Enjoyed reading some of your blog posts both older and the newer army related ones today. Lots of smiles and chuckles, Thanks.
Laughter? In response to this blog? That’s TERRIBLE. This was supposed to be serious stuff. Like taxes. This is information. Data. Recommend re-read.
I’m curious to know why you signed up?
I signed up for the Army for one major reason and one minor reason.
The major reason was the craven want of money. I wish it was something more patriotic, but the primary motivation was an offer of a loan repayment grant and monthly stipend during my years in residency. The Army required nothing in return during my training years. Faced with sneaking my 6-member family into a 2-bd apartment that allows only 4 people, I took the money. Instead of the apartment, I was able to put my family in a cute 3-bd home on a quiet corner two blocks away from my training hospital.
The second reason was patriotic. Despite my vehement opposition to the war in Iraq, and moderate opposition to the war in Afghanastan, I was fully aware that primary care was severely lacking in the U.S. Army at a time when young Americans were throwing themselves into war. Irrespective of how I felt about those conflicts, I remain an American. News of my countrymen dying or suffering partially due to lack of good medical care was something I couldn’t tolerate.
I have always been taken with depictions of how our nation pulled together and sacrificed during the second world war. Back then, those war efforts were truly a national affair. Virtually everyone gave to the effort in some fashion. And, I think a huge reason for the wealth and power we have enjoyed for the past 60 years are a direct result of those sacrifices made by our Greatest Generation.
“Earn this,” CPT John Miller, dying from a mortal wound during the Battle of Ramelle, implored Private Ryan in the Spielberg movie. The message, as I took it, was our generation (and the Boomers before us) must understand that great sacrifices were made to allow us to live on the top of the world as we have as Americans. It remains our mandate to earn that sacrifice; it was made before we even deserved it.
So I signed.
I saw posts about officer training and an earlier one about trying to figure out the military scheme as a civilian. What got you in?
I think you’re referring to how I got into the Army as a civilian. If so, the answer is website: http://www.usajobs.com. Everything runs through this site. I applied to this site in the winter of my senior year of residency, and forgot about it. Literally. When I was called by the clinic here in Germany for an interview in MARCH the following year, I had no idea why.
If you want to get a job overseas, however, this is one of THE best routes. You can’t work for the State Dept as a doctor until you’ve been in practice out of residency for 5 years. You can’t get a job with any of the aid organizations unless you know someone AND don’t need money. So, this is a good option because the pay is steady, only slightly beneath the national average, and comes with perks that don’t usually accompany private-sector jobs.
There’s lots of archane goofiness that come with Army medicine. There’s lots of unusual quirks that are a result of non-medical “commanders” decreeing all kinds of demands from on-high.
But, in reality, every managed care organization functions like this these days. I wouldn’t put Army medicine behind or beneath any of the major HMO’s (in principle, I haven’t worked with any of them). I think Army Med is about on-par with most of American medicine…approximately 18th best in the world.
Also wondering why Olympia was your first choice? You’ve said elsewhere that Ventura is probably the best FM program in the US. I’ve heard of a number of graduates going to Tacoma Family Medicine and lots of interest in Alaska, too. Can you comment on them?
I am very proud of my FP training program, and maintain the belief that it is one of the best programs on Earth, and THE best on all outlying planets. I firmly believe that Providence is one greatest healthcare organizations anywhere.
But in all honesty, I have to say that Olympia is not the best. Just MY best.
Ventura is better. Better than anywhere else I know of (and I practically got a PhD in FP residency research during med school). The hands-on experience they allow there, assuming times haven’t changed, is second to none. The faculty are top-notch; some are dual-certified, etc. Facilities suck, too, which is great. I can think of no better means of preparing an FP to deal with a crappy, under-funded, under-supplied environment where the only thing you have to give to patients is your training.
I was told I had a shot there. What they told me likely sounded MUCH like what they tell EVERY short-white coat wearing minion worshipping at the altar of VCMC during their exit interview. But I still like believing I coulda made it in there. I never ranked them, however, because my large family would have needed to live in a box on the beach to afford the cost of living in Ventura. And, truth be told, since I could have reasonably placed that box at the point at Fairgrounds (read: KILLER surf spot), residency would have been AWESOME for me. Just not for my kids waking up with sand fleas in their eyes and facing yet another breakfast of seaweed and/or Wonderbread bologna plus peanut butter sandwiches at the local Rescue Mission.
One nuance Ventura is the dual FP/MPH program at Dartmouth which is as good as it gets if policy and health system design is your calling. Love it or hate it, the Obama Health Care plan wisely referred to the health resources utility research out of Dartmouth. Although barely ranked, I am of the opinion that Dartmouth is actually one of the best – if not THE best – MPH program in the country because the research and work they do is prescient, unassailable, repeatable, tested and longstanding.
Tacoma is a great program, but they have nothing on Olympia. Their city smells weird, their facilities aren’t any better than ours, and we do rotations at the Peds ER up there anyway. So I recommend ranking them 1/2 with the top choice going to the town you like best.
Alaska is probably a lot like Ventura. Sans wicked right point-break and unfortunate box.
Our family just returned from Disneyland Paris. We had a great time. As a doctor, however, I just couldn’t ignore the many health problems clearly evident in the thousands of images I saw of the world’s most famous mouse.
I can say with confidence that this will be the first and only time that I publish the health record of a patient without his/her consent. But then again, I’m not even sure this little rodent was my patient at all. Furthermore, I can’t vouch for my physical exam of our storied mouse – given his rather cavalier take on the idea of ‘physical’ – but I do believe we should all be alarmed at the probable health status of our big-eared friend.
Of greatest concern is what can only be described as HUGE feet. Unfortunately, this does not suggest enviable male endowment, as it is sometimes rumored in those with enormous paws. Rather, these feet are swollen. A close look at most pictures of this patient suggest that he in fact can’t wear shoes at all, but instead some sort of stretchy slipper.
I Kept Seeing This Instead Of Enjoying Space Mountain
The best explanation for feet this swollen is congestive heart failure. This is a situation where the heart has pumped against a dysfunctional circulatory vessel pressure for so long that the muscle fibers have becomes stretched out and weak. Eventually, the heart becomes incapable of pushing blood around the body effectively, causing pooling of fluids in the extremities, especially the feet. Judging by the thousands of pictures of him, most drawings were likely done after this patient had been on his feet all day. Let’s face it, an 80 year old mouse can only walk around smiling waving at kids for so long before problems arise.
