Running, Again? Running, Away?

I don't think it was a whim, but I don't know why I stopped out of the blue to buy new running shoes. I hardy run these days. But I did, and I shelled out the bucks for the new shoes (the current version of the shoes I've been running in since August 2004), as well as some fancy socks and a shirt. And then I came home, chatted with my flatmate, had a glass of wine, and pondered going to bed. Realizing that I should put those new shoes to use (if anything to justify the ridiculous price of 75 US$, I mean that'd do a long way for some friends back in SA), I abruptly stood up from the table, finished a generous gulp of wine, and went and changed to go running.

I put on my ipod to my running mix, the same mix of 164 songs that I've had for years, and set off. I turned the corner and headed down Route 5. I don't know what it was that took me back in an instant to that first night I ran in Dublin. Maybe it was running along a busy road (there, it had been South Circular Road), maybe it was the cool, misty night air. Maybe it was knowing that my legs were going to be sore in the morning, as I was biting off more than I should by hitting the pavement, but I felt like I'd gone back in time. And for a few blocks, maybe a mile (I wish I could say a few miles), I kept having flashbacks to my running progress in Dublin. After that first run, I couldn't run for a week. And then I ran around a park for a while, a meager few blocks, and then I was running more. Running along the River Liffey. Running through Dublin-no longer embarrassed to be out running. As I changed my running route, I discovered new areas to run in Dublin. New Parks I had never explored. New pubs which I made a mental note to check out, though usually forgot about once I got home. When a certain song plays when running, I can recall exactly where I was in Dublin during certain runs...

I turned the block, and ran past an Indian restaurant. And that triggered a flashback to a night when I went running during my intern year. A cold night. I'd run from my flat, down to the hospital, and around a neighborhood. I'd run past Gabby's house- and saw she wasn't home, and I wasn't sure why she and I had not talked in a few days-both busy I'd suspected. The Indian restaurant I was passing is where she took me for my birthday, and the conversation that night is permanently etched in my memory. We were going to make the world a better place. She wouldn't let me sell out, and as I ran, I thought what advice she'd be giving me now. "Fuck those job offers, are you kidding me, there are people out there who really need our help." She didn't hold back. And I miss that. She gave me coffee and a tie for my birthday. I don't wear that tie nearly enough. Maybe I'll wear it tomorrow.

I was lost in thought. Am I running to somewhere? Or am I running from something? For months I've agonized where my paths is going. I've solicited (both bluntly and circuitously) the insight from friends, sometimes hoping that one or two of them would pin me down and spell it out for me. Because I cannot see the path anymore. When my world crashed in July and August, all I could think of was Denver. On more than one occasion in the past 4 months, I contemplated flying out to Denver the following morning, fuck residency. Having the support from my family when I did see them in July, and the joy of hanging out with nieces and nephews, combined with the awesomeness of Denver made it clear, that Denver is where I thought I needed to go, and the ball was set in motion. On a Saturday in September, after Randall's memorial, I was sitting outside drinking margaritas and chowing down Nachos, surrounded by a great group of people; it was again evident that Denver is where I was headed.

I was lost in thought, until I saw a dodgy person on the sidewalk with a German shepherd. I'm in a residential neighborhood, in a safe part of town. This is not Johannesburg. I am safe here. He nods as I run past. More than once, in Jo'burg, I had crossed the street, or taken a turn and changed my path when I was running and saw a group of people on the street at night. It had taken me months to work up the courage to run there. I miss running in the nature reserve; I miss seeing zebras and wildebeests on runs. I miss Jo'burg, period. And then I heard Gabby again, and I wonder if I am running from the thing I really want to do, to oblige the banks who loaned me the vast sums of money so I could get to this point.

As I reach the driveway, the only Jewel song in this mix, Who Will Save Your Soul starts playing. I smile as I stretch. Maybe the answer is neither. I'm not running to nor from somewhere/something.

I'm just running...


BPB

90 hours

I worked 90 hours last week.

 

Tonight I was re-reading some old posts, and I looked through old pics posted on here (and on the link to old photos). I miss where I was last year. I miss my Jo'burg pals. I miss working at Bara...

 

I'm meandering along the status quo route right now. Just keep plugging along... I have some interviews lined up, a few in Denver a few elsewhere. Balancing a calling back to the Rockies.. but also a fear of settling down, waking up in 5 year, 10 years, wondering why my passport is blank, and how it is I ended up settling down. That's my fear.

