Hi there.
No, I'm not dead. Just learning stuff.
Lots of stuff. You know, so I can be a doctor.
Sometimes my brain wants to take a vacation, but I won't let it.
Not for another month at least. Then I will be done with basic sciences.
That means I probably know all of medicine, right? Right.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Movie Trailer life
If my life were to be made into a quick montage for a movie trailer, this would be the background music to it:
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Mentor tip of the week
Mentor tip of the week: keep your sleep schedule CONSTANT, even on the weekends. If it is off by 1 hour, it's no good. This is from someone who has scheduled residents for 20 years, and would know something about sleep deprivation...
Two big tests coming up soon. Time to know cardiology and heme/onc COLD.
Two big tests coming up soon. Time to know cardiology and heme/onc COLD.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
What my roommate left me
I am typing this out in my brand new bed! My roommate moved out today, and left his bed for me. It's one of those fancy Tempurpedic ones. Me likey so far.
But you know what else he left me? A friggin half of a skull. (More specifically, the foramina at the base. The top and the mandible are gone. There. Happy, Ali? haha) I was helping my roommate's girlfriend pack the last of the his stuff while he was busy setting up his new place back on campus. While she was cleaning out the fridge, I flung open his closet hoping to find it empty. It was, mostly. Some books on the floor, but near the ceiling...sat a brownish remnant of a human skull.
Any hope of the skull being fake evaporated when I picked it up; wisps of memories of anatomy lab floated back into view. I remember when our tank received our own human skull to study every nook and cranny. It was a precious gift, but the shuttle driver did not think so later that day. I had to walk home instead of taking the air conditioned shuttle since I was carrying "biological goods without departmental consent." Bureaucratic speak for "get that f'ing skull off of my bus." Of the dozens of skulls dispersing from my medical school that day into the homes of my fellow classmates that day, mine had the pleasure of bobbing up and down to the beat of Daft Punk as I slowly froze on the cold walk back to my apartment.
I put this older, more fractured yet pristine skull gently on my roommate's table. Should I call the police? Or maybe I should first wipe my fingerprints and blame it all on the girlfriend? One thing was for sure though. I poked around EVERYWHERE in the apartment and could not find drugs, cash, or diamonds. Only then did my roommate's girlfriend walk into the closet and see the skull.
Instead of screaming, she just said "oh, so you found it."
Was there something she should have told me a long time ago?
"Yeah...kind of creepy, no? I think it's Cliff's dad's, back when he was in med school. We just kinda put it up there because...well...yeah..."
Faaantastic.
Other news- I helped out with our med school's White Coat Ceremony yesterday. The speeches were inspirational, and luckily the ceremony went pretty smoothly. I think the dean of admissions and the guest speaker have some kind of 30 year grudge/rivalry going on though, because they keep making fun of each other every time they are in front of hundreds of medical students.
On a final note, it was my friend's birthday yesterday as well! She is a recovering Diet Dr. Pepper addict, so naturally I had to make this for her in case of emergency:
I even threw in a set of gloves, but I made sure not to put in a line kit. Didn't want to make it TOO easy...
But you know what else he left me? A friggin half of a skull. (More specifically, the foramina at the base. The top and the mandible are gone. There. Happy, Ali? haha) I was helping my roommate's girlfriend pack the last of the his stuff while he was busy setting up his new place back on campus. While she was cleaning out the fridge, I flung open his closet hoping to find it empty. It was, mostly. Some books on the floor, but near the ceiling...sat a brownish remnant of a human skull.
Any hope of the skull being fake evaporated when I picked it up; wisps of memories of anatomy lab floated back into view. I remember when our tank received our own human skull to study every nook and cranny. It was a precious gift, but the shuttle driver did not think so later that day. I had to walk home instead of taking the air conditioned shuttle since I was carrying "biological goods without departmental consent." Bureaucratic speak for "get that f'ing skull off of my bus." Of the dozens of skulls dispersing from my medical school that day into the homes of my fellow classmates that day, mine had the pleasure of bobbing up and down to the beat of Daft Punk as I slowly froze on the cold walk back to my apartment.
I put this older, more fractured yet pristine skull gently on my roommate's table. Should I call the police? Or maybe I should first wipe my fingerprints and blame it all on the girlfriend? One thing was for sure though. I poked around EVERYWHERE in the apartment and could not find drugs, cash, or diamonds. Only then did my roommate's girlfriend walk into the closet and see the skull.
Instead of screaming, she just said "oh, so you found it."
Was there something she should have told me a long time ago?
"Yeah...kind of creepy, no? I think it's Cliff's dad's, back when he was in med school. We just kinda put it up there because...well...yeah..."
Faaantastic.
Other news- I helped out with our med school's White Coat Ceremony yesterday. The speeches were inspirational, and luckily the ceremony went pretty smoothly. I think the dean of admissions and the guest speaker have some kind of 30 year grudge/rivalry going on though, because they keep making fun of each other every time they are in front of hundreds of medical students.
On a final note, it was my friend's birthday yesterday as well! She is a recovering Diet Dr. Pepper addict, so naturally I had to make this for her in case of emergency:
I even threw in a set of gloves, but I made sure not to put in a line kit. Didn't want to make it TOO easy...
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Lost in translation
1. The patient has no previous history of suicides
2. Patient has left her white blood cells at another hospital.
3. Patient’s medical history has been remarkably insignificant with only a 40 pound weight gain in the past three days.
4. She has no rigors or shaking chills, but her husband states she was very hot in bed last night.
5. Patient has chest pain if she lies on her left side for over a year.
6. On the second day the knee was better and on the third day it disappeared.
7. The patient is tearful and crying constantly. She also appears to be depressed.
8. The patient has been depressed since she began seeing me in 1993.
9. Discharge status:- Alive, but without my permission.
10. Healthy appearing decrepit 69-year old male, mentally alert, but forgetful.
11. Patient had waffles for breakfast and anorexia for lunch.
12. She is numb from her toes down.
13. While in ER, she was examined, x-rated and sent home.
14. The skin was moist and dry.
15. Occasional, constant infrequent headaches.
16. Patient was alert and unresponsive.
17. Rectal examination revealed a normal size thyroid.
18. She stated that she had been constipated for most of her life until she got a divorce.
19. I saw your patient today, who is still under our care for physical therapy.
20. Both breasts are equal and reactive to light and accommodation.
21. Examination of genitalia reveals that he is circus sized.
22. The lab test indicated abnormal lover function.
23. Skin: somewhat pale, but present.
24. The pelvic exam will be done later on the floor.
25. Large brown stool ambulating in the hall.
26. Patient has two teenage children, but no other abnormalities
27. When she fainted, her eyes rolled around the room.
28. The patient was in his usual state of good health until his airplane ran out of fuel and crashed.
29. Between you and me, we ought to be able to get this lady pregnant.
30. She slipped on the ice and apparently her legs went in separate directions in early December.
31. Patient was seen in consultation by Dr. Smith, who felt we should sit on the abdomen and I agree.
32. The patient was to have a bowel resection. However, he took a job as a stock broker instead.
33. By the time he was admitted, his rapid heart had stopped, and he was feeling better.
First seen here.
