NO! It’s Actually Unacceptable…

I love traveling, whether it be to far away destinations or back home. New destinations are so exciting because I get to see the way other people live, explore new cities, and learn about the history of another location. Home offers a completely opposite, but more enriching experience. I get to enjoy locations that are familiar to me. I get to relax and be comfortable in an environment that I know. Most importantly I get to see my family again, and no matter how much we’ve changed it feels like I never left.

This most recent trip home was fantastic because I got to meet my new, beautiful, and sleepy niece (who may be the most germ free baby I’ve ever met… at least I hope she is… for her mom’s sake…). It was great to see my younger brother (who I am jealous of in every way… except of course his math/physics skills, don’t need ‘em… don’t want ‘em). I got to hang out with my favorite nephew who, if he doesn’t grow up to be a janitor (see brooms, love of), is going to be an awesome cowboy (rivaled only by my youngest brother’s future in cattle roping). I got to hang out with my favorite sister and watched her choked down what I can only describe as vinegar ice cream, and chatting about life (she’s so smart, strong, and kind… I wish I was more like her). I got to devastate my dad on e-golf (despite his 3 eagles and 1 double eagle… I'm not sure how he did it, but he always mentions a C++ class he took way back and that’s the only thing I can come up with). Other highlights include:

• My aunt’s phone ringing in church…
• My aunt, embarrassed that her phone went off in church, loudly saying her daughter's name from 5ft away to chastise her for making noise during the meeting...
• My cousin sleeping/kissing/cuddling/making out in church…
• My family texting about all of the above…
• Seeing my best friends, and catching up…

At this point, I know exactly what you’re thinking… “All of those things sound ‘acceptable.’” And you know what? You’re absolutely right… that brings us to my trip home. After a day on the e-course and e-packing (no wait the packing was real… sorry I played so much Wii this weekend I'm having trouble separating ‘e’ and realit-e), I was taken to the airport by my dad (still reeling from the losses) and my brother (still thinking about the Chinese food at home in the kitchen). Their minds elsewhere, they slowed to a roll and I jumped from the car…

I checked in using the US Airways Kiosk, which printed 1 boarding pass and 1 receipt for a boarding pass that says, “Please proceed to your gate for the seat assignment.” Well I mustered all of the patience in my being and waited to ask the ticket agent until he was done talking to the traveler he was currently talking to. Once they’d finished blathering, I said something like, “I just got a receipt instead of a boarding pass (sighing… furrowing the eyebrow…), what does that mean?” He assures me that everything is going to be fine, I’ll be able to board that flight but they have to upgrade some of the coach people to first class before they can give me my seat assignment. To which I responded (with a tone as skeptical as I can muster), “Are you sure? Because if I'm going to get bumped, I’d rather be bumped here than Phoenix…” Again reassurance from my ticket agent (I wish I could remember his name, but for the purposes of this story, we’ll call him Moron (he’s actually not coming up again, but I think it’s important to label him as such))

After flying peacefully sleeping all the way to Phoenix I exited the plane and walk to the adjacent (yes… adjacent… I was definitely not lolly-gagging) terminal and ask for my boarding pass. The lady goes, “We oversold this flight and you’re on the standby list.” She then used the skill of “blankly-staring-at-the-client-without-giving-any-additional-information-at-a-crucial-point-of-the-conversation-where-more-information-would-be-appropriate” technique that she must have learned in her mandatory 1 hour “Working with Real People Seminar” (where she was ironically working with ‘fake’ people). I could feel my frustration boiling to the top, and we proceeded to have the following conversation (we’ll call her Idiot… not because it’s appropriate to call her an idiot… more because this is a family oriented blog, and it’s not appropriate to call her what she is):