 

I'm back to work in a few hours, I suspect sleep, not pondering life, would be good for me at this point. So, I shall abruptly cease this post, and cave to fatigue and the comforts of my flannel sheets.

 

 

BPB

False Start

I hope this isn't another false start.

 

I feel compelled, all of a sudden to get back on track. No in a manic get a million things done at once, but slowly getting caught up on things like email, going through a mounting mail stack (it's all junk) etc. But also trying to get back on track academically... trying to settle down, get back in the groove of reading about my patient's conditions, preparing for upcoming exams, and just trying to be a better doctor.

 

I don't have much to show for the past 2 and a half months. A few extra pounds thanks to ice-cream and wine, a few more grey hairs, and a reminder that life is precious.

 

I did manage to send off my CV to a few random sources. Just kind of testing the waters really. I have one more place to send it, and then my first tier will be complete. There is no longer a definite post-residency game plan. There were plans A, B, C, D (and maybe an E-G). Kind of an if this happens, then go with this plan. If A doesn't pan out, then B.. but most days, A-D all seem great. Last week B was my favorite, and then for a bizarre reason plan C jumped to the front of the queue on Friday afternoon. The anxiety about being clueless in July when everything was happening no longer freaks me out. None of the above plans have to be permanent.

 

On another note, I eliminated a plan. The honeymoon phase of being back here is over. I have some great friends here. I absolutely love the hospital I am in. But this area is not for me. I'm not straight. I'm not in a relationship. I'm not one to sit idly by and be content at home. This area doesn't offer me the things I need outside of work. And so, staying here--which was the safe, comfortable option, is off the table. It is no longer an option. And I anticipate leaving here at the end of June. 9 months for now.

 

What's that song lyric, "I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been..."

 

I hope this isn't another false start.

 

 

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False Start

I hope this isn't another false start.

 

I feel compelled, all of a sudden to get back on track. No in a manic get a million things done at once, but slowly getting caught up on things like email, going through a mounting mail stack (it's all junk) etc. But also trying to get back on track academically... trying to settle down, get back in the groove of reading about my patient's conditions, preparing for upcoming exams, and just trying to be a better doctor.

 

I don't have much to show for the past 2 and a half months. A few extra pounds thanks to ice-cream and wine, a few more grey hairs, and a reminder that life is precious.

 

I did manage to send off my CV to a few random sources. Just kind of testing the waters really. I have one more place to send it, and then my first tier will be complete. There is no longer a definite post-residency game plan. There were plans A, B, C, D (and maybe an E-G). Kind of an if this happens, then go with this plan. If A doesn't pan out, then B.. but most days, A-D all seem great. Last week B was my favorite, and then for a bizarre reason plan C jumped to the front of the queue on Friday afternoon. The anxiety about being clueless in July when everything was happening no longer freaks me out. None of the above plans have to be permanent.

 

On another note, I eliminated a plan. The honeymoon phase of being back here is over. I have some great friends here. I absolutely love the hospital I am in. But this area is not for me. I'm not straight. I'm not in a relationship. I'm not one to sit idly by and be content at home. This area doesn't offer me the things I need outside of work. And so, staying here--which was the safe, comfortable option, is off the table. It is no longer an option. And I anticipate leaving here at the end of June. 9 months for now.

 

What's that song lyric, "I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been..."

 

I hope this isn't another false start.

 

 

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Blogging in my sleep

I had a dream this morning, that I was writing a blog entry. It was a good post.

I'm getting caught up on "things" very slowly.

 

Getting some emails out (BK, OA, HG, JD etc etc etc-they are coming)

paying bills

doing taxes

laundry

unpacking

planning my life

 

There really will be more blog posts to come...

 

More soon.

 

 

BPB

A Bump in Karma. Rebounding.

Friday's call was not pleasant. 14 admission, 11 of those were between 1030 am and 7pm. I had to call in a back-up resident to help bail me out. Not that I should have had to do that.. I should have had an intern assigned to me, and then wouldn't have had to call for help. Also, if there were any sense of team work amongst the senior residents this month, it would have gone a bit more smoothly. But alas...

 

At midnight I finally felt caught up. All of the admission notes were done. I'd rechecked a few of the sick kids who had been admitted hours earlier. And I started the tedious process of starting the discharge notes for the admission that had come to by team. This use to be the expectation, that you'd stay up on call to get these things done, which would help facilitate the discharge, as quite a few of the kids who were admitted would be going home on Saturday, a few more I suspect will go home today. I found out, however, that this isn't really what happens anymore. The ethos of residents seems to have taken a bit of a dive...