Last week of summer break! Aieee!
2. Patient has left her white blood cells at another hospital.
3. Patient’s medical history has been remarkably insignificant with only a 40 pound weight gain in the past three days.
4. She has no rigors or shaking chills, but her husband states she was very hot in bed last night.
5. Patient has chest pain if she lies on her left side for over a year.
6. On the second day the knee was better and on the third day it disappeared.
7. The patient is tearful and crying constantly. She also appears to be depressed.
8. The patient has been depressed since she began seeing me in 1993.
9. Discharge status:- Alive, but without my permission.
10. Healthy appearing decrepit 69-year old male, mentally alert, but forgetful.
11. Patient had waffles for breakfast and anorexia for lunch.
12. She is numb from her toes down.
13. While in ER, she was examined, x-rated and sent home.
14. The skin was moist and dry.
15. Occasional, constant infrequent headaches.
16. Patient was alert and unresponsive.
17. Rectal examination revealed a normal size thyroid.
18. She stated that she had been constipated for most of her life until she got a divorce.
19. I saw your patient today, who is still under our care for physical therapy.
20. Both breasts are equal and reactive to light and accommodation.
21. Examination of genitalia reveals that he is circus sized.
22. The lab test indicated abnormal lover function.
23. Skin: somewhat pale, but present.
24. The pelvic exam will be done later on the floor.
25. Large brown stool ambulating in the hall.
26. Patient has two teenage children, but no other abnormalities
27. When she fainted, her eyes rolled around the room.
28. The patient was in his usual state of good health until his airplane ran out of fuel and crashed.
29. Between you and me, we ought to be able to get this lady pregnant.
30. She slipped on the ice and apparently her legs went in separate directions in early December.
31. Patient was seen in consultation by Dr. Smith, who felt we should sit on the abdomen and I agree.
32. The patient was to have a bowel resection. However, he took a job as a stock broker instead.
33. By the time he was admitted, his rapid heart had stopped, and he was feeling better.
First seen here.
Last week of summer break! Aieee!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Status post deadly race.
I nearly died yesterday. 3 different times. It is surprising how stupid yet lucky I was, looking back with my 20/20 hindsight. I'm writing the following down as a record to learn from, so I never repeat those mistakes, and so that others may benefit as well.
That said, yesterday's events was a wonderful relapse of my adrenaline addiction. After a year of semi-serious running, I entered my first organized race: Los Chupacabras de la Noches 10k. A hard 6.3 miles through wooded trails from 9pm to 11pm. Yes, at night in near perfect moonless darkness. After the sharp crack of the starting gun over a thousand headlamps activated and lit up the trails like drunken fireflies on our sweaty heads. In addition, the trail was marked with flour and glowsticks so that we would not head down the wrong trails and fall to our deaths.
1. The Fall
There were 3 starting waves because for the majority of the race we were literally tearing through the woods in single file lines. If you started in the first wave but run pretty slow you would bog down the hundreds of runners behind you. If you run at a fast pace but start too far down the line you would end up trying to pass runners in front of you. This was my was case, and how I almost died the first time around.
I put myself at the end of the 2nd wave because hell, it is my first race and I did not want to bog down anyone. Or so I thought. For the first half mile it was a press of sweat humanity simply walking up and down trails because of the many bottlenecks as the starting parking lot turned into a road and then into a single trail. Interesting start to my first race, with interesting conversations along the way. Most revolved around my use of Vibram Five Finger running shoes. It was the one thing right thing I did that night because there was no earthly way I could get rocks stuck in my shoe since it was essentially a second skin. I had mastered how to use them after a year of use, and it was freaking amazing. I nimbly dodged grasping branches, dashed up and down gullies, and leaped over rocks with ease.
A little overconfident, I started to pass runners in front of me. I really should have started in the first wave because I stopped counting the runners I passed at 25. My brief hubris blinded me to the first disaster of the night- I nearly fell to my death. I was just passing another runner when several things happened simultaneously: my light briefly went out leaving me in the dark, a root hid the fact that the trail had started to dip, and most importantly the sides of the trail fell away suddenly.
There is no way for me to describe the wave of terror/adrenaline that slammed into me as I realized I was going crack my head open on a rock on the way down. In a split second, I somehow threw a leg out and threw my weight forward while moving down to lower my center of gravity; the rest of that second found me sprawled out on the trail. With the rest of my diminishing wave of adrenaline I peeled myself off the trail before I was trampled to death, or at the very least prevented a domino effect of runners crashing into each other in the dimly lit forest.
For the rest of the race I spent every other second repeating to myself don’t die don’t die don’t die. Lets see. I ran for another hour after that, and there are 3600 seconds in an hour.
I also started to call out roots, rocks, dips, and branches as soon as I encountered them since I was leading my own little pack for most of that hour. We were the 2nd wave people who really should have been in the first wave, just blasting our way through the slower runners in front of us. It is a little weird developing a protective relationship with total strangers that you have just met but never really see. I recognized their voices once they started to pass down my shouts of "rock! Dip ahead!" but that's all I have, because by the fifth mile I was seriously overheated, and told them to pass me up. "Good luck, good luck," I mutter as the alpha wolf loses his pack, quite the emotionally wrenching moment I tell you.
2. The world was ending, according to my brain
I trudged through the last mile in desperation because I really did not train that well for this race. Since I am on summer break, any discipline from the year is long gone, including my usual running regimen. I also conveniently forgot that the water stations were NOT at the end of the race, and thus did not bring my water bottle. This is crucial, because of how the Vibrams work. Normal runners strike the ground with the heel of the foot, which means a lot of the energy is absorbed by bone, ligament, and tendon. When compared to the muscles of your foot, they seem like supermodels on a diet in terms of how much energy they consume. Now with the Vibrams, my entire gait changes, beginning with what part of the foot hits the ground. I run like a cat or a dog, with the balls of my feet touching down on the ground first, with the energy dissipated through the muscles of my foot, and especially my calves (they are humongous now). The upside is I am indestructible- no injuries, no aches or pains anymore. This is how humans evolved to run- and how they caught dinner: endurance running until their prey dropped from exhaustion. But this also means that I need to down swimming pools' worth of water to keep them running each time I run.
