25 months to go, but who's counting

I have 25 months left of residency. That is, 761 days. Approximately. I would make little hash marks on my wall but I might lose my deposit.

The last couple weeks were eventful. In addition to working I managed to sacrifice a lot of sleep to go and have some fun. I saw Ani Difranco in concert at The Moore in Seattle (great venue!). My friend knew her bassist so we got backstage passes and hung out with him after the show. He was a Wesleyan-o-phile so we had lots to talk about! I've scanned our cool backstage passes that had Ani's label logo on it (Righteous Babe records).

I also participated in Dining Out for Life - a fundraising effort where restaurants donate proceeds to HIV/AIDS foundations (nearly 70 restaurants in Tacoma participated and donated 25% of the check). I went out for sit-down Greek (a differentiation they make here since most Greek seems to be take out). I have to say I was actually disappointed. The saganaki wasn't really cooked, just kinda warm around the edges, the grape leaves looked sad, and my veggie Moussaka was kinda tasteless. But the pastry at the end was fabulous. Hard to mess up filo dough and custard, but I could be wrong. It made me miss good, real, Greek food from Greek Town in Detroit!

I also traveled to Seattle for a two-day course for life support certification in obstetrics required for my practice. It was over the weekend which was admittedly lame, but in Seattle which was great. I really loved my time in Seattle. It was so nice seeing cars with liberal bumper stickers, the occasional Jewish star here or there, young alternative rocker couples, gay and straight, with their babies, people commuting on bikes, rollerblades and kayaks (yes, commuting by kayak!). I am ashamed to admit I was depressed coming back to Tacoma. People here are very quiet about their political beliefs, education, Judiasm and sexual orientation. Which is great for them, and I totally respect, but it means that we can't identify each other and things feel very homogeneous in a way that certainly doesn't include any religious, sexual or political minority (or political majority as the case may be). I felt like I fit in in Seattle. It was really a nice feeling and one I kind of forgot about. Now that I remember that feeling, not having it is making me feel restless and irritable.

Next week I return to Motown for my last vacation of intern year. The first half will be in Walled Lake (more or less), the second in Detroit (more or less) and my plans involve a Tiger's game (vs. Red Socks if I'm not mistaken), a rock concert (the Kills !!) at the ever-awesome Magic Stick, catching up with friends and family, and hopefully sleeping a lot and relieving stress as opposed to creating it!

Pre-Pesach Preparations

Happy Passover everyone. If you all remember last time I posted about Passover it was an eventful holiday where, among other exciting activities, a 58-year-old Psychiatrist and I battled it out for the Afikomen and its $2 prize. This time around, like every holiday so far in residency, I am on my own. But I did a little research online and found a surprising number of Seders in the area. Most required advanced tickets (yes, tickets!) so with my late notice there were only a few still taking Passover Orphans like myself (to steal a term from my sister). I will be heading to Seattle for what sounds like a potentially exciting event, and at the very least, it sounds blog-worthy. The organization holding it is the Kadima Reconstructionist Community. Here's part of their passover flier (photo, by the way, of some plague finger puppets!):

It respects tradition while making the story of Passover accessible and meaningful for modern Jews who want and need inspiration while working for a just and peaceful world. Interweaving song, inspiration from our own and other's histories of standing up for justice, and appreciation of the crucial role of women in our liberation, a Kadima Seder is refreshingly relevant and empowering.

In sum, it seems to be a girl-power, activist, singing Seder. Sounds cool, n'est pas?

For the event (potluck for most food, the Kadima Community will be providing the traditional stuffs) I made a ton of my carrot soup. In fact, I made so much, it got a life of its own and started terrorizing the locals. See photo below:
And for some serious passover fun you can learn about the 10 plagues via a peep show. No... not that kind of peep show, the little marshmallow kind of peeps! It's quite awesome, I must say. Click here if you know what's good for you.

Seasons Change

"Winter":


"Spring" (view from my living room couch) or, "Why I don't watch so much TV":



And of course, there's Mt. Rainier. Looming like a ghost over Tacoma. This picture was taken a block from my apartment after walking back from the Daffodil Parade.

Today it is about as dreary as it comes, no rain yet no sucker holes to be found (sucker holes: the blue patches of sky that fool you into thinking it might clear up).

