miles, eight wheels, and four medical students equal?
One great adventure.

As a well-deserved reward for completing our first year of medical school, some of my classmates and I decided to bike the Virginia Creeper Trail today. The day started early with a motly group of exam-wearied students: Hannah, who spent most of her life in Ethiopia; Chris, the thirty year old Memphian; Kyoo, the judo fighter, and myself. We met our shuttle at Abingdon, loaded our bikes, and rode up to the top of the trail. The drive was nice and reminded me of the convoluted highways of Honduras, minus the tropical foilage and "loco" bus drivers trying to pass two-abreast on blind curves. We knew we were entering a rural section of Virginia when we started noticing town names such as "Mouth of Wilson" and "Voldey" on the road signs. When we reached an old railroad station between the middle-of-nowhere and a Christmas tree farm, our guide stopped the van and unloaded our bikes, leaving us on our own to pedal the thirty-three miles back to Abingdon.

Wondering what we had gotten ourselves into, having never ridden for thirty-three miles, we started down the trail. The first seventeen miles were all downhill, literally. There's something about being in God's creation that's good for the ones He created. As we rode, the stress of constantly studying since January blew away like the gentle Virginia mountain breeze around me. Rhodedendron lined the path, and bright crimson, yellow, and lavender-colored flowers were on the ground beneath. On one side of the trail, Laurel Creek quietly gurgled and poured over limestone rocks while stands of hemlock and oak and cut-out rock walls defined the other side of the trail and the Mt.Rogers Wilderness Area. Occasionally, we would ride through fields and be greeted by an elderly lady sitting on the front porch of her farmhouse or by a man, knee deep in water, intent on improving his fly-fishing abilities.


Just in time, we rode into Damascus and stopped at a local mom and pop restuarant that sold sandwiches, baked-goods, and other sundries. It was a welcome relief. We spent time enjoyng each others' company and refraining from mentioning anything about the past four months of our lives (well, there were a few comments like, "My insulin and glucagon are working at the same time," made by Kyoo as she tried to ride her bicycle and eat her ice cream cone at the same time) Remember, we are medical school nerds.

I couldn't have asked for a more perfect day. The temperature was a pleasant seventy-five degrees and the cerulean sky was painted with only a few flecks of clouds. The trail, fairly level, led us through Damascus and then narrowed to a single track surrounded by fields of cattle and the occasional trailer or small frame house. When we reached a field of horses, we considered borrowing one of its inhabitants to assist us in our journey. After brief contemplation, we decided we'd better stay on our bikes.

The trail continued to wind its way toward our destination, leading us over wooden trestles like the one that hovered high over the Holston River. The last seven miles, the trail began a gradual ascent toward Abingdon, and we soon reached the end. We couldn't believe it. we had just ridden thirty-three miles! Tired but thrilled at having just spent a day doing something completely unrelated to the medical field, we paused for a moment and savored our accomplishment. I have to say that we probably felt the same way at having just completed our first year of medical school.

I'll probably be sore tomorrow and remembering the names of all the muscles I've already forgotten exist, but the journey down the Creeper Trail was well worth the effort. So was my first year of medical school. I'm glad summer has finally come.

Blog on the Road

I've seemed to notice that the number of blogs per week proportionally increases as the days until exams decrease. In a week, I'll be leaving the sleepy, almost-Appalachian city of Johnson City to begin my fun-filled summer in any place but Northeast Tennessee. Here's a preview of where you might see future posts from:

Smyrna, Tennessee: Of course I have to stop by home for a few weeks and see the parents, friends and family, and hear all the local gossip about who's married who and what new restaurant is in town.

Magic Valley, Idaho: In the early 60's my grandparents and their five kids packed up all their belongings and moved from Smyrna to Magic Valley, Idaho. No they weren't condoning the attitude of the 60's and moving to some hippie farm as the name suggests. Rather, my grandfather was helping start Magic Valley Christian College (for those of you who are Stone-Campbell "aficionados" you can look up MVCC in the new encyclopedia). Needless to say, putting a college in the middle of nowhere wasn't the greatest idea, and after less than two years they moved back to Tennessee. However, Dad has always wanted to return to Magic Valley so we're spending a week there as well as taking in some of the nearby attractions of Yellowstone.

Southwest: My friend Cammie and I were spending time together over winter break and realized that neither of us has ventured west of Dallas. This will all change come mid-June when we pack up her car, hit the road, and drive off into the sunset for a few weeks.

Guatemala: Of course a summer isn't complete without paying a visit to Central America. I've been blessed with the opportunity to return again to Guatemala to work with the Los Piñares del Norte church for a few weeks and with Health Talents International for one week. I'm not exactly sure of my itinerary, but God usually changes it to something more wonderful anyways. Vamos a ver.

So there you have it. Should any of you faithful blog readers be in any of these areas, come say hello. If you have any suggestions or random relatives who don't mind housing 2 20-somethings for a night or if you have any suggestions about things out west, let me know. Send me your address and perhaps I'll send you a postcard. For now it's back to the books and wishing it were next week.

Another Long Week

The first week of medical school had to have been the longest week of my life. I think this week is going to come in a close second. I only have one more week left of my first year of medical school and two more exams, yet it feels like an eternity until Monday comes. Only one week until I am released from this concentration camp of academia and medical minutia.
Was it really just nine months ago when I donned that white coat and entered the swollen womb of a dream deferred?
Only one more week until I earn my freedom of a few months of vacation spent with those who've been there for me: a trip out West with the parents, a roadtrip with Cammie, and three weeks in Central America with my dear friends who always seem to send me an encouraging emails just when I feel like I'm about to slip off the cliff into the abyss of failure.
One more week. Two more tests. Hours of studying. Numbed mind. I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. Almost.

It Just so Happens

It just so happens that I came to ETSU's Quillen College of Medicine instead of UT-Memphis, WF, South Carolina, etc.. to study medicine.
It just so happens that the man who grades Amado's Bible correspondence lessons in Texas decided to email the preacher here in Tennessee with Amado's contact information.
It just so happens that I was at church on a Sunday night instead of studying for a test the next day when the preacher asked if there was anyone in the congregation who spoke Spanish.
It just so happens that the Morales family moved to Johnson City from Guatemala.
It just so happens that our youth minister went to Nicaragua in March on a mission trip.
It just so happens that his translator was a bilingual young man from Costa Rica.
It just so happens that this young man is the brother of one of my friends who attended Baxter.
It just so happens that this man is coming to help start the Hispanic ministry here in Johnson City right as I'm leaving for the summer.

Some may call these happenings coincidence. I call it statistically impossible without God's providence. I'm constantly amazed and delighted at how God takes the seemingly unrelated threads of different people's lives and circumstances and weaves them together into the tapestry of His wonderful and meaningful plan. Open your eyes and see where He's weaving the threads of your life!

