What to Watch...or not

Friday, February 27, 2009

I hate when I feel I have to justify myself. Because that feeling means that deep down, I know that I'm wrong.

This isn't that. This isn't a justification. This is more of an explanation.

Lately, I feel that I have been confronted by the age-old debate. Okay, it's not age-old. It's only been around since the 50s. TV or not. This conversation has been going on with my parents, my sister, some friends, some blogs, and Facebook.

Many parents feel that their homes should be television-less. Many more are going that direction.

We are not one of those families.

I feel about TV free the way I feel about vegetarianism. It's not a bad thing. It can be a really good thing. But it is not for everyone. Nor are you a less healthy person, a worse parent, or a complete drain on society if you choose to continue to watch the tube.

I did the vegetarian thing. I did the TV free thing. Both those phases of my life didn't last. And just like there are a couple meat things that I love so much that I can never go back to being a complete vegetarian (think grilled lime-cilantro chicken kabobs), there are a couple things on TV that I love too much to ever give it up (Lost, Survivor, Psych.)

Of course, moderation in all things. We don't watch an exorbitant amount of TV. Our kids pretty much only watch Saturday morning Disney cartoons (mostly so we can sleep in, just a little.) Occasionally, we watch a movie together as a family. Maybe a couple times a month. I love renting movies and watching them with a huge bowl of popcorn and a tissue. This also happens maybe a couple times a month. And there are a couple weekly shows that I just love. And refuse to give up. Refuse!

And off course sports. Sports, sports, sports. Because watching them on TV is just so much cheaper and more convenient than tickets. Not to mention local.

So yes, we are television watchers and movie lovers.

(I know that someone is saying, but what about books? Well, I always have a novel on my dresser. So does Hubster. I read to my boys every night. Both my boys love books. So we aren't exactly lacking there. But just imagine that your job is reading. Lots and lots of reading. Textbooks. Medical journals. Review articles. The LAST thing you want to do is come home after 12 hours and read some more.)

But besides the pure enjoyment factor, TV is a little more practical. What do TV less people do during elections? The Olympics? National disasters? I know that there is the computer. But computers are solitary zones, while television, by its nature is a group activity. What chances do you get to address reactions to news, talk about difficult situations that haven't come up in your childrens' lives yet.

Like it or not, we live in this world. Just a little bit of exposure is healthy. Essential.

Consider it a cultural vaccination.

Revolutionary Road

Thursday, February 26, 2009

I'll be completely honest. I had never heard of this book until I saw a short "Making of the Movie" on HBO during a business trip about 2 months ago.

But ever since I heard about the movie and the basic premise, I have been wanting to read the book. (I'm a big believer of reading the book before watching the movie.)


Revolutionary Road is the story of Frank and April Wheeler. It is the story of life in the 50s, after the war. It is the story of suburban living.

But then again, it's not.

I hate when people say, "It's just as relevant now as it was then." But this is a time when it is true.

Frank and April Wheeler are a young, intelligent couple who believe that anything is possible. That greatness and importance are just around the next bend in the road. However, they allow this belief the permeate everything in their lives.

Frank doesn't see himself as another businessman. April doesn't see herself as a suburban housewife. Neither of themselves see themselves as parents. And yet, that is the life they are living.

But still, they cling to their imaginary importance and greatness and refuse to "condescend" to the current situation. They refuse to feel any connection to their work, their surroundings, or the people around them.

But this also makes it impossible for them to connect with anything else. Their children. Each other.

This book was extremely painful to read. To recognize in myself the daily discontent of current situations. To admit to the feeling that greatness is within my reach. But it also allowed myself to identify the mistakes that Frank and April were making that I was not. The profound joy of my life. The hope that instills everyday. The connection that I have with my family. All things that were missing from the Wheelers existence.

Ultimately, it is a story of profound dissapointment, betrayal, and self-induced isolation. Heart-wrenchingly real and painful; no punches pulled.

I guess it's time I grew up

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Rank lists are due tomorrow.

For the rest of the world, this is the list of all the places you interviewed at and would like to go to for your residency training. Ranked 1 through whatever. I have 10 on my list.

This list then goes into a big computer and magically, the rest of your life is planned for you. (I will write more about the "Match" as the date approaches: March 19.)

Putting in my rank list means that I'm committing to going to residency. That I am concretely decided on being a doctor.

So I guess I should start acting the part.

I don't feel like a doctor.

There are days, especially days like today where I get to nap and read and blog, when I can't helping wondering if it isn't all a big mistake.

I remember thinking medical school was a bad idea when I was applying. Then, it wasn't because I realized I was committing myself to days of studying, 30+ hour shifts, and a male-dominated system. At the time, it was because I was so shy I didn't think I would make it though an interview.