CHF is progressive (meaning it just gets worse over time). Elizabeth Taylor just died from this, for example. Mick could use any of a number of meds to lower his blood pressure, and (arguable, these days) something to strengthen the contractions of whatever functioning heart muscle fibers he still has. He should also go with low-salt cheese, lean scraps and whatever else a billionaire mouse might eat.
The little guy also has disturbingly white hands. Leaving aside the perplexing question of how a rodent has human hands (and feet), what we’re probably seeing here is Reynaud’s phenomenon.
In itself, this is a circulatory system peculiarity that is not medically-concerning. However, it can be very painful. Mickey appears to be in the early stages of the process. Likely shortly after his portrait sittings, his hands turned bright blue, then eventually into a deep red. Throughout the process, he would be in quite a bit of pain.
Of course, I can’t be sure if he isn’t wearing gloves (assuming that garish white color IS his skin, frequent glove use makes sense). Gloved or not, we still have the problem of clearly HUGE hands, suggesting edema like that described above in his feet. Assuming, however, that we do in fact have Reynaud’s here, the concern is of an autoimmune disease in the category of lupus. “Lupus” is a reference to the facial rash often seen in the disease and how it mimics the fur-pattern of the red wolf. Given that wolves engorge themselves on mice whenever possible, this diagnosis is insult to injury for our poor little entertainer.
Furthermore, lupus typically causes joint and connective tissue pain. It can lead to heart problems, anemia, serious lung problems including emboli and hemorrhages, kidney damage and neurological problems. There is no known cure, although the disease can be managed usually to good effect with oral steroids (not of the Lance Armstrong type…we’ll get to that), but the Mickster here clearly needs to get them started.
Next, the rotund belly. This is the physical sign most associated with diabetes and other metabolic diseases (or could be another sign of his CHF). Termed by doctors as “central obesity,” this malady affects a HUGE proportion of American men, especially. To our knowledge, little else puts a person more at risk for big metabolic problems. Mickey lives at Disneyland, where he can expect to eat things like spun sugar, rock candy-encased apples (I presume of the sort that felled Ms. S. White) and shovel-fulls of sweetened popcorn. So, as a nearly 90 year-old mouse, he can be forgiven the “Gaston Gut,” as it were. Still, a strict diet is highly recommended.
Another thing: look carefully, and you’ll realize that Mickey’s head is larger than his entire thorax (body sans legs). Babies exhibit this phenomenon – watch a toddler reach overhead…only the hands extend beyond the giant head itself – but adults don’t. Mickey may have been born with something called hydrocephaly that was inexplicably untreated for 80 years. Maybe he was too busy as a child prodigy mouse, or maybe everyone thought it was “cute.” He may also be suffering from Cushings, an overabundance of the steroid cortisol. He has some other physical signs to support that diagnosis too.
But he also could be doping. By doping, I specifically mean HGH, or human growth hormone. Lots of athletes do (or did) it, like Barry Bonds (yep, I passed judgement…don’t care about some goofy trial) and probably Lance Armstrong. Here a note to Armstrong supporters: almost EVERY top-5 pro cyclist, and every one of Lance’s main competitors over his winning years, has been busted for doping of some sort. Except him. Savvy, not legitimacy, I say.
Anyway, HGH makes you huge, but it can disporportionately affect the bones, especially in the head. Of note, HGH isn’t bad in itself, per se. It stimulates muscle growth in a way that can be very helpful to geriatric patients, for example. And, as with many Hollywood elites, The Mickster shows his age about as much as Dick Clark who looks 40 but was actually personal friends with Moses. So, I think Mickey can be forgiven for taking a shot or two from the possible fountain of youth. But, unfortunately, that HUGE noggin gives it away…to me at least.
So, let me say that DisneyLand was a great adventure for our 4 kids. I, however, kept getting dragged into unnecessary endeavors like rides or shows even as I frantically searched high and low my latest, and sickest, patient. Sadly, I never had a chance to warn him of his predicament. So, the onus is now on you, dear SW101 nation. Find him. Tell him. He’s sick. He needs help.
Next Week: Goofy comes out of the closet and reveals that he has Marfan’s Disease…and everyone pretends to be surprised.
“Dr. SW101,” Says the curly-haired assistant, “will you sign this memo.”
I don’t look up. As usual, I don’t read the memo, reaching for the closest pen and signing as fast as possible. I look up at him, smiling cheerfully. “What’d I just authorize?”
“Oh, you just told General Forth that the unit has medical need for 6 additional XBoxes.”
I pause, wondering why I’m so morally opposed to all paperwork that I can’t bring myself to even look at paperwork unless I absolutely have to.
“Xbox,” I say, brows furrowing. “Do you get ’em at the pharmacy?”
“No!” He says, cloyingly earnest. “You’re SO funny, Dr. SW101. You should write a blog!”
“I do.” I say, feeling sardonic, looking dour. I reach for Volume I of Harrison’s Internal Medicine. I lick a thumb and start flipping through the thousand-page tome. “Hmmmm, Xbox. Nope. Nothing here.”
Assistant waits dutifully, no doubt inwardly rolling his eyes while clutching his well-typed letterheaded memo, with my signature still drying at the bottom.
“OH! Right. I’m only in Volume I. Stupid me. I should be in Volume II, where the X’s are.” I pause. “Just a minute,” I say, reaching for the second book. A few minutes of earnest searching, “Nooh. Darn. I just don’t see anything talking about how XBox is an accepted therapy for anything. Not even my favorite disease of all time – mitochondrial infectitis.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He says, now looking worried. “We can get the Red Cross to buy XBoxes for the unit if you say they’re medically warranted.”
“So, my patients – most of whom have seizure disorders, PTSD and post-combat anxiety – can sit around all day blowing each other up and staring at flickering lights? Maybe I should prescribe a Rave too, so we can add drugs to the strobe lights. Or would they be used for the Xbox version of Myst or something?”
Assistant gets all serious, fearing the loss of his beloved memo. He starts reading some of the Pulitzer Prize material, “Gaming has become a central element to the Soldier’s past time. When they return from war zones, the lifelike quality of the Xbox combat games approximate the environment they just left. For many, this represents a “return” to their former lives, thus producing a sense of calm and reassurance.”