Post-exam Thoughts

It is at those times in our lives when we have traversed the limits of our abilities and resigned our idols of self-sufficiency that our Lord says, "Finally, I can use you for what I intended." It is at these times when we are nothing but empty worn-out vessels that He abundantly fills us with the Holy Spirit, renewing us to fulfill the wonderful plan He has had for us all along.
A year ago today, I was closing a chapter in my life, the final lines being written as I walked across the stage and received the orange, cardboard tube containing a letter saying my diploma would be in the mail. Here I am today looking at the first few pages of the new chapter I have started. The pages are marked with ?s, ink smudges, !!!, cross-outs and jumbles of experiences as I've stumbled over all the new pieces of my life, trying to decipher their proper location.
Many times this year I've felt like Moses: not the strong Moses who led his people out of Israel and came down the mountain with God's glory radiating from his face; rather, the stuttering Jew who felt hopelessly incapable of the task God had set before him. Other times, I've felt like Jonah, swallowed up by my own doubts and telling God that His plan is impossible. On the other hand, sometimes I have felt like Ester, as if I were put here at such a time and a place for a great purpose.
Medicine, like the military, is such an esoteric and demanding experience, that I suppose only those who have been through it would understand it. I can't begin to describe the past nine months. It has been a time of transformation in my life. In August, I entered a three-story, modern building and beheld the gazes of 60 strangers. In a week, I will walk out of Stanton-Gerber Hall, my second home, and bid a temporary goodbye to those who have shared in the majority of my existence over the past year. I have learned more about the meaning of the words sacrifice, grace, discipline, sin , and perserverance than I ever did in throughout my college experience. I have been broken and emptied and blessed at the same time. It has been a time of failure and a time of faith-building-a time of crying out to God to fill my worn-out vessel.
Summer eagerly awaits, only 12 more days and 3 more exams. I cannot wait to see the glorious and wonderful plans God has ready to be inscribed on the next few lines of my life.

Help!

This is an interactive post brought to you by Michele's indecisiveness:

As stated in a previous blog, I have a week-long preceptorship coming up this October that I have to decide about ASAP. I've chosen mine to be in Emergency Medicine so I can pretend to be like all those cool actors on TV. That being said, my dilemma is that I don't know where I want this preceptorship to take place.

1. I could go with two of my classmates to Miami for the week and stay with the family of one of the aforementioned classmates and maybe have the opportunity to be exposed to Spanish-speaking patients in an emergency setting.
2. I could go to Indianapolis, IN to walk in the footsteps of a former missionary doc who worked for ten years in Africa and who now practices Emergency Medicine in Indiana.
3. I could stay in the Nashville-area.

There are ups and downs to each (working in an Christian environment, going someplace cool, logistics, etc...) and I'm clueless as to which place I should go.

Please let me know, what do you think?!?

May is National Bike Month

What Can Biking do for You?


I'm sure you all know that February is Black History Month, that March is dedicated to women, but did you know that May is National Bike Month? Yes, it's that time of year to dust off your seat, oil up the gears and put your feet on the pedals. May 16th has been designated as "Bike to Work" day so I urge all of you to try a different means of commuting than a key in the ignition.
In honor of such a month, to promote a cleaner environment, and to save gas money, I will be commuting to school on two rubber wheels and a metal frame. The reality is, all this talk about diet and exercise in Biochemistry made me feel guilty about my exercise habits and made me realize that while walking 1.5 miles to school uphill both ways in the snow barefoot might be a challenge, perhaps biking would be somewhat easier. So last week I broke down and invested in my health and in a mountain bike. I can't think of a better way to start the day than a short ride to school with no radio blaring in my ear and only the sounds of rubber on the road and my heart beating, waking me up from my drowsy state as I pedal to Stanton-Gerber Hall for an 8am class.
Speaking of Biochemistry and health, I've recently been thinking about such issues in regards to the patients I've seen and my own health. Almost certainly, over half of my future patient load could be eliminated by proper diet and exercise. So many of our health related issues stem from an improper balance of diet and lack of exercise. I find it ironic that we will pay for premium gasoline, that we will buy the best quality brand of clothes, detergents, vehicles, etc.. However, when it comes to our bodies, we settle for junk. We load it with partially-hydrogenated, chemically saturated, high fructose corn syrup carbonated junk. Though our bodies were beautifully and intricately designed, it is illogical to think that they were engineered to daily combat such chemical creations.
I may not be able to control my genetic composition nor any accidents that may be beset me, but I can control what I allow to enter my body and how I use it. It is for such reasons that I have, when possible, made the switch to organic foods. Before you tell me that my time in Appalachia has turned me into some bike-riding, tree-hugging, hippie chick, keep reading. Not only is organic food lacking in unknown and carcinogenic chemicals, organic foods are produced in such a way that benefits the community and the environment. They promote family farms and support local communities and eliminate the chemical byproducts that come from regular, mass-producing agrarian businesses. In particular, organic milk and meat from organic (range-fed) animals lack the antibiotics and steroid hormones that come non-organic sources. Did you know that every time you order a meat dish at your favorite restaurant that that animal was probably kept from birth in a small stall and never allowed out to roam the verdant hills like any God-created cow or chicken should be allowed to do? Do you realize that every bottle of milk you buy probably came from a cow who was pumped up with antibiotics and possibly fed feed that had meat from other animals mixed in with it? Just a few things to think about.
Even if I have convinced you to buy organic, you're probably thinking, "Michele, this is going to be expensive, and it all tastes like rabbit food!"
Actually, it's not anymore expensive than picking up a few Greastals and an order of fat fries everyday. I can go and buy an organic pizza for the same price of a take-out pizza. I can buy enough organic food for lunch everyday cheaper than I could go out to eat for those same lunches. As far as tasting like rabbit food, just open up a box of Health Valley granola bars, a container of Horizon yogurt, or a can of Amy's brand soups and try it. I personally find the lack of chemical additives as a supplement to the taste.
Here are some helpful links to understanding the term "Organic" and why we should all consider making the switch:

SustainableTable.org

Guidelines Regarding Food Additives

I'm not saying that I don't enjoy going out for that occasional pizza or indulging in a piece of chocolate birthday cake. However, I was given one body on this earth, and I intend to take care of it as best I can. So go ahead, comment away about your "Appalachian, bike-riding, organic food-loving" friend's post. In the meantime, go try something organic, and don't forget your bike helmet! Remember, May is National Bike Month!

A Wet Weekend

With camping plans already axed due to Friday night's storms and going against my better judgment, I decided to join some friends in Cades Cove Saturday evening to break in my new bike and spend some time away from Johnson City. I have to say, there's almost nothing more beautiful than the Smokies in springtime. The drive itself, minus the slight detention in the "Mecca of Materialism:Pigeon Forge" was a continual display of new spring life and colors around every bend of curvy Wears Valley Road. When I arrived at the Cove, my friends were just finishing dinner, and the weather was a balmy 50 degrees. The ride started out nicely with an expansive view of the mountains surrounding the valley and an abundance of wildlife: deer and turkey. However, just as we reached the halfway mark of the loop, it started to rain and rain and rain. Fortunately, it was limited to a fine drizzle for the majority of the ride and we stumbled upon an old log house for shelter when the drizzle changed to a steady rain. By the end of the ride, our bikes and ourselves were soaked upon our return, but the adventure was well worth it.
After worship on Sunday at Laurel, I drove back to Johnson City only to be greeted by another wet surprise: my water heater had sprung a leak and was determined to turn my laundry room into Johnson City's newest indoor swimming pool. Thank goodness for emergency maintenance service.
Then there's the wetness of my runny nose as I've had to miss the last two days of med. school due to a sinus infection. "Wet" seems to be a pervading characteristic of my life these past few days. Even as I was eating breakfast this morning, I was greeted by April's HTI calendar's picture of an old Quiche man taking cover under a plastic poncho during the seasonal afternoon rains of Guatemala. I remember those rains: how we all despised our daily drenching until one day it didn't rain and we had to suffer from the heat until the next afternoon.
Though I've been snuggled under my covers and sick, I'm thankful that I've been given two rainy days, so to speak, days where I can just sit and think. I've actually had time to catch up on my Daily Bible reading, to journey with Paul through his letters to the Thessalonians and Corinthians, to be reminded of the joy that comes from sharing in the suffering on the Cross, and to be reminded that my purpose is not motivated by a fear of Hell, rather; by a love for the One who conquered it. I've had time to think about how this time last year I was about to polish off an undergraduate degree, and how a year later, I'm still wet behind the ears in the study of medicine. I've had time to think about how many storms I've faced this past year, how many streams crossed, and how every time God has protected me and provided me a way through them.
I suppose tomorrow the sun will shine brightly and clearly display how far behind I am in my studies and how much I still have to accomplish over the next month to finish my first year of medical school. For now, it's back to bed to sleep and rid myself of these sinus sniffles!