By the time I crossed the finish line, the world was ending. I was so dehydrated parts of my brain was shutting down. I wobbled over to the ice chest in search of Gatorade but only found water. Fuck it, I thought and downed cups. Things continued to get worse. I was like a prisoner strapped down for a lethal injection- I knew what was coming and could not stop it. Earlier this year I had taken a sports medicine elective and helped out with the Big City Marathon, and learned about how dehydration and hyponatremia could mess you up.
They were out of Gatorade! Fuck! I thrashed my arms around in the ice chest searching to no avail. I met my immediate need for water, but the disorientation and wobbling got worse. Physiologically, the water was getting into the system, but without electrolytes to keep it in the blood, it floods into the organs, especially the brain. I had just taken neurology so I knew I could not feel my brain swell. But it was because things were horribly wrong. I was going to collapse from lack of motor control, but that I was not worried about. What was scary was the loss of inhibition. For the first time, the primal drive for survival reared its ugly head, in the midst of stormy waves of neurotransmitters and hormones rocking my nervous system. I was exhausted, and human decency did not exist anymore.
I swiftly stole a gallon of water for myself when I knew it I should share it, and that it would only worsen my condition if I drank it all. I almost turned hostile in search of the Gatorade, so I forced myself to dodge the crowd and stumble back to my car. Panicking, I wanted to call my friend in San Antonio to drag me out, but I focused on getting my electrolytes. I slammed back a can of Dr. Pepper and 2 bananas that I scavenged, and then put myself through excruciating stretches to ward off cramps. Like a druggie going through withdrawal, I weathered the physiological storm muttering to myself and walking around in circles.
Looking back it's almost funny how unprepared for this race I was. Should have done a lot of things, planned better. Could have been a lot worse though. There was already one ambulance out for a runner, could have been another one for me if my focus on survival had flinched one bit.
3. Psychopath
Half way home out on the road, I really needed to pee. Thankfully, my fluids and mental status were back to normal, but I was still worried about cramping. Best case scenario my foot cramped and I swerved and crashed. Worse case scenario I swerved and crashed into another car, killing a whole family. However, I never anticipated the situation where I get brutally murdered by a psychopath though.
My bladder instructed that pull over into this decrepit and deserted rest stop. I found my way to the restroom, but what the hell all the men's rooms were locked. In desperation I found my way around to the other side but they were locked as well. Well I could try the women's room.
Before I could try the door, a slowly squeaking wheel announced the arrival of…someone from the far end. From the darkened far end of the stop a strangely muscular man in a janitorial jumpsuit strolled towards me, pushing a mop in a yellow bucket. He was balding, but greasy strings of shoulder length hair waved around in the air. Just like Harold and Kumar.
I took a step towards the door to the outside, just in case.
The guy walks right up to me, stares me down, then points to where he came from. Neither of us say anything but I find the an unlocked urinal and pee in record time. I look around as I head out but there is no sign of the guy. No wet floors or anything. Weird.
The whole way back I'm checking my rear view mirror and keep seeing dirty white vans the entire way home.
_________________________________________________________________
I'm writing this the day after, where I was working as an EMT for the Opera again tonight. I got a chance to do my stuff in the middle of the opera hall, with hundreds of people watching. I even had 2-3 physicians offer to help, but I did not want to get their tux's dirty so I handled it on my own until my backup arrived. And the good karma I earned by saving a lady's life resulted in straight green lights THE ENTIRE WAY HOME. Made a 20 minute trip in 10 without speeding!
That said, yesterday's events was a wonderful relapse of my adrenaline addiction. After a year of semi-serious running, I entered my first organized race: Los Chupacabras de la Noches 10k. A hard 6.3 miles through wooded trails from 9pm to 11pm. Yes, at night in near perfect moonless darkness. After the sharp crack of the starting gun over a thousand headlamps activated and lit up the trails like drunken fireflies on our sweaty heads. In addition, the trail was marked with flour and glowsticks so that we would not head down the wrong trails and fall to our deaths.
1. The Fall
There were 3 starting waves because for the majority of the race we were literally tearing through the woods in single file lines. If you started in the first wave but run pretty slow you would bog down the hundreds of runners behind you. If you run at a fast pace but start too far down the line you would end up trying to pass runners in front of you. This was my was case, and how I almost died the first time around.
I put myself at the end of the 2nd wave because hell, it is my first race and I did not want to bog down anyone. Or so I thought. For the first half mile it was a press of sweat humanity simply walking up and down trails because of the many bottlenecks as the starting parking lot turned into a road and then into a single trail. Interesting start to my first race, with interesting conversations along the way. Most revolved around my use of Vibram Five Finger running shoes. It was the one thing right thing I did that night because there was no earthly way I could get rocks stuck in my shoe since it was essentially a second skin. I had mastered how to use them after a year of use, and it was freaking amazing. I nimbly dodged grasping branches, dashed up and down gullies, and leaped over rocks with ease.
A little overconfident, I started to pass runners in front of me. I really should have started in the first wave because I stopped counting the runners I passed at 25. My brief hubris blinded me to the first disaster of the night- I nearly fell to my death. I was just passing another runner when several things happened simultaneously: my light briefly went out leaving me in the dark, a root hid the fact that the trail had started to dip, and most importantly the sides of the trail fell away suddenly.
There is no way for me to describe the wave of terror/adrenaline that slammed into me as I realized I was going crack my head open on a rock on the way down. In a split second, I somehow threw a leg out and threw my weight forward while moving down to lower my center of gravity; the rest of that second found me sprawled out on the trail. With the rest of my diminishing wave of adrenaline I peeled myself off the trail before I was trampled to death, or at the very least prevented a domino effect of runners crashing into each other in the dimly lit forest.
For the rest of the race I spent every other second repeating to myself don’t die don’t die don’t die. Lets see. I ran for another hour after that, and there are 3600 seconds in an hour.
