aintbroke | (no subject)

Oh, LIVEJOURNAL. Why am I so lousy at writing? I want you internet people out there to know that while I read my friends page almost every day, and I think about you significantly more often than you might expect, writing remains teeth-pullingly difficult. Medical school has in fact, not made me a different person. (I admit, I was kind of hoping I would one day wake up all adult, or not in violent hatred with writing, but evidently this just isn't going to happen.)

The news from medical school is now all: Genetics! CANCER!
I am really glad the world is full of different people with different interests, because some people in my class are excited about this. I find the whole field wicked boring, and we have a million and a half hours of lecture daily. Guys I am bad at lectures. I got though it, I guess, but the ending of that class really couldn't have come quick enough. I just, the whole topic is just so depressing. And probably it's because we study only in terms of what goes wrong (a lot) and what we can fix (not so much) and oh, man, just don't take drugs when you're pregnant. Or get overly warm. I mean, jeez.

I have distilled all the wisdom of the five week block into a few salient points: to whit- genetic abnormalities are crazy, and don't get cancer. Aaaaand done.

On the flip side, this break has been pretty fabulous. It is American Thanksgiving, which my mother and I celebrated by not eating ridiculous amounts of food, and instead geeking out about sewing projects. I haven't finished mine yet, but be prepared people, IT IS AWESOME. Also: I designed a tattoo, made a lot of marshmallows, played some board games, read some books, did not go black Friday shopping, and slept. Oh, there was a lot of sleeping.

Also: I worked a clinic. It turns out that what they say about stethoscopes is true- you wear one, and people start deferring to you in a way that is bordering on inappropriate. I was asked for my expertise and opinion on things like: what job to take, if a woman looked pregnant at what would have potentially been the third week of pregnancy, interpreting the results of a pap smear, if that heart murmur has changed quality somehow, what color crayon to finish a picture in, how to translate the word "heartburn" into Spanish, and other things that I am just, vastly unqualified to definitively answer. (Answers: Whichever one you like better. Lady, just pee in the dang cup and then we can talk. Well, it says "NORMAL" in really big letters across the top. Lemme go find you a real doctor. Blue, definitely blue. Acidez.)

I like this clinic, but I am not sure I like being treated like a doctor yet.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I totally sympathize with difficulty writing, but it's so much fun when you DO write. I always feel like I'm getting a fresh perspective.

This is the clinic you went to for 3 hours and stayed for 12? How did that come about?

Oh, Echo, this clinic- it is basically made of madness. It's a twice a month volunteer clinic in the "International District" that basically serves undocumented Spanish speakers. Most of the student volunteers speak Spanish, but almost none of our volunteer docs or dentists do. On the day I showed up, I was the only student volunteer, and the only bilingual person in the building. (Can you see where this is going?) I had signed on for four of the eight hours the clinic was open for, but we ended up with a bit of a backlog, what with a complete bottleneck at me.

I honestly felt like a cartoon character. Like, had you photographed me, I would have had a little tornado surrounding me.

Around two (when I was supposed to leave) they had tracked down another translator, but I totally couldn't leave someone else alone to fend with the ravening hordes, so I stayed. I am actually pretty impressed that we were only three hours off by the end- we just started flying though patients like there was no tomorrow.

I worked there again over the break, and it was totally mellow. Less patients, more translators. I never would have suspected it was the same place.