On Doing Things That Scare Us

I feel like there's no point in life during which people like to tell you how to live, more than during your twenties. It seems like every time I open up Facebook, someone else has posted yet another Buzzfeed or Jezebel "list" of things one must do in one's twenties: places to travel, cities in which to live, things to do, books to read, movies to watch, things about which to be nostalgic. I suppose the digital era magnifies society's desire to tell us twenty-somethings what to do, but it still seems as if this urge to guide the lives of young adults has always been there.

"Do something every day that scares you" is an urging that makes an appearance in all of these "lists" in various forms. Either it's written verbatim as one of the items, it's reworded in some clever, themed way, or it underscores the entire list itself ("7 war-torn regions worth visiting in your twenties." I'm kidding. Or am I?). 

Now, most of the items on such lists kind of confound and mildly annoy me. I think it's up to me to decide how I'm going to live my twenties, and more often than not, reading about how others wish they had lived theirs doesn't really change my behavior or ideas. As John Mayer sings, "Is there anyone who really recalls ever breaking rank at all for something someone yelled real loud one time?" And to be perfectly honest, I think people who tout traveling at a young age sometimes just sound really entitled--not everyone has that kind of money to spend, or the freedom (literally or figuratively) to just drop their lives and go gallivanting across the world.

However, I've always liked the idea of doing something every day that scares you. It's a simple concept, it doesn't have to cost anything, and it leaves a lot of room for interpretation. Different things scare different people. Hell, I'm scared of birds and fish, and doing something that scares me could be as silly as staring at a fish tank for a while. [I've done it. It's unpleasant.]

But the truth is, I'm a pretty fearful person. I am terrified of rollercoasters. I am so entrenched in my fear and aversion that when I went to Universal Studios earlier this year, I literally brought a book to read while my friends went on their joyrides. When I was in dance performances in college and the choreographers wanted us to do flips, I point-blank refused to participate in such shenanigans, cause I just didn't like being upside-down, suspended in the air and at the mercy of both gravity and some random guy who was just as frightened of dropping me as I was. I have tried a rollercoaster once or twice. I even tried a flip a couple times. After the rollercoaster, I promptly decided that the fear and knee-knocking and trembling and anticipation weren't worth the 10-second euphoric high afterward. When I tried flips, I ended up dropped on my head. On more than one occasion. So, that was a no as well. 

And so trying to do things that scare me, things that REALLY scare me, often hasn't yielded the best results. Or at least, not the sort of results those lists would have me believe I'd get. Doing something that scares you should lead you to unexpected places, both literally and figuratively. It should expose you to unexpected vistas, set up that perfect photograph for your Facebook cover photo. So far, doing something that REALLY scares me has only shown me that I had good reason to be afraid, and I'll continue to live in fearfulness, thank you very much. 

Still, I guess fear is unavoidable. After all, the unknown is at the heart of life. No one knows what will happen tomorrow, or a year from now. No one knows how we'll look or who we'll be or where we'll work when we're in our thirties, giving advice to those twenty-something whippersnappers. And let's be real: that's scary, whether we feel like it is, or not. Because not all of it is in our control. And perhaps that's the real reason we are afraid. There's no way to mend that. There's no way to control it all. So we keep living. And we keep scaring ourselves. And we keep learning which fears are worth holding onto, and which we can let go. That's what I'm trying to do, anyway.

The n00b Files- Week 3 of Infectious Disease Consult/Week 11 of Internal Medicine

I'm now approximately one week away from finishing MS2 and becoming a wise 3rd year. In preparation for moving onto the second half of my medical school career, I am frantically gathering yet more knowledge as I wrap up my last month of the Internal Medicine rotation. Here's the low-down:

Lesson 1:
Being on a consult service is frustrating in that you make recommendations and write notes and put in orders, but ultimately the primary team makes all the decisions, and sometimes even decisions in your field of expertise. For instance, the primary team stopped an antibiotic on one of our patients without consulting our team first. They stopped it for a good reason, but stopping it without letting us know beforehand was kind of a crazy thing to me. But I get the feeling this sort of thing is not uncommon when you're consulting on a patient.

Lesson 2:
One thing that makes me really, really happy is talking to people in their 60s or so who've already made it through all the hurdles I face now as a 20-something. Most of them have found their life partners, borne and raised children, and had their careers. In a time when I feel like very few things about my future are certain, it gives me hope to look at others who have come before me and made it through and are still smiling. This is probably why I like working with the Alumni Association at my school so much.

