I suppose I should bring this blog up to date. I have had more time on my hands without classes -- obviously. I am no longer upset with myself for withdrawing as I know it was the best decision that I could have made. I am taking advantage of the relaxing time to bolster myself for next semester. It will be a busy one in which I will need to manage my time close to perfectly. In many ways, it will be the most difficult one I have encountered yet. Kate suggested that I take an EMT certification course. I probably already mentioned that. It will not be taken through school, but will require 8 hours of class per week in addition to school. I am also to committed to volunteering at an inner city elementary school (only 1-2 hours once a week) through the end of the school year. Additionally, I am trying to get back to the cancer center to do a couple of hours at least every other week. Thankfully, for some reason, I found out that my favorite professor will be teaching Gen Chem II again the Spring. So, I will be registering next Monday. I will not be taking Physics at my post-bacc univ this Spring...instead opting to avoid the evil prof and take it elsewhere. I need to confirm transferability of credits this week. Overall, I am feeling really good about things. The time off has been rejuvenating.

Two of my friends have received their first acceptances to medical school. Yeah! I am horribly envious, but ridiculously proud of them. I know that my time will come.

Moving on

Kate thinks I should go through an EMT course. I suppose I have the time...sort of. I looked for courses in the area last night and the first one doesn't start until the middle of next month and continues through March. By March, I will be shoulder deep in everything that I dropped this semester. I am feeling much better, but my head is sort of still spinning. So, my goal is to get that under control to align myself for a successful Spring semester. I really hate the fact that this happened, but realize that I made the best decisions that I could at the time. I don't think that they were bad decisions at all. I just wish that THOSE circumstances weren't the ones that dictated the good and bad. Anyway, I am feeling better (perhaps not 100%, but good enough) and life goes on.

I need to find out when I register for the Spring.

Bloody Saturday

Today was going to be boring. Pretty mundane...go to the church fall festival, come home, chill with hubby until he had to go to work. Instead, less than 3 minutes after we left the house this morning, while we were driving along a scenic road near our home, we spotted a man laying lifeless on the road next to his bike. Knowing that we had to do something, but without a shoulder to park the car on, hubby jumped out of the car while I called 911 and turned around. I made it back to the scene shortly and ran to the two of them. The man was bleeding severely from his head (he had not been wearing a helmet) and wouldn't talk. All he was doing was moaning. Then he kept trying to get up and became quite combative. He kept lifting his head and then placed it back on the ground. Each time, I heard the unmistakable sound of crunching bone. Knowing that the bleeding needed to be controlled and having that reinforced by the dispatcher on the other end of the line, I asked my husband to take off his shirt. It was a cute mock turtle neck from his alma mater that he had never worn before and it looked REALLY good on him. Of course, the one day that I say to him "Oh honey, you don't need an undershirt"...(poor guy). Without a second thought, he took off his shirt and handed it to me. I put it on the back of the man's head where the bleeding appeared to be coming from and began to apply pressure. Then I stopped. His head was soft. I felt like I was touching his brain. Suddenly, he became calm and began talking to me. I asked him his name to which he responded Mark* and I told him mine. I asked him if he had lost consciousness and he said "no" but didn't remember what happened. He then asked if he was jogging or riding his bike. Then he said he was tired. Of course, I wanted to keep him awake. We continued to converse calmly and I asked him if there was someone we could contact for him (I noticed a wedding band on his hand, but not on his ring finger...perhaps too big?) -- he seemed to think about it for a second in great confusion and then hesitantly answer "I don't know" or "no" or something like that. Thankfully, EMS arrived in good time and they took over...they asked him his address - he couldn't remember it. Thankfully, he could recite his Social Security number and the police officer retrieved his information that way. I emerged from the commotion with bloody hands (of course, no gloves) but surprisingly not one drop on my stark white hoody. My poor husband standing there shirtless...I noticed how good he looked...he has lost weight! We got his address to arrange to get his bike home and climbed into our convertible (with the top down - which just made the whole shirtless thing worse on a crisp morning) and drove home. When we got home, we noticed that hubby had gotten cut in all the mess...and there was quite a bit of blood at the scene. He called his colleagues at the hospital at told them the situation. As of this writing...the HIV test on Mark came back negative (thank you God!) and the results for the Hep B and Hep C labs won't be back until Monday.

