I'm Back!!

It's been a long time, friends. I get home every day and think to myself, "man, what happened today would be a great story for my blog." Then, I look at my jar of Nutella on my kitchen counter then at my bed and go for my typical routine: a few spoonfuls of Nutella into my mouth for dinner, maybe a few minutes of reading or Glee (guilty pleasure) and then my delicious bed. On a day to day basis, the last six months could not possibly have moved along any more slowly. On a lump sum basis, these past few months have flown by. Do I feel like a surgeon yet? Absolutely not. Do I feel like a doctor yet? hmmm getting there. Do I feel like I have aged decades over the last six months? Absolutely. I'm getting wrinkles. My hangovers are way too horrendous to go out much anymore (at least relatively speaking). My knees ache when I walk up and down the hospital stairs too many times. I wear compression stockings whenever I go to the OR because I'm starting to get spider veins. Hot, huh?

I've both loved and hated the last few months. The amount I have learned/am attempting to learn is unfathomable. Every day I learn something new...which translates into: every day I make a mistake, get yelled at, and now wont make that mistake again. It's exhausting and exhilarating. Some days I leave the hospital in tears. Some days I leave feeling on top of the world- nobody can bring me down- until I run into an upper level resident and get yelled at for something- then I'm back on the bottom of that mountain, face down in mud, still attached to my rappel rope, ready to give it another college try.

I'm going to start trying to share stories. The craziness of this world really shines in a giant community hospital. Just when I think I cant see anything worse or hear a more horrific life story or witness a more heroic deed, I prove myself wrong. I'm excited to re-open this blog and share with the people who care to read it. I used to joke to people, "yeah you think it's all Gray's anatomy, but it's not at all." I was wrong...it's totally Gray's Anatomy- the ridiculous medical scenarios, the inappropriate love affairs, the highest highs/lowest lows all in a 60min primetime show slot--it really happens.

The Second Happiest Day of my Life

Thursday, March 18, 2010 was the infamous Match Day. This is a day when fourth year medical students across the country find out at 11am central/12pm eastern standard time where they will be spending the next 3-7 years of their lives. Four years of tears, sweat, blood, overnighters, and angst, all accumulated into one moment. This moment was shared with 500 of my closest classmates, their friends/family, and my dear friends Lauren and Cory from Houston.

Coming up to that point, I honestly did not feel all that much angst. My first choice was Washington Hospital Center, which was not the most competitive of all the places to which I applied. I also had a fairly reassuring email from the residency director after I emailed her to let her know her program would be my top choice. So, I felt fairly confident. But, the moment I opened that letter onstage and saw the words, "Congratulations, you have matched!" with "Washington Hospital Center" typed just below, I felt an explosion of exhilaration and relief. Finally! After four years of feeling inadequate, always being almost, but, not quite there, I had finally accomplished exactly what I wanted to accomplish, no more, no less.

That euphoria of the second happiest day of my life reminds me of the happiest day of my life, Christmas Day, the tenth calendar year of the life of Alexandra. All year I had been begging and pleading with my parents for a battery-operated car with a shift stick. Christmas came and went that day, with no car. I had received some great presents and was satisfied, but not elated. I thanked my parents and quietly took my presents upstairs to my room. A little while later, my mom called me downstairs. She had our new Polaroid camera in one hand and an undeveloped picture in the other. She said, "I don't understand how to work this thing, the picture is all blurry." I told her she needed to wait for it to develop and proceeded to shake it (Hey Yeah! Shout out to Outkast!). I looked again at the picture and saw it was a picture of our courtyard with a gray, battery-operated Purego jeep sitting outside the window. I then, naturally, looked up to my mom and said, "I don't get it?" She frantically pointed out the window, at which point everything became clear- that courtyard had my Purego gray jeep with a shift stick. I started screaming and jumping up and down then ran for the door. All those months of wishing, hoping, begging, had come to fruition and that initial disappoint that Christmas morning I would yet again have to face another year without my Purego jeep, only served to further augment the euphoria I was feeling at that very moment.

I drove that car a good 50,000 miles around my pool, ran many a carpool, went to many a grocery store/shop/restaurant, and lived my perfectly normal imaginary life with my baby Betsy Wetsy named Beth, in the car seat next to me.

That euphoria I felt match day, though I am still incredibly excited to start this new phase of my life, has dissipated some and lent itself to a new feeling: scared shitlessness. I am excited yet concurrently terrified to finally have real responsibilities, to finally have the power to make decisions that could have potential life and death consequences. There isn't much I can do now, except hurry up and wait, and then bust my ass to do the best that I can come July 1. In the interim, I will dabble in Europe (the next several blog entries) and then will benefit from a prescription of Valium as July 1 approaches to curb the anxiety over the new life I am about to lead.

Best to all,
Alexandra