I thought it was a bad idea during first year, when I realized I no longer had any say over my schedule. I had a child and babysitters and a husband to coordinate schedules with. But classes would randomly throw in afternoon or evening labs, group discussions, or workshops.

I thought it was a bad idea during third year, when I realized that even two children didn't prepare me for the exhaustion of taking call every third or fourth night. Because after you have been awake part of the night with a sick baby, no one expects you to look wonderful or create stimulating conversation the next day. On the wards, after being awake for 30 hours, I was expected to give completely coherent patient presentations and come up with amazing ideas regarding diagnosis and treatment on the spot.

As I looked into the future as a pediatric residency, I again thought that this whole thing had been the biggest mistake of my life. Here I was, exhausted, disillusioned, nearly $100,000 in debt, and the rest of my life was looking even more miserable that what I had already been through.

I thought about quitting. Everyday I wanted to. I would beg Hubster to let me quit. I begged my parents to let me quit.

And then I found anesthesiology.

Things have been better since then. I've been happier. And I've stopped asking to quit.

Even so, looking at residency with more excitement and optimism that I thought possible, I still wonder if it was a good idea.

It has nothing to do with the debt burden or the fatigue.

I feel that I gave up so much more. I realized along the way that I had lost much of my idealism, my youth, and my optimism.

And that is what makes me question it the most.

This blog was started with some hope of rediscovering that part of me I lost during the first part of my training. I still believe the optimistic, forgiving, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, hopeful girl is in there somewhere.

A Little Bit of Green

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Today I was walking outside with my boys. The temperature was still cold, but the sun was out, and we couldn't resist the bright sunshine.

All bundled up, crunching through some remaining snow piles, I saw the slightest mist of green on a tree at the end of our street.

It gave me hope that spring really is coming. That the cold with eventually dissolve into the blissful perfect days of spring and summer. That the drabness of winter will succumb to a brilliance of green.

A glimpse of last year's spring

And that I will get out of the mental slump that I inevitably fall into each winter.

Younger

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

I have always felt younger than my age.

And not in the "I have as much energy as a 10 year old and the skin of a 6 year old" type of younger.

But in a "everyone in this room seems so much older, wiser, and more put together than me" kind of way.

I get in a group of people and I feel like the kid who normally sits at the children's table in the other room who has, just this once, been allowed to sit with the grown-ups.

I don't feel like a "grown-up."

Why?

When I'm at the hospital, I feel that the interns, the residents, the attendings, and even other medical students were more experienced that I was. Not just at medicine, but at life. That their instincts and insight were better.

When I'm out socially, I feel that my friends have more interesting experiences and more maturity that I do.

Feeling like this irritates me. After all, I'm in my late 20s, not in my teens. I have two kids (who I think are turning out quite well.) I have a wonderful, incredibly successful marriage. I'm a freaking doctor!

Why do I feel younger, less experienced, less qualified than everyone else in the room?

Maybe I skipped part of my childhood. Jumping from playing house to running house too soon. I worked hard through out high school, college, and medical school. Maybe too much work and not enough play didn't give me a chance to notice myself growing up.

Childhood passed so quickly, maybe I never go the chance to feel myself move through it into adulthood.

Maybe not.

Maybe it's just all poor coping skills.

I think, next dinner party, I'll just go ahead and ask for a seat at the kids table. It's not too late.

Happy Valentine's Day

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Just wanted to wish everyone a sweet, sugar-and-heart filled day.

The Time Traveler's Wife

Thursday, February 12, 2009

I've been wanting to read this book forever. Ever since I saw some lady in clinic years ago reading it and she was absolutely gushing about how fabulous it was.


And like most books, I read it just in time to find out they are making a movie of it.

(And not to sound, um, prudish, but because I know some of my readers, I feel that a word of warning is in place before you rush out and read the book as well. If they are truly making a movie, it would have to be rated R. For language. And for explicit, um, details. So there, don't say I didn't warn you. But now that my duty is done, let's move on...)

The premise of the book is amazing. It is technically a science fiction novel, what with the time traveling and all. But it reads like an amazingly poignant love story.

"Henry met Clare for the first time when she is 22 and he is 30. Clare met Henry when she was six and he was 40."

If that doesn't spark your curiosity, I'm not sure how to get to you.

Henry is one of the first people born with Chrono-Displacement Syndrome, a genetic disease that periodically, unpredictably, resets his genetic clock, making him travel through time.

The story is intriguing, touching, painful, and beautiful. It touches on human behaviour. If someone already knows the outcome of their actions, the result of their life, are they still free to make decisions? What is cause and effect in our life? And how sure are we?

The book wasn't as poetic and lyrical as I felt it could be. There are some parts where the author approaches brilliance in portraying daily life. But other times, I felt the writing was bogged down with details of books, music, and such that did not add to the story.

But the flaws of writing do not distract from the bittersweet story of love, dedication, and fate.