The link to my med. school pics wasn't working well so I decided to post a few below.
On another note, I'm realizing that I still have the gift (or curse as it may be) of not being able to go anywhere without running into someone I know. It was bad enough in high school that one of my friends and I had a game to see who would encounter the most previously-known people on our outing. Each encounter was worth a point, and the person with the most points won. Today was no different. I was at Opry Mills mall hanging out with a friend from UT. Not expecting to know anyone in the vast sea of bargain hunters, not only did I run across two old friends from UT, but I also saw a couple I knew from Honduras who were vacationing in the US. What are the odds of that? It appears that my game has reached an international level. I suppose it's a small world after all.
Michele +4
everyone else ???
12.30.2004
It's a Party!
The Saturday before Finals Week, some of my Rural Track comrades and I took a study break and celebrated the end of the semester with a little shindig at my place. It was a nice litte respite complete with homemade salsa, turtle brownies, and Kristen's grandmother's Christmas tree cheese spreader.
Cadaver Ball Pics
All Dressed Up with Somewhere to Go
Loan, me, Candace, and Kelly wait at Cheddars to be seated. Who said med. school girls were boring, geeky nerds?
Before Cadaver Ball at Cheddars
See, we med. students don't always wear scrubs and white coats and study all the time. Occasionally we find an excuse to don something a little more "festive" and go out and have a good time roasting the Quillen faculty and attempting to convince Loan to dance.
Loan, me, Candace, and Kelly wait at Cheddars to be seated. Who said med. school girls were boring, geeky nerds?
Before Cadaver Ball at Cheddars
See, we med. students don't always wear scrubs and white coats and study all the time. Occasionally we find an excuse to don something a little more "festive" and go out and have a good time roasting the Quillen faculty and attempting to convince Loan to dance.
12.29.2004
They're Up
The long-awaited med school photos are finally here. Check them out at:
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/michelegourley/album?.dir=d386&.src=
ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/michelegourley/my_photos
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/michelegourley/album?.dir=d386&.src=
ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/michelegourley/my_photos
12.25.2004
Everyone Has a Story to Tell
My pet cow Angela
Since everyone abhors Christmas trees, Santa Claus, and reindeer, I thought I'd start a new tradition of having a "Christmas cow" (hey it has to be halfway religious since baby Jesus was born in a stable). Just kidding. I'll get to the meaning of this picture in a minute.
I hope you all are enjoying this wonderful Christmas day. To me it's actually more like the day after Christmas since our big Christmas celebration is on Christmas Eve. Every December 24th my dad's side of the family gathers to eat lots of food, enjoy each other's company, and to celebrate Christmas. When I was younger, this time symbolized a time to sit at the "little kids" table at dinner, out of harm's way and away from anything breakable. It also was a time to fight over who got to play "Santa" and hand out presents and a time to show off our wonderful piano skills by plunking out "Jolly Old St.Nicholas" 5 million times on the ancient, out-of-tune piano that sat in my grandparents' living room. After all was said and done, my dad's four siblings, seven cousins, and I returned to our respective homes to sleep, our heads filled with dreams of snow and Santa.
This Christmas Eve, my grandparents' house being nothing but a pile of rubble, we gathered at my aunt's to celebrate Christmas. Though much older and weaned from my piano plunking, I was still banished to the "little kids" table for dinner along with my seven cousins. Having enough stuff, my focus has shifted from what's under the tree to the people sitting around it. One of the things I like most about Christmas (Eve), is being able to catch up on the lives of my relatives and all the stories that are swapped of my aunts and uncles, grandparents, and the "Good Ole Days." Last night was no different. Being an avid scrapbooker, my aunt had recently scrapbooked our family history, starting with my great-grandparents and ending with her childhood. I listened with interest as each page of pictures evoked stories of my grandfather and grandmother and their children. Each story brought the pictures to life, and I realized that these stories contribute to who I am today. The pictures of the herd of cows my grandparents owned standing in snow and the fish tale-like stories of how my dad and his siblings had to "go out and chop the foot-thick ice off the pond in 50 below temperatures" are the reason for the picture shown above of my pet cow (a great-granddaughter of the frost-covered cows in the picture) and me. So as we sat around the fake-log fire sipping hot apple cider and reminiscing, I learned that each person has a story to share and each picture has a story and it is those stories that define who we are today. If you get a chance, grab a mug of cider, sit down, grab some old photos, and take time to swap stories. Maybe if med school doesn't work out, I'll just go around to nursing homes and homeless shelters and listen to stories.
Anyways, I'm off to try out my new "kicks" and burn some Christmas calories on the treadmill downstairs. Have a Merry Christmas!!!
Since everyone abhors Christmas trees, Santa Claus, and reindeer, I thought I'd start a new tradition of having a "Christmas cow" (hey it has to be halfway religious since baby Jesus was born in a stable). Just kidding. I'll get to the meaning of this picture in a minute.
I hope you all are enjoying this wonderful Christmas day. To me it's actually more like the day after Christmas since our big Christmas celebration is on Christmas Eve. Every December 24th my dad's side of the family gathers to eat lots of food, enjoy each other's company, and to celebrate Christmas. When I was younger, this time symbolized a time to sit at the "little kids" table at dinner, out of harm's way and away from anything breakable. It also was a time to fight over who got to play "Santa" and hand out presents and a time to show off our wonderful piano skills by plunking out "Jolly Old St.Nicholas" 5 million times on the ancient, out-of-tune piano that sat in my grandparents' living room. After all was said and done, my dad's four siblings, seven cousins, and I returned to our respective homes to sleep, our heads filled with dreams of snow and Santa.
This Christmas Eve, my grandparents' house being nothing but a pile of rubble, we gathered at my aunt's to celebrate Christmas. Though much older and weaned from my piano plunking, I was still banished to the "little kids" table for dinner along with my seven cousins. Having enough stuff, my focus has shifted from what's under the tree to the people sitting around it. One of the things I like most about Christmas (Eve), is being able to catch up on the lives of my relatives and all the stories that are swapped of my aunts and uncles, grandparents, and the "Good Ole Days." Last night was no different. Being an avid scrapbooker, my aunt had recently scrapbooked our family history, starting with my great-grandparents and ending with her childhood. I listened with interest as each page of pictures evoked stories of my grandfather and grandmother and their children. Each story brought the pictures to life, and I realized that these stories contribute to who I am today. The pictures of the herd of cows my grandparents owned standing in snow and the fish tale-like stories of how my dad and his siblings had to "go out and chop the foot-thick ice off the pond in 50 below temperatures" are the reason for the picture shown above of my pet cow (a great-granddaughter of the frost-covered cows in the picture) and me. So as we sat around the fake-log fire sipping hot apple cider and reminiscing, I learned that each person has a story to share and each picture has a story and it is those stories that define who we are today. If you get a chance, grab a mug of cider, sit down, grab some old photos, and take time to swap stories. Maybe if med school doesn't work out, I'll just go around to nursing homes and homeless shelters and listen to stories.
Anyways, I'm off to try out my new "kicks" and burn some Christmas calories on the treadmill downstairs. Have a Merry Christmas!!!
12.18.2004
An Ode to My First Patient
I've officially finished my first semester of med. school and what a semester it has been! It has been the most demanding 4 months of my life: mentally, physically, and emotionally. I've entered a world that few, if I even, understand. A world that deals with the human body and embraces the workings of the soul. I would sum it up in a few short words, but I can't. The next few days will be spent in my own attempt at trying to assimilate and digest all that my mind and body have consumed since that first week of school in August.
The following was read by one of my lab partners at our cadaver memorial service honoring "Frank," my first patient. I couldn't have expressed it any better. Enjoy the insight into my new life and what I've experienced:
Two Lives (an ode to Frank)
by Andrew J. Lipman
Sometimes we wanted to know your name, but we gave you one.