I also started to call out roots, rocks, dips, and branches as soon as I encountered them since I was leading my own little pack for most of that hour. We were the 2nd wave people who really should have been in the first wave, just blasting our way through the slower runners in front of us. It is a little weird developing a protective relationship with total strangers that you have just met but never really see. I recognized their voices once they started to pass down my shouts of "rock! Dip ahead!" but that's all I have, because by the fifth mile I was seriously overheated, and told them to pass me up. "Good luck, good luck," I mutter as the alpha wolf loses his pack, quite the emotionally wrenching moment I tell you.
2. The world was ending, according to my brain
I trudged through the last mile in desperation because I really did not train that well for this race. Since I am on summer break, any discipline from the year is long gone, including my usual running regimen. I also conveniently forgot that the water stations were NOT at the end of the race, and thus did not bring my water bottle. This is crucial, because of how the Vibrams work. Normal runners strike the ground with the heel of the foot, which means a lot of the energy is absorbed by bone, ligament, and tendon. When compared to the muscles of your foot, they seem like supermodels on a diet in terms of how much energy they consume. Now with the Vibrams, my entire gait changes, beginning with what part of the foot hits the ground. I run like a cat or a dog, with the balls of my feet touching down on the ground first, with the energy dissipated through the muscles of my foot, and especially my calves (they are humongous now). The upside is I am indestructible- no injuries, no aches or pains anymore. This is how humans evolved to run- and how they caught dinner: endurance running until their prey dropped from exhaustion. But this also means that I need to down swimming pools' worth of water to keep them running each time I run.
By the time I crossed the finish line, the world was ending. I was so dehydrated parts of my brain was shutting down. I wobbled over to the ice chest in search of Gatorade but only found water. Fuck it, I thought and downed cups. Things continued to get worse. I was like a prisoner strapped down for a lethal injection- I knew what was coming and could not stop it. Earlier this year I had taken a sports medicine elective and helped out with the Big City Marathon, and learned about how dehydration and hyponatremia could mess you up.
They were out of Gatorade! Fuck! I thrashed my arms around in the ice chest searching to no avail. I met my immediate need for water, but the disorientation and wobbling got worse. Physiologically, the water was getting into the system, but without electrolytes to keep it in the blood, it floods into the organs, especially the brain. I had just taken neurology so I knew I could not feel my brain swell. But it was because things were horribly wrong. I was going to collapse from lack of motor control, but that I was not worried about. What was scary was the loss of inhibition. For the first time, the primal drive for survival reared its ugly head, in the midst of stormy waves of neurotransmitters and hormones rocking my nervous system. I was exhausted, and human decency did not exist anymore.
I swiftly stole a gallon of water for myself when I knew it I should share it, and that it would only worsen my condition if I drank it all. I almost turned hostile in search of the Gatorade, so I forced myself to dodge the crowd and stumble back to my car. Panicking, I wanted to call my friend in San Antonio to drag me out, but I focused on getting my electrolytes. I slammed back a can of Dr. Pepper and 2 bananas that I scavenged, and then put myself through excruciating stretches to ward off cramps. Like a druggie going through withdrawal, I weathered the physiological storm muttering to myself and walking around in circles.
Looking back it's almost funny how unprepared for this race I was. Should have done a lot of things, planned better. Could have been a lot worse though. There was already one ambulance out for a runner, could have been another one for me if my focus on survival had flinched one bit.
3. Psychopath
Half way home out on the road, I really needed to pee. Thankfully, my fluids and mental status were back to normal, but I was still worried about cramping. Best case scenario my foot cramped and I swerved and crashed. Worse case scenario I swerved and crashed into another car, killing a whole family. However, I never anticipated the situation where I get brutally murdered by a psychopath though.
My bladder instructed that pull over into this decrepit and deserted rest stop. I found my way to the restroom, but what the hell all the men's rooms were locked. In desperation I found my way around to the other side but they were locked as well. Well I could try the women's room.
Before I could try the door, a slowly squeaking wheel announced the arrival of…someone from the far end. From the darkened far end of the stop a strangely muscular man in a janitorial jumpsuit strolled towards me, pushing a mop in a yellow bucket. He was balding, but greasy strings of shoulder length hair waved around in the air. Just like Harold and Kumar.
I took a step towards the door to the outside, just in case.
The guy walks right up to me, stares me down, then points to where he came from. Neither of us say anything but I find the an unlocked urinal and pee in record time. I look around as I head out but there is no sign of the guy. No wet floors or anything. Weird.
The whole way back I'm checking my rear view mirror and keep seeing dirty white vans the entire way home.
_________________________________________________________________
I'm writing this the day after, where I was working as an EMT for the Opera again tonight. I got a chance to do my stuff in the middle of the opera hall, with hundreds of people watching. I even had 2-3 physicians offer to help, but I did not want to get their tux's dirty so I handled it on my own until my backup arrived. And the good karma I earned by saving a lady's life resulted in straight green lights THE ENTIRE WAY HOME. Made a 20 minute trip in 10 without speeding!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
You call the shots, but I'll make them
So I'm starting bartending school on Monday...and I'll be like this dude a month later.
The only problem is that I want to run a 10k race through a forest at night in a couple of weeks. A problem if I have classes from 9 am to 7 pm every day for a week. When will I get a chance to run? I'm going to try to do it in the morning. 6 am might be good. I'm going to try to reproduce a Harvard study on circadian rhythm.
You just have to fast for 12-16 hours before when you want to reset your sleep-wake cycles to, then have a meal when you want to wake up. Easier said than done, considering I'm visiting my parents-who-love-to-cook right now.
The only problem is that I want to run a 10k race through a forest at night in a couple of weeks. A problem if I have classes from 9 am to 7 pm every day for a week. When will I get a chance to run? I'm going to try to do it in the morning. 6 am might be good. I'm going to try to reproduce a Harvard study on circadian rhythm.
You just have to fast for 12-16 hours before when you want to reset your sleep-wake cycles to, then have a meal when you want to wake up. Easier said than done, considering I'm visiting my parents-who-love-to-cook right now.
Friday, July 9, 2010
NPO means NPO!
NPO- "nil per os," Latin for nothing by mouth, meaning the patient is not allowed to eat or drink anything by mouth. -wikipedia or something close.
You will usually see this as an order given by a surgeon to a patient a bit before surgery, so that when they cut open your guts, nothing flies out.