Eventually, we got to the church festival and found out that one of our church members actually lives next door to Mark...and his wife...and new baby. Neither one of which he seemed to be able to remember.

What is the moral of the story? Geez, I don't even know. But, if you carry one thing away from this experience let it be this - WEAR A HELMET!

As for me, I held a man's broken head in my hands today I looked into his eyes and wanted to be reassuring. I doubt he will remember me...I hope he doesn't actually...because then he will have to remember the physical pain of that moment. But, I can't wait to be a physician.

*not his real name

I am officially withdrawn from all classes this semester. Besides feeling like I gave up too soon and I am a total failure, I actually feel pretty good.

I don't know what this blog will turn into in the coming weeks and months. It no longer seems to be a record of the aspirations and optimism of a student. I haven't worked out in almost 2 weeks and I hate the way I feel. I hate the way I look. Of course, there isn't much that I am pleased about these days. I began a new painting last night without inspiration other than anger and sadness. Not surprisingly, it looks uninspired. I don't know what I was thinking...did I really expect that I would be able to come out of some long term hibernation from an elementary art life and expect everything I touched with a brush to be magical? What the heck am I trying to prove? What do I want from my art? Why have I ever wanted? For it to be MINE. Obviously, I love recognition for a job well done here and there, but that hasn't happened in a long time. Besides, sad as it is...I never believe it anyway. That's all I want from a career in medicine...not the recognition...I want the satisfaction. I don't want someone to tell me how great I am...I want to feel that what I did and what I am doing is a great thing. I began my life as someone who wanted attention and I did get attention...a lot of it. I didn't know what to do without it. I got attention that I would rather have not gotten. But, somewhere along the road I became the person who didn't want to be the center of it all. I became the person who derived great satisfaction off of making someone feel like they were the center of it all. To see the look on someone's face when they know that you are working for their benefit...geez, that is friggin awesome.

Now, I would rather be in pain silently than draw attention. If I could figure that out, I think it would reveal a lot.

Anyway, I have piece of crap painting on my easel. I can't say that it is complete nor can I say it isn't. All I can say is that it is as far as it is going. The problem is that I don't know where to discard of it. Our next door neighbor is a professional artist and if I were to trash a worked canvas she would certainly notice as it sat in the trash can in the alley. When hubby gets home he is going to ask about it if it is still on my easel. I want it out of here. I would love to torch it, but I would most certainly send something unintended up in flames.

I suck. I wish I didn't believe that.

Oh well.

Obviously, the meds are working. I feel somewhat strung out, but I am a lot more me in the net. I ordered hubby's cake yesterday. It is going to be incredible. That was the upside to my day. The downside was that I had trusted my mom enough to tell her what was going on with me -- mistakenly thinking that she had changed. It backfired...again. It's like I told hubby, I am so stupid...I will run my head into a brick wall, determine that it is a bad idea, swear up and down that I will never do it again, BUT if you paint that wall somehow I am convinced that things will be different. It is so sad. I think I am really mourning the lack of a true mother. She has never been one that I could trust unconditionally. Not because she would divulge my secrets, but because she would store them up and use them against me herself. Sad. She apparently leads a very unhappy life. She keeps saying that she has changed, but she hasn't. She is more Type A than I am and completely incapable (frankly, she doesn't want to) of change. I really wish that I had a mom that I could share my pain with...I don't.

I am convinced that no one reads this blog anymore. Actually, that is not such a bad thing.