I guess that means that you almost had two identities, really two lives:
One with your family, the other with your students.
Many will want to speak about your tremendous gift--and it is.
Others will want to extol the virtues of studying the human body.
I want to share with you some of my transgressions.
I would be lying if I said I always came to class...
Lying if I said at all times I kept you covered to protect your dignity...
Remiss if I did not mention that you made me nervous sometimes,
especially at the beginning of our relationship...
Did I sometimes fail to respect you as much as I should have? yes...
Was I ever angry with you? yes... Sometimes you hid things from me.
My teachers call that missing points on tests.
I call it not paying attention to you.
But, despite these transgressions, you won.
You did what you set out to do when you gave me your body.
William Carlos Williams said that
"in surgery, man sees what God never meant him to see."
His point is that very few of us have such a privilege.
I think it's the same with anatomy. Now, I can't go back.
I will always know what a human heart looks like. It's almost reflexive:
someone says an anatomic term and I can close my eyes and see it--in fact, I see yours.
But I guess I'm most amazed by your total trust in strangers.
There are so few examples of this trust to guide us anymore.
I think it would be presumptuous to think you trusted me, personally, because I could have been anyone.
Instead, you gave completely of yourself to all,
in hopes of teaching us a lesson about trust.
You have set a precedent with me. I've had my first intense relationship with a patient.
And that was you.
The following was read by one of my lab partners at our cadaver memorial service honoring "Frank," my first patient. I couldn't have expressed it any better. Enjoy the insight into my new life and what I've experienced:
Two Lives (an ode to Frank)
by Andrew J. Lipman
Sometimes we wanted to know your name, but we gave you one.
I guess that means that you almost had two identities, really two lives:
One with your family, the other with your students.
Many will want to speak about your tremendous gift--and it is.
Others will want to extol the virtues of studying the human body.
I want to share with you some of my transgressions.
I would be lying if I said I always came to class...
Lying if I said at all times I kept you covered to protect your dignity...
Remiss if I did not mention that you made me nervous sometimes,
especially at the beginning of our relationship...
Did I sometimes fail to respect you as much as I should have? yes...
Was I ever angry with you? yes... Sometimes you hid things from me.
My teachers call that missing points on tests.
I call it not paying attention to you.
But, despite these transgressions, you won.
You did what you set out to do when you gave me your body.
William Carlos Williams said that
"in surgery, man sees what God never meant him to see."
His point is that very few of us have such a privilege.
I think it's the same with anatomy. Now, I can't go back.
I will always know what a human heart looks like. It's almost reflexive:
someone says an anatomic term and I can close my eyes and see it--in fact, I see yours.
But I guess I'm most amazed by your total trust in strangers.
There are so few examples of this trust to guide us anymore.
I think it would be presumptuous to think you trusted me, personally, because I could have been anyone.
Instead, you gave completely of yourself to all,
in hopes of teaching us a lesson about trust.
You have set a precedent with me. I've had my first intense relationship with a patient.
And that was you.
12.16.2004
Deep Thoughts with Michele
I gave you a warning with the title; this may be a long one but one I've been wanting to write for awhile...
I'll admit it. I usually have trouble paying attention in church. After sitting for hours in class listening to professors throughout the week, it's hard for my mind not to make the same association with the preacher in the pulpit and zone out after a few minutes. However, a few Sundays ago, I think God must have told the preacher to script a sermon especially for me. The sermon was entitled, "According to Mark: Jesus' Preparation" Now I don't know about you , but I guess I never actually sat down and thought that Jesus would ever have to prepare for his minstry. He was God's son; therefore, I suppose the assumption was made on my part that he knew everything and had everything he needed to do everything. Yet, as was pointed out in the sermon, Christ "learned obedience" and "grew in wisdom". If you think about it, God's son was on earth for 30 years doing nothing that we would consider significant had it been any other person (how many of us give accolades to our local furniture repairman?) for 3 years of service. On the other hand, Christ spent 30 years preparing himself for his purpose here on earth.
I have to confess, I've missed this point the past few months ie in order to do that which is God's purpose for us we have to under go the necessary preparation that will equip us for that purpose. Behind me sits my marimba, collecting dust from little use. I'll admit; at one time I was good at playing the marimba and on my way to performing at a professional level. I'll also admit that this didn't come by accident or "great talent". I would spend hours upon hours in the practice room working on a line of music for an audition or perfecting three or four notes until they conveyed that which I heard in my mind. I still know all of those songs and the nuances I worked so hard to perfect, but you would be sorely disappointed if I were to perform those same works for you today. It's not that I don't know the music; it's that I haven't spent any time practicing lately. It takes lots of preparation to perfect the final product, and constant practice to maintain that which we have learned.
In having the strong desire and vision to fulfill that which God has placed before me, I have forgotten the amount of preparation that must come beforehand. In trying to find my way out of the ill-fitting sweater (see previous post from a long time ago ;-)), I have whined and complained about the very door God has opened for me. And in looking back and reflecting on my first semester of medical school, I realize that God doesn't always supply us with ease and contentment. Rather, he puts us through that which will prepare us, not sparing his son of 40 days in the wilderness, Ezekiel of the death of his wife, or Job of everything he had. I have come to realize that striving to be a perfect Christian is not striving to be a perfect person. Instead it is striving to be completely in tune with God's will and saying "here am I" to every situation He places before you and being open to whatever discipline and preparation he requires of you.
That being said, I can now say that I officially survived my first semester of medical school (ok tomorrow after I say goodbye to Frank and take my Anatomy shelf). I didn't fail out, not even close, and I'm looking foward to the next two weeks of doing anything but medicine. I've learned more than I ever knew, and I'm looking foward to what next semester holds. No sad, sad violins and no why me's--only joyful obedience in pursuing that which is God's purpose (you guys feel free to hold me to that).
I'll admit it. I usually have trouble paying attention in church. After sitting for hours in class listening to professors throughout the week, it's hard for my mind not to make the same association with the preacher in the pulpit and zone out after a few minutes. However, a few Sundays ago, I think God must have told the preacher to script a sermon especially for me. The sermon was entitled, "According to Mark: Jesus' Preparation" Now I don't know about you , but I guess I never actually sat down and thought that Jesus would ever have to prepare for his minstry. He was God's son; therefore, I suppose the assumption was made on my part that he knew everything and had everything he needed to do everything. Yet, as was pointed out in the sermon, Christ "learned obedience" and "grew in wisdom". If you think about it, God's son was on earth for 30 years doing nothing that we would consider significant had it been any other person (how many of us give accolades to our local furniture repairman?) for 3 years of service. On the other hand, Christ spent 30 years preparing himself for his purpose here on earth.
I have to confess, I've missed this point the past few months ie in order to do that which is God's purpose for us we have to under go the necessary preparation that will equip us for that purpose. Behind me sits my marimba, collecting dust from little use. I'll admit; at one time I was good at playing the marimba and on my way to performing at a professional level. I'll also admit that this didn't come by accident or "great talent". I would spend hours upon hours in the practice room working on a line of music for an audition or perfecting three or four notes until they conveyed that which I heard in my mind. I still know all of those songs and the nuances I worked so hard to perfect, but you would be sorely disappointed if I were to perform those same works for you today. It's not that I don't know the music; it's that I haven't spent any time practicing lately. It takes lots of preparation to perfect the final product, and constant practice to maintain that which we have learned.