“I said that?!” I exclaim, eyes wide. “What kind of crap-pile hash was I smokin’ when I wrote that letter?”
“Oh, huh. Um. Well, if you didn’t notice…I wrote it.” Says the assistant, looking dejected.
Short of tearing the letter out of his hands, and no doubt derailing an already fast-moving train with lots of passengers, I know I’m on the hook.
“Ok. You win. Xboxes all around! On me.”
Relief, profusion, gagging urgency and more of that I-want-to-help-soldiers-but-won’t-listen-to-reason earnestness. “Oh, THANK you! Man, you have no idea what this will mean to the guys.”
“Can we just agree that you got me to sign yet another of those goofy Army things where you’re not really asking for medical opinion but if I sign the memo about 25 people will have busy stuff to do and somebody somewhere will get something to further the impression that they’re entitled to things that the average American pays for?”
“Can we further agree that Xbox is not an accepted medical therapy for anything?
“Yep.” Confidence growing…clearly the doctor is too weak to actually stop any administrative freight trains now.
“Fine. You have your memo.”
He turns to leave. Then turns back, “Oh, and about that memo for the massage chairs…”
But I don’t hear him. I’ve crawled under my desk, looking for the Lost Thumbtack. I don’t “find” the thing until I hear my door open and close. Carefully I look up….he’s standing there, hand on the doorknob. He’s smiling, one of those serious smiles that makes perfectly clear that nobody’s fooling anybody. “Find your thumbtack?”
I sigh. The sound is tired in my ears. “Yes. But I just tossed another one down there to go look for later.” He doesn’t say anything. “Yeah, the massage chairs. Bring me the memo. Until then, take this script-” I scribble onto a piece of paper.
He crossed the room and takes the script from my hand, smiling.
SW101: I’m sitting here today with Herpes Simplex Virus, type 2. It has agreed to answer a few questions for SW101 Nation. Thanks for joining us today, um, is it…Mr. Simplex?
HSV: “Mr.” Simplex. Sure. I’ll go with that. (rolls eyes, muttering “humans”).
SW101: Tell me, what do you regard as some of your greatest accomplishments, to date?
Mr. Simplex: We’re awesome, basically. We like to consider ourselves ubiquitous, yet cosmopolitan. We are particularly fond of the human idea of “make love, not war.” mmMM. Huge for us, that one.
Mr. Simplex: You got an ulcer on your nether-parts after a groovy night wearing nothing but beer goggles? Probably us. Any version of sexually active with any version of human being (we don’t like animals)? Excellantae! 30% chance we’ll be right there with you. Me and my posse are hanging out with 30-45 MILLION Americans. And that just in the, ah, “middle” parts of the human landscape. We got some cousins who live in the windy North quite happily. We cross paths from time to time.
SW101: Wow. Qute a party.
Simplex: Yep. And we’re inviting picking up around 300,000 new groupies every year.
SW101: How’s that?
Simp: We’re launching out all over the atmosphere much more often than people realize. Those blistery sores we cause? Well call ’em “pleasure domes,” referring to what they do for us as well as how our gracious hosts acquired them in the first place. Anyway, we don’t just blast out from the popping penile blisters. Usually, we send out early drones before the sore even forms. We’re terribly proud of this tactic.
SW101: Soo, when does the ‘party’ end?
Simplex: That’s the best part. Pretty much never.
SW101: Like, never?
Simplex: Oh sure, we take a break sometimes. Lots of times, actually. We hide most of the time. But once we’re in a body, we don’t really ever leave.
SW101: What do you hide from?
Simp: There’s two things we don’t like in this world, and the Great White Army is the main one.
SW101: Um, you refer to Tsar Ivan III‘s anti-Bolshevik Imperial Russian Army in the 1920’s?
Simp: What?! What kind of freak-show wonk are you? No! The human immune system. All the cells in that army are white. Or clear. Or something. Scary, those guys. They can blow us up, eat us, chew us up, spit out pieces of us so their comrades can eat the rest of us…it’s disgusting, really. It’s like a bad horror movie. Ugh! Look at that picture of the immune cell! Don’t you have any shame? I didn’t walk in here holding up pictures of car accidents, or guys who accidentally fell into meat grinders, did I? Why don’t we just sit around and ponder Charles Manson, and all his fabulous exploits? Oh, actually, that guy was pretty good for us, as I recall.
Anyway, where was I? (fans self, leans back weakly). Oh yes, when it’s up and running full-bore, the human immune system it a giant headache for us. We try to lay low. No sense in getting our heads knocked off. The good news is that it gets stretched pretty thin trying to cover all the problems that come up in those unnecessarily complex organisms of yours. It’s pretty easy to come out and play once the person is stressed, sick, too hot or cold or with some disease that naturally keeps the White Army back in the barracks, so to speak.
SW101: So, you hide in the nerves, right?
Mr. Simplex: (looks left and right conspiratorially) Yep. Broadly speaking. This is the secret to our survival, by the way. Our lair. Your nerves.
SW101: And, specifically?
Simplex: Well, you guys have no hope of actually finding us, so I’ll just go ahead and tell you. My guys hang out in the roots of the nerves that extend from the sacrum. S2-5, usually. In the ganglion. It’s nice there. Our version of what you’d call waterfront property, I’d imagine. Our cousins hang out in similar nerves in the face.
SW101: You mentioned two things you don’t like, what’s the other?
SW101: Surely you’re referring to the Israeli-Palestinian former leaders…both dead now?
Simplex: Dead? Really? I don’t think we had anything to do with that. We try not to kill our hosts…bad for real estate, as you can imagine. But yeah, them. They hated each other, but at the same time, they created lots of business for each other too. Get it? People don’t like using condoms, for some reason. But those that do are WAY lax about concerning themselves with us. Since we don’t just hang out in areas covered by those suffocating, smothering latex udders, we get around pretty well when condoms are in the mix. People jump into their illicit affairs, thinking they’re safe…and forget to ask anything about us.
So, it’s a love-hate thing. Overall, condoms are probably pretty good for business.
SW101: So, you hate condoms. What do you love?
Simples: Promiscuity. We’re BFF’s. Make love, not war, dude. Preferably, don’t even look down at what you’re doing.
