Maybe I'm not as worldly as I thought I was...

My insatiable curiosity apparently isn't enough. I poke my nose into everything.

Everything.

To make matters worse, I am the nosiest, detail-obsessed, and sensitive-to-shifts-in-emotions-and-moods person I know.

It drives me ballistic.

Growing up in Queens and having traveled a lot as a kid (prior to HS where AP's took predominance over my worldly development... much to my travel-loving dad's dismay) I thought I had this shit down.

When my old step-buddy calls while I shop at Wegman's at 11am (high time for 60+ conservative traffic) and I scream "Nigggeerrrrrrr!!! Where has yo ass BEEN?" in the cereal aisle and the entire bazillion-square foot grocery all of a sudden seems reeaallllyyyy quiet... I somehow don't really understand why. Especially when these same 60+ conservatives laugh till their bellies are sore when I see them at AvenueQ where you pay to hear all the racist remarks and stereotypes you're supposedly not allowed to laugh at for free in public.

"Been there, done that" is my motto in life and although med school kinda ate it for the past few years (and will lick the remaining crumbs over the next two I'm sure) I still always thought I'd seen more, done more, knew more...

Then I poked my head out of the U.S. of A. for the first time in a while.

Sure there are some materialistic struggles... and war... and bombs kinda falling like two feet from where you may be standing at any given time... oh, and you might have to give up your "pocket money" to the cop down the street who just feeelllss like a cup of chai but doesn't feel like reaching into his own pocket for the change. There's also this issue of hygiene and lack of seemingly "unlimited" resources. i.e. people don't Purell their hands every 5 seconds (and thus actually possess some form of immunity in their GI tract as opposed to Purell-resistant colonization) ad you can't just grab 30 Taco Bell sauce packets only to throw out the 28 you didn't use. (I am guilty as charged. I used to do it to read all the little messages on top, but after a while, one realizes that a sauce packet saying, "Will you marry me" is really a rather sad accompaniment to one's baja chalupa.)

Yet... people magically seem to have more time. When you come visit, they're not tied up at the hospital or other job, and somehow, it's okay to just "show up" as opposed to making plans 3 weeks in advance, timed to the T. There's no "meet up for lunch" to make the visit efficient and worthwhile (I've actually always hated that innately - hard to connect with someone while you're chewing half the time and a quarter of your vision has a clock in it to keep track of the time so you're not late) You just "meet up" and no matter what time of the day it is, you end up eating something or another anyway (curious how the world connects over food and mood-altering beverages), but the eating is secondary to the meeting... a coninkydink, as opposed to a scheduled simulltaneous activity.

Doctors actually apply their knowledge of nutrition to their own lives and that of their family (not saying there are no pot-bellied docs outside the U.S. - but definitely a rarer breed for sure) which, at least in my experience in the NE U.S. is not encouraged, and even discouraged at times!! Blasphemy! Dude, you spend half your life learning how to help and take care of other people's health... you and your family are people too! If you can't benefit from your own knowledge of your own body, you're depriving yourself of one of the BIGGEST perks of being a physician or other healthcare professional!! It's THIS concept that struck my innards... not saying all docs are unhealthy, and I actually love that the current generation of docs are some of the most active hikers, bikers, skiers, runners, etc. They have passions outside of medical school and stick to them... but will they be able to continue to do that as they move further in their careers?

Bellydancing yesterday was one of the most liberating things I've done in a long time. It's been aaages and I was so ridiculously out of shape and practice... but after the music started and I started to awkwardly remind my transversus abdominis of its existence, I couldn't care less if my tummy poked through between the shirt and skirt of my ghetto outfit... the coins jingled, the skirt flowed, and my arms swished through the air helping me turn and jiggle for a full 2 hours.

I haven't bellydanced since I started medical school in August, 2006.

That thought has stayed with me all day. As I head to bed, I'm making a list in my head of the pieces of myself I've lost along the way over the past three years. Granted, I've gained so much... knowledge (as evidenced somehow by Step 1 - seriously, studying for that *&#%$ somehow helped me make sense out of all those I was SUPPOSED to learn during the preclinical years), maturity (just when I thought I was mature enough, has seen enough, something else would always come up), and stamina to survive through the worst of times (surgery, chemo, car accidents, long-term break-ups... you name it... it all happened... and during med school of all times).

I love what I do. I love what I've gotten myself into. I'm even all for the the wrinkles and dark circles under my eyes that will most definitely ensue before the next year is over... I just don't want to lose all the other loves in my life either... I don't want to blame medicine for that. It's like a partner you're completely engrossed in and in love with but, as a consequence, you lose touch with your family and friends, who comprised a huge part of you before you even met this new man/woman/gorilla/peacock/whatever tickles your spleen tip.

3rd year is, of COURSE, a wonderful wonderful period in my life to realize all this. I'm sure I'll be able to find alllll the time in the world to cook, keep in touch with family & friends, dance, shop at the farmer's market, draw (ok, scribble and doodle), go to all the car shows I've missed, read my Motor Trend as opposed to stacking it on the 80-foot "read later" pile, and test drive maserati's for fun (they're gonna take one look at my haggard, post-call face and call the "Home for the Homeless" hotline)...

One thing's for sure: I didn't give in to the vending machine or cafeteria crap during Peds and I sure as hell am going to continue with at least taking care of my OWN health in the midst of (attempting to) fix everyone else's. I'll wear a diaper if I have to during my forthcoming, obnoxiously long brain surgeries, but I refuse to become a dehydrated wacko with electrolyte abnormalities and vasovagals.

Nu-uh man. I gots waaaaayyy too much to do once I walk that stage with an MD tacked to the end of my name.

Like surviving intern year :)