In having the strong desire and vision to fulfill that which God has placed before me, I have forgotten the amount of preparation that must come beforehand. In trying to find my way out of the ill-fitting sweater (see previous post from a long time ago ;-)), I have whined and complained about the very door God has opened for me. And in looking back and reflecting on my first semester of medical school, I realize that God doesn't always supply us with ease and contentment. Rather, he puts us through that which will prepare us, not sparing his son of 40 days in the wilderness, Ezekiel of the death of his wife, or Job of everything he had. I have come to realize that striving to be a perfect Christian is not striving to be a perfect person. Instead it is striving to be completely in tune with God's will and saying "here am I" to every situation He places before you and being open to whatever discipline and preparation he requires of you.
That being said, I can now say that I officially survived my first semester of medical school (ok tomorrow after I say goodbye to Frank and take my Anatomy shelf). I didn't fail out, not even close, and I'm looking foward to the next two weeks of doing anything but medicine. I've learned more than I ever knew, and I'm looking foward to what next semester holds. No sad, sad violins and no why me's--only joyful obedience in pursuing that which is God's purpose (you guys feel free to hold me to that).
12.14.2004
Where in the World am I?
Or should I say will be? I've been thinking about this upcoming summer alot lately (yes I know I should be studying). It'll be my last free summer for quite some time and I'd like to take advantage of that. I could go back to Central America and do mission work, but then I could also do that for 2-3 months my 4th year when I actually know more about medicine and what I'm doing. I could also go to Nigeria for 3 weeks on a medical missions trip with Dr.Farrar and work at the hospital there. Then there's always the "backpacking Europe" trip I promised myself I'd do in college that I never did. I wouldn't mind seeing more of the world since it seems like each part I go to, God teaches me a new lesson about the people He's created.
Decisions, decisions....I was never good at making them.
Any suggestions or offers of companionship on my sojourn to wherever (the sky's the limit) would be greatly appreciated.
Back to studying. 1 final down (let's just say I kicked cadaver booty) and 2 to go!
Decisions, decisions....I was never good at making them.
Any suggestions or offers of companionship on my sojourn to wherever (the sky's the limit) would be greatly appreciated.
Back to studying. 1 final down (let's just say I kicked cadaver booty) and 2 to go!
12.08.2004
*Randomness*
So I lied a little and said I wasn't going to post. I'm sitting here in the computer lab at Stanton Gerber taking a study break. I guess it's a sign that you should go home and go to sleep after you walk out of the little X-Ray/MRI room in lab to find that there's no one there but you, the cadavers, and the freshly-cut cross sections. It freaked me out a little.
Christmas: so I decided to have a little shindig for my Rural Track friends this coming Saturday. It's really just an excuse for me to play Martha Stewart and go shopping for things to decorate my apartment with for Christmas. Let's just say I'm not allowed to go to Kmart by myself anymore. After an hour of purusing the aisles (I don't think I spelled puruse right), I left with half a hundred dollars worth of stuff (grant it, some of that was groceries). I personally don't have too much of a problem with Christmas as long as it's not stressful and people aren't fighting over materialistic things. I kinda like the holiday because it's an excuse for everyone to come together. People fly in from all over the country just to be around each other for this special day. I like seeing people I know; therefore, I like Christmas.
Quillen: I love Quillen. It's been a rough semester but I wouldn't trade it for the world. I love the people here; everyone from the dean to the janitors all chip in to do their part. My classmates are wonderful; I don't know how I would have gotten by without them. Downside? Going to med school and moving to the middle of nowhere gives you the feeling that you've discombobulated yourself from your former life. You don't have time to visit your old friends and no one wants to come to the middle of hickville Tennessee (no offense NE Tennesseans) to visit you.
Cycling: My new hobby. It must be cool b/c Dr.Kwas the head honcho of Anatomy joins me regularly for cycling class.
Don't ever go on Saturday.
1. The guy who teaches it is a masochist and the whole class consists of sprints or a 7 minute "climb" up the steepest hill you've ever ridden.
2. He works out to weird music. I'm sorry but Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, 80's pop, and Indian chant music do not mix well for a spinning class.
11:30pm: Yeah, I think I'd better go study some more.
Feel free to comment away. Procrastination is a beautiful thing as long as you've already done your required studying.
"Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got til it's gone. They paved paradise and put up a parking lot." -some 60's hippie chick and Counting Crows
Christmas: so I decided to have a little shindig for my Rural Track friends this coming Saturday. It's really just an excuse for me to play Martha Stewart and go shopping for things to decorate my apartment with for Christmas. Let's just say I'm not allowed to go to Kmart by myself anymore. After an hour of purusing the aisles (I don't think I spelled puruse right), I left with half a hundred dollars worth of stuff (grant it, some of that was groceries). I personally don't have too much of a problem with Christmas as long as it's not stressful and people aren't fighting over materialistic things. I kinda like the holiday because it's an excuse for everyone to come together. People fly in from all over the country just to be around each other for this special day. I like seeing people I know; therefore, I like Christmas.
Quillen: I love Quillen. It's been a rough semester but I wouldn't trade it for the world. I love the people here; everyone from the dean to the janitors all chip in to do their part. My classmates are wonderful; I don't know how I would have gotten by without them. Downside? Going to med school and moving to the middle of nowhere gives you the feeling that you've discombobulated yourself from your former life. You don't have time to visit your old friends and no one wants to come to the middle of hickville Tennessee (no offense NE Tennesseans) to visit you.
Cycling: My new hobby. It must be cool b/c Dr.Kwas the head honcho of Anatomy joins me regularly for cycling class.
Don't ever go on Saturday.
1. The guy who teaches it is a masochist and the whole class consists of sprints or a 7 minute "climb" up the steepest hill you've ever ridden.
2. He works out to weird music. I'm sorry but Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, 80's pop, and Indian chant music do not mix well for a spinning class.
11:30pm: Yeah, I think I'd better go study some more.
Feel free to comment away. Procrastination is a beautiful thing as long as you've already done your required studying.
"Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got til it's gone. They paved paradise and put up a parking lot." -some 60's hippie chick and Counting Crows
12.06.2004
Look I'm Famous!
http://com.etsu.edu/default.asp?V_DOC_ID=1758
ok not really. I've come to the realization that the next two weeks are going to be as opposite of fun as possible. The key words are going to be stressed, studying, and sleeping (ok so maybe just the first two). Ahh, how I long for the days of undergrad when I could say "I have sooo much homework and studying to do for finals!" when really I could go catch the double feature at the drive-in two days before the exam, make 5am runs to Waffle house the morning of after staying up all night cramming, and still ace the class. Ain't gonna happen this time. Bye bye world until Dec 18th.
If you wanna talk to your over-stressed, under-relaxed med school nerd friend or think it'd be cool to hang out with her during the measly two weeks she gets for break, send her an email at michelegourley@yahoo.com or call her at 615-300-you know the rest...
I'm not checking my blog (or anyone's for that matter) until after exams so if you want to get in touch you're going to have to use the above mentioned methods or come see me in the least-visited town of Tennessee (JC) or Smyrna. Cheers and bask in your many hours of freedom of being an undergrad!
Time for class. Break's over.
Romans 12 and other inspiring thoughts that I'll write about when I get a chance.
ok not really. I've come to the realization that the next two weeks are going to be as opposite of fun as possible. The key words are going to be stressed, studying, and sleeping (ok so maybe just the first two). Ahh, how I long for the days of undergrad when I could say "I have sooo much homework and studying to do for finals!" when really I could go catch the double feature at the drive-in two days before the exam, make 5am runs to Waffle house the morning of after staying up all night cramming, and still ace the class. Ain't gonna happen this time. Bye bye world until Dec 18th.
If you wanna talk to your over-stressed, under-relaxed med school nerd friend or think it'd be cool to hang out with her during the measly two weeks she gets for break, send her an email at michelegourley@yahoo.com or call her at 615-300-you know the rest...