It’s not personal, by the way. We’re just doing what we are meant to do…which is reproduce. Everyone who is living with us now should understand that. It’s one big happy family of organisms doing what they were meant to do…mate, and reproduce. It’s natural. When you’re mating…so are we. All I can say is, sorry for the inconvenience.
Yes, throwing a few words out there again. Can’t help m’self. Been a bit.
Living in Europe insulates the average human from goofy, over-the-top language meant to get people to do and think in ways that OTHER people want them to. So, I haven’t been very caught up in, or all that impressed by, all the politics and steamy language coming out of my home country these past months.
Now the election is finally over, we find that Republicans have “swept” themselves into a level of “power” that assures exactly zero will happen unless they work with all the Democrats and Independents that never lost their jobs. Some people think all the upcoming wrangling is a bad thing; I think it’s great. A super-active government rarely doesn’t do anything well. There IS a type of government that “gets things done” almost immediately, with little debate. It’s called a dictatorship. If you’re smitten with that idea, move to North Korea and try THAT speedy idea on and see how you like it.
Anyway, I received a link to a very persuasive and scary speech given by an orthopedic surgeon named Dr. David Janda, wherein he outlined the horrors and sneaky tricks piled into the Obama health care bill. His speech was in support of Rob Steele, a cardiologist-turned-politician likely because he was mad as hell at the terrible direction of the country (*yawn*, aren’t we all?). Presumably, said cardiologist is now back in the clinic, since he thoroughly
lost the election of the 15th Congressional District of Michigan to John Dingell something like 83k votes to 118k votes. Apparently, the Dingells have run that district for generations. If you’re looking for nutty, inflammatory, manipulative language, look no further than at a political battle between a challenger losing in the polls as s/he tries to unseat a longstanding incumbent.
The gist of Dr. Janda’s speech is how Obama intends to RATION health care. This actually sparked my interest. I don’t really care about health care system politics; I’d rather just see patients, frankly. But I have to just say to my fledgling SW101 crowd, I SUPPORT RATIONING. Of every public resource. Food. Gas. Sex (um, although I’d readily opt out of the “public” option).
So many people take the idea of rationing to be unequivocally bad…as if it’s totally wrong and even beyond debate. That’s the tack of Dr. Janda. It’s something we all KNOW is wrong. Like sticking needles in the eyes of baby squirrels or stomping on halloween pumpkins.
Incidentally, Janda is a specialist, supporting another specialist. Primary care docs like me aren’t especially pleased with how specialists have garnered power and money for themselves in the AMS (Am. Med. System). In particular, I’m speaking of orthopedic surgeons and cardiologists. Specialists make fabulous money by ordering tests and procedures, none of which have ever been regulated or rationed in any way. Echo’s and caths pay for the boat, private school and vacations to S. Pacific islands nobody can name. Don’t tell me the only force driving clinical decisions is scientific evidence and standards of clinical care…money is money. But even so, I’m for rationing.
Let me say that I’m not happy about Obamacare. It was said well @ a recent conference, “who’s going to do a better job coming up with a fair, affordable national health care plan, 189 laywers in a room for half a year, or 10 family doctors in a room for a week? Obama went with the lawyers, he should have gone with the docs.”
That said, I FULLY AND COMPLETELY agree with rationing because it’s a necessity. In training, I followed a patient in the ICU who was costing close to 1 million dollars a day of PUBLIC MONEY for the last 4 months of her life. Somebody, somewhere needed to compassionately deny further intensive care to this woman, instead providing dignified hospice end-of-life management. Her case justified ONLY taxpayer-funded hospice care but nobody had the cajones to tell her that.
Every precious resource, if pooled for the common good, needs to be rationed. It’s where we get the term ‘rational’ and there’s a reason for it. Closer to home, my sister apparently has a University doctor telling her that she needs a thousand dollar procedure (colonoscopy). The procedure is not done by this doc’s specialty, and my sister hasn’t even had a rudimentary work-up to justify the cost of the scope. She has not had a professional analyze of the risks vs. the benefits of doing it, either. Yet she’s already being told that she needs this procedure.
Remember…EVERY test and procedure has significant risk associated with it. Wouldn’t it be nice to know that the doc my sis sees for a scope is a specialist? And, since that specialist pays for the Benz and sailboat from scope income, wouldn’t it be nice to know that he moved in a stepwise fashion through the GI workup process, a process that is peer-reviewed and widely accepted as essential before a scope is ordered? This is the ‘rationing’ process that Obamacare advocates. It puts serious limits on specialists in the provision of their care when it comes to big-ticket stuff like scopes, imaging and surgery.
But remember, we’re talking about rules in effect ONLY if you intend to get your neighbor to pay for your health care. YOU are welcome to pay for your own scope any time you wish. YOU can fund your own health insurance – one that doesn’t make docs do ANYTHING before they dig into your body – if you want. I watched it work this way in Israel, and it was a pretty good deal.
However, the fact is most Americans believe they are SO important that they have the right to be treated like kings…paid for by peasants. But ethically, Americans have no right to whatever care they want whenever they want it, if they also expect someone else to pay for it.
The AMS does too many procedures and tests. The result of both is astronomical costs and HARM TO PATIENTS (through false-positive test results and procedure errors). So, not only is care rationing ethical and less costly, it is absolutely safer for patients. Healthcare is NOT safe. There is a risk-benefit ratio that must be considered any time a patient comes in contact with the health care system. Waiting for non-urgent care (knee replacements) and rationing of tests and procedures is ethical, cheaper and flat-out safer.
Incidentally, I argued this point in a debate in med school…waay before Obamacare. I have seen nothing since that time to sway my opinion. In fact, training and practice have only solidified that opinion with real-world facts.
Obama didn’t make our health care system right, but he did make it better. The Tea Party idea of repealing the new law is lunacy. If they REALLY want a free-market system, they need to dispense with EMTALA laws which dictate that ER docs (and now other specialties too) are required to see any and every patient. THIS IS UNIVERSAL HEALTH CARE!! It’s just the most inefficient, ineffective and expensive system in the world. We do have a social healthcare system. We just need to make it rational…starting with sensible rationing of limited resources.
Q – I just discovered your blog and have had fun reading it, however, it seems that you have stopped blogging?