Mark Your Calendars!

I know this is early to announce but I thought I'd post this "hot-off-the-press" poster. Needless to say, this poster didn't make the cut so feel privileged to view such a rarity.
If things work out, there may be specific sessions for college/medical students regarding missions. If anyone needs a place to stay, my apartment has an open-door policy.
Any questions? Just send me an email! Cya in September!!

ER?

Though I barely know what I'm doing from day to day, the powers at be at Quillen are already asking me to consider where I want to go and what I want to do for October's week-long preceptorship (aka doctor shadowing). I think I've figured out the "what," Emergency Medicine because would expose me to a wide variety of scenarios, not to mention the fact that I secretly admire all those great actors that come on TV every Thursday night.
The "where," on the other hand, is another story. Anyone know of any Christian ER docs? Should I go hang out with some of you guys in a random city, should I go back home, or should I succumb to the persuasive powers of one of my classmates and spend the week in Miami?
(Note: By this time I should have a FF mile ticket so airfare isn't an issue).
Any suggestions besides going to Hollywood and hanging out with the TV "ER" docs? I have until Monday or a few days after to decide. Decisions, decisions.
Any help or ideas will be appreciated!

Lack of Concentration

I have a confession to make: I'm not concentrating on biochem right now as I should be. It's 11:30pm, and my mind has traversed all paths but those of steroid synthesis and metabolism. Instead, I am aimlessly staring at my computer, chatting with old friends, and typing a quick post to be viewed by all the world should they pause momentarily from their busy schedules to read another one of my ramblings.
I've been reading a lot of Oswald Chambers lately (as if you haven't been able to tell by my previous posts) As I was reading April 15th's daily devotional, I came across one of his many interesting insights. The focus of the devotional was spiritual concentration, and the point was made about how often we as Christians feel deserving of a "moral holiday," a respite such as I am taking this very moment from my studies. Society seems to apply this perspective to many aspects of our lives: I ran two miles today; therefore, I can splurge and have that extra piece of cake at dinner. I just studied for an hour so I deserve a 15 minute break. I brown-bagged it all week so I can go out to eat on Saturday night. Likewise, many of us Christians hold this same paradigm in regards to our Christian lives. We have a tendency to say to ourselves, "Let's see. I went to church three times this week, put some money in the offering plate, read my Bible daily, and helped the elderly lady next door. Surely, am I not entitled a small break to live as the rest of the world does? After all, I've checked off my list for this week. I'm good to go."
While the rewards and rest system might function well for study breaks and extra cake, we cannot approach our Christian lives in the same manner. Can a wife who has been faithful to her husband for forty years all of a sudden decide she needs a "vacation" from their marriage and have an affair one night? Suppose your heart decided to take a break after you just finished a marathon because it thought it had worked hard the last few hours and needed a rest, or suppose your kidneys decided they had filtered their quota for the week and were "off duty" until Saturday? Would not consequences ensue from each of these "vacations?"
Likewise, we must continue forward in our walk, not stopping to "take a rest" or a "vacation," regardless of how much we think we might deserve such a rest or how difficult the walk may be.
Anyways, I probably need to step off my soap box and resume my studies of cholesterol and steroids.
Only one more month to go, but what a month it's going to be!

Beautiful Feet

“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the messenger bringing good news.”- Isaiah 52:7

I could never be a model of the latest toe-rings or nail polish. My feet are far too ugly for that, malformed, disproportionate, and calloused. However, this summer it is my hope that they will be transformed into something beautiful.
After I finished my two exams on Monday, I stopped by the computer lab to check my email. The surprise I found in my inbox placed a smile on my face equal to the satisfaction I would have had from ace-ing the two previous tests. My friend from Guatemala had written to tell me that everything was in order for this summer’s trip and of our task at hand. We would be journeying to the poorest towns and villages of an already impoverished Guatemala, areas with names like Zacapa, Pacayito, and Tesharte. Our mission is not unlike that written in Isaiah: to bring the good news to those on the mountains (or on the volcanoes or in the small villages tucked away in a forgotten corner of the world). We take nothing with us except supplies and bedding, a few trucks, and a message of hope. Some of you might wonder why go through all this trouble just to “share your religion with some poor Guatemalans?”
The reason is more profound than such a simple phrase. I refrain from using the term “religion” for I feel it implies a definition of a self-edifying social organization instead of the true implication of a sin-stained sacrifice hanging on a two-beamed alter to bring everyone a message of hope and salvation. It is the very feet, nailed and dirty, that graced that wooden altar that will bring my feet in contact with the precious, God-formed feet of the people I will meet this summer, calloused-feet from walking miles, dirty feet from daily working in the fields, and perhaps broken feet, wearied by the load and hardships of life. These same feet will hear of a message of one who not only washes such feet but also washes away the despairs of life.
Just the thought of such an opportunity elicits a feeling of awe and excitement from within me. If I could hop a plane tomorrow, I’d do so without a second thought. I cannot wait to serve my Lord in such a way and to see the faces of some of those who were there when the Spirit first planted the seed in my heart for long-term missions in Honduras in 2003. As my friend wrote in the email, “The work of the Lord this summer will be incredible.”
So I ask your prayers that God may make my feet beautiful this summer, fresh with a life-saving message and uncalloused from my own burdens and shortcomings. We will also be blessed with a Cuban doctor who will provide medical treatment to those we encounter. We will need money to be able to buy needed-medications for this trip, so if you’d like to help in this way, let me know.

I pray that God gives you beautiful feet and guides them where to go!

I Couldn't Have Said it Better Myself

A great insight by Oswald Chambers from his My Utmost for His Highest book:

The Destitution of Service

. . . though the more abundantly I love you, the less I am loved —2 Corinthians 12:15


Natural human love expects something in return. But Paul is saying, "It doesn’t really matter to me whether you love me or not. I am willing to be completely destitute anyway; willing to be poverty-stricken, not just for your sakes, but also that I may be able to get you to God." "For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor . . ." ( 2 Corinthians 8:9 ). And Paul’s idea of service was the same as our Lord’s. He did not care how high the cost was to himself— he would gladly pay it. It was a joyful thing to Paul.

