Sandy Eggo

I actually thought of calling San Diego, "Sandy Eggo" while out surfing this evening after work. I googled it to see if I was original. They already have sweatshirts made. Google had 58,00 hits for it. In fact, I think it may have actually been the original name for this city, before they changed it to San Diego. Further proves my point that hardly any thoughts are original these days. People do everything, all the time. It's just go, go, go in this world. Hard to keep up.

Anyway, I'm here. Haven't seen any waffles on the beach yet. But it would be a nice place to have breakfast.

Plan by Pictures

My Plan for Tomorrow in Pictures:

1.Wake up, shower, eat an egg and toast and drink french pressed coffee.
2. First assist on a breast lumpectomy, an inguinal hernia, a needle localized breast biopsy, and a laparoscopic appendectomy.3. Tell you that I chose such a benign picture of an appendix because it reminded me of waves.
4. Bid farewell to Roseburg and head through the State of Jefferson, on my way to Southern California. Click the term "loony bin anti-government die hard extremists" to learn more.
5. Arrive in Montos de Los Altos de los Palos (or something like that), where Connie my Roseburgiean Landlordess has an Crazy Aunt who will put me up for the night. Only caveat is she smokes like a chimney and requires at least two bottles of Red Zinfandel per visitor. Something tells me she will have cats. Lots of cats.
6. Rest for the final leg of the 17 hour drive to San Diego. Where the waves will giveth, the skin will bronzeth, and the medicine will be internal. Whatever that means. See you there!

CA

The sickening irony of growth causing death. Cells out of control with multiplication causing subtraction of health.

I've seen it.
A cousin lost as a teenager, the fear of recurrence in the eyes of an imprisoned man. The metastasis to the liver shining bright on a CT scan. My mother finishing up her radiation treatment in Boston.

The phone call that you don't forget.
The scrambling through websites that it prompts.
The numbers, statistics, percentages flying at you like bullets.

Then more irony in the way we fight it. Chemicals and radiation used to fight something perhaps caused by the same. Intangible hope and prayers directed at all-too tangible cells.

The fight that it requires but the calm that it demands.

The way it hits you. And the reaction that collision sets off.

I'm proud of you Mom, et al.

Contradictions are Contraindicated

In the art of medicine, when something is contraindicated, it is a good idea to not give it, perform it, prescribe it, or do whatever you are not supposed to do with it. The "it" may be a drug, a procedure, or an otherwise benign substance or activity. We avoid contraindications like we avoid lighting ourselves on fire. Makes sense, right? I'd don't like being on fire. That's why babies don't get aspirin, viagra and nitroglycerin don't mix, and ummm....pregnancy and parsley are evil together.

In the art of politics, contradictions float around like oxygen molecules, inhaled and exhaled on a daily basis, without a care. A few:

• Government run health care would be so inefficient....but......it would be too good and put all the insurance companies out of business. Which one is it?

• Americans have plenty of access to health care (A.K.A Status Quo and the GWB "Just Go To an Emergency Room Plan")....but....if everybody gets insurance then our doctor's will be too busy! If "everything is fine" then why would stirring the pot, so to speak, stir up an *overwhelming* amount of people who need help? "Republicans opposed to sweeping reform say the health care system would be overwhelmed if nearly 50 million uninsured Americans are given coverage"---Associated Press
  

• This health care thing costs too much....but...$900 billion in Iraq and Afghanistan (resulting in 5,000+ U.S. deaths), is just fine.
  

• "Christian Right Largely Opposes Health Care Reform" .....but.....There's This.

Perhaps these contradictions should be contraindicated in a worthwhile discussion about health care. Pick your stance and stick too it. Disagree with your neighbor, that's OK. But don't change your argument with each new sound bite on the inflammatory morning talk show. Like giving a cigarette to an asthmatic, tossing around contradictions should be ill-advised.

It was only a matter of time before this blog made some inciting statements (not to be confused with insightful). I apologize, and will soon be back on track, reporting on life as a PA student. To smooth things over, I offer this Old-School Nintendo Game that we can all agree was pretty sweet. It is only Contraindicated in those with ADHD and Seizure Disorder.

Just One of Thousands

Once again, the 2.5 hour drive up to Portland from Roseburg is worth every cent, every ounce of gasoline. Amazing weekend in the city: From eating Moroccan food to getting beat by Audrey at tennis. From watching the above birds do their yearly migratory dance at sunset to seeing Weinland play a few blocks from our house.