A – It’s true. I burned out a little. Well, that’s a simplification. Moving here (to Germany), emerging from survival mode from medical training and settling into a normal life opened up all kinds of new emotions in me that I didn’t anticipate. The most important of these was a distinct realization that I wanted to deepen and widen my relationship with my wife.
So instead of pounding out these blog posts, I’ve been cooking dinner once a week (“Daddy Dinners”) and spending the majority of my nights watching some show or other with my wife by my side as I run my fingers slowly through her hair.
I’m gradually putting together a new blog – “Lover, Daddy, Doctor” – that picks up where SW101 leaves off. But it reflects my new focus in life. I’d anticipate some humor, occasionally more intensity, less medicine. I’d even expect the occasional Bible verse to accompany an irrepressible proclivity to pepper my writing with a well-placed swear word (Hey, I’ve come a long way…plus I’ve long bet that God nods to honesty before Christian decorum).
To survive in medical training, you HAVE to make survival and success your number one priority. I would have sworn this wasn’t true for me, but it was. Failure anywhere along the training path is a conscription to a lifetime of insurmountable debt, even poverty. Now that I’ve survived, my genuine priorities have emerged. I love to write, so it’s natural that I would blog about this new direction in my life. But I’m not sure. This is personal. More personal than just the experiences of being a doctor trainee. Maybe the story of one guy’s quest to be a better man is better left to be pondered quietly in the heart.
So, I’m mulling my next “move”. Maybe I’ll just pick up where I left off and start up SW101 again (thanks, everyone of you who wrote in to ask where all the good times went). Maybe I’ll finally finish my book.
Ultimately, I just can’t tell you where I’m going because I myself don’t know. I DO know that I’ve successfully grilled tuna fillets, invented a mango/pear/mint salad that everyone loved, and I can broil Portabello mushrooms all by myself. I learned the difference between Goat Cheese and Feta Cheese. I know where the measuring cups are in the kitchen. I can tell you every character in Lost (and the top 4 theories about what the freaking show even means).
But what I REALLY know is that my wife looks at me with eyes I haven’t seen for 13 years. And this stirs my soul in ways that make most of the rest of my life comfortably superfluous. This blog got caught up in that eternal vortex…
When I know anything more than this, you will too.
“All that I am, all that I ever was, is there in your perfect eyes…they’re all I can see.” -Chasing Cars, by Snow Patrol
A reader recently commented on the SW101 post Will My Child Have A Heart Attack with a disturbing letter about her child. It has now been granted its own blog. I have written my own comments in throughout the letter in red italics to make me appear extra important and potentially infallible.
Thank you for that article. My typically healthy 6 year old daughter has been complaining of chest pain, burning on the left side of the neck and feeling her heart “in her throat” as she says. This is not a big deal. Kids say this stuff all the time. It goes along with the ubiquitous “Tummy ache”, “I’m full”, “My eyes hurt”, “I need a drink of water”, and “Where’s my bear you can’t expect me to sleep in such harsh conditions so until you find my bear I’m going to sit here and attempt to poop my pants in protest so start lookin’ quick, POPS.”
She says it goes too fast and she gets dizzy and has actually passed out several times while doing minimal activity. This IS a big deal. Kids don’t do this…ever. True loss of consciousness in a 6 year old kid has a genuine cause. In the elderly, things like autonomic instability lead to syncopal episodes (pass out when they stand up). Add 90 years to your kid’s life, and your letter wouldn’t have won itself a full blog post.
I have taken her to several Dr’s, only to be told “kids don’t have heart attacks”. I agree. Kids don’t. Adolescents do, however. And young adults in their early 20’s do too. I’m at my wit’s end with this and worry over it constantly. You’re right to be. The hair is starting to stand up on the back of my neck over this one.
She had bloodwork to check her cholesterol about 14 months ago and it was high. Genetics..ding! ding! ding! That, or you’ve set her up with a continuous Big Mac infusion pump through her sleeping hours.
She recently had it checked again and it was 259. That’s worse than mine…and I’m 37 spending most of my time with my butt glued to a chair while I hover like an anxious hen over my blog. Her sister (age 10) had a cholesterol level of 126. Luck of the draw, kid. I’d see the bet and raise it if I were her.They eat virtually the same thing and my 6 year old is only 40 lbs, so she isn’t overweight. Another sign of a genetic component…which makes this just fantastically unfair.
This is now starting to affect her normal playing routine because she says running/playing make it hurt worse. REALLY bad sign. Kids run. Especially skinny kids. They RUN.
I’ve been told it’s constipation?, seriously?, reflux probable in ADULTS, heartburnsame thing…grown ups, not kids, pulled sternum maybethe strangest musculoskeletal diagnosis I’ve ever heard….but so far no Doctor feels it is anything to worry about. Are you seeing actual doctors…in actual America? I hear the medical system on the plains of Balinor is a bit iffy.
She had a EKG and it showed she was tachycardic based on her age? EVERY kid is tachycardic compared to an adult and a few arrythmias this is like saying “oh, we had some red wine”. Some arrythmias KILL YOU, others are meaningless…and everything in between. What kind of arrythmia?, however her pediatrician feels that could be normal for her age. ‘Could be?‘
Her teacher at school tells me she complains 5-10 times a day and says ‘my heart hearts’. My 3 year old boy is obsessed with candy, but I’d guess he rarely actually asks for it 10 times in one 24 hour period (considering he sleeps for about 14 of them).
We live in a very small town population 4?, and have to travel 120 miles to a ped. cardiologist worth it…however they won’t see her without a referral and her pediatrician doesn’t feel it is necessary I suspect an insurance issue. How hard is it to make a referral, even if only to help reassure mom?
If you have any suggestions for me I would love to hear them. I’m worried
that even though diet has been modified and the rest of the family has no cholesterol issues (grandparents do) that this high level is affecting her. Do you know of any other tests that I could suggest her Doctor perform? Short of a cardiac catheterization, I’m not aware of any other helpful tests in this situation. He has also shrugged off any suggestions of a heart echo.
Final Thoughts – (I’ll dispense with the red italics, even though it makes me feel Extremely Important):
I can’t be certain that your story is completely true, because I don’t know you and haven’t seen your daughter’s medical file. It also rings a bit fantastical since I’ve spent lots of time around pediatricians and have never seen one as cavalier as what you describe based on the small amount of information you’ve provided me. As a rule, I do not believe that many doctors are lazy, incompetent, negligent…or drunk. If you’re going to a licensed child specialist physician, they probably know what they’re talking about.