• Me: So what does that mean?
• Idiot: It means you may not have a seat on this flight
• Me: (trying to prompt her to follow a logical path of the explanation of what I can only imagine is a common problem in her line of work) When will I find out if I have a seat or not?
• Idiot: It’s hard to say…
• Me: Well this flight is boarding in 20 minutes, and if I'm not getting on it I need to have an alternative plan. Do you know how likely I am to get on the flight?
• Idiot: (after looking me up on the list) If I were you I would try to get on another flight, because it’s highly unlikely that you’ll get on this fl…
• Me: Are you kidding me?
• Idiot: No sir, do I look like I have a sense of humor or a modicum of creativity (she didn’t say that last part… I'm reading between the lines…) We can get you there by Wednesday afternoon at the very latest sir, if you’ll just be patient…
• Me: Ma’am, I am a medical student I have patients that I have to see in the hospital tomorrow morning (I realize calling this a stretch is like calling the sun warm. I was flustered though and I panicked, so give me a break). So Wednesday is unacceptable!
• Idiot: Actually sir, it is acceptable! I understand what you’re saying but these are our opti…
• Me: No! Actually Wednesday is still UNACCEPTABLE and NO! You actually don’t understand! I need to be in Milwaukee tomorrow morning, are there any other options?
• Idiot: There are 2 other options available. Both are horrible convoluted options that meagerly compensate you for the hell we’re going to put you through because we made a bad choice (again, reading between the lines). The first gets into Milwaukee tomorrow at 4PM and the second takes you through Kansas City tonight, puts you in a hotel and then flies you on another airline into Milwaukee at 7AM.
• Me: (processing this horrendous ‘solution’ (if you can even call it that) to this problem) So are you paying for my hotel and food tonight?
• Idiot: Here is a brochure describing your rights.
• Me: (not breaking eye contact) I'm not reading a brochure. How about we just review the options again, and then you can explain the brochure to me.
• Idiot: I am an idiot (this particular message was nonverbal but it definitely was no longer hidden between the lines).

To make this story less voluminous… I went to Kansas City last night. Fell asleep for an hour. Flew to Milwaukee this morning and I'm home now… and happy again. Because no matter how horrible the last few paragraphs were… the first few paragraphs made it worth it…

How Much?

For the last four years of my life, I’ve lived on student loans (as do most people in my line of business). It’s not a complicated process… in fact, the steps go as follows: 1) every winter I fill out a FAFSA and Loan Application, 2) sometime in the Spring I walk into the Financial Aid office at my school and casually say, “Give me the max Hoss (not actually someone’s name… or even something I actually call anyone… moving on…)” 3) I pick up a check for my living expenses in the fall.

The fall checks amount to what people on welfare typically call “poverty,” or “poor as #$%@” in other circles. The big money goes to the amount being paid to the school. That amount has always simply been “numbers” (at least in my mind). The numbers are also very tricky because they’re split up over subsidized, unsubsidized, Perkins, institutional, and private loans (I know…. It’s as complicated as it is mind-numbing…). The point is that I’ve never seen the grand total on one line of a balance sheet… Until last Friday (we’ll call it black Friday… and definitely not because I'm “in the black”). I finally saw a grand total… it had an effect on me that was different than any other number I’ve ever encountered. I immediately started to agonize over how I would pay it all back, and how long it was going to take, and how complicated it is to have to defer the payments until I can actually afford to make said payments… After seeing the number, I sat through a meeting that lasted an hour and a half. All I learned during that meeting was that if I don’t pay back the number, at some point someone will sue me (unless of course I’ve carefully filled out all of the paperwork that was too overwhelming/complicated to understand).

I'm not sure why I'm writing about this, as it sounds like I'm complaining about something I chose to do. Like punching myself in the face then complaining that it hurts… well it’s not that way. In fact, I live my life by a certain set of rules and rule #7 is never complain to anyone about the consequences of something you chose to do. So I'm telling you this because well… it was either this or writing about my recent mandatory urine sample. Luckily for you rule #237 is don’t talk about mandatory urine sampling… unless you absolutely have to.

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Acupunk'd

I have been getting headaches since high school. They always come the same way in. Around January or June, I start to get headaches… usually about 3-4 excruciating episodes each day. Oddly, I always run into the same problems with the insurance company providing enough medicine to treat them. We do the same song and dance about how I need more pills than they’re providing… It’s like a timeless tradition like high school proms, sweeps week, or Easter.

The latest “cluster” of headaches, has followed a similar pattern. When I started to run out of pills, I started getting desperate… not desperate like this guy... more like semi-desperate. Desperate enough to seek alternative treatments, and that’s where acupuncture comes in. I have a friend who told me about an acupuncture school that is just south of Milwaukee. I'm adventurous, so I figured I’d give it a shot, I mean what if it worked... and at the very least I'd have something to write about.