I somehow conveniently forgot what NPO meant today, and as a result, a cardiology fellow felt up my femoral pulse a dozen times unnecessarily. (You can find your own femoral pulse in the shower by putting your fingers the bony point of your hip, then following the crease of your groin towards your privates. Should be around halfway)
It all started when my friend called me up last night, trying to see if I could swing by the cardiac cath lab in the morning to help out with some research. "How much are you paying me?" His reply? A milkshake.
Sold.
The idea was to take some ultrasound and infrared scans of my major arteries, have me drink the fattiest/most creamy shake they could find, and then scan me all over again. You would be able to see my arteries clog up with McDonald's milkshakes in real time!
The only problem was that we had to meet the residents and fellows at 7 am. So my friend and I got some tea to put a little spring in our steps, and soon we were in those hospital gowns that exposure your butt to the world.
The resident casually asked me if I had any breakfast. Not really, I replied. When was the last time you had any food, they asked. I thought hard. Mmmm probably dinner last night. Okay cool, she said, and started to feel for my femoral pulse to scan.
It didn't help I was really ticklish. And that she was moderately attractive.
Hours later during the repeat scan, after the ultrasound showed some cloudy wisps of ah-damn-it there goes the whip cream. Right in my cartoids. I'm never going to McDonald's again.
But during the infrared, she noticed that I my heart beat was a little fast. Huh. That looks like a caffeinated heart, she mused. Then she kind of hit me on my leg, and asked me- did you have coffee this morning? Uhh...crap.
They had to throw everything out. But at least I am an expert in where my femoral pulse is now.
I'm writing this post in the lobby of Rich-Hospital, where a young white collar dad was walking around with his baby girl in his arms for the past half hour. Now they are both exhausted, sitting in the couches in front of me. Dozing off. Cute.
Yaaay summmmerrrrrr!
You will usually see this as an order given by a surgeon to a patient a bit before surgery, so that when they cut open your guts, nothing flies out.
I somehow conveniently forgot what NPO meant today, and as a result, a cardiology fellow felt up my femoral pulse a dozen times unnecessarily. (You can find your own femoral pulse in the shower by putting your fingers the bony point of your hip, then following the crease of your groin towards your privates. Should be around halfway)
It all started when my friend called me up last night, trying to see if I could swing by the cardiac cath lab in the morning to help out with some research. "How much are you paying me?" His reply? A milkshake.
Sold.
The idea was to take some ultrasound and infrared scans of my major arteries, have me drink the fattiest/most creamy shake they could find, and then scan me all over again. You would be able to see my arteries clog up with McDonald's milkshakes in real time!
The only problem was that we had to meet the residents and fellows at 7 am. So my friend and I got some tea to put a little spring in our steps, and soon we were in those hospital gowns that exposure your butt to the world.
The resident casually asked me if I had any breakfast. Not really, I replied. When was the last time you had any food, they asked. I thought hard. Mmmm probably dinner last night. Okay cool, she said, and started to feel for my femoral pulse to scan.
It didn't help I was really ticklish. And that she was moderately attractive.
Hours later during the repeat scan, after the ultrasound showed some cloudy wisps of ah-damn-it there goes the whip cream. Right in my cartoids. I'm never going to McDonald's again.
But during the infrared, she noticed that I my heart beat was a little fast. Huh. That looks like a caffeinated heart, she mused. Then she kind of hit me on my leg, and asked me- did you have coffee this morning? Uhh...crap.
They had to throw everything out. But at least I am an expert in where my femoral pulse is now.
I'm writing this post in the lobby of Rich-Hospital, where a young white collar dad was walking around with his baby girl in his arms for the past half hour. Now they are both exhausted, sitting in the couches in front of me. Dozing off. Cute.
Yaaay summmmerrrrrr!
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
I'm kind of in awe
"If I have seen a little further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants"
-Issac Newton
I'm sitting in a room with the chief of surgery of our medical school. Who was there with Dr. Michael DeBakey when President LBJ signed the papers that created Medicare. In the front of the room, the president of ACEP- American College of Emergency Physicians is giving a talk on the history of emergency medicine. My med school just started a brand new emergency medicine residency this year, and I was lucky enough to be at the Inaugural Grand Rounds.
What are rounds? Well this ritual began when doctors started to see patients in hospitals, going around to see all of his/her patients. With new apprentice doctors (medical students) in tow, physicians would present a case with the help of a patient in order to further treatment as well as education. Now grand rounds have evolved away into lecture series, even online these days with medical blogs.
The intellectual and political firepower in the room was mind-boggling! There were easily 4-5 residency directors- doctors who are in charge of creating attending physicians, the people on the top of the healthcare totem pole. In the row behind them were the 12 new residents in our program. Finally in the back were my fellow medical students. Scattered around us were other dignitaries. A couple of deans. The chief of medicine. The public health authority of the city.
All there to celebrate the creation of what will be an amazing emergency medicine program. 40 years ago, one of the founders of emergency medicine traveled back to his medical school. He had earned his MD sitting in the seat right in front of me. He was thinking about setting up shop here, but ultimately choose Chicago instead. For a second everyone in the room thought about what life would have been had he stayed.
I have a month off from school. It was great going home for the holiday weekend, but I am left with a burning question that I needed to answer for awhile. What am I going to do with my life? I feel like today's grand rounds are those once-in-a-lifetime events that I should not ignore. But who knows.
It is finally sinking in that I have just finished the longest year of my life, an 11 month first year of medical school. Post about that coming up soon. Stay safe until then.
-Issac Newton
I'm sitting in a room with the chief of surgery of our medical school. Who was there with Dr. Michael DeBakey when President LBJ signed the papers that created Medicare. In the front of the room, the president of ACEP- American College of Emergency Physicians is giving a talk on the history of emergency medicine. My med school just started a brand new emergency medicine residency this year, and I was lucky enough to be at the Inaugural Grand Rounds.
What are rounds? Well this ritual began when doctors started to see patients in hospitals, going around to see all of his/her patients. With new apprentice doctors (medical students) in tow, physicians would present a case with the help of a patient in order to further treatment as well as education. Now grand rounds have evolved away into lecture series, even online these days with medical blogs.
The intellectual and political firepower in the room was mind-boggling! There were easily 4-5 residency directors- doctors who are in charge of creating attending physicians, the people on the top of the healthcare totem pole. In the row behind them were the 12 new residents in our program. Finally in the back were my fellow medical students. Scattered around us were other dignitaries. A couple of deans. The chief of medicine. The public health authority of the city.