That said, IF your story is completely true, my advice is to knock on doors – pound on them if you have to. Walk up to any door with an M.D. on it (be wary of any other initials except perhaps D.O.) – until you get a referral to a pediatric cardiologist for an echo. Women walked for 5 solid hours under the Haitian sun to have their child seen in our clinics when I did relief work there, so you can cross vast distances for your child too.
The echo, in my opinion, is the first place to start. Your child also probably needs medication for the cholesterol issue – or will in the very near future – and if your pediatrician seems to be cavalier about this, you may need to look for one that is more aggressive. But diet changes won’t help this situation much, and exercise could be dangerous until you rule out structural heart disease. It’s almost impossible to find cardiomyopathy without imaging, and totally impossible to find early atherosclerosis without a significant work up by a cardiologist.
Rest assured, there is a doctor out there who will find in in their writing hand to put in 10 minutes and refer you to a specialist if your story is as legit as it appears on this blog. If it takes spending a week in a larger city, fine. If it takes getting on an airplane, DO IT! If what you said is true, and there are no additional conveniently omitted facts, your child needs to see a specialist. Do NOT stop pestering doctors until she does.
Finally, let me say that while my heart goes out to you, remember that I am a doctor…but not YOUR doctor. And this is a blog, not my clinic. As you can see by my responses, I’m giving my honest opinion, but also being silly. I write this blog for fun, not to extend my day at the office. Therefore, these responses qualify only as suggestions and musings, not medical advice. A licensed physician, who has actually seen your daughter and evaluated her entire history, is the one who needs to make a real recommendation in this situation. It completely annoys me that I find it necessary to say that….the world these days is run by lawyers.
All joking and useless lawyer pandering aside, my responses in this blog really boil down to one thing: Keep knocking….
I enjoyed myself fully last night as I entered the world of ‘Avatar’, James Cameron’s new sci-fi epic that already handily broke a 1 billion-dollar landmark record of some kind. I’d watch the show again tonight if I could. I’d probably watch it every night for a week like my high school buddies did for “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure” once upon a time.
You don’t have to care – or understand – the point of the movie to completely enjoy the stunning visual spectacle presented in wide-screen, 3D wonder. In fact, I’d advise constraining yourself specifically to the visual effects and skip putting any real thought to the message of the movie. In essence, just sing along with the song, but don’t think about what the words actually mean.
The story follows an ex-Marine named Jake as he becomes part of a mission to subjugate – or at least translocate – the natives on a strange new planet (a moon actually, but does it matter?). On the n0t-so-subtly-named Pandora, the “aliens” congregate around an enormous tree set in the middle of a seemingly endless forest. They stand about 11 feet tall, with blue skin and luminous yellow eyes and they all seem to carry bow and arrows and daggers. These blue and tall but otherwise disappointingly human-shaped beings generally seem happiest when attending their frequent tribe-wide drum fests – with a terminally simplistic 2/4 beat rhythm that sounds like it might have been pounded out on cool Senegalese drums the Anglo orchestra bought in bulk.
These earthy aliens have a sacred, mystical, spiritual connection to the forest where they live; generally behaving like any nature-loving tribe the Europeans successfully decimated a little over a century ago in North America. In a complete creative hiatus, at one point nature is even called a “mother”. Why not a father, or brother, or just skip the nuclear family reference to nature entirely? The descriptor ‘Mother Earth’ is so unoriginal, it ranks up there with Bless You and Dot Com.
Although 2 hours and something like 40 minutes, you can easily sum up the movie in one phrase: “Dances With Wolves”…but with pterodactyls you can ride.
Basically – Marine makes contact with natives through project financed by aggressive and ethics-challenged Big Business company. Marine plans on helping his financiers destroy said natives. Instead, he inadvertently falls in love with natives in general, and one curvaceous native in particular. He then becomes the enemy of his former bosses, ultimately leading the meek, dumb, dark-skinned simpletons to victory over superior white man.
I haven’t decided if this REALLY tired theme of the White Male swooping down into a primitive race, seeing their genuine good, and then becoming their Great Savior is completely racist. Some are saying it absolutely is. I don’t really think that was the intent. I just think it was lazy writing by a white male who deep-down believes that white men are still the best hope for the world. That they still run it, ultimately. But it is possible that white men really don’t have much to offer the world anymore – that we’ve had our time and made our mark. Maybe it’s time for some non-white, non-men to run the countries, write the laws, own the companies and save fictional worlds. Maybe the white boy has done about all he can.
Big Business takes a major hit in this movie. It gets portrayed as the denizen of all Evil in life. That said, it’s Big Business that has paid for every iota of scientific discovery that has occurred on Pandora. The science taking place on this moon (and taking place on our earth) is an elevated form of existence, no question, but in both worlds it mostly exists because of Big Business, either directly or through taxes. Scientists – and artists – need to accept the fact that to live in that enlightened world of thought and wonder and possibility depends on their benefactor’s mundane ability to sell widgets. Big Business is rarely genuinely evil. True, figuring out when to inject some profit-endangering humanistic principles into a business plan does takes some skill and is occasionally gotten wrong. But for the most part, if business didn’t make the poet, at least it feeds him.
The actual “avatar” is a living being made to look like the aliens, but controlled by the mind of a human. The human links to the avatar neurologically, so it can only be controlled by one specific human. Thus, the human lies in a coffin-like body-pod that connects him/her to their specific avatar. Upon falling into a coma in the pod, the avatar wakes up and the mind of the comatose human controls it.
The doc in me couldn’t help but get hung up on this part of the movie. First, all humans need to sleep. But since the avatar wakes up as soon as the human “sleeps”, and since controlling the avatar is a conscious process, the human never actually does sleep. For some evolutionary reason I can’t fathom, REM sleep is the foundation of all life. This inconvenient fact defies even the mighty pen of James Cameron. By the end of the movie, after staying awake vicariously with the characters, I felt like I’d been on call in the hospital for days on end (felt like I was back in residency again).
Also, the human lays in this coffin thing for hours and hours. At the least, he’s gotta pee himself on a regular basis, to say nothing of the inevitable bowel movement here and there. Plus, the main character’s avatar hooks up with the sexy female alien. Depicted as the first consummating night of an eternal love bond – thus likely a multicoital affair – envisioning the scene (and smell) inside the pod after this particular night left me a bit squeamish.