The institutional church’s idea of a servant of God is not at all like Jesus Christ’s idea. His idea is that we serve Him by being the servants of others. Jesus Christ actually "out-socialized" the socialists. He said that in His kingdom the greatest one would be the servant of all (see Matthew 23:11 ). The real test of a saint is not one’s willingness to preach the gospel, but one’s willingness to do something like washing the disciples’ feet— that is, being willing to do those things that seem unimportant in human estimation but count as everything to God. It was Paul’s delight to spend his life for God’s interests in other people, and he did not care what it cost. But before we will serve, we stop to ponder our personal and financial concerns— "What if God wants me to go over there? And what about my salary? What is the climate like there? Who will take care of me? A person must consider all these things." All that is an indication that we have reservations about serving God. But the apostle Paul had no conditions or reservations. Paul focused his life on Jesus Christ’s idea of a New Testament saint; that is, not one who merely proclaims the gospel, but one who becomes broken bread and poured-out wine in the hands of Jesus Christ for the sake of others.

I Couldn't Sleep Last Night

So I stole this survey from Justin's blog. Enjoy reading it while I "enjoy" a wonderful springtime weekend in Stanton Gerber Hall studying. Sigh.

My name is: Michele K Gourley
I may seem: Organized
I am really: Messy
In the morning: Wake up, hit snooze, eat breakfast, get ready, scramble around the apartment and try to make it to class by 8am
I like to sleep: More often than I get the chance
If I could be doing anything right now I would be: Camping in the Smokies
Money is: Loan money
One thing i wish i had: my MD
One thing i wish i didn’t have is: Trigger points or two tests on Monday
All i need is: God

Firsts
first best friend: Hmm
First Car: 1989 Grand Am
first kiss: 8th grade (if it counts)
first screen name: oboegirl37
first self-purchased album: Beach Boys Greatest Hits
first funeral: My Grandpa’s when I was 6
first pet: Pluto the Collie
first piercing: ears
first credit card: nope
first enemy: Sarah (when I was in 2nd grade)
first musician you remember hearing in your house: John Denver or Alabama

Lasts
last cigarette: never. smoking is gross!!!!
last car ride: with Ron, Seth, and Kristen coming back from Rogersville today
last kiss: Sophomore of college
last good cry: Spring Break though I wouldn’t term it “good”
last library book checked out: Something on West Nile Virus for my micro independent study class last year
last phone call: to or from?
Last time showered: after I worked out today
last movie seen: Does Dr.Hossler’s 3-D EM slide presentation count?
last beverage drank: Agua Pura
last food consumed: Organic granola bar
last crush: I crushed an orange bug. Does that count?
last shoe worn: Birkenstock sandals
last cd played: Rusted Root
last annoyance: People not following through with stuff
last item bought: Dinner at Don Pablo’s in Asheville, NC
last dissappointment: When friends let you down
last time wanting to die: I can’t think of a time I just wanted to die.
last time scolded: umm. Probably my bro or me forgetting to do something
last shirt worn: banana republic pink long sleeve
last website visited: ETSU Blackboard
last word you said: G’nite
last song you sang: that Nelly/Tim McGraw song “It’s All in My Head” (on the way back from Rural Track-good times!)

what color socks you are wearing: my ten toes
what color underwear are you wearing: what do you think?
what’s under your bed: I dunno. Do you?
what time did you wake up today: 6:20am

Future
where do you want to go: England or out west
what is your career going to be: Family Medicine/Missionary
where are you going to live: I wish I knew. Latin America? US?
how many kids do you want: 0-3

Current
current mood: wishing for sleep, stressed
current music: in my head
current taste: saliva: amylase, IgA, HCO3, K, Na, Cl, lingual lipase (yeah we’re studying GI)current hair: shoulder length and natural
current clothes: Blue Nashville Youth Symphony T-shirt and grey workout pants
current desktop picture: pretty flowers from Honduras
current color of toenails: burgundy wine
current love: Springtime!!!
current infatuation: Renal and GI Physiology and Histology
current time: 12:30am

The Results Are Here

Here are the results to the quiz I posted a few days ago. No one got them all right though some were close. I'll admit, it was a little tricky. Guess you guys don't know me as well as you think you do ;o)

1. I've given live performances in downtown Nashville.
True
2. I was the poster child for the local Rutherford County 4-H club in elementary school.
False. Never even heard of such a thing.
3. I took a taxi for free when I was in Guatemala.
False. We rode the beloved HTI Microbus everywhere
4. I hitchhiked across El Salavador
I plead the 5th on this one
5. My new favorite snack is celery with peanut butter
False. Celery??? Eeewww!!!
6. I once campaigned for a US Congressman
True. I was one of the little kids in Congressman Bart Gordon's 1988 campaign commercial.
7. I've been on national TV numerous times
True. Ever heard of the Pride of the Southland Marching Band?
8. I've hiked over 150 miles in the Great Smoky Mountains
True.
9. My first car was a 1997 Corolla
False. I suppose no one remembers my beloved 1989 Grand-Am
10. I made it through Dallas airport in 30 minutes to catch a flight
Amazing but true (see one of my January post for details)
11. I earned my 3rd degree brown belt in karate
True. I was 2 degrees away from earning my black belt.
12. I was born in Smyrna, Tennessee
False. It was actually Murfreesboro, TN (Smyrna didn't have a hospital at the time)
13. I met one of the original Munchkin men when I was 19
True. One of the many interesting events that happened while working for the Grand Ole Opry
14. I'm a closet Diet DP fan
True. I keep saying I'm trying to give up caffeine but secretly I love Diet DP
15. I've given live performances in Honolulu, Hawaii
True. It was the "educational" portion of our high school band trip to Hawaii.

In Honor of Today

I thought about posting a bogus blog, but then I thought that might not go over well. Instead, in honor of April Fool's Day, I have posted 15 statements. 10 of the statements are true and the rest are false. It's your job to decipher fact from fiction. How well do you know me?

1. I've given live performances in downtown Nashville.
2. I was the poster child for the local Rutherford County 4-H club in elementary school.
3. I took a taxi for free when I was in Guatemala.
4. I hitchhiked across El Salavador
5. My new favorite snack is celery with peanut butter
6. I once campaigned for a US Congressman
7. I've been on national TV numerous times
8. I've hiked over 150 miles in the Great Smoky Mountains
9. My first car was a 1997 Corolla
10. I made it through Dallas airport in 30 minutes to catch a flight
11. I earned my 3rd degree brown belt in karate
12. I was born in Smyrna, Tennessee
13. I met one of the original Munchkin men when I was 19
14. I'm a closet Diet DP fan
15. I've given live performances in Honolulu, Hawaii

23

If there's one thing I miss about Ktown, it's Monday night CSC Prayer Time. There's just something about sitting around with a few of your closest Christian friends and pouring your hearts out to God that works wonders for a dried-out soul. Though individual prayer is definitely a needed discipline and effective, I think sometimes we need that group prayer time. I have to say I've been feeling really dried-out lately. I don't know whether it is the class load, the lack of daily Christian fellowship and accountability I had in Ktown , or what but I could use a little of that group prayer time.
So...I decided to list out 23 *blessings* and requests in attempts to create a pseudo-prayer time. Nothing incredibly personal since the whole world can read this; just some things on my heart:

1. *That God gave us each today to live to serve Him*
2.*That He has given me means such as education, money, car, etc... and that He has provided me ways to use those to help others
3. *Morales family*
4.*A wonderful Christian family all over the world*
5. That I will make it through the next 2 months and 9 tests (especially the 1 next week)
6. My friend/classmate Jennifer who is participating in HTI's MET program in Guatemala this summer
7. That we will never mistake wealth for blessing and only use wealth to be a blessing to others
8. That the church here will find a Hispanic minister and continue to desire to reach out to the Hispanic community
9. *My wonderful parents*
10. All the missionaries in all parts of the world: for strength, encouragement, and opportunities
11. Lopez family who just moved to Venezuela to work as missionaries for 7 years
12. My mission trip to Guatemala this summer in July and the Los Piñares del Norte church
13. That we never replace our love for Christ with a desire for his attributes such as love, patience, joy, etc...
14. That we are not content to be pew-warmers and social gathers but that we each yearn to fulfill our part in the "Great Commission"
15. Guidance with my future plans regarding med school and beyond
16. *A diverse and beautiful creation*
17. *A reason to celebrate Easter and the hope that gives us*
18. *Being at Quillen and my wonderful classmates and teachers*
19. That we won't let our fears and traditions stand in the way or be mistaken for truth and love
20. That God will raise up a campus ministry here at ETSU
21. *The campus ministries at places like UT and MTSU*
22. *All the teachers and mentors who have influenced my life*
23. That we wake up each morning and remember our purpose for being here

Just a few small requests. Prayer is a powerful thing (if you don't believe that then I can tell you some pretty amazing stories that would make even the most devout atheist a believer) and a wonderful gift. Have a blessed week!!!

"So keep'em coming these lines on the road

And keep me responsible be it a light or heavy load

And keep me guessing with these blessings in disguise

And I'll walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes."

-Caedmon's Call

What a Beautiful Day...

...for a birthday!

Yes, I've officially hit the big 23 (2 years away from being a 1/4 century old!!) I must say, so far, it hasn't been as bad as I thought it might be. It's funny how when you're younger you want to be old and once you're older you want to be young.
To celebrate the big day, some of my cronies from med school and I decided to venture out into the wilderness. It's kind of been a tradition for me to go hiking on Good Friday; there's something about being in God's creation that makes you feel closer to the one who created it. Needless to say, I was somewhat concerned when I woke up this morning and saw a solid band of green on the radar and a 40% chance of thunderstorms. Being the risk takers we are, Jennifer, JC, Candice, and I decided to take the chance and drive to Rock Creek Falls in Erwin, TN. I'm so glad we did. The clouds lifted, and by the time we got to the falls, the sun was shining brightly on the white spray of water on the rocks. Though not the 8-10 mile excursions I was used to in college, the four miles was a fun mix of crawling over logs, rock-hopping the creek, and the inevitable falling in and getting wet as comes with all un-bridged creek crossings.
Not wanting to waste such a beautiful day, Candice and I decided to make use of the VA's vast greenery in front of Quillen and study on a sunny bench. When I got home, I found a few cards and emails from real and church family in my mailbox.
I find the fact that my birthday is juxtaposed on Good Friday somewhat ironic. 2000 and something years ago, the day was obscured by my sins clinging to a man dying on a cross so that a little baby could be born 23 years ago only to be born again on June 28, 1992. This same man was left without a friend in the world that day so this girl could feel loved by those around her. Yes, it truly is a Good Friday in many ways.
Well, I think Mom and Dad are almost here (they're driving all the way from Smyrna to come celebrate this weekend) and they're bringing me birthday cake (calories don't count on your birthday do they?)
I hope you all have a wonderful Easter Weekend and reflect on what it means to you!!

Picture This!!

If a picture is worth a 1000 words, then I've already got 2000 for this blog. I finally developed my film and uploaded some pictures. You'll find them interspersed throughout previous blogs like "Reflections on this Week" and "A Saturday in Sneedville" Below are two of my favorite pictures from this roll. The first was taken with some MET friends (Jason, Rosser, and Holly) at the Dallas Medical Missions Seminar in January. If you ever get a chance, I highly recommend going and also attending the smaller version right here in Johnson City in September. The second picture is of two precious Guatemalan blessings that entered my life about a month ago along with their mom, dad, and siblings. Their names are Emilio and Delmar. A supposed "quick" visit to see how they were doing last Friday turned into a shopping trip to Walmart when I found out they didn't have any food for that night nor the next week. On the way to WallyWorld, Delmar told me it was his birthday last week; however, due to lack of funds, he didn't get to celebrate. I think it's a travesty to not celebrate your birthday so we went all out with a $6 Walmart cake,decaf Pepsi, and some Little Cesar's pizza. You should have seen the look on little Emilio's face (and Delmar's too!) when we brought the cake home.


Meeting up with MET friends


Happy Birthday to You (and me)!

A Saturday in Sneedville

Dr.Michele?

This was taken in Smyrna after a long day of preceptoring

Sneedville: home of mussels, Melungeons, and where I spent the majority of my Saturday with Rural Track personnel. I must confess that I wasn't overjoyed to give up my one day to sleep in to drive 80 miles to the poorest community in Tennessee to see the opening of the hospital. However, the trip was well worth the drive and lost sleep. I thought knew what the term "rural" meant before journeying to Sneedville, after all don't all of us Tennesseans run around barefoot and chewing tobacco and saying words like "y'all" and "aint?" I was greatly mistaken. After we drove through Rogersville, the road narrowed to two lanes traversing a countryside of trailer homes and cows. As the ETSU university cars begin to ascend Clinch Mountain, I felt like I was back in Honduras driving over the mountain to Orica and Montaña de la Flor. The road switchbacked up the side of the mountain and below was poverty spread out to the horizon in the form of small farms and rundown houses. The scene reminded me of one of the "Feed the Children" commercials about Appalachia that used to run on Sunday mornings after church.
Our first few hours consisted of meeting with the Mayor of Sneedville, the county clerk, and Congressman Jenkins, key players in acquiring the approval of building a new hospital. Both the county clerk and mayor of Sneedville were of Melungeon descent, and both had gone to college and obtained an EdD. Poverty and isolation seem to breed the same characteristics in every community: a sense of dispair, a lack of vision, a lack of education, yet a wealth in the form of relationships and a strong sense of community. As the men told us of how the old hospital closed 12 years ago and about the town of Sneedville, I saw all these characteristics, and I admired the mayor, the county clerk, and all others who had fought to build a new hospital for having determination and vision.
Their stories impressed upon me the important role a physician plays in a rural community and how much of a difference a doctor can make. It frustrates me to no end to see students pursue a career in medicine solely for the monetary value and prestige of holding the title of MD. There are much easier ways of earning such salaries without having to put in the grueling hours of studying or the long years of schooling. Do they not realize that what they do is not just a 9-5 job but that their decisions will not only affect the patients' lives, but also their families' lives and maybe their community as well? And it is this I love most about rural medicine, whether it be in Latin America or in Hawkins County, Tennessee, the ability to make a difference in someone's life. Not only does a rural physician prescribe medicines for minor infections, but a physician may also save the life of a mother seriously injured in an MVA so that she might raise her children to pursue an education such as an EdD when she would have died had there not been a physician in the community.
At 2pm, all of the Rural Track students, myself included, attended the landmark opening of the new 12 bed hospital in Sneedville, Tennessee. Almost the entire community showed up to partake in the grand opening. Everyone from the young pregnant mother to the old, toothless gentleman in the bib overalls wearing a "Vote for Congressman Jenkins" hat was present. You would have thought the State Fair had arrived or some well-known rock group instead of the local gospel trio singing in what will soon be the reception area. As a favor to Wellmont and part of our research, we conducted a survey asking two questions to those present, "What do you think is the greatest healthcare need in Hancock County?" and "How will the opening of the hospital affect your use of healthcare services?" With broad smiles many answered the first question with, "Well, I think we already have the answer to the question; we got the hospital now didn't we?" Many responded to the second question by saying, "I won't have to find a ride over the mountain to go into Rogersville or Morristown an hour away just to see a doc."
Not only was a hospital opened today in a little community that many have never visited, but also hope was given to a people without much hope, hope that an elderly lady won't have to live in fear of dying of a heart attack because the nearest hospital is an hour away, hope that their children can seek immediate treatment for a broken bone, and hope that someone actually cares about Sneedville and its people. Furthermore, one medical student went away with a greater appreciation and understanding of community, small town life, and the impact that healthcare can have in a rural community. If the Latin America missions thing doesn't work out, I think I might just find me a holler back up in 'dem hills of Tennersee and open me a practice there.