 

We finished signing out to the team who would be on call on Saturday, and then I headed to the post-office. I had a notice for a package, and was glad to know that the computer battery I was expecting-shipped from Colorado by my computer guru (aka Dad), had arrived. The old battery would only last for about 30 minutes before dying. And so I took my slip to the counter and waited for the package.

 

Maybe it was the fact that I'd been up for 27 consecutive hours, had survived a painful call, felt like I'd provided good care to my patients and their families, and the realization that I have only one more f*cking week of this lame schedule, but as the post-man walked to the counter with my packages, and I realized that my "stolen" packages that I had mail from South Africa almost 5 months ago were miraculously before me, I felt an almost giddy euphoria. Maybe it was fatigue.

 

The past 8 weeks have been rough. Really rough. I had to move away from a place which I loved, leaving behind one of the greatest group of friends I've ever had. Randall died, and with his death ended mystery of knowing what the final outcome between us would be. And with his death ended the plans that I had made for the next year post-residency, that being to return to somewhere in Sub-Saharan Africa for a year of work. And on top of that, my residency program did an unprecedented move (to fill a hole in their schedule), and took away the intern on my team-so that I get the joy of doing the work of two people. There's also been a karma deficit which has affected some of my close friends. It's been a shitty 8 weeks, where the literal goal has been to get by on a day-by-day basis, and to not think about what the next day would hold.

 

I felt victorious post-call. I'd made it through a long night. My kids were doing well. The nurses let me know how glad they were that I'd been on call. Well, aside from the fact that I have a huge black cloud. And when I saw those packages, for some reason, the suffering of the past 8 weeks just seemed to melt away. As if the universe was aware that there'd been a huge Karma Deficit, and that this was a way to prove that things were going to be ok. And I raced home to open the packages. Months ago, when filing out police claims for theft, I couldn't remember the specifics of what was in those packages...

 

Taking out my Tibetan Prayer Wheel, and spinning the prayer wheel brought be right back to a chilly evening in Pokhara, when my friend Dilip and I were talking to the Tibetan Refugee women from whom I would eventually buy the prayer wheel. I open my Ethiopian Lonely Planet and looked at the pages on which I'd made notes about cool streets, and where I'd made note of hidden cafes.  I laughed that I'd mailed back a book which I doubt I'll ever read again. I'd come to accept that I'd never see these things again...

 

I slept a few hours post-call, and then went to join some friends in NoHo for lunch. And then I headed to Boston to have dinner with a couple (H&R), one of whom is on my "panel of advisors" about my post-residency plans. I've had to debate where I'm headed, and what I plan to do. And in the past 2 weeks I'd spoke to a few of my advisors about things, and the possible evolution in my plans, and the algorithms which I've diagramed out. There is not a Plan A, with a back up of Plan B, etc. But rather there are Plans A, B, C, and D. All of which are fine, but none of which excite me to the level that they should. The plan that excited me the most, is no longer in the cards. Anyway, H&R and I had a great evening, gourmet burgers, good margaritas, and plenty of discussion about options.

 

And as I drove home on the Mass Pike, with a U2 CD blaring, things seemed to have finally started to pick up, as if I'm rebounding from all that has happened in the past 8 weeks.

 

Finally.

 

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Flashback

Tomorrow is my first overnight peds call of the year. It's quite remarkable to think back 4 years ago to my first peds call as an intern. I never thought I'd hit the comfort level that I have finally reached...

I'm actually looking forward to the call...

Thanks Rob...

Aquarius Horoscope for week of August 13, 2009
(from freewillastrology.com)

In the days ahead, you may not realize what you're looking for until you find it. I advise you, therefore, to put into action the following five-point plan. 1) Suppress any know-it-all tendencies you might have. 2) Revive your childhood talent for being voraciously curious about everything. 3) Ask more questions than you've ever asked before. 4) Figure out how to be receptive without being passive, and how you can be humble without muffling your self-confidence. 5) Consider the possibility that you have a lot to learn about what's best for you.

My Horoscope from the infamous Rob Brezsny.

1-yeah sure, that sounds fine in principle
2-I don't have the energy for curiosity
3-There's already an overflowing list
4-think I have this one down
5-No shit, really?

I laid under the stars at Tanglewood tonight (www.tanglewood.org) thinking that I hadn't written in a while, that I should make a note of what's been going on since I got back to the US.

But it's just not stuff I really care to write about right now, so in a burst of insomnia, went back to my old friend Rob for some amusing answers to why the universe has been all outta whack... Think I'll check back week for a better response.

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