Back south to Gallbladder Land. Next time I am going to keep heading south, until I hit the border of Old Mexico. Then I will go back north a few miles and plant myself within sight of the sea and start treating people with medicine, instead of just yanking body parts out of small holes.

CA

The sickening irony of growth causing death.
I've seen it.
A cousin lost as a teenager, the fear of recurrence in the eyes of an imprisoned man. The metastasis to the liver shining bright on a CT scan. My mother finishing up her radiation treatment in Boston.
The phone call that you don't forget.
The scrambling through websites that it prompts.
The numbers, statistics, percentages flying at you like bullets.

Then more irony in the way we fight it. Chemicals and radiation used to fight something perhaps caused by the same. Intangible hope and prayers directed at all-too tangible cells.

The fight that it requires but the calm that it demands.

The way it hits you. And the reaction that collision sets off.

I'm proud of you Mom, et al.

Four Thumbs Up

2 for Inglourious Basterds, Quentin Tarantino's new film, which I indulged in last night after getting off early from work. It was our anniversary, so I honored the event by watching a movie that she would never in a million years sit through. (See, this frees me up for a future chick flick, when we are reunited.)

2 for Obama's healthcare speech that just ended. Again, a slow day in the OR early allowed me to go to the library and stream it live on CNN. I hope you had a chance to watch it also.

The Do's and Don'ts of a Roseburg Surgery Rotation

Don't live with a crazy lady with 2 kids and an untrained dog in a messy house unless you really want to spend the entirety of your evenings in your weird room that is decorated with strange bear paraphernalia, which includes but is not limited to, a life size black bear dressed like a fisherman. Do make friends with the bear.

Do be prepared to nod and smile at the small talk in the break room, which generally revolves around comparing Obama to Hitler, adding up how many handguns one has (and losing count), or bashing people who recycle. Don't bring up health care reform.

Don't walk into the OR without your mask on. If people start waving in a circling motion around their mouth, with a disgusted and hateful look in their eyes, Do take that as a sign that you are missing something.

Do learn the proper anatomy terms, however Don't be surprised when the surgeon refers to the "Butt Case" we'll be doing at 9:30.

Don't blog on the net about the wrong-sided surgery that you witnessed a part of. Do remember to tell others about it in person, behind closed doors.

Don't expect a blog from me for a few days. I'm headed to the coast (via Portland) to spend the long weekend surfing with Audrey and Josh. Do enjoy your weekend. Do it now.

Perma-Change

In the middle of a rotation that won't last forever, like most things. Last weekend in Portland, Audrey and I went on a trail run in our beloved Forest Park. At the outset it seemed like summer still, with blue skies, yellow sun, and green leaves. The primary colors of summer. But in the depths of the shady park, there was change. The brown hue was creeping into the floor and walls of this windy hallway of a route. On some corners, near the dried up creeks, the decomposing leaves allowed a rich, musty air to hang in the nostrils until our fast-paced lungs could exchange it on the next uphill. The next morning we woke up to gray skies in Portland. The day after that it was September. And here I am contemplating Change.

On the drive back to Roseburg, I surfed the FM channels of the Toyota's radio. At one point I drove right into some airtime that was hosting all sorts of great Latin music. Rumba, Salsa, Afro-Cuban, Mambo....and I was soaking it up like a laparotomy sponge. But as my trajectory was southbound on Interstate 5, at a rate faster than most police officers would be comfortable with, I knew the rhythms were not going to last forever. And then, sure enough, before you could say "Tito Puente y su Orquesta", it was gone. Evaporated 15 minutes after it was born.

This rotation won't last either. Though shorter than a summer, and longer than a 4 minute Samba, at times it feels like both. At times, hours fly by, running from case to case. Other moments are stretched slowly out like an outgoing tide, like listening to the surgeon tell the 49 year old man that his metastatic colon cancer gives him less than 20% chance to still be alive in 5 years. In a few weeks, I will be a distant memory to this hospital and vice versa. I will be the new face elsewhere and a new town and a new state and will become my temporary home. You have to like the word "new" to survive this year.

Change is inevitable. You don't need a blog to tell you that. We see it in September, we hear it on the radio, we sense it in the mirror every morning. The question becomes how to interact with this change. For me, I prefer to trail run towards it, tap my hands on the steering wheel with it, pretend to know the words in Spanish for it and scrub in through it. I hope this finds you all interacting with change in your own personal way. Yours Truly, CD...