Earpieces, Enchiladas, and Ideas

Whoever would have thought that I would be required to go to church or salsa dancing as part of my medical education? This year as part of the Rural Track Program, we have to conduct an interdisciplinary research project with students from nursing and public health. Seeing my ability to speak Spanish as an asset, I joined the group concerning obesity among Hispanics. This involves bi-weekly meetings to assess the needs of the community and our role in addressing this health issue. Since my group is working with a population of another culture, our professors desire that we experience that culture through various required outings including things such as community meetings with the Hispanic Coalition, a visit to the migrant worker clinic, and also options such as attending a church service in Spanish or going salsa dancing in Asheville (guess who’s dancing shoes are making a trip out on the floor in a few weeks?)
Tonight was our first meeting with the Hispanic Coalition of Northeast Tennessee. I went expecting a great catered Mexican meal and discussion about obesity, and I came away with ideas buzzing in my head as much as the simultaneous translation device in my ear. It was interesting to see the barriers that had to be crossed to facilitate the meeting between members of the Hispanic community, our medical professors, and the students. To ease the language, two wonderful translators were present, and all of the non-Spanish speakers wore earpieces that allowed us to hear the translator simultaneously translate Spanish into English. Since I knew both languages, it was extremely difficult to me to hear both languages at the same time and even more difficult when I tried to speak to the members of the Hispanic community while simultaneously hearing an interpretation of what I just said in my ear.
As the night progressed, our talk didn't center around obesity; rather, it was unfolding of the hardships and ubiquitous needs of the Hispanic population and of the misshapen paradigm we "Americans" have in regard to those who don't "speak our language." We talk about how "those people" come here and take away our jobs and live for free off our hard-earned tax dollars. Then tell me why is it that taxes get taken out of their paychecks, taxes they never see, just like ours? Tell me why the poorest city in Tennessee, Sneedville, and the one with the highest unenployment rate has migrant workers because those unemployed people would rather live off of our hard-earned tax dollars than take a job that a Hispanic person will? We talk about equal rights for all, yet we hand a scared teenage Guatemalan girl a phone to talk to her when she is giving birth instead of taking the money we just spent on remodeling the hospital cafeteria and hiring an actual human being to translate. I met a girl tonight who is in high school, at the top of her class, bilingual, and sweet as can be. However, instead of getting a scholarship to an Ivy League school, she'll have to cross the border and hopefully find work. We call ourselves a land of the free and a land where one can pursue the American Dream but only if one has had the privilege of being born "American." I know, you're thinking "but these are just a bunch of illegals that need to be shipped back where they came from." Tell that to my brother in Christ, Amado. Tell him he has to go back to a land where his children won't be educated because there simply aren't schools where he lives, his children will suffer disease from lack of medical care, and a land where he can't provide for his family. Didn't our ancestors all come to this land with the same dream Amado and his family came with: to have a better life?
So what can you do about this? You can sit on your comfy couch comparing your NCAA picks with the game outcomes and priding yourself for being an American citizen and not one of "those poor Hispanic people" and think there's nothing you can do. On the other hand, you can write your representatives and senators and urge the to support the Dream Act which allows non-US citizens the opportunity to get a college education provided they've been in the US school system for 15 years. You can urge them to support better working conditions for Hispanic laborers (don't even get me started on the working conditions of most Hispanic laborers), or you can even just reach out and get to know those in your Hispanic community through afterschool programs or church. You may not be a Thomas Jefferson or a Rosa Parks but you can make a difference. Isn't that what we're here for, to minister to the oppressed, the poor, the broken-hearted? It's just that some of them may not speak the same language as you.
The decision is yours.
I ask for your prayers that God works through the leaders of this community to bring better healthcare to the Hispanics of this community and that a sense of understanding and community prevails between both ethnic groups. I ask for your prayers that God continues to bring workers such as yourself to all parts of the world and the US to help those who are in need, whatever that need is, and that He allows us to realize that we are all His children no matter our place of birth or the language we speak.

It's All in a Name

I'm back at Quillen, and life is hectic as usual. I'm only two days into classes, and I'm already struggling to keep up with the work. This block is definitely going to be a beast which means little sleep and not much else but studying. I'm special enough that Quillen is giving me a holiday on my birthday (actually it's Good Friday), but it looks like I'll be spending it in Stanton Gerber reviewing biochem and phys notes. Oh well, turning 21 +2 isn't such a big deal anyways, just another year.
Anyways...
Being on Quillen's "Ask a Student" page has recently sent a rash of questions my way and almost every email begins with "Hi Michelle." Even my professors address me as "Michelle" in their emails. If you're like 90% of the population, you address me this way too. You see, my name is not "Michelle" it's "Michele." That's one L not two LL's. I suppose my parents were trying to be clever or creative when they named me, but it's been a curse all my life. Maybe if I were named something really strange like "Kyoo" or "Shanika" or "Loan," people might notice the spelling. However, since "Michelle" is such a common name, the spelling is taken for granted and my name goes unnoticed. In fact, when I was 4 years old, I demanded to change my name only to have my parents tell me that I'd have to go by my middle name which I like even less. I can't tell you how many certificates, birthday cards, medical records, etc I've had addressed to "Michelle" instead of "Michele" Sometimes I fight it, but usually I just resign to the fact that my name will never be spelled right.
So, the moral of the story is, be considerate to us oddly-spelled named people. It may be another letter to you, but it's our name that's at stake. Be kind to your future children, name them something outrageous or just give them a normally-spelled name. Otherwise, they may have to join me in the "Misspelled Names Anonymous" group.
Hope you are all enjoying this crazy Tennessee weather. Hasta luego!