Today is my third day at home. I went to choir rehearsal last thinking that it would make me feel a bit better. Unfortunately, it didn't. I was planning on going for a quiz today in Human Bio lab - against my doc's instructions - but I really don't fee like it. Ultimately, I think I am going to end up getting a retroactive medical withdrawal from my classes this semester. That is probably best. That way, nothing shows up on my transcript. No W's, no F's...nothing. I thought I was getting better. I don't know, maybe I still am. I don't want to do anything. I don't even want to smile. My arms and legs feel like they weigh a 100 pounds each and the rest of me just hurts. This is prime planning time for my husband's party and I can't bring myself to do it. There is an unfinished painting on my easel and 2 blank canvases downstairs. I could be painting. There is cleaning to be done. I don't want to do any of it. How did this happen? What happened to me? THIS is not me. I just want to stay out of the hospital.. that would irreparably hurt my application.

Tuesday part 2

Things progressed pretty fast after I posted that entry earlier today. I lost it again. I ended up calling a friend who is a nurse and lives near me and she came over. I ended up calling my doc and to make a long story short...hubby was summoned home from the hospital at about noon and I have been ordered by my doc not to go to class for the rest of the week...at least. Unfortunately, I am going to have to be a bad patient for once and defy orders so that I don't miss a quiz in my Human Bio lab. No one is certain that I will be able to return to school for the remainder of the semester, but I don't want to screw it up completely if I do.

As you can tell, things aren't going real well. I am immeasurably depressed. It is embarrassing to admit that. I am pale. I look like $h!^ and I feel worse.

I am broken.

Depression, Britney Spears and other things I wish I didn't know about...

Depression hurts. Gosh, it hurts. The physical pain is excruciating. I screwed up a lab report last night. Somehow, I messed up the procedure and when I went to write it up my actual yield was higher than my theoretical. Anyway, despite additional medication last night, I feel awful this morning. I was drugged all night which was good for my sleep, but the terrible pain won't go away. I don't have class until 2:30 so I am vegging in bed. I have another lab report to write before then however. I made the mistake of turning on the TV and apparently we live in such a pathetic world that Britney Spears losing custody of her 2 children is making the top of the news. WHY?

I didn't work out last night. My work out buddy was supposed to come over at 9, but my life went into crisis mode before then. Tonight is another night. I didn't get to work out at all last week because my schedule was so tight, so I need to make up for it this week. I need to also do some serious studying of Chemistry...actually go to my prof's office hours this week. She has so few of them. Tomorrow will be the day.

Maybe I will try to make myself feel a bit better by dropping the top on the convertible and take a drive. All I want to do is sleep though...so it will be a toss up. I also need to clean. I am such a bad housekeeper. There is no excuse. My husband is so wonderful. I can't complain about his contribution to the upkeep of the house. He vacuums, dusts, cleans toilets, does dishes...there aren't many men that will jump in on those things. See, my life is great...it is the person living it that sucks.

Today is Chem Lab. I really like that class. Unfortunately, my wonderful lab partner that I was so happy about dropped the class! She decided to go into nursing and didn't need the credit after all. I don't blame her, but it is a real bummer for me.

Well, things HAVE to get better. But, for now I have another lab report to do...outta here.

Today is probably the most depressed that I have been since I began this journey. Reluctantly, I dropped Physics last night. I called Kate and asked her what she thought before I did it and in her "The world is not going to come crashing down" tone she assured me that it was nothing that couldn't be explained away. Either way, my application is looking worse and worse. I actually wanted to hurt myself today. I know that sounds extreme and I know it is not what sounds healthy, but damn it that is how I felt. I am completely stressed out and can't seem to get my head on straight.

A friend of mine got an interview at the med school near me and I am thrilled for her. Don't misunderstand me. Do I wish it were me? Of course, but I think the worst part of it is that she always makes me feel like I am a total loser. Not because of her accomplishments..no one should be faulted for those. But, because she is so ready to agree with me when I mention how bad things are. In fact, it even seems as if she is waiting for me to come to my senses. As if she has been thinking it all along and is just waiting for me to burst out with "I AM A F#*$ING IDIOT! I ADMIT IT. I WILL QUIT LIVING THIS LITTLE LIE." And somehow I feel that it would bring her great joy. What a horrible thing to think. How terrible I am to think it! If it were jealousy that were driving my feelings I could understand, but I just know how stupid I really am. I was hoping that it was my secret, but apparently everyone knows.

I don't hate my life. I actually like it. It's the person living it that I hate.