I'm not checking my blog (or anyone's for that matter) until after exams so if you want to get in touch you're going to have to use the above mentioned methods or come see me in the least-visited town of Tennessee (JC) or Smyrna. Cheers and bask in your many hours of freedom of being an undergrad!
Time for class. Break's over.
Romans 12 and other inspiring thoughts that I'll write about when I get a chance.
12.01.2004
It's Their Own Fault
I wasn't planning on posting anymore until after finals, but in honor of AIDS Awareness Day and how I feel about it, I had to write a few lines. The title of the blog is often quoted by many when asked about the victims of AIDS. Since the epidemic began its spread through sinful acts, many, especially Christians, associate everyone affected by the disease as a blatant heathen, deserving of the consequence of AIDS. However, how do you pass that same judgement on a child born with AIDS, a woman who contracted AIDS through her unfaithful husband (the biggest risk factor is S. Africa is being a married woman), or a grandmother who now suffers from the disease by caring for her HIV positive daughter's sores? It's a travesty that we condemn more readily than we understand.
I'm sure many of you are thinking, "This will never affect me; why should I care?" Colin Powell states that AIDS is the world's "biggest weapon of mass destruction," and it has already lowered the life expectancy in many countries of Africa to less than 40 years of age. Much of the workforce in these countries will soon be wiped out, leaving countless orphans and a continent of instability and devastation.
Though rigorous and complex, one can provide treatment for an AIDS patient for a mere $150 a year. That's about 1% of the income of someone at the poverty line here in the United States. One percent. Those drugs could provide 10 more years of life to allow a father to raise his children or a mother to be a mother and not leave her 15 year old daughter an orphan and caretaker of the entire family. Think about it.
In the meantime, I urge you to visit the following websites and support the effort to stop this tragic epidemic.
http://www.theonecampaign.org
http://46664.tiscali.com
Hope you guys have a wonderful holiday season and don't ever forget how blessed you are.
I'm sure many of you are thinking, "This will never affect me; why should I care?" Colin Powell states that AIDS is the world's "biggest weapon of mass destruction," and it has already lowered the life expectancy in many countries of Africa to less than 40 years of age. Much of the workforce in these countries will soon be wiped out, leaving countless orphans and a continent of instability and devastation.
Though rigorous and complex, one can provide treatment for an AIDS patient for a mere $150 a year. That's about 1% of the income of someone at the poverty line here in the United States. One percent. Those drugs could provide 10 more years of life to allow a father to raise his children or a mother to be a mother and not leave her 15 year old daughter an orphan and caretaker of the entire family. Think about it.
In the meantime, I urge you to visit the following websites and support the effort to stop this tragic epidemic.
http://www.theonecampaign.org
http://46664.tiscali.com
Hope you guys have a wonderful holiday season and don't ever forget how blessed you are.
11.26.2004
BloG oN VacaTioN
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. "- Matthew 6:19
It was kinda nice to take a walk around the farm this weekend. Although every building on the premise was razed, the house, the barn, and even the old tractor shed, it brought a sense of peace and closure that I've been seeking for almost a year. The rubble of the structures that represented the passing of one of the cornerstones of my life will soon be replaced by highly-modern uniform edifices promoting the education of your future children. As my dog and I traversed the acres of once-grazed pastures and scouted the rubble of wood and rocks and weather-rusted farm implements, the verse above kept appearing in my mind. So many of us value the temporary. Almost every item of the rubble was once valued by someone whether it be the builders of the house 200 years ago or my horse who greeted me many frosty mornings from his stall in the barn. Yet, all these things are gone now. However, each of these items have left an impression on many and left me with many wonderful memories. More importantly is the impact of which the occupants and owners of these items left on me, and I realize that treasures are not to be found among the pile of rubble, now only valued by men with metal detectors, that was part of what I once called "home." Rather, enduring treasure is found in relationships with those we love and that which leads to eternity, ultimately, the cross. (I think heaven was made for eternity so we'll have time to get to know everyone there).
So as I think of what I want for Christmas, I can only come up with a simple request. I don't want the latest must-have that will be come the most recent has-been in a few months. I don't want to participate in the feast of materialism that descends upon our society at this time of year. What I want for Christmas is to spend time with those who God has blessed me with knowing for my precious time here on Earth. If you're in the middle TN area between 12/19-1/2 or passing along I-81 sometime between now and then, feel free to give me a call or email me and we'll try get together sometime.
In regards to the title of this blog, I'm taking a blogging hiatus for the next few weeks (with maybe a few short posts of verses and such) to concentrate on my upcoming exams, the end of the semester, and all that God has shown me the past few months. I will still be checking it from time to time so feel free to leave me a comment or drop me a message.
I Love Y'all and Good Luck with Exams!!
It was kinda nice to take a walk around the farm this weekend. Although every building on the premise was razed, the house, the barn, and even the old tractor shed, it brought a sense of peace and closure that I've been seeking for almost a year. The rubble of the structures that represented the passing of one of the cornerstones of my life will soon be replaced by highly-modern uniform edifices promoting the education of your future children. As my dog and I traversed the acres of once-grazed pastures and scouted the rubble of wood and rocks and weather-rusted farm implements, the verse above kept appearing in my mind. So many of us value the temporary. Almost every item of the rubble was once valued by someone whether it be the builders of the house 200 years ago or my horse who greeted me many frosty mornings from his stall in the barn. Yet, all these things are gone now. However, each of these items have left an impression on many and left me with many wonderful memories. More importantly is the impact of which the occupants and owners of these items left on me, and I realize that treasures are not to be found among the pile of rubble, now only valued by men with metal detectors, that was part of what I once called "home." Rather, enduring treasure is found in relationships with those we love and that which leads to eternity, ultimately, the cross. (I think heaven was made for eternity so we'll have time to get to know everyone there).
So as I think of what I want for Christmas, I can only come up with a simple request. I don't want the latest must-have that will be come the most recent has-been in a few months. I don't want to participate in the feast of materialism that descends upon our society at this time of year. What I want for Christmas is to spend time with those who God has blessed me with knowing for my precious time here on Earth. If you're in the middle TN area between 12/19-1/2 or passing along I-81 sometime between now and then, feel free to give me a call or email me and we'll try get together sometime.
In regards to the title of this blog, I'm taking a blogging hiatus for the next few weeks (with maybe a few short posts of verses and such) to concentrate on my upcoming exams, the end of the semester, and all that God has shown me the past few months. I will still be checking it from time to time so feel free to leave me a comment or drop me a message.
I Love Y'all and Good Luck with Exams!!
11.22.2004
What's Your MP?
(before reading see disclaimer at bottom)
Current color: Fuschia
Current song: Start the Commotion
Current mood: Goofball
Seeing as how I'm in a half silly/giddy mood (too much time on the elliptical can do that), I thought I'd address the serious subject of MP. If you don't know what MP stands for you're:
a. too young
b. not around enough little old ladies at church
c. not eligible anymore
Calculating one's MP is a time consuming and complicated process involving at least two years of upper level math or a crash course in statistics. However, knowing one's MP is helpful with things such as determining the size of an apartment to rent, how many fluffy white cats one should buy, or what church one should attend. This being said, I've calculated my MP to be -2 (0 being neutral, neither advantageous nor disadvantageous). Many factors such as the ones below were taken into consideration.
1.Location. This is a very important factor when calculating MP. In fact, my MP dropped two points when I moved to Johnson City (not so many fish in the sea to speak). Where you eventually want to live also is a factor. Since I want to move to a hut in the middle of Central America, my MP dropped to -4. If you live in Knoxville add 3 to your MP.