The acupuncture school is a lot like a normal medical school but without being hindered by silly things like science or ancillary diagnostics. Their history focuses on things like whether I'm hot or cold, whether I crave sweet or salty, whether I usually find myself hungry or satiated, and of course what type of personality I have. (In case you’re curious, my answers are normal, neither, not sure, and maybe assertive?... in that order). They also asked me where I work, and when they found out that I am about to graduate from medical school everyone got a little nervous. Answers to my questions started to come with trepidation, and nervous sweats. Seemingly finding strength in numbers, they started to visit me in groups of two and three. They also started asking questions about why I was there, and what I wanted to get out of treatment. It was like going on a bad first date with a pregnant girl... you both know what the other person's thinking and no matter how much talking you do it's never going to be less weird... at least for nine months or so...

Then we move on to the physical exam which consists of looking at my tongue and feeling my pulses (checking pulses is pretty familiar, as we check pulses in Western medicine too, but we derive far less from pulses than they do). I was told that my tongue suggests that my chi is stagnant (depending on which student you ask the chi can be a number of different things), and my exuberant pusles signalled a strong personality... maybe even assertive. It was disappointing that all of my pain was due to my lazy or distracted chi (no worries though, we’ve spent 3 visits trying to whip it into shape).

My treatments have gone as follows. My first visit I got 10 needles (1 in the crown of my head, 2 in each hand, 1 in each shin and 2 in each foot). The second time I got 12 needles (3 in my right temple, 1 in my neck, 2 in each hand, and 2 in each foot). The last time I got like 47 needles I swear, I felt like a pin cushion (5 in my neck, 1 that was 3 inches below my umbilicus, 2 in each hand, 2 in each shin, 2 in each foot, and 1 in each ear). They insert the needles then let me lay on the table for 20 minutes while the needles take effect (which is a surprisingly relaxing time).

If the regimen confuses you… well, join the club. Every time I’ve gone, I’ve asked for an explanation of their physical findings and their plan. When I ask for an explanation, most of the students get really nervous or start grinning like they stole something. They usually give me some rambling explanation with one of the following phrases mixed in:

• “This probably sounds weird to you…”
• “I wish I could show you a picture from my book…”
• “It’s tough to explain…”
• “The body has energy that accompanies the function…”
• “I'm literally making ALL of this up… does it even sound believable?”
• “I'm crazy… literally crazy!”
• (Two of these were actually how my mind interpreted things they were saying…)

The whole experience has been simultaneously foreign and relaxing at the same time, like taking a vacation to Mars. However, after all of this, it’s tough to tell if the treatment is “working.” I do know that at the very least it’s relaxing. I also know that it’s been fun, because I’ve forgotten how bewildering it can be to be a patient. When I go to see my own doctor, I know the questions I’ll get asked and what they’re looking for when they examine me. So I'm never uncomfortable, I never feel the alien nature of a medical encounter because I see similar encounters all the time. When things aren’t explained completely, I can simply rely on my own knowledge or textbooks that I have at home to fill in the blanks. On Mars though, none of the normal rules apply… so I'm left at the mercy of people who are speaking a completely foreign language to explain complicated theories regarding something that’s very important to me. Don't worry, the irony of having to take a trip to Mars to be reminded of what my front yard looks like is not lost one me.

Second Place Is The First Winner….

Have you ever seen those shirts that say, “Second place is the first loser?” (There’s no question mark on the shirt… I'm asking you if you’ve seen them). I would say that, for the first 28 years of my life, that particular saying could not have been more true. However, a funny thing happened on March 19, 2009… no not Nate’s birthday (although that might have been funny… I have no way of knowing). I'm talking about match day, when medical students around the country find out where they’re going to do their residency.

On match day, I learned that I’d be going North Carolina to continue my training, and that's where things got tricky. North Carolina was my second choice (do you see where I'm going?), but it turned out to be the first winner!

I couldn’t be happier, as North Carolina has a fabulous mix of nice residents, beautiful location, and exciting sports options (3 of the things I look for every time I decide where to go for residency). Although, the answer was somewhat bittersweet, because I found out that I would be spending the next 5-7 years away from my family. On the bright side, I feel like this will give me a great opportunity to end up in Utah eventually. So I’ll accept the fact that I will need to enduce ocassional airline travel in order to see them, especially if it gives me the the chance to return there in the end.