As mentioned, the power of this movie is in the visuals. It is a “looker” many times over. But the general message is tired, probably slightly racist, and denigrates the U.S. Military (or at least leads the audience to exult in the widespread slaughter of American soldiers/mercenaries). That said, perhaps our culture really should take the main theme of the story to heart. After all, we DID decimate the Native American culture, and based on my experiences on the Crow Reservation in Montana, I’d say we continue to. We’re also strikingly obtuse in our dealings with tribal cultures in the Middle East today. Listening to people from a different culture – rather than melting them with daisycutters and circling drones – has some merit.
But I do wish the movie had added a little post-modernism into the mix and eschewed the evil-good idea altogether. It didn’t have to pit the American Axis of Evil (big business + U.S. Army) against a pristine tribal culture practically perfect in every way. Historic Native American tribes were often duplicitous, aggressive, thieving and hateful (many still are today). They rarely trusted each other from tribe to tribe and may have been just as irresponsible had one tribe attained the raw power that the U.S. Government currently has. The Arab tribes we’re tangling with recently have a litany of faults and cobwebby dark corners too. But they are also a just, priceless, sacred, honorable people. This dichotomy exists in virtually every race in our world. Americans seem to hate this complexity in our fiction – it’s easier to hate one thing and love another and then watch them duke it out.
Thus, the conflict in the movie could have been between two parties filled with faults and frailties but ultimately imbued with genuine honor, honesty and a respect for the rights of others. Standing between them is something they both deeply need and want (trees, mineral ore…whatever). In life, conflicts almost always boil down to two parties who both have blood on their hands, but both are essentially good, honorable…and in the right. e.g., Palestine wants the land, Israel wants the land, both have been evil at times, both have been angelically good at times, and each have some form of legitimate claim to the exact space of real estate. Stick that conundrum in your avatar’s virtual peace pipe and take a deep drag, nature-brother.
Depicting this nuanced world may have weakened the sense of righteous rage as the Army went Operation Flatten Everything. It may have lessened the gloating release when the Ultimate Bad Guy finally met his ignominious end. But it would have made a better movie. It would have made the written story as complex as those fantastic visuals, and created a worthy counterpart to such a sparkling, wondrous vision.
This is why it was so shocking to hear that one of our translators in Haiti – a healthy father with children – died of typhoid fever recently.
I didn’t work much with this particular translator, Daniel, mostly because he spent so much time interlocuting between our group and the local community leaders, especially in Noyo.
I spent my second week in the very rural village of Noyo, and my experience there was vastly different than the one I had during my first week in Thomaseau. The physical village looks like a bunch of twig huts that all unrolled themselves from one giant ball as it bounced down a mountainside.
Despite this scattered layout, the people there were a tight-knit bunch; working with them required constant communication. Work of the kind we did in Haiti brings with it nearly endless opportunities for misunderstanding. Daniel was a big part of that because he was well-connected with the local leaders.
A few times, I wondered what besides common humanity kept the locals from simply overrunning our tiny isolated clinic, taking all the medicine and holding us hostage. We’re not just talking about picking up some bling bling, either. They could demand HUGE ransoms for each of us, and never be in poverty again.
I thought about this frequently in Noyo because the village clings to lost and forgotten hillsides so far from roads that you can’t find it on most maps. We hiked for over an hour to get there. And the road that brought us to the beginning of our hike arguably ended miles back from where we actually stopped our battered 4-wheel drive monster trucks.
I think the moral fabric of Haitian culture gets most of the credit for keeping us protected during our time in the mountains. But some also should be given to people like Daniel, who moved easily between native, locally-powerful villagers and obtuse, big-hearted, mildly-guilt motivated Americans.
More than once I saw disappoinment in the faces of patients as I sent them out the door with not much more than a toothbrush and some TUMS.
I’m sure I projected a bit, but often I felt their dismay at my ineffectiveness in the midst of so many very real problems. I could almost hear some of them say, “This is all you have for me? Look at all that medicine in the back of the church! Look at those nice tents you live in! Look at that nice watch and thousand-dollar camera you have. All you have for me is some antacids? Do you know that I could feed this child for weeks with just the money I could get for your sparkly watch? How is it worth that much to you? How can you still cling to your expensive camera when it could feed a family for months? Is that moral?
If you claim to be a Christian…how is this not a sin?”
Often I reflect on how much I care about my children – the lengths I would go to protect and provide for them. In that light, I do not think I would be nearly so gracious if it were my child wasting away in my arms and some rich foreign king gave me only calcium tablets and a toothbrush (until we ran out of them and just gave the calcium).
Although the Haitians displayed celestial graciousness because I believe they are by nature a gracious people, translators like Daniel helped undergird that goodwill.
Being Haitian, he could agree that yes, these people come from a rich country and enjoy many things that people can’t even dream of in Noyo.
But he could also point but these particular people don’t have as much as it seems. He could explain that these kings used a very large amount of their own money just to be there, in the suffering, trying to help however they could. He could explain that even with the best medicine, their children might still be very sick. He could point out that ALL the medicine we have left over will be given to the village, to the most in need.
Typhoid fever shouldn’t kill anyone. It causes some fevers, some abdominal pain, some gnarly diarrhea and maybe some delerium. Throw any of a number of antibiotics at the problem, and the odds of dying from it drop to about 1%. If I gave you a 99% chance of winning big in Vegas, I bet you would put a good part of your inheritance on those odds.
Even untreated, typhoid fever is fatal in only about 30% of cases.
So Daniel’s story is a tragedy simply because death is a tragedy. His death is a tragedy because there is a wife somewhere who loves him and is now alone. It is a tragedy because there are children huddling around their mother wondering in pain and incomplete understanding what happened to Daddy. It is a tragedy because his role was so valuable to our work and efforts in Haiti.
But most agonizing…Daniel’s death is a tragedy because it didn’t need to happen.
I get lots of questions about my med school. For those few not in The Know, I attended the Medical School for International Health. The school is located in Israel, in the ancient town of Beer Sheva (you can find it in the Bible, dude…can you say something like THAT about Maple Acres, Kansas?). The institution is Ben Gurion University.