All there to celebrate the creation of what will be an amazing emergency medicine program. 40 years ago, one of the founders of emergency medicine traveled back to his medical school. He had earned his MD sitting in the seat right in front of me. He was thinking about setting up shop here, but ultimately choose Chicago instead. For a second everyone in the room thought about what life would have been had he stayed.
I have a month off from school. It was great going home for the holiday weekend, but I am left with a burning question that I needed to answer for awhile. What am I going to do with my life? I feel like today's grand rounds are those once-in-a-lifetime events that I should not ignore. But who knows.
It is finally sinking in that I have just finished the longest year of my life, an 11 month first year of medical school. Post about that coming up soon. Stay safe until then.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Friday Flashback #2
THIS was my kind of week, chock full of flashbacks back to my fire department days. I mean, here were some of the classes I had this week:
Trauma (neurological)
Personality Disorders
Alcohol/Nicotine/Drug Abuse x2
Toxicology
Legal Issues
I easily saw all of these issues during a single shift. In particular, I saw all of these during one crazy call out to a MVC (motor vehicle collision).
It was really bad. Officers had marked off the scene by the time our bouncy box of flashing lights and sirens had painfully navigated past lines of jammed up traffic. I jumped out with my bags ready to go at the end of the scene closest to me ready to go, but instead of a car all I saw were tire tracks. They kept going for a while, then I saw a row of orange road medians destroyed as if Autobots and Decepticons had a big fight here. Finally off in the distance I saw the car with the wheels in the air, and realized what had happened.
Brakes slammed on at first, then one side of the car used the highway medians as a ramp, and rolled over in the air like a dolphin spiraling through the water as if doing tricks at Seaworld.
Coup, then contra-coup injury, when her car finally crashed into the pavement. It's French, and describes what happens to the soft squishy brain when it gets smacked around in a hard box. Coup- the front gets bashed as the body slams into the steering wheel. Contra-coup- when the BACK of the head rebounds just like a basketball off the edge of the hoop, but into more skull.
Trauma. Check.
I won't bother you too much with the boring stuff. Firefighters using Jaws of Life. Making sure the car would not blow up on us into a nice fireball. Carefully extracted a lady. Maintained c-spine. Quick trauma assessment. Load and go. Lined her up.
What was interesting was what happened in the back of the ambulance, just the two of us, flying towards the nearest trauma center. First, nothing my patient said made any sense at all. She looked like an intelligent, attractive professional, so I thought maybe it was another language. A little slurred. Leaned in and took a sniff. Yep, alcohol.
Alcohol/ Toxicology? Check. (To my med school peeps- brief Wernicke's area disruption too?)
So for the rest of the call, I did my medical thing, and kept checking in on my patient. Slowly, she seemed to come back, through the mist of all the chaos that had just happened. Then it got really strange.
Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you-thank-you-AH WHAT THE F@#$# is HAPPENING TO ME? She kept sobbing in gratitude, but then completely spaz out and open a can of whoop-ass all over me.
The only thing I can think of now that describes that is if she had a borderline personality disorder. I'm still not sure. Maybe it was the stress of, oh I don't know, launching her car into the air, seeing the world spin around her as phone flew through the air.
Personality Disorder? Maybe check.
Anyway, sorry this flashback did not end with a bang like the last post. I've got finals coming up, and I think I'm forgetting old memories to make way for all the stuff I am learning now. I assume we all made it to the hospital okay.
Oh almost forgot, as I was doing the rapid pat-down that is the focused trauma assessment earlier, I peeked into her ear and some plastic fell out. Huh. What's left of a bluetooth set. Too bad a cop was right next to me, and checked her phone. Yep. Texting right around when the crash happened.
Legal. Check.
(Some fictionalization. HIPPA. Duh.)
Trauma (neurological)
Personality Disorders
Alcohol/Nicotine/Drug Abuse x2
Toxicology
Legal Issues
I easily saw all of these issues during a single shift. In particular, I saw all of these during one crazy call out to a MVC (motor vehicle collision).
It was really bad. Officers had marked off the scene by the time our bouncy box of flashing lights and sirens had painfully navigated past lines of jammed up traffic. I jumped out with my bags ready to go at the end of the scene closest to me ready to go, but instead of a car all I saw were tire tracks. They kept going for a while, then I saw a row of orange road medians destroyed as if Autobots and Decepticons had a big fight here. Finally off in the distance I saw the car with the wheels in the air, and realized what had happened.
Brakes slammed on at first, then one side of the car used the highway medians as a ramp, and rolled over in the air like a dolphin spiraling through the water as if doing tricks at Seaworld.
Coup, then contra-coup injury, when her car finally crashed into the pavement. It's French, and describes what happens to the soft squishy brain when it gets smacked around in a hard box. Coup- the front gets bashed as the body slams into the steering wheel. Contra-coup- when the BACK of the head rebounds just like a basketball off the edge of the hoop, but into more skull.
Trauma. Check.
I won't bother you too much with the boring stuff. Firefighters using Jaws of Life. Making sure the car would not blow up on us into a nice fireball. Carefully extracted a lady. Maintained c-spine. Quick trauma assessment. Load and go. Lined her up.
What was interesting was what happened in the back of the ambulance, just the two of us, flying towards the nearest trauma center. First, nothing my patient said made any sense at all. She looked like an intelligent, attractive professional, so I thought maybe it was another language. A little slurred. Leaned in and took a sniff. Yep, alcohol.
Alcohol/ Toxicology? Check. (To my med school peeps- brief Wernicke's area disruption too?)
So for the rest of the call, I did my medical thing, and kept checking in on my patient. Slowly, she seemed to come back, through the mist of all the chaos that had just happened. Then it got really strange.
Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you-thank-you-AH WHAT THE F@#$# is HAPPENING TO ME? She kept sobbing in gratitude, but then completely spaz out and open a can of whoop-ass all over me.
The only thing I can think of now that describes that is if she had a borderline personality disorder. I'm still not sure. Maybe it was the stress of, oh I don't know, launching her car into the air, seeing the world spin around her as phone flew through the air.
Personality Disorder? Maybe check.
Anyway, sorry this flashback did not end with a bang like the last post. I've got finals coming up, and I think I'm forgetting old memories to make way for all the stuff I am learning now. I assume we all made it to the hospital okay.
Oh almost forgot, as I was doing the rapid pat-down that is the focused trauma assessment earlier, I peeked into her ear and some plastic fell out. Huh. What's left of a bluetooth set. Too bad a cop was right next to me, and checked her phone. Yep. Texting right around when the crash happened.