MicheLe

Reflections on This Week

Smyrna's New Hospital


I've officially finished my week of preceptorship with Dr.Thompson, the family practicioner. It's been an incredible week, and I couldn't have asked for a better mentor, a doctor who doesn't have a God complex and who actually cares about the well-being of his patients. It's been a week of seeing those random facts and figures I've learned brought to life through actual patients and a reaffirming of my desire to be a family practicioner. I've had the blessing of being able to see a broad range of illnesses and diseases from DiGeorge's Syndrome to tracheomalasia to erlichiosis to the common everyday cold. Though it's going to be a long 6 years, I couldn't have chosen a better career.
One thing that frequently came to my attention during my preceptorship was the number of obese people that came through the office. In fact, I think it would be safe to presume that our patient load would be cut in half if obesity was not the epidemic that it is. How many problems coudl be prevented such as diabetes, high cholesterol, hypertension, joint problems, and sleep apnea if obesity weren't an issue? No, this isn't a blog bashing fat people; however, seeing so many cases of obesity brought to light issues within the spiritual realm.
Like many of the patients I saw this week, how many of us are carrying around hundreds of pounds of excess "baggage" in our own lives in the form of unwanted sin? How many of us are obese spiritually because of our lack of self-control and self-discipline or our unwillingness to shed our excess baggage? Not only is the excess fat of a person a problem to the patient, likewise it is a problem for the physician. It's not easy trying to listen to the lungs or heart when you have two extra inches of insulation in between. Nor is it easy to measure a blood pressure when the patient's arm is as big as my leg. In the same way, we want God to work in our lives and clear out any "infection" but we don't give the Great Physician a chance to come close and really find out what's going on because of our own insulation in the form of our sins, our habits, and our stubborn wills. At the clinic, we would try to counsel our patients, setting up dietary modifications, plans of exercise, and rewards but the bottom line was the patient's will to lose the weight. No amount of counseling or plans from the physician could make the patient take that first step to losing the weight. I think it is the same in our lives. Let's face it, sometimes we like the comfort zone we've established in our lives. We like our "habits" and we all have things and reoccuring sins that we struggle with on a daily basis. We'd like to grow in our faith and let the Great Physician draw nearer to us but we are unwilling to take that first step from shedding the unwanted "baggage" we carry so that nothing will hinder us from running the race God has set before us.
Just some thoughts I had from this week's experiences. Pictures should be up as soon as I develop my roll of film and scan them in my computer. Two more days of freedom :o).

Eureka!

I found it. It was in the basment piled up with the plethera of items my brother left at our house when he moved out: a Eureka! Tetragon Tent for three. While it is a bit too big and too heavy for backpacking, it will be perfect for my trip out West this summer (though friend's homes are also suitable habitations :o)). This was one of a few pleasant surprises discovered in the past 24 hours.
The other pleasant surprise is that Smyrna now has it's very on El Salvadoran restaurant specializing in one of my favorite Central American foods, pupusas. Who would have ever thought that Smyrna would get a hospital or a Starbucks, much less El Guanaco? Since I haven't convinced mom and dad to go to Central America yet, at least I can bring Central America to them in certain respects. Guess where mom and I will be eating when we go out to shop tonight? ;o)
Today was a great day at the clinic considering I didn't have to go in until 9am and got off at 1:30pm right after a lunch of Asian cuisine catered by the Clarinex drug reps (ask your doctor for Clarinex because they bring good food). The slip of paper in my fortune cookie read:

"You have natural grace and a great consideration for others."

I don't know if this is true or not but at least it wasn't something stupid like, "You will soon inherit a large sum of money."

The case load was pretty uneventful though I did get to help with a 6 month well child visit. Did I ever mention how cute little babies are? Why do they have to grow up, and why do they have to start crying as soon as I put the baby stethescope on their chest? Tomorrow I'll let you guys know how everything went this week because I have a lot I could type (or you could just call and I'll tell you over the phone). I hope you are all enjoying this lovely day wherever you are! Ciao!

Catching Up

The past few days have been a flurry of activity as I've tried to make the most of the few precious days of Spring Break I had and make the trek from Johnson City to Smyrna, TN. It's been nice catching up with old friends whether that be a hike up House Mountain in Ktown, hanging out until the wee hours of the morning, or sharing photos at a small corner table in Starbucks. You don't realize how much you miss someone or how long overdue a visit was until it actually happens and you wonder where the time since the last visit went.
I started my preceptorship this week. Though somewhat of a break in the fact that I don't have to study, it has been far from the definition of "break" in the fact that I've put in two 10 hr days with hardly a break for lunch and an average of 40+ patients per day. Despite the long hours and sore feet from standing so much, I'd do this any day over classwork. The only problem with having a creative mind is satiating its creativity when your entire life consists of memorizing seemingly random facts about rare diseases and biochemical pathways. However, this week has been a much-needed experience that puts all those random facts in perspective. I'm beginning to see the necessity in knowing the characteristics of DiGeorge's Syndrome or neurofibromatosis or the differences in nasal epithelia.
The actual practice of medicine reminds me of the practice of music. Both have their sets of rules: the notes, rhythms, scales and the anatomy, physiology, and pathology. However, the real practice comes in learning the rules so well that you know when to break them. Music is never made by simply playing the notes on the page; rather, it is through the observances of the subtle nuances of the composer's intentions and the performer's interpretations that a piece is brought to life and evokes a response from the audience. Likewise, I'm learning it is the same with medicine. Though it is important to learn all the seemingly trivial facts, it is the ability to apply those same facts and to integrate them with other facts and predisposing conditions and to treat the patient with genuine compassion that makes a good physician and is truly practicing "good medicine."
It is for these reasons I chose Dr.T as my preceptor (they always say to learn from the best). He is one of the few doctors who I've seen genuinely show compassion for his patient from the poor in Honduras to the TennCare patient to the high ranking businessman. So many people try to fake compassion. It's easy to be a good person and to treat people well, but if you don't have that genuine desire to actually serve your patient, the patient knows. I'm afraid many of my comrades sell out to power and money and put themselves above their patients, so it's really nice to work with a doctor who is an exception to this.
Just in two days I've seen a broad spectrum of cases from flu to emphysema to ingrown toenails to psychological issues to skin lesions to physicals. I've seen people from 5 months to 85 years and people from all walks of life, all just wanting to be treated by their family practicioner. I won't bore you with the details of what I did other than the fact that a Hispanic man came in who didn't speak any English so Dr.T let me do the full work-up on him (in Spanish) from vitals to physical exam, and then Dr.T just checked everything out to see if it was ok. This med school nerd thought that was pretty cool. Anyways, I'm tired and I don't have to go to the hospital tomorrow until 1pm so I'm going to take advantage of that and sleep in for the first time in a month. G'night!!

Life in a Small Tube

Knock, knock, zzrrr. bam! Thunk!

No I haven't been reading the latest comic book action scene. I had the joy of spending 30 minutes in a 2 foot tube being absolutely still while a huge magnet reorganized every dipole moment in my entire body and gurgled like some underfed monster. I had had one done a few years ago when they thought my naturally goofy nature must be attributable to several loose screws in my head. When they didn't find any loose screws they just chalked my goofiness up to the fact that I'm Michele. However, I had forgotten how as soon as they wheel you in the tube, a sudden sense of claustrophobia develops and how it seems at that moment that the room is filled with itching powder because you have to scratch your nose and you can't for 30 minutes because you have to be absolutely still. Needless to say, I had no qualms about leaving the tube when they were done imaging my spine.
The mystery of my back pain may finally be uncovered soon or I may be back at square one (word to the wise: if you match up a Toyota Corolla with a Dodge Ram 3500 truck, the truck's going to win and the Corolla will get smushed). Being the med school nerd that I am, when I was done with the MRI, I asked for films. Nothing looks incredibly out of place, but then again I'm a first year med student which means I know absolutely nothing about medicine nor reading MRIs except what I had to learn to ace the anatomy exams. That being said, it looks like it may just be muscle damage which means back to Pilates and Yoga and maybe massage therapy (which is perfectly fine with me :o)). No spinal alignment from some chiropractor for me. My spine is perfectly in line thank you.
So we'll see, and I'll keep you posted. More thoughtful posts to come as soon as my brain recovers from this week's series of exams.