The whole thing got me thinking about seconds that ended up being firsts, here’s the list (it may not be 100% inclusive, but it's a good start):

• Me (This is where I am grateful no one reads this... because I can make outrageous claims)
• The Godfather II (in my opinion)
• George Bush II (I mean I can’t even really remember the older one, say what you want but the second one was memorable)
• WW II (way more memorable in my opinion)
• Terminator II (so they say, but neither is memorable to me)
• The OC Season II (trust me)
• Boyz II Men (it’s a stretch I know…)
• Derek Jeter (Way better than Billy Martin)

Note: Please just ignore Home Alone 2, Karate Kid 2, Look Who’s Talking 2, or any of the litany of horrible sequels known to mankind.

Umm... Are You Gonna Eat That?

For the past 4 years I’ve had church at 1:00PM, which is like literally having a 6 day week. You never do anything before 1 o’clock church, and by the time it’s over at 4:00PM and you get home, change, and eat it’s 6:00PM and the day is gone. It really ruins your ability to do anything else on Sunday (I of course am only referring to visiting the sick, my family, and other wholesome activities… and I'm definitely not referring to watching football or other unholy activities).

This late start time has never made arriving on time to church any easier. I'm usually about 5-10 minutes late once every four weeks (which is a big deal for me as I'm usually very punctual… I'm not bragging just saying that the late days are an aberration). So this past Sunday was my 25%, as I'm hurrying to church and driving like Mario Andretti or my brother Brian (they're equivalent). I glance off to the side of the road and there’s a Hispanic guy lifting a dead deer (road kill… definitely not shot) from the side of the road into the back of his Ford Explorer. This deer was not limber and newly run-over… full rigor mortis had set in and it was like watching someone try to move a 150 pound cardboard cut out. I couldn’t help but feel bad for someone that desperate, but at the same time be happy that I don’t live in Newton (where I'm sure this type of thing is a lot more common).

FYI: The above pictures comes from British Columbia's Wildlife Roadkill Identification Guide. Unfortunately, I cannot guarantee that it is accurate as this is only the 2008 edition, and I have no idea how much roadkill changes from year to year.

My Landlord is a Real Mensch…

One week ago, I had dinner with my landlord (we’ll call him ‘Fred’… mostly because that’s his name, but partially because he seems like a Fred). We got to talking about great places to eat. Fred’s been in Milwaukee for a very long time, and knows all the best places (as well as the nights those places have specials). Obviously, this makes him an indispensable resource. On this particular occasion, the conversation led to Chicago eateries and we had the following exchange…

Me: Any suggestions for places to eat in Chicago?
Fred: That depends, do you like Jewish delis?
Me: Wouldn’t know… never eaten in one…
Fred: There’s this great Jewish deli called, ‘Once Upon a Bagel.’ But it’s authentic Jewish food, so only go if you like pastrami and corned beef…
Me: Pastrami and corned beef?...
Fred: Yeah… do you not like those types of meat?
Me: Nahh… I'm just trying to wrap my head around the notion that other people wouldn’t like ‘em.

(For the sake of historical accuracy, Fred substituted the word ‘Jewish’ in the above conversation with the words ‘Jew’ and ‘Heeb.’ I just was just unsure as to the proper use of those terms, so I stayed away from his vernacular.)

So on Friday, a friend and I went to the Field Museum in Chicago (I took a personal day… I guess). On the way, I stopped at the aforementioned restaurant and ordered the lox plate while my friend had the corned beef hash.

Not only were the lox fantastic, but I also found out that I'm a fresser. The corned beef hash is another story… let’s just put it this way I have always felt that there are two types of people in this world, those who like corned beef has and those who have functional taste buds. For twenty eight years I’ve been faithfully and staunchly planted in the latter camp. After the meal on Friday I'm not sure I can honestly maintain that position. That’s how good the hash was… it was camp-changing… which is the biggest kind of changing I can imagine. Once Upon a Bagel also offers my favorite bagel… the delicious-but-difficult-to-find salt bagel. After pampering my taste buds, I got bagels, corned beef, and rye bread to go.

An hour later I was staring at the worlds largest and most complete Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton in the world, but honestly it was only the second most impressive thing I saw that day…