I had to hustle yesterday morning because, while my mole removal was scheduled for 9:30 AM, my lack of a car meant that I would have to take 3 buses in rapid succession to get there on time.
Out the door at 8:15, waiting for the bus...and waiting...and waiting...uh-oh. It showed up at 8:28, 2 minutes before I was supposed to arrive at the transfer point and catch the 2nd bus. Sure enough, I arrived at the transfer point having missed it by five minutes.
Luckily, Intaglio was still at home, so I called him to figure out an alternate route. Google Maps delivered: Wait 20 minutes, catch a bus, walk a mile, arrive at 9:36. 9:36? I could still hear doctors from the medical school grousing about tardy patients. But if I ran...maybe, just maybe I could make it.
Caught the bus, arrived at the stop, dashed the remaining distance to the clinic as fast as I could with an overstuffed, non-ergonomic laptop bag...arrived at 9:36 on the dot. Whoops! Luckily, the nurse and PA doing the removal were extremely gracious.
And now for the fun part. In general, I have no problem with medical procedures, minor or major. I do, however, have a tremendous hatred/fear of local anesthetic. Numbness in general makes me extremely queasy. I've had two moles removed in the past, both of which resulted in some tears and borderline hyperventilation. But there I was (I thought to myself, in the quivering voice of a martyr), about to get a mole punched out of my arm, totally alone.
It was fine. I only got queasy when the PA started in with the punch, paused, and said, "I think we're going to need a bigger one." They stitched me up, and I was out the door in 25 minutes. So I took the bus back to the transfer point, caught a bus to the university, and...wait, I thought this bus was going to the campus, it's definitely not making the right turn...oh well. I hopped out of the bus, walked another half-mileish back to the lab, made a few adjustments to an experiment, and walked over to the hospital to catch a talk sponsored by my graduate program.
Unfortunately, by this point, my adrenaline rush had worn off completely so I pretty much dozed through the entire talk. And not the discrete nodding in and out of consciousness--I slept heavily to the point where I woke up and looked around furtively for glares because I was afraid I had been sleep-talking.
And then I did homework, had my last ethics seminar class (1/4 done!), and made my way home to celebrate Intaglio's birthday. Not bad.
Of course, my PI wants to write about the review paper that I've been writing...or, you know, not really writing...It's frustrating, because I really need to work on expanding my knowledge base and writing this paper is truly the best means of doing so, but it's just too easy to push it to the side. I'm having trouble budgeting time for things that matter.
Speaking of which, my weight has been hovering in the upper 130s for too long, so I've decided to join dietbet--groups are challenged to lose 4% of their body weight in 4 weeks, everyone contributes money, those who meet the goal split the pot evenly. I think, in order to get back to my goal weight, I need both a tangible reason to focus on it and something that will tickle my competitive spirit.
Life has been good, but I can't shake the drag of inertia. I do miss medical school because it elevated my ability to focus and dedicate large chunks of my days to pure work. I miss that feeling of drive and purpose. Ever since beginning grad school, I've been trying to recapture it with little success. It makes me sad when I think about it too much.
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