Sugar to Gooey Mush

What better way to wake up than to look out the window and see 2 inches of white fluffy snow covering everything as if a baker had taken a huge bag of confectioner's sugar and poured it over the earth, coating everything in a white powder? The visually appealing condensation soon melted away like my hopes of doing well on my test melted to the consistency of a microwaved Marshmallow Peep.
My discouragement and fried brain were soon lightened with an encouraging CMDA meeting and some free Chik-Fil-A. Our speaker today was a Med-Peds doc who had spent almost a decade at a missionary hospital in Ecuador. The faces of all the indigents receiving healthcare coupled with the incredible mountainous landscapes and wildlife of the region evoked memories of Guatemala. I keep telling myself-"6 more years; only 6 more years." Seeing the need in such places and knowing that countless others wait hopefully for someone to bring them the "good news" and meet their spiritual and physical needs as well only furthers the urge.
I cannot understand how we who live in a land so "blessed" feel so compelled to believe that our "good Christian duty" is merely to be a "good example," a "light for others," and to believe that the price that was paid for our lives permits us to disconnect ourselves from the call of the Great Commission. It's my prayer that the word of God penetrates down to our very marrow (Heb 4:12) until we cannot help but feel the calling to unleash ourselves from our complacent attitudes and bring hope the hopeless.
Two more days of tests and my mind is in another world (or at least another continent)

All I Need to Know...

...is that, "The heart is a pump," and "blood goes round and round."
"The lungs are a bellows" and "air goes in and out."
When the body deviates from these two principles then it's a bad thing.

I think I got it (plus about 300+ pages of notes to accompany these two ideas).

Maybe I'm ready for tomorrow's test and the next day's and the next day's...

What do you Think?

After months/years of relying on the generosity of friends, and since this is probably something I'm going to be participating in for the rest of my life (assuming my upcoming MRI on my back gives me the green light), I've decided that I should probably invest in my own outdoor equipment. In doing so, I'd like to purchase the best quality for the price items that fit within a med school budget (used is ok). So...here's where audience participation (that means YOU) comes into this blog.

What brands/items are your favorites to use on your outdoor excursions?

Echame

This weekend was a much-needed respite from the monotonous life of studying. I spent a day in Knoxville to hang out with old friends and pretend that I was a carefree undergrad. Like Paul to the Philippians is how I feel toward the Ktown crew and there's just something about communicating in person that trumps the efficiency of electronic devices. It was refreshing to see everyone again and to talk about something besides cardiac output and the lymphoid cells of the spleen.
Of course no trip to Knoxville is complete without a visit to Moes (even though we have its rival Barberitos here in Johnson City) and a random trip to Wally World. Those completed, a few of us decided to splurge and go see "Hitch". I recommend it despite the few words here and there; it's an admirable attempt to explain the innate differences that define men and women and the interplay that follows as a result.
Back in JC, tonight's Spanish service went rather well despite my feeble attempts at simultaneous translation. Amado and Erlinda and co. are coming back Sunday morning and were overjoyed to be able to worship with fellow Christians again. Afterwards, Josh and Chara and I visited with the family where my poor translation turned Josh's statement of "I like to play checkers" into "I like a game of ladies." It's going to be a rough two weeks as I try to find study time while engaging in this new ministry. Sometimes I feel like the Bible verse about being poured out like a drink offering, but I suppose that's what we're here for, for God to pour out every drop of our talents such that we realize our strength comes from Him and not ourselves. For those of you reading this, I hope you're all doing well. Don't expect me to be lurking on your blogs too much in the coming weeks, my head will be buried in the books until Spring Break. Take care and may God bless you to be a blessing to someone else!

Visiting Family

Exhausted and "emocionada" would be two words to aptly describe me right now. We had another meeting with Amado and his family tonight. It was an hour and a half of my attempts at Spanish translation and of hearing about how awesome a God we serve. Amado recounted us about how he came to know Christ, about how our brothers in Christ visited him for over a year before he even decided to pick up his Bible to see what it contained, about how he would stay up hours into the night with only the light of a small burning pile of twigs searching the scriptures for truth, and how great a desire he has to share such hope and good news with other Hispanics in the area.
How often have I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, intently searching God's word? How many times have I been so eager to share that which God has given me that I would pursue those who are lost even if a year later they were still unresponsive? How many opportunities from answered prayers have I missed because I was searching out "my answer" and not where God was actually working? How many times are we content with just "being a good example" and not actually fulfilling our part of the great commission?
I'm happy to say that the first (and hopefully not last) meeting of the Central hispanic church will be this Sunday night at 6pm after spending a weekend with those of you in Ktown. Isn't God awesome?
I'll leave you with a translated verse from one of my new favorite Spanish Christian songs:

No soy religioso solo amo al Señor
Todo lo que hago es darle el corazon
No soy religioso solo amo al Señor
Vivo para amarle y ser testigo de su amor.

Les quiero mucho! Cuidate!!

An Answered Prayer

I was going to write about how my favorite burrito company in Knoxville, Moes, now has competition here in Johnson City, but after what happened tonight, that seems like a very trivial issue.
I suppose I should start from the beginning (well maybe not the very beginning). The other day my classmate, who knows alot of the Hispanics in the area, told me that he had met a couple from Guatemala who was looking for a Church of Christ. I remember that night as I went to bed praying for that couple and praying that somehow that we could find each other.
I usually don't go to church on Sunday nights because it seems that our tests always fall on Mondays. However, since I don't have any tests for a few weeks, I decided that I'd go tonight even though the big game was on TV. Our preacher had preached this morning about multiculturalism, and I had plans of emailing him to see if Central had thought about starting a Hispanic congregation. In a way he beat me to the point. After services tonight were over, our preacher stood up and asked if there was anyone who spoke Spanish. I felt all eyes (at least all my college friends) turn toward me. I went up to him afterwards and told him that I did. He proceeded to tell me that he'd received an email from TX saying that there was a couple here in Johnson City that was looking for a Church of Christ. We looked at the email and I noted that the address was in the apartment complex where I just started volunteering as a mentor with a Hispanic afterschool program. The complex is less than a mile from my house. I called the man, Amado Velasquez, and asked if we could come visit. He agreed, and the preacher and I went to his apartment. To make a long story short, Amado and his family had been members of the church in Guatemala. They had moved to the States and quit going to church. When they moved to Johnson City about a year ago, he felt the urge to rededicate his life. He asked around, but everyone told him that there wasn't a Church of Christ.
As I prepared to move to Johnson City, not quite a year ago, I remember praying to God to let me find ways to use my Spanish, especially in bringing others to Christ and helping them grow closer to God. You see where this is going? Tonight I was an answer to Amado's prayer and my own. It made me realize that God doesn't always answer our prayers right away, and He goes through great lengths to seek out the 1 wandering sheep (Amado told me he felt like that sheep) though He already has 99 others.
I ask for your prayers for Amado and his family, that the church here can help him and maybe even start a Hispanic congregation, and that somehow I will be able to juggle this and my med school studies, the least on my mind at the moment. Before we left the small, crowded apartment, Amado, eyes bright and a smile from ear-to-ear etched on his face, told us how thankful he was that God had sent us and for such a loving Christian family. Indeed, I'm thankful too to be a part such a family that knows no race, geographical, or language barrier and to serve a God who loves us so much that he'd bring a wandering Guatemalan brother and a seeking Gringa sister together. Sendas Dios hara!