Legal. Check.
(Some fictionalization. HIPPA. Duh.)
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Friday Flashback
I need something to keep me sane. Whenever exam week comes around, my brain does this weird paradoxical dump. The more information I shove in, the grey matter poops out weird things. Sometimes it's notes to a song, other times it is material for this blog. If it gets really bad, I start thinking of ideas for our school's-annual tradition-that-shall-not-be-named. But for now, here is what happened when I stay up past midnight reading about street drugs. I start taking some. I'm kidding. But I write as if I did:
We had a nice lecture on street drugs this week. Our professor talked about Narcan- a drug that basically brings you back to reality if you have overdosed on certain drugs. The trick is that you have to give it slowly, or else it reverses the high way too fast. Fast enough that the patient becomes a little...well annoyed is a nice word.
Three years ago...
I was scared out of my mind honestly. My patient was sitting up on the stretcher eyes wide open as if I was the devil. I had just finished my training as an EMT-I and was alone in the back of the ambulance while my paramedic partner sped our ambulance down the highway. First day on the job. What do I get? A suspected drug dealer who was probably doing some of her own goods. We found her responsive only to pain, loaded her up, and started some IV's. Without thinking I prepped the Narcan, and just popped it in. Bam. As my partner turned on the lights and sirens and started to head to the hospital, my patient started to stir.
Cool I thought. Pharmacology at work. The nerd inside me was kind of excited. Well it was excited until the patient sat up and stared at me as if she was possessed. Then she started to panic. I had no idea what I was doing by that point. "Um...you should probably relax..." I mumbled while my brain froze. Froze some more while the patient started to yell and take off all of her restraints.
"Umm...ma'am...let's not do that..." I can't remember why but I stood up in an ambulance zooming down the highway at 80 mph, and tried to push her back into the stretcher. Not a good idea to tango in the box at that speed.
Then it really went down hill. "LEMME GO YOU MUTHAFUCKAGETMEOUTTATHISSHIT-"
And that's when she actually opened up the backlatch of the ambulance, and suddenly I saw the surprised look on the driver behind us. I don't know about you, but I totally see the insides of an ambulance while it is flying down the highway everyday.
"JESUS CHRIST. What the fuck is going down back there?"
Luckily years of experience told my partner NOT to slam on the brakes. Or else I would be posting this post from a hospital bed. (But now I realize ambulances really don't have emergency lights- you know the the red triangle you push that flashes all of your blinkers. Kind of redundant, no?)
Anyway, after I nearly tackled the patient to keep her inside of the moving vehicle, we finally rolled to a stop on the side of the highway. Let's just say I learned some interesting knots that night.
Later in the hospital break room, my partner THOROUGHLY educated me. Life lesson of the day: Narcan needs to be giving SLOWLY, or else you have one pissed off druggie.
(standard fictionalization applied to protect privacy)
We had a nice lecture on street drugs this week. Our professor talked about Narcan- a drug that basically brings you back to reality if you have overdosed on certain drugs. The trick is that you have to give it slowly, or else it reverses the high way too fast. Fast enough that the patient becomes a little...well annoyed is a nice word.
Three years ago...
I was scared out of my mind honestly. My patient was sitting up on the stretcher eyes wide open as if I was the devil. I had just finished my training as an EMT-I and was alone in the back of the ambulance while my paramedic partner sped our ambulance down the highway. First day on the job. What do I get? A suspected drug dealer who was probably doing some of her own goods. We found her responsive only to pain, loaded her up, and started some IV's. Without thinking I prepped the Narcan, and just popped it in. Bam. As my partner turned on the lights and sirens and started to head to the hospital, my patient started to stir.
Cool I thought. Pharmacology at work. The nerd inside me was kind of excited. Well it was excited until the patient sat up and stared at me as if she was possessed. Then she started to panic. I had no idea what I was doing by that point. "Um...you should probably relax..." I mumbled while my brain froze. Froze some more while the patient started to yell and take off all of her restraints.
"Umm...ma'am...let's not do that..." I can't remember why but I stood up in an ambulance zooming down the highway at 80 mph, and tried to push her back into the stretcher. Not a good idea to tango in the box at that speed.
Then it really went down hill. "LEMME GO YOU MUTHAFUCKAGETMEOUTTATHISSHIT-"
And that's when she actually opened up the backlatch of the ambulance, and suddenly I saw the surprised look on the driver behind us. I don't know about you, but I totally see the insides of an ambulance while it is flying down the highway everyday.
"JESUS CHRIST. What the fuck is going down back there?"
Luckily years of experience told my partner NOT to slam on the brakes. Or else I would be posting this post from a hospital bed. (But now I realize ambulances really don't have emergency lights- you know the the red triangle you push that flashes all of your blinkers. Kind of redundant, no?)
Anyway, after I nearly tackled the patient to keep her inside of the moving vehicle, we finally rolled to a stop on the side of the highway. Let's just say I learned some interesting knots that night.
Later in the hospital break room, my partner THOROUGHLY educated me. Life lesson of the day: Narcan needs to be giving SLOWLY, or else you have one pissed off druggie.
(standard fictionalization applied to protect privacy)
Friday, April 9, 2010
Today, I was a doctor
For an hour, I had an MD behind my name.
I slipped on a long white coat, became a real doctor, and saw a patient.
This all started when our awesome ethics facilitator realized we had no idea what an ECMO (extra-corporal membrane oxygenation) machine was. We had been debating end of life care, agreeing that it was best to pull life support for our hypothetical patient.
"Do you guys know what ECMO is?"
Did we actually know what it would mean to take away the only thing keeping a fellow human alive? Would we be able to pull life support when it was time?
"No? Let's go see!"
We were dressed in jeans and sandals. Great for the weather outside. Not exactly professional.
"Oh wait...none of you have white coats. Okay, we can fix that."
So she leads us to the ICU floor, finds this restricted area and punches in a code, and accesses all the spare white coats of all the ICU attendings. I remember we were all looking furtively around in case someone walks in on us.
After she made sure we all got coats of attendings that weren't on...she waltz us onto the floor, and shows us what real medicine looks like.
It looks like a precious little infant sprawled on a gurney with tubes as wide as her neck attached directly to her heart that did not beat. It looks like two young parents looking apprehensively at the 9 "doctors" in long coats crowded around a bank of monitors that a dedicated nurse must attend to 24/7. It looks like hope, shaped like tiny spikes of a heart the size of your nose finding the will to beat.
