Enjoyed this article....

Click

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…

Make Up Your Mind

I love Milwaukee… I love Wisconsin… I am not a fan, however, of a weather system (or any system for that matter) that can’t make a decision.

I spent December and January traveling to residency interviews, and being exposed to all different types of weather around the country. When I wasn’t traveling I was spending time in Utah, with my fantastic family.

I mention this because on the day that I left Wisconsin the weather was awful. How awful was it you ask? Well when I drove to the gym, at 10AM on the morning of my departure, the temperature reading in my car's dash said -7… again it was 10AM. Once in the care, the radio announcer said that the wind was moving at around 30 mph and that made it feel like -40 (no one quote me on these numbers… they are of course vague recollections after all). When I got to the gym and sprinted from my car to the door of the gym, I actually had to pause to make sure that I hadn’t stepped in front of the world’s largest arctic leaf blower. After realizing that it wasn’t a massive leaf blower… it was simply winter in Wisconsin… I put my hands on my stinging face and proceeded inside the building.

While I was out of Milwaukee, I got a number of emails from my school with warnings of severe weather in Wisconsin. The following suggestions were actually forwarded to me:

• Stay indoors as much as possible.
• If it is necessary to venture outside, dress warmly and try to stay dry. Exposed skin can become frost bitten within minutes, so minimize the amount exposed by wearing a hat or hood, a scarf or knit mask to cover the face and mouth, mittens or gloves, water-resistant coat and boots, and layered clothing if possible.
• Avoid excessive exertion. The body can lose a great deal of heat through breathing (warm air out and cold air in), which places additional strain on an individual.
• Carry an emergency pack in the car that includes blankets and travel with a cell phone in the event of an accident.

All of this made me laugh, as I was in Utah enjoying at least tolerable 30-50 degree weather, with lots of sunshine and occasional snow mixed in. When it was time to go home, I was genuinely worried about what the weather would be like. My worries quickly disappeared on arriving to sunshiney Milwaukee. I was treated to record highs (up to the 60’s), or as I like to call it “The Golden Age of Wisconsin Winter Weather.” I honestly did not know what to do about that weather, and may have even been in denial… you know like when you win a contest and say, “I can’t believe I won.” Or like when you grew up in my family and you say, “I can’t believe I only have a single complex.” You know that the outcome was expected, but it surprises you anyway?

So today I had planned to do a number of things, like: go to the gym, put up drapes (3 years too late… yeah… I know), and go out with the missionaries. I head out the door at 10AM (before you ask… yes, if it’s important to me it gets done at 10AM. I don't know why... it's just how I roll), and snow has been falling all night, the roads were awful, and I'm pretty sure several puppies froze to death (that’s right, snow kills dogs).

And I'm ok with most of those things (some more than others), but just be honest… Don’t tell me you’re going to be hot and then drop 7 inches of snow on me… Don't tell me you're going to be one way, and then as soon as I come to expect that behavior from you, you change your mind and decide to be the polar opposite. Pick a climate and stick to it! I hate this indecision!

PS I took like 15 pictures of the snowfall, but I couldn’t decide which one to use…

I’d love to come to dinner…

I'm not sure what it is about me that screams, “INVITE ME TO DINNER!!” I'm not sure if it’s the deprived look I always have on my face, my formerly emaciated frame, or the complete lack of confidence that people have in me to provide for myself. Whatever it is, I wish I could grow it, harvest it, freeze dry it, package it and ship it to starving people everywhere. It’s honestly something that’s served me well since I sipped Diet Pepsis at OB’s house in high school. It’s gotten me delicacies like fish stew (with the entire fish just thrown in), cow tripe, and countless other foods that I’ve apparently blocked from my memory but that I know where disgusting when I ate them. However, these invitations have also brought me things like delicious missionary taco dinners, the Jeffs’ Manicotti, and several pasta bakes at Greg and Nat’s. So while it’s definitely a blessing and a curse… the blessings outweigh the curses.

Currently, my landlord who, in addition to being one of the most gregarious people that I’ve ever met, is kind enough to occasionally invite me to dinner with him and his wife. Not only does he take me to Milwaukee staples like Elsa’s, McGinn’s and Mamma Mia’s, but they also have me over to their house every once in a while. The only thing I like more than having dinner with this particular family is the conversations that we have over dinner (and yes, I know those two things are the same).

Some of my favorite topics of conversation with this particular family include:

1) When my landlord was going to rent one of his apartments to the missionaries, he invited the missionaries over to dinner and had me come along (I'm a good Mormon buffer apparently). After dinner the conversation turned to Glocks, and I affirmed my desire to both keep and bear arms. Now my landlord can’t see me without audibly wondering whether or not I'm armed… and for some reasons the missionaries aren't nearly as pushy in their search for member referrals (at least from me).

2) Anytime we get to talk about my dating life (which, for my fault or theirs, is pretty much every time we get together). It always gives me the chance to answer questions like, “Who was that Suzy Cream Cheese we saw you with?” To which I get to say outrageous things like, “Which night are you talking about? Because that would help me to narrow it down.” I love these conversations because I love to say outrageous things, and because I had no idea that the moniker Suzy Cream Cheese even existed or that there are people who actually use it in conversation… I guess you learn something new every day.

3) Anytime we discuss the Singles Ward, because then I get to use the phrase, “The Island of Misfit Toys.” They love that nickname and laugh every time I bring it up. Then they say things like, “What are the chances that you’ll match here.” They go out of their way to imply that they’ll miss me, which certainly makes me feel good. It also means I leave with a well fed stomach and a well fed ego, and I don’t have even have to make up a new joke.

For all of those pros, I can’t really think of any cons to these meals. Unless you count the fact that every time we get together, I'm reminded that my time is Milwaukee is ending. While I won’t miss the winters here, it will certainly be tough to give up the current free dinner circuit that I’ve developed.