Lesson 3:
This is not a lesson by any means, but I took a picture with one of my patients this week, by her request. It made me feel really happy (she was a sweet, short elderly lady who reminded me of all kinds of grandmas), and it also made me realize that doctors take pictures with their patients all the time--and this was hopefully the first in a long line of photographs to come.

Lesson 4:
I may never get over the mental/emotional trauma of seeing patients in the ICU. I know it's a bit rich to say that when I'm, oh, less than 6 months into many, many years of working in and around hospitals. But seriously, how does anyone look at a patient, legs sprawled about awkwardly, mouth open with an intubation tube and orogastric tube hanging out, and catheters and lines coming out of necks, arms, and you-know-wheres, and not shudder, even if for a millisecond?

Lesson 5:
One of the toughest things about being a student is having patients with complex medical problems, whose prognosis you can't predict. Heck, who even knows if the attendings can predict some patients' prognoses? But what I'm getting at is, it sucks to walk into a room in the morning and examine an unresponsive patient while said patient's spouse sits in the corner in expectant silence, hoping you'll tell them something about the patient's progress. Unfortunately, being as inexperienced as I am, I have no useful information for families in a situation like that. It's rough to walk out without exchanging a word with others in the room, but doing that is better than trying to exchange pleasantries, or worse, telling them things about their loved one's medical problems that simply are incorrect.

Lesson 6:
There are 14 specific "systems" that Medicare and Medicaid look for on a Review of Systems; you have to hit 10 to get full credit. They are: Constitutional, Eyes, ENT, Cardio, Respiratory, GI, GU, Musculoskeletal, Neurological, Derm, Endocrine, Allergy and Immunology, Heme/Onc, and Psych. Isn't that wild?

Lesson 7:
I'm really grateful that I don't have inflammatory bowel disease. That stuff sucks.

Lesson 8:
Learning where all the free food is in any given hospital is a worthwhile endeavor. It feels good to walk around with ice cream and smile mysteriously when others ask you where you got it.

Fear of Flying [Things]

Seeing as how I'm leaving on a long international flight tomorrow afternoon, it's pretty darn good that I don't have a fear of flying. I associate a certain level of discomfort with flying, (I have gotten airsick once or twice, and being in the air for that long does weird things to my body) but I rather enjoy the important and excited feeling I get when I'm wheeling bags through an airport. Flying, therefore, doesn't really bother me.

Flying things, on the other hand, are a different story altogether. I've known for as long as I can remember (or as long as I've been articulating fears) that I'm afraid of moths and butterflies. They're so fluttery and fragile and you can just run into them at any given time. Something about those creatures really freaks me out. I didn't realize until I was about ten or eleven years old that the same kind of fear translates to birds. Again, something about their fragility and the fluttery way they move. I don't really think they'll harm me. I just don't like them near me, and I think it's because I'm afraid I'll hurt them. Anyway, I've recently begun to wonder if I'm as afraid of birds as I once was. I mean, I'll admire the occasional bird when I'm out running, and tropical birds are rather beautiful in pictures. And I've been wondering lately, in general, if the things we call our personalities aren't just cleverly constructed versions of ourselves that rigidify with time simply because we like the way they look and sound. By which I mean maybe I just think I'm afraid of birds, when really I'm not anymore. This morning, though, that theory was proven wrong. There was an unusually large contingent of blackbirds in the parking lot when I drove onto campus, and I only noticed them once I had already stepped out of my car. I walked around to the passenger side door to grab my backpack and purse, and was horrified to discover one of the birds sitting on the roof of my car once I looked up. As it flew away, I definitely shuddered and said "Oh my God" at least once or twice. So the answer is clear: I'm still afraid of birds. And probably always will be.

In other news:

1. I'm officially going to be a medical student at Baylor next year. I've broken the other medical schools' hearts by withdrawing my applications to them, and I've put down my deposit. I couldn't resist the siren song of the Texas Medical Center, even though I'd love to get out of Houston for the next four years. I keep telling myself that I'll leave for residency. I will. I will.
2. I'm leaving for India tomorrow afternoon, and will be carrying quite possibly the heaviest purse known to mankind (containing 2-3 books, a journal, a portable DVD player, two MP3 players, and my wallet, passport, ticket, etc...since when did I become such a wired, pampered American?) cleverly disguised within a backpack. I hope the airline will allow me to carry it on along with my rolling carry-on. I think I should be okay.
3. I'm having breakfast at EIGHT AM tomorrow with a friend who used to live in Houston but moved to Tennessee last fall and is in town for the weekend. I'm really excited about the seeing her part, but rather horrified at the fact that this makes two weeks during which I've had to be somewhere at 8 AM on Saturday. What's up with that?

Here's to a wonderful trip and blogging from Asia!