2. Career. Another important consideration. Since women in med. school is viewed differently by different people, it is a neutral factor in the calculation of my MP. +/-5
3.Personality. Another one of the Big 3 in calculating MP. If you're charming, witty, and intelligent such as myself then add 6. If people would rather play with the cardboard box their PlayStation came in than spend an hour with you, then subtract 4.
4.Christian. A big player in my book. +20
5. Hobbies. The saying "opposites attract" isn't entirely true. +1 for every interesting thing about you (yes collecting pickle jars counts).
6. Personal Hygiene. Some might title this "attractiveness" but in order to not sound more shallow than I already am, I'm focusing on hygiene instead. Partake in daily showering and grooming habits? +2 Too much perfume or makeup? -2
7.Health. You gotta live long enough to realize your MP (aka don't keel over from eating too many McCardboard burgers). Committed to keeping fit? +1
8. Español. Since our nation is fast becoming an amalgam of Hispanics and "Americans," knowing another language is helpful and also comes in handy if you plan on moving to a hut in the middle of Central America. +1 if you like to speak other languages. -1 if your friends groan because you insist on talking to them as if they understood every language you do.
9.Puppies and/or borrowed babies. Since some of my friends seems to think that having these items while out in public enhances your MP, add 2 if you utilize these items to attract others.
10. Age. I suppose I haven't quite reached old-fogeydom yet. Not an old fogey? +3
Simple enough, eh? Not quite. Confounding factors of place and date of birth, genetic anomalies, pronuncionation of the plural form of "you," if you're featured on Mer's "e-harmony" blog, and whether or not the dog you owned when you were 5 liked tomato soup must all be taken into consideration. This leads me to have a score of -2. Bring on the fluffy white cats and hardwood floors! ;o)
What's Your MP?
Disclaimer: The author takes no responsibility for the writings of this blog or anything taken seriously from it. She attributes all thoughts and poor attempts at humor to too much caffeine, endorphins, and "Frank" No white cats were mistreated in the writing of this blog.
Current color: Fuschia
Current song: Start the Commotion
Current mood: Goofball
Seeing as how I'm in a half silly/giddy mood (too much time on the elliptical can do that), I thought I'd address the serious subject of MP. If you don't know what MP stands for you're:
a. too young
b. not around enough little old ladies at church
c. not eligible anymore
Calculating one's MP is a time consuming and complicated process involving at least two years of upper level math or a crash course in statistics. However, knowing one's MP is helpful with things such as determining the size of an apartment to rent, how many fluffy white cats one should buy, or what church one should attend. This being said, I've calculated my MP to be -2 (0 being neutral, neither advantageous nor disadvantageous). Many factors such as the ones below were taken into consideration.
1.Location. This is a very important factor when calculating MP. In fact, my MP dropped two points when I moved to Johnson City (not so many fish in the sea to speak). Where you eventually want to live also is a factor. Since I want to move to a hut in the middle of Central America, my MP dropped to -4. If you live in Knoxville add 3 to your MP.
2. Career. Another important consideration. Since women in med. school is viewed differently by different people, it is a neutral factor in the calculation of my MP. +/-5
3.Personality. Another one of the Big 3 in calculating MP. If you're charming, witty, and intelligent such as myself then add 6. If people would rather play with the cardboard box their PlayStation came in than spend an hour with you, then subtract 4.
4.Christian. A big player in my book. +20
5. Hobbies. The saying "opposites attract" isn't entirely true. +1 for every interesting thing about you (yes collecting pickle jars counts).
6. Personal Hygiene. Some might title this "attractiveness" but in order to not sound more shallow than I already am, I'm focusing on hygiene instead. Partake in daily showering and grooming habits? +2 Too much perfume or makeup? -2
7.Health. You gotta live long enough to realize your MP (aka don't keel over from eating too many McCardboard burgers). Committed to keeping fit? +1
8. Español. Since our nation is fast becoming an amalgam of Hispanics and "Americans," knowing another language is helpful and also comes in handy if you plan on moving to a hut in the middle of Central America. +1 if you like to speak other languages. -1 if your friends groan because you insist on talking to them as if they understood every language you do.
9.Puppies and/or borrowed babies. Since some of my friends seems to think that having these items while out in public enhances your MP, add 2 if you utilize these items to attract others.
10. Age. I suppose I haven't quite reached old-fogeydom yet. Not an old fogey? +3
Simple enough, eh? Not quite. Confounding factors of place and date of birth, genetic anomalies, pronuncionation of the plural form of "you," if you're featured on Mer's "e-harmony" blog, and whether or not the dog you owned when you were 5 liked tomato soup must all be taken into consideration. This leads me to have a score of -2. Bring on the fluffy white cats and hardwood floors! ;o)
What's Your MP?
Disclaimer: The author takes no responsibility for the writings of this blog or anything taken seriously from it. She attributes all thoughts and poor attempts at humor to too much caffeine, endorphins, and "Frank" No white cats were mistreated in the writing of this blog.
11.21.2004
A Tribute to Tim
It's hard to believe it's been five years, but now you're immortalized in stone with all the other heroic Aggies on the stack that night. Thanks for the wonderful memories from GSS and for teaching me that it's not the petty things in life that matter but how your life affects others.
(In memory of Tim Kerlee, Jr.)
http://www.utexas.edu/spotlight/2004/bonfire_memorial041118.html
(In memory of Tim Kerlee, Jr.)
http://www.utexas.edu/spotlight/2004/bonfire_memorial041118.html
11.19.2004
The Devaluation of American Society...
...or why we need antique shops.
Once a month after spending a Thursday afternoon in Rogersville, my classmate Elizabeth and I volunteer at a free Christian clinic in Church Hill, Tennessee. Since our day in Rogersville ends around 4pm and the clinic doesn't open until 6pm, we have ample time to do things besides study. It just so happen that there is a large antique store next to the clinic and a bakery and deli across the parking lot. Now most of you might consider an antique store a "Junk Shop." I on the other hand find these as a great reflection of our society, a one-stop shopping place of American history you might say, and are a great necessity to our society.
Outside this particular shop are a variety of farm implements Inside one can find anything from 1963 issues of Life magazine and National Geographic to Victorian-era furniture and Art Deco spring-necked cat statues. The one thing you won't find, however, is a plethera of items from the last 20 years (except maybe an occasional lime green-headed Troll doll or a dust-covered Beanie Baby). Of course, you say, it's only been twenty years and these things aren't antiques. I'm convinced, rather, that you won't find these items because nothing in our society is meant to last anymore. You see, what makes an antique an antique is the value it holds, the feeling of nostalgia it brings to the owner, and the permanence of a memory from the past it renders.
Unfortunately, for the past twenty years or so, our society has been sliding down a slippery slope of depreciation of anything lasting. We have in effect become a disposable people. If you look in the antique shop, all the dishes were made of high quality china or other unbreakable materials. Even the lunchboxes were made of sturdy aluminum or tin. Today's equivalents? Paper plates and plastic bags. I don't think you'll find those in an antique shop anytime soon. We have become a society of "Cheap and Easy" of the "Here and Now." We buy the latest fad only to throw it away. We no longer need the "company china" because we no longer have time to prepare a meal and have company. We buy the latest fashion in bulk only to toss it to Goodwill at the next season of clothing. Working the good earth and eating its harvest has been replaced by a greasy bag of McCardboard Fries. Even our very substance, the relationships we share, are disposable. A ring symbolizes forever as much as that hula-girl themed bamboo screen hanging in booth #29 symbolizes beauty. If something doesn't suit our whims we toss it, sell it, move it, or replace it. Nothing is rare, special, or valued for we live in a society of the mass-marketed, over-produced, and plastered-on-the wall-everywhere advertisements. Our society is such a rat race of over-scheduled lives that we don't even have the time to contemplate the demise and devaluation of our society.
