d.c. and cs

For my last two interviews, I got to stay with my good friend Lisa.  She’s a fellow in pediatric hospital medicine and medical education.  Since day 1, when I first decided I wanted to go into medicine, she has been a tremendous source of support and guidance.  There was a nice symmetry with ending my interview trail (and celebrating that small milestone) with her.

But then there was also this…

On the bus to and from D.C.  While pumping during interview days.  Or, rather pleasantly, nestled at The Coupe.

Tomorrow I take part in this insanely expensive exercise that’s required for me to practice medicine.  I am ready, but I still have random moments of panic when I’ll run down the stairs and bark at John, “What’s that physical exam finding I’m supposed to illicit, you know, for that wrist thing that’s not carpal tunnel??”

If there are any prospective med students, MS1s, MS2s, or MS3s still reading and you’re not too bombarded by so, so much advice…may I?  If I could do this again, I would have scheduled this exam within a month or two of completing clerkships, before diving into mostly pediatric electives and sub-Is.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s been fun to read up on things like giant cell arteritis, which I haven’t given as much thought to in the last year or so, but I think CS would be slightly less stressful if taken fresh out of third-year rotations.  In addition, more and more programs are requiring scores for CS earlier, and this exam is a nightmare to schedule.

To end on a sweet note before I call it a night:

In comparison with her more easy-going sister, Ari has been assigned the role of more temperamental of the sisters.  While probably accurate, I wanted to share just one example of her profound ability to empathize, perhaps to a fault.  Tonight I got Evie down first and Ari and I had a little one-on-one time during our book-bed routine.  She asked to take a book to bed with her.  Fine.  I tucked her in, sang our song, said our goodnights and I-love-yous.  A few minutes later, I wasn’t surprised by the sound of pages turning and a high-pitched voice practicing words.  Then quiet.

After 10 minutes, I heard bloodcurdling, persistent screaming, and I knew immediately what had happened.  When I opened the door, Ari was standing up in her crib, tears in her eyes, pointing at the ground and repeating, “Book fall!  Book fall!”  I hugged her for a moment to console her, repeated her statement so she knew I understood, and assured her that I could get the book back for her.  She then said something else that I had a hard time understanding at first, but when she repeated, it was clearer.  “Sorry, book.”

Oh, sweet one.  Her affect was so similar to what she exhibits when she accidentally (or, let’s be honest, sometimes purposefully) upsets Evie in some way, and she is so quick to apologize.  (For Evie, she’ll apologize for the slightest infraction.  For her parents, forget it.)

And now I really should call it a night…

It’s been a big week!