I just hope she didn't look down and see all of our toes peeking out under shorts, jeans, and flip flops...
I slipped on a long white coat, became a real doctor, and saw a patient.
This all started when our awesome ethics facilitator realized we had no idea what an ECMO (extra-corporal membrane oxygenation) machine was. We had been debating end of life care, agreeing that it was best to pull life support for our hypothetical patient.
"Do you guys know what ECMO is?"
Did we actually know what it would mean to take away the only thing keeping a fellow human alive? Would we be able to pull life support when it was time?
"No? Let's go see!"
We were dressed in jeans and sandals. Great for the weather outside. Not exactly professional.
"Oh wait...none of you have white coats. Okay, we can fix that."
So she leads us to the ICU floor, finds this restricted area and punches in a code, and accesses all the spare white coats of all the ICU attendings. I remember we were all looking furtively around in case someone walks in on us.
After she made sure we all got coats of attendings that weren't on...she waltz us onto the floor, and shows us what real medicine looks like.
It looks like a precious little infant sprawled on a gurney with tubes as wide as her neck attached directly to her heart that did not beat. It looks like two young parents looking apprehensively at the 9 "doctors" in long coats crowded around a bank of monitors that a dedicated nurse must attend to 24/7. It looks like hope, shaped like tiny spikes of a heart the size of your nose finding the will to beat.
I just hope she didn't look down and see all of our toes peeking out under shorts, jeans, and flip flops...
Saturday, March 13, 2010
From a dinner party to holding a severed ear
It seems like my life is boring unless I am in the emergency room. I finally came back after months away to end up holding a nearly severed ear while the ENT surgeon tried to reattach it. This is why I don't go chasing after large animals at night.
It was really fun holding up the ear the entire time. The ENT resident was really nice and quizzed us on relevant stuff, and taught me a lot about suturing material. There were 4 of us hanging out in the shock room, so I had a good time chatting it up with some good friends while druggies were dragged in and out in various stages of lucidity.
Highlight of the night was when I just walked in and started a line. Wow am I rusty, but I got in on the first try. Wooooo!
Hard to imagine a hour ago I was munching on hor d'ourves celebrating a friend's recent engagement. Now if I only had a motorcycle...
It was really fun holding up the ear the entire time. The ENT resident was really nice and quizzed us on relevant stuff, and taught me a lot about suturing material. There were 4 of us hanging out in the shock room, so I had a good time chatting it up with some good friends while druggies were dragged in and out in various stages of lucidity.
Highlight of the night was when I just walked in and started a line. Wow am I rusty, but I got in on the first try. Wooooo!
Hard to imagine a hour ago I was munching on hor d'ourves celebrating a friend's recent engagement. Now if I only had a motorcycle...
Friday, January 22, 2010
Anatomy is craazy! Immunology is dramatic!
I'm on Head and Neck anatomy right now. It is all we have left to do, but I feel like I just started because it is so complicated! This block is 6 weeks long, but it is going at double-triple the rate of the whole fall semester.
Thank goodness for Visiblebody.com
That site is crazy. I LOVE IT.
Immunology has always had a special place in my heart. It was one of the big reasons why I am so in awe of the human body. I get the feeling military physicians might find immunology very familiar, because that is all it is. In a nutshell, our body is in an epic battle for survival. The high tech tools, strategies, and dirty tricks we use is mind blowing.
Your blood is strewn with mines, your skin is crawling with spies, sentries, and snipers. The calvary gets called in, mobile command centers migrate to field locations, and oh dear god the complex signaling involved is CRAZY! Things get cleaved, imploded, and exploded. Things gang up on each other, others commit suicide. Sometimes your body wins, lots of times it loses. Badly. Mothers will try to kill their babies, and men destroy their own sperm.
And I am less than half way through the course. And after that...there are two blocks of Infectious Disease. I can't wait!
Thank goodness for Visiblebody.com
That site is crazy. I LOVE IT.
Immunology has always had a special place in my heart. It was one of the big reasons why I am so in awe of the human body. I get the feeling military physicians might find immunology very familiar, because that is all it is. In a nutshell, our body is in an epic battle for survival. The high tech tools, strategies, and dirty tricks we use is mind blowing.
Your blood is strewn with mines, your skin is crawling with spies, sentries, and snipers. The calvary gets called in, mobile command centers migrate to field locations, and oh dear god the complex signaling involved is CRAZY! Things get cleaved, imploded, and exploded. Things gang up on each other, others commit suicide. Sometimes your body wins, lots of times it loses. Badly. Mothers will try to kill their babies, and men destroy their own sperm.
And I am less than half way through the course. And after that...there are two blocks of Infectious Disease. I can't wait!
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Sweet Dreams
Good stuff coming soon, I promise. Lots of ideas just bubbling around. Amazing what you can do when you start to have regular sleep.
Before: lived in a dorm for the past five years. Last three, on the corner of the medical center on one of the busiest streets in town. Last year, on first floor, woken up by ambulances every night.
-Last 2 years, drove an ambulance all hours of the night, roughly every 3rd night. For. Two. Years.
-Essentially, I have never had regular sleep since high school. Oh wait. That didn't count. Perhaps not since my days of recess thanks to a teenager's messed up hormones?
Now: 7-8 hours a night. Undisturbed, thanks to a nice cushy place with a great non-nocturnal roommate. My brain is aliiive again! I am even off of caffeine ever since I went cold-turkey this break.
It also really helps that I am on a nice workout/run schedule again. The link is definitely there: the better sleep you get, the more energy you have during the day to have fun and play; the more exercise you get, you enjoy better quality sleep. Win win! Yay.
Before: lived in a dorm for the past five years. Last three, on the corner of the medical center on one of the busiest streets in town. Last year, on first floor, woken up by ambulances every night.
-Last 2 years, drove an ambulance all hours of the night, roughly every 3rd night. For. Two. Years.
-Essentially, I have never had regular sleep since high school. Oh wait. That didn't count. Perhaps not since my days of recess thanks to a teenager's messed up hormones?
Now: 7-8 hours a night. Undisturbed, thanks to a nice cushy place with a great non-nocturnal roommate. My brain is aliiive again! I am even off of caffeine ever since I went cold-turkey this break.
It also really helps that I am on a nice workout/run schedule again. The link is definitely there: the better sleep you get, the more energy you have during the day to have fun and play; the more exercise you get, you enjoy better quality sleep. Win win! Yay.
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