The next time you drive by an antique shop, before you write it off as a house of junk, remember all the nostalgia it holds and remember how it symbolizes an era when people actually had time to appreciate the beauty of a potter's craft, a well-made childhood toy, a Sunday afternoon dinner with friends, or the simple enjoyment of life itself. For now, will have to content ourselves with the cast-aways hidden among the thousands of antique shops across America.
Excuse me, I think it's time to go buy that hand-made quilt from booth #17 and the gaudy 60's vintage bright orange pyrex pitcher. Happy Antique Hunting!
Once a month after spending a Thursday afternoon in Rogersville, my classmate Elizabeth and I volunteer at a free Christian clinic in Church Hill, Tennessee. Since our day in Rogersville ends around 4pm and the clinic doesn't open until 6pm, we have ample time to do things besides study. It just so happen that there is a large antique store next to the clinic and a bakery and deli across the parking lot. Now most of you might consider an antique store a "Junk Shop." I on the other hand find these as a great reflection of our society, a one-stop shopping place of American history you might say, and are a great necessity to our society.
Outside this particular shop are a variety of farm implements Inside one can find anything from 1963 issues of Life magazine and National Geographic to Victorian-era furniture and Art Deco spring-necked cat statues. The one thing you won't find, however, is a plethera of items from the last 20 years (except maybe an occasional lime green-headed Troll doll or a dust-covered Beanie Baby). Of course, you say, it's only been twenty years and these things aren't antiques. I'm convinced, rather, that you won't find these items because nothing in our society is meant to last anymore. You see, what makes an antique an antique is the value it holds, the feeling of nostalgia it brings to the owner, and the permanence of a memory from the past it renders.
Unfortunately, for the past twenty years or so, our society has been sliding down a slippery slope of depreciation of anything lasting. We have in effect become a disposable people. If you look in the antique shop, all the dishes were made of high quality china or other unbreakable materials. Even the lunchboxes were made of sturdy aluminum or tin. Today's equivalents? Paper plates and plastic bags. I don't think you'll find those in an antique shop anytime soon. We have become a society of "Cheap and Easy" of the "Here and Now." We buy the latest fad only to throw it away. We no longer need the "company china" because we no longer have time to prepare a meal and have company. We buy the latest fashion in bulk only to toss it to Goodwill at the next season of clothing. Working the good earth and eating its harvest has been replaced by a greasy bag of McCardboard Fries. Even our very substance, the relationships we share, are disposable. A ring symbolizes forever as much as that hula-girl themed bamboo screen hanging in booth #29 symbolizes beauty. If something doesn't suit our whims we toss it, sell it, move it, or replace it. Nothing is rare, special, or valued for we live in a society of the mass-marketed, over-produced, and plastered-on-the wall-everywhere advertisements. Our society is such a rat race of over-scheduled lives that we don't even have the time to contemplate the demise and devaluation of our society.
The next time you drive by an antique shop, before you write it off as a house of junk, remember all the nostalgia it holds and remember how it symbolizes an era when people actually had time to appreciate the beauty of a potter's craft, a well-made childhood toy, a Sunday afternoon dinner with friends, or the simple enjoyment of life itself. For now, will have to content ourselves with the cast-aways hidden among the thousands of antique shops across America.
Excuse me, I think it's time to go buy that hand-made quilt from booth #17 and the gaudy 60's vintage bright orange pyrex pitcher. Happy Antique Hunting!
11.17.2004
All I Ever Need to Know...
...is that I'll never know everything.
It's been 3 1/2 months since I started school here at Quillen and what a 3 1/2 months it's been! Med school has taught me a lot of things. I've learned:
I'm not going to fail out of med school (at least not yet), and I'm never going to know everything about medicine. It's a continual process of learning.
Once you move away, the places and people you left will never be the same. Each new direction of our life gives us a new perspective on the paths we've already traveled.
Time is a precious commodity and the lack of it gives us a new appreciation for the mundane: a tree clothed in autumn color, the sun rise, a quick phone call from friends and family.
The complexity and beauty that exists within each one of us and how masterfully designed our bodies are.
That each of us possesses our own anomalies and genetic defects. It's what we do with them and how we view others with this realization that makes a difference.
There are a lot of bad physicians out there and there also some very compassionate and caring ones who realize the power of the white coat is the power to change a life.
That at those times in our lifes when we ask God for strength is when he burdens us so that we must come to our knees and acknowledge that He is our only source of strength.
Just like I'll never practice medicine perfectly, I will never be a perfect Christian. Just like I have physical defects, I have spiritual ones as well. I'm just thankful that the One who is Perfect has grace that will cover and heal both.
Health is a multi-faceted entity that is a conglomeration of physical, spiritual, and emotional components and often it is more within the power of the person than the physician to achieve a balance between the three.
Discpline is not something gained; rather, it is earned through experience and effort.
And finally....
I've learned that it's better to take the aluminum cap off the container of soup BEFORE putting it in the microwave. :o)
It's been 3 1/2 months since I started school here at Quillen and what a 3 1/2 months it's been! Med school has taught me a lot of things. I've learned:
I'm not going to fail out of med school (at least not yet), and I'm never going to know everything about medicine. It's a continual process of learning.
Once you move away, the places and people you left will never be the same. Each new direction of our life gives us a new perspective on the paths we've already traveled.
Time is a precious commodity and the lack of it gives us a new appreciation for the mundane: a tree clothed in autumn color, the sun rise, a quick phone call from friends and family.
The complexity and beauty that exists within each one of us and how masterfully designed our bodies are.
That each of us possesses our own anomalies and genetic defects. It's what we do with them and how we view others with this realization that makes a difference.
There are a lot of bad physicians out there and there also some very compassionate and caring ones who realize the power of the white coat is the power to change a life.
That at those times in our lifes when we ask God for strength is when he burdens us so that we must come to our knees and acknowledge that He is our only source of strength.
Just like I'll never practice medicine perfectly, I will never be a perfect Christian. Just like I have physical defects, I have spiritual ones as well. I'm just thankful that the One who is Perfect has grace that will cover and heal both.
Health is a multi-faceted entity that is a conglomeration of physical, spiritual, and emotional components and often it is more within the power of the person than the physician to achieve a balance between the three.
Discpline is not something gained; rather, it is earned through experience and effort.
And finally....
I've learned that it's better to take the aluminum cap off the container of soup BEFORE putting it in the microwave. :o)
11.14.2004
Flashback!!
"Los Guatemaltecos"
So I was listening to the local Sunday night Latin hour on the radio when "El Za Za Za" came on the radio. Those of you MET people know this brings back many fond memories of rides on the big white van and all those fun memories we made spending time as Gringos in Guate.
Anyways, I don't really have anything to say this week nor time to say anything. Just thought I'd write about what "El Za Za Za" means to me and post a nostalgic picture. Which reminds me that it's only six more months til I can head south again.
So...this is your blog. Leave an opinion about whatever strikes your fancy, the immigration of Latin Americans to this country, what you think about people like me who want to go live in a 3rd world country and listen to crazy Latin music, doctors, medical students, whatever. It's your blog and your chance to post (even if you never have). Either sign in with your name or post anonymously. Otherwise, this blog is going to get pretty lonely.
Hasta luego chavos y chavas!
So I was listening to the local Sunday night Latin hour on the radio when "El Za Za Za" came on the radio. Those of you MET people know this brings back many fond memories of rides on the big white van and all those fun memories we made spending time as Gringos in Guate.
Anyways, I don't really have anything to say this week nor time to say anything. Just thought I'd write about what "El Za Za Za" means to me and post a nostalgic picture. Which reminds me that it's only six more months til I can head south again.