I should leave for Madigan soon. Go hang out and maybe get to cast some broken bones today. It's so hard to get motivated when the sun isn't shining, I have to admit. Although, it's also hard to be cooped up inside working when the sun is shining. Such a dilemma. This week I have the usual out-patient workload with an additional trip up to UW to teach first and second year medical students about joint exams. I apparently have been assigned the ankle, that mysterious complicated joint. The foot and ankle combined have: 26 bones, 33 joints, more than 100 muscles, tendons, ligaments, and of course all the blood vessels, nerves, skin, and soft tissue. The ankle itself is really just four of those bones (hooray for me and the medstudents who have to learn from me!) but there are still lots of tendons, ligaments and muscles to go over. If I had to pick a favorite joint I'd have to pick the knee. Sure, it's popular, sure it's sexy. Perhaps it's like a 14 year old saying Orlando Bloom is her favorite actor. But I still think it's a great joint. I won't wax poetic about it, but it is a rather fun joint to examine. Unfortunately, when joints go bad, there's not a lot we can do that works. We can inject, scope, do physical therapy, and with some joints (really, only the knee and hip) we can replace. But, in the end, there is no replacement that's as good as the original (case in point: Julia Ormond is fine but she was no Audrey Hepburn in the Sabrina re-make).

Paradorama

Daffodil festival was lovely. The parade lasted 2 sunny hours. And it didn't disappoint. As with every Tacoma event there were Pirates. Hoards of them. With big booming cannons, to boot.

There were dozens of marching bands, flag corps, dance squads, clowns and, crucial to every parade, Shriners.

I found myself at a little Detroit-like corner (complete with abandoned buildings) that was sunny and a bit less overwhelmed with people. I took pictures of lots of princesses, queens, clowns, acrobats, bikers, floats advertising various other festivals, fairs, events and much ,much more.


I started to feel a little giddy when I realized we are launching again into fair season, with the Puyallup fair next week and the Strawberry festival around the corner.

I'm glad I was able to make this event. It appears to me to be the biggest event Tacoma has held so far (at least in the 10 months I've lived here - although I was on call and thus missed the 4th of July festival). I'm sure their 75 years of experience in holding this parade helps. It was great seeing so many people out on the town. The snow on the mountains was glowing today and the water looked extra blue. A few pals of mine hit the slopes for some snowboarding and one said she's never seen it so busy. Amazing what a little sunshine does to transform this part of the country. From bleak to bustling in just one day.

Disrupted

I was finished with work around 6 yesterday, home by 6:30 and ready to call it a day by 7 PM. I managed to eat a dinner, read a little of my book, Dune, watch maybe 15 min of TV. Then around 9:30 PM I hit the hay. Alarm set for the luxuriously sinful hour of 7 AM as my morning task was to teach kiddies about tobacco and tobacco advertising at a local elementary school.

I slept like the dead until around 2:30 AM. "Hm," I thought to myself, "I'm awake." Then after a bathroom trip and laying in bed a while I managed to sleep in fits until my cat decided she'd had enough of this sleep thing. Around 5 AM, when the automatic feeder gives her breakfast, bought precisely to discourage this kind of behavior, she started talking.

"Mraw!" Sive says.

I am roused from a weird dream about getting pulled over by the cops. "Mmmrmble."

"MRAW MRAW!" She demands.

"Whaaaaaat?" I whine, in a rather pathetic 12-year-old style, I'm afraid to admit.

"Mraw, ack! MEEEOW!"

"Come on Sive," I coax, patting the bed. "Come to bed and cuddle." I use my sweetest voice, thinking I can fool her into thinking she'd get the attention she wants where I was -- maybe long enough to lull her into silence as I fall back asleep.

"MEEEOWWWW!" She's not falling for it. Then, as she moves down the hall to the living room her meows fade a little "Rwar, ack! meow!"

"For the love of God!" I think a moment about my neighbors, then, only of my tired self. I close my bedroom door and fall mercifully asleep... for a few minutes until...

"Mah! mah!" Sive yells, now throwing herself against the bedroom door.

"SHUT UP!" Why can't she understand English? I turn up the floor fan to high and put a pillow over my head.

"Meow!" THUD! "Meow! MRack!"

"What do you want?" I ask, having given up on sleep, and now in kitchen making coffee.

"Mraw, ack! EEoooww!"

Aren't animals just the sweetest things?

Tar Wars - the presentation at the elementary school - went rather well. The first class we talked to were 5th graders, the second was 4th graders. They were all rather insightful and great at participating. We demystified some myths about tobacco and worked with them on short term effects of smoking and why people start, focusing mostly on image. One activity involved breathing through a straw while running in place to give them an idea of what it feels like to be short of breath. Ultimately, we deconstructed some magazine ads in small groups. It was pretty fun. I was amazed how much the kids knew about smoking. They were amazed how much smoking cost (about $1500 a year, $73,000 for 50 years) and had lots of ideas what else they could buy with that kid of money: lots and lots of hamburgers off the dollar menu, boats, houses, "give it to a hobo" was one kid's suggestion, though I swear I heard him say homo and was momentarily speechless until my partner in presentation translated.