So...this is your blog. Leave an opinion about whatever strikes your fancy, the immigration of Latin Americans to this country, what you think about people like me who want to go live in a 3rd world country and listen to crazy Latin music, doctors, medical students, whatever. It's your blog and your chance to post (even if you never have). Either sign in with your name or post anonymously. Otherwise, this blog is going to get pretty lonely.
Hasta luego chavos y chavas!
11.09.2004
Finding Fun on a Friday Night
So I was going to post this earlier this week, but with all the studying for my Ab/Pelvis test and my inherent laziness this past weekend, it's being posted today. Friday's fun-finding adventure all started when I decided to open up the local paper in my attempts to put off studying. In it there was an ad for "Festival of Seasons" a local Christmas craft fair/fundraiser for Milligan College. I know, you're thinking, "ooh a craft fair" but you have to understand that this was not just any craft fair. Not only were there going to be all kinds of useless baubles and trinkets and other things to satiate our materialistic society, on Friday night there was to be live jazz music and free coffee and desserts.
Convinced that this was better than doing the usual Friday-night study routine, I recruited two of my classmates, Hannah and Kyoo (pronounced Kee-O), to come with me. Armed with our $5 admission fee and loan money in pocket, the three of us not-dressed-in-scrubs dazzling divas set off on a shopping adventure. We should have known things would get interesting when the lady at the door turned out to be one of our standardized patients. Trying to refrain from asking her questions such as, "So how does that make you feel?" and from listening to her lungs we just paid our admission fee and received our tickets. She kindly directed us upstairs where room upon room of creative flair awaited our book-sore eyes. We immediately realized that the upscale prices of this craft fair were not in line with our poor med student budget. So we contented ourselves to "oohing" and "aahhing" over the ret patent purses, flamboyant jewelry and sampling the delectable culinary masterpieces that graced the Christmas gift baskets for a low $29.99. Kyoo and I even ran into some of the distinguished members of the "Red-Hat" club. I'm determined to join this club when I get older (thanks, Lindsey for your inspiration that day in Charleston). Basically, it allows an older female to wear outrageous jewelry, big gaudy hats, and act in an ecentric manner. I hope you don't have to be married to join or else my idea of the accompanying fluffy white cat and hardwood floor apartment won't fit the picture.
Shopping sprees always lead to hungry bellies as well as hungry wallets, so we went for coffee and desserts. I must say the selection was quite interesting. Hannah went for the "Blueberry Crisp" coffee while I opted for the "Butterfinger Delight" flavor (whatever happened to just plain caf and decaf?). Needless to say, Butterfingers and blueberries are meant for desserts and should not be mixed with hot beverages. Even so, we still had an enjoyable time listening to the jazz trio as Kyoo and I remenisced about the days when we had the time to participate in such ensembles. Our wallets almost stayed full until our dollar bills made a break for it when we hit the pottery room. You see, I have a fondness for homemade crafty things, a fondness usually supressed by my more rational mind telling me that it's just another knick-knack to sit on my shelf. However, when this crafty, homemade thing is not only crafty but functional, it's hard to say no to my escape-happy money. To make a long story short, three pieces of pottery went home with the three med school divas.
While I was trying to make up my indecisive mind as to which piece of pottery should grace my cabinet shelf, our comrade and uniquely dressed friend Daniel called us to see if we wanted to go to a downtown art exhibit. Unaware that Johnson City was even hip enough to have something like an art exhibit, much less a showing on a Friday night, I was eager to see what was in store. We arrived to a collection of galleries housing local artists' (ie mostly ETSU students) latest works. I must say I'm no art critic but some of the stuff on the wall was not exactly what I would call art. Example: A 4x6 picture hung in a creative matte that amounted to a picture of a gravel mud puddle outside a roadside flea market. Price? $79.00 Even better, two galleries down the street I found almost the same picture but this time for the bargain of $49 (must be some kind of mud-puddle picture trend). I would like to find out if the pictures ever sold. If so, I'm putting my entire collection of random pictures in interesting mattes and financing my med. school education selling "art." The other curious thing was that seemingly every artist was dressed in black, black shoes, black shirt, black-dyed hair. One would assume that such creative people would use that same creativity in their attire. I suppose all their inspiration is consumed in contriving new ideas for art such as taking pictures of grey mud puddles.
Overall, I have to say I was impressed that this little conservative Northeast Tennessee town could contain so much culture on a Friday night. Too bad the Anatomy Lab can't be as exciting. Maybe Kyoo, Hannah and I should have bought some of those pieces of "art."
Convinced that this was better than doing the usual Friday-night study routine, I recruited two of my classmates, Hannah and Kyoo (pronounced Kee-O), to come with me. Armed with our $5 admission fee and loan money in pocket, the three of us not-dressed-in-scrubs dazzling divas set off on a shopping adventure. We should have known things would get interesting when the lady at the door turned out to be one of our standardized patients. Trying to refrain from asking her questions such as, "So how does that make you feel?" and from listening to her lungs we just paid our admission fee and received our tickets. She kindly directed us upstairs where room upon room of creative flair awaited our book-sore eyes. We immediately realized that the upscale prices of this craft fair were not in line with our poor med student budget. So we contented ourselves to "oohing" and "aahhing" over the ret patent purses, flamboyant jewelry and sampling the delectable culinary masterpieces that graced the Christmas gift baskets for a low $29.99. Kyoo and I even ran into some of the distinguished members of the "Red-Hat" club. I'm determined to join this club when I get older (thanks, Lindsey for your inspiration that day in Charleston). Basically, it allows an older female to wear outrageous jewelry, big gaudy hats, and act in an ecentric manner. I hope you don't have to be married to join or else my idea of the accompanying fluffy white cat and hardwood floor apartment won't fit the picture.
Shopping sprees always lead to hungry bellies as well as hungry wallets, so we went for coffee and desserts. I must say the selection was quite interesting. Hannah went for the "Blueberry Crisp" coffee while I opted for the "Butterfinger Delight" flavor (whatever happened to just plain caf and decaf?). Needless to say, Butterfingers and blueberries are meant for desserts and should not be mixed with hot beverages. Even so, we still had an enjoyable time listening to the jazz trio as Kyoo and I remenisced about the days when we had the time to participate in such ensembles. Our wallets almost stayed full until our dollar bills made a break for it when we hit the pottery room. You see, I have a fondness for homemade crafty things, a fondness usually supressed by my more rational mind telling me that it's just another knick-knack to sit on my shelf. However, when this crafty, homemade thing is not only crafty but functional, it's hard to say no to my escape-happy money. To make a long story short, three pieces of pottery went home with the three med school divas.
While I was trying to make up my indecisive mind as to which piece of pottery should grace my cabinet shelf, our comrade and uniquely dressed friend Daniel called us to see if we wanted to go to a downtown art exhibit. Unaware that Johnson City was even hip enough to have something like an art exhibit, much less a showing on a Friday night, I was eager to see what was in store. We arrived to a collection of galleries housing local artists' (ie mostly ETSU students) latest works. I must say I'm no art critic but some of the stuff on the wall was not exactly what I would call art. Example: A 4x6 picture hung in a creative matte that amounted to a picture of a gravel mud puddle outside a roadside flea market. Price? $79.00 Even better, two galleries down the street I found almost the same picture but this time for the bargain of $49 (must be some kind of mud-puddle picture trend). I would like to find out if the pictures ever sold. If so, I'm putting my entire collection of random pictures in interesting mattes and financing my med. school education selling "art." The other curious thing was that seemingly every artist was dressed in black, black shoes, black shirt, black-dyed hair. One would assume that such creative people would use that same creativity in their attire. I suppose all their inspiration is consumed in contriving new ideas for art such as taking pictures of grey mud puddles.
Overall, I have to say I was impressed that this little conservative Northeast Tennessee town could contain so much culture on a Friday night. Too bad the Anatomy Lab can't be as exciting. Maybe Kyoo, Hannah and I should have bought some of those pieces of "art."
11.03.2004
A Vision Renewed
My nene: Jose
It is at those times in our life when the light begins to fade and our vision dims that God sends a glimmer of light, a star to light our way, in the form of individuals whose integrity and resolute determination to achieve that task which has been given them inspires all. Such was the case for me today in the form of Dr.Towlan at the CMDA’s monthly luncheon at Quillen. Once a medical student, he went into medical school with the desire to serve in Africa. Almost a quarter of a century later, he stood in front of me and my colleagues recounting 15 years of memories and a richly-lived life of service as a medical missionary.
What a travesty it is that the majority of our population will never experience such a life. Barraged by thousands of images each day promoting our American deities of “Affluence” and “Academia,” many attempt to satiate the God-shaped chasm in their lives by paying homage to these through materialism and knowledge. What the dollar can’t satisfy, we satisfy by our pride in the number of degrees we hold or the knowledge that at least we know more about Michigan water snakes’ kinesiology than our neighbor; therefore, giving our lives meaning and an immortal quality through our contribution to some soon-to-be-outdated textbook. How sad, too, that some robe themselves with the title of “Christian,” living in a squalor of ignorant piety and spending time debating moot issues of doctrine and forgetting to ascribe to the actual meaning of the Bible such as loving the homeless strung-out guy that sits on the marble church steps every morning or showing compassion to the elderly babushka on the cold streets of Russia.
As Dr.Towlan recounted story after story of the relationships he had formed through his medical service, my mind wandered from the cold, blanched classroom to the warm, verdant scenes of Guatemala and Honduras and to all the memories inscribed on my heart such as the one above, a 5 year old who shared a home and his life with me this past summer in Guatemala. Cognizant of the realization that I could pursue a career here in the States for six digit + income, Dr.Towlan’s talk reminded me of my real purpose here, to serve my fellow man and to impart on him the hope which has bestowed on me a life richly blessed in memories, relationships, and glimpses of true humanity which many will never open their eyes to see.
While some of my colleagues may attempt to shovel the material of their titles and salaries into that God-shaped chasm, I will fill mine with the perfect shaped God and rejoice in the delight He gives me through compassion-shaped windows that display all of His wonderfully made creations, my patients and fellow man. So I may never have a hospital ward and a staff to wait on me hand and foot nor the salary to buy that cozy little hut in Maui, but I will have a lifetime full of priceless memories and experience and a wealth of knowledge and contentment in knowing that my life was lived with purpose.
It is at those times in our life when the light begins to fade and our vision dims that God sends a glimmer of light, a star to light our way, in the form of individuals whose integrity and resolute determination to achieve that task which has been given them inspires all. Such was the case for me today in the form of Dr.Towlan at the CMDA’s monthly luncheon at Quillen. Once a medical student, he went into medical school with the desire to serve in Africa. Almost a quarter of a century later, he stood in front of me and my colleagues recounting 15 years of memories and a richly-lived life of service as a medical missionary.
What a travesty it is that the majority of our population will never experience such a life. Barraged by thousands of images each day promoting our American deities of “Affluence” and “Academia,” many attempt to satiate the God-shaped chasm in their lives by paying homage to these through materialism and knowledge. What the dollar can’t satisfy, we satisfy by our pride in the number of degrees we hold or the knowledge that at least we know more about Michigan water snakes’ kinesiology than our neighbor; therefore, giving our lives meaning and an immortal quality through our contribution to some soon-to-be-outdated textbook. How sad, too, that some robe themselves with the title of “Christian,” living in a squalor of ignorant piety and spending time debating moot issues of doctrine and forgetting to ascribe to the actual meaning of the Bible such as loving the homeless strung-out guy that sits on the marble church steps every morning or showing compassion to the elderly babushka on the cold streets of Russia.
As Dr.Towlan recounted story after story of the relationships he had formed through his medical service, my mind wandered from the cold, blanched classroom to the warm, verdant scenes of Guatemala and Honduras and to all the memories inscribed on my heart such as the one above, a 5 year old who shared a home and his life with me this past summer in Guatemala. Cognizant of the realization that I could pursue a career here in the States for six digit + income, Dr.Towlan’s talk reminded me of my real purpose here, to serve my fellow man and to impart on him the hope which has bestowed on me a life richly blessed in memories, relationships, and glimpses of true humanity which many will never open their eyes to see.
While some of my colleagues may attempt to shovel the material of their titles and salaries into that God-shaped chasm, I will fill mine with the perfect shaped God and rejoice in the delight He gives me through compassion-shaped windows that display all of His wonderfully made creations, my patients and fellow man. So I may never have a hospital ward and a staff to wait on me hand and foot nor the salary to buy that cozy little hut in Maui, but I will have a lifetime full of priceless memories and experience and a wealth of knowledge and contentment in knowing that my life was lived with purpose.
10.30.2004
"I Wanna Dance with Somebody"
Cadaver Ball 2004 at Quillen is officially history and was a great success. I must admit, I didn't know med. students could lighten up so much and have fun. Candace, Loan, and I met up with some of the boys at Cheddar's for some food before the festivities began. Service was slow and we almost didn't make it in time to see the skits the M2s performed. Following Seth and Heather, I think I only broke 5 traffic rules trying to get there, but we made it right on time.
It was great to see everyone all dressed and dolled up, away from the usual scrubs/T-shirt/jeans look. The skits were absolutely hilarious. I'd recount some of the more humorous moments like the impression of Dr.Linville's idea of physical exam, a typical Dr.Rary lecture, etc., but I'm afraid the humor would be lost on those non-Quillen students. Let's just say the M2's gave us a hard act to follow.
The night was spent on the dance floor (not with "Frank" as you might think by the title but with some other worthy boys ;o)), trying to get my shelter shy classmate to strut her stuff, and just generally socializing and having a good time not talking about HBGB and what's in the lower region of the body. All in all, it was a foot-stomping, belly-shaking (from laughter), jolly good time (hmm, kinda sounds like a hoe-down).
Tomorrow, it's back to the T-shirt and scrubs and studying Anatomy. At least a girl can have her fun being "Cinderella" every once in awhile. Only 3 months til "Back to Books".
Pictures to come soon.
PS: To all of you who seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth, leave me a comment to let me know how you're doing and to let me know I haven't totally lost contact with everyone who doesn't have an "MD" after their name. Nite!!!
It was great to see everyone all dressed and dolled up, away from the usual scrubs/T-shirt/jeans look. The skits were absolutely hilarious. I'd recount some of the more humorous moments like the impression of Dr.Linville's idea of physical exam, a typical Dr.Rary lecture, etc., but I'm afraid the humor would be lost on those non-Quillen students. Let's just say the M2's gave us a hard act to follow.
The night was spent on the dance floor (not with "Frank" as you might think by the title but with some other worthy boys ;o)), trying to get my shelter shy classmate to strut her stuff, and just generally socializing and having a good time not talking about HBGB and what's in the lower region of the body. All in all, it was a foot-stomping, belly-shaking (from laughter), jolly good time (hmm, kinda sounds like a hoe-down).
Tomorrow, it's back to the T-shirt and scrubs and studying Anatomy. At least a girl can have her fun being "Cinderella" every once in awhile. Only 3 months til "Back to Books".
Pictures to come soon.
PS: To all of you who seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth, leave me a comment to let me know how you're doing and to let me know I haven't totally lost contact with everyone who doesn't have an "MD" after their name. Nite!!!
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