The program focuses on providing medicine in an international context; particularly to the 3rd world. The school is a collaboration project between BGU and Columbia University, so blokes like me have a reasonable shot of doing residencies in the U.S. after graduation (got my 1st choice in residency program).
Anyway, emails come in from all over the world asking me about my experience there and soliciting my advice about going. This latest query was so expansive and had such good questions, I figured that if I was going to go to the trouble of replying to it, I might as well post it as a blog so everyone could check it out:
My name is Bryan and I am an accepted MSIH student from Provo, UT headed to Israel in July. Here are a few questions for you:
What did your spouse and kids do while in Israel for the 3 years?
They found all kinds of things to do. Getting settled in Israel is quite a job compared to the U.S. Everything is slower to accomplish, from records to mail to shopping, things just take lots of time.
That said, my wife and I had 2 children while in Israel, so that kept her busy in ways that older kids wouldn’t. She also took a Hebrew class that provided lots of social interaction, friends and experiences in the culture.
Additionally, you will have WAAAY more time that you might expect. The first year, you don’t even take an exam of any kind for 5 months. Not one. You just go to class. Or don’t. Depends on your learning style. Then, when exam time does roll around, you are home studying most of the day. I don’t know if that’s how it is at other med schools, but that’s the way we roll in the IS.
So, you won’t be gone as much as you probably envision. And, the family will have more to do that you might think.
Did your kids attend school at all?
Mine didn’t, but they easily could have. I started the program with just one 2 year old girl, but we had 2 more by the time we left (like I said…you do have, *ahem* free time). The oldest would have done fine in their preschools, called Gan (pronounced GONE, means garden).
I would recommend it, especially if your kids want to learn Hebrew. Like most European countries, education is a huge emphasis, so they’ll want your kid there EVERY day, all day. Even preschool. This was the hang-up for us. Something M/W/F might have worked, but my wife wasn’t ready to ship our 3 year old off for full-time school, so we skipped it.
Did your kids and your spouse learn the language?
See comments above about wife. Kids didn’t learn it (although for some reason, we ALL still regularly say ‘agvanot’, which means tomatoes). I wish they had been a bit older, becuase then I would have insisted on school for them.
Did you have any Hebrew before MSIH, or did you buy a program like Rosetta Stone to get you started?
I had none, and sucked at it all the way through. Figured out how to buy food pretty quick, though. I bought a tape-series that supposedly was used by State Department people, but never even opened the box.
The school provided a pretty good immersion class, but really you need to take the same Hebrew class that my wife took at night to actually learn the language. The Israeli people (unlike many lame ethnocentric Americans like me) know English almost universally in addition to their native Hebrew. So, they would rather work on their English with you than let you work on your Hebrew with them. All of your classes are in English. You actually don’t get as much exposure to the language as you might think.
Furthermore, on the wards, I’d say Hebrew is only spoken by about 60% of the patients. Beer Sheva has to be one of the most nationally-diverse cities on the planet. Walk down a typical medical ward, and you may hear anything from the Big Three: Hebrew, Arabic and Russian, to many “lesser” languages of the area like English, Spanish, Bulgarian, Yiddish, Romanian, French and others. Although Jewish in heritage, the people who immigrate to Israel come from nearly every country in the world. Their primary language usually isn’t Hebrew.
If you truly want to learn the language – and the best reason to is so that you understand the ward doctors during your 3rd year – my recommendation is to go to Israel 2 months early and take a true immersion course. This is how they do it for the new immigrants. You live in a house with other immigrants and they DRILL the language into you. You’ll have it forever after that.
Did you buy a car?
We did. It was very expensive and a bad idea. Getting all the paperwork for it took 3 solid days of sitting in offices all over the town of Beer Sheva. Gas is spendy. Insurance and licensing is more than in the states.
We should have just used cabs instead. They crawl all over the city all the time. You never wait for them, and a trip anywhere in town is only 15 shekels, which is about 3 dollars. We calculated that we could take 60 one-way cab rides a month for the monthly cost of the car.
Right about that time, I got into a minor wreck; we parked the car after that because we didn’t want to spend the money to fix it. I watched with interest as teenagers slowly dismantled the thing on a semi-nightly basis over the ensuing months. I ended up with a twisted metal creature that can only loosely be described as a “machine”. They took everything.
“Oh well,” my friend Brian consoled me one day. “Just be happy that you probably made some high school kid’s senior year 10 times funnier as they systematically ripped your car apart every night.”
Do many students buy cars while there?
Nope. Just the dumber ones.
How else can you get to the more remote sites like Masada, Dead Sea, Elat and the like?
Rent cars. Fairly easy. Fairly cheap. Pool with friends if you aren’t going with the fam. We saw EVERYTHING in Israel in nice Skodas or Seats (see-aht) with power windows and A/C and no worries about breaking down.
You can also take the train, which is efficient and fun…except when its crowded and you’re crammed between 6 sweaty IDF soldiers with automatic rifles, some of which are pointed at you and your kids.
Where did you do your residency and what specialty did you choose?
Olympia, WA. Family medicine. I felt then, and still feel, that my specialty is absolutely the best preparation for medical mission work.
I have not once regretted my specialty choice or the residency program I chose.
Did you know of any MSIH grads applying to the handful of International Health Residency Programs?
None of my class applied, but this largely had to do with location, not competitiveness. We wouldn’t have had a problem getting into those programs, in general. U of Rochester had a good connection with our school and a few of our grads went there. Their Intl Health cirriculum is fantastic (or was a few years ago when I was looking at them).
Is there any personal advice you think would be beneficial to me; advice that might not be included in the admissions packet?
Be flexible, don’t whine like an American. Don’t expect anyone to care about you or your little worries. Be a traveler. Be observant and end your sentences with question marks rather that declarative periods at a ratio of at least 2:1.
Recognize that there is no answer to the Israel-Palestinian conflict. Accept that you have no right to have any opinion on the issue until you can say honestly that you have deep friendships with BOTH an Israeli and a Palestinian. Until then, try as hard as you can to shut up learn.
Travel, travel, travel as much as you possibly can. Drive the country from end-to-end at least twice. Stay at a Kibbutz or Moshav. Swim in the waters of Gan Hashlosha and the Med. Absolutely see the Golan Heights in the spring when curtains of flowing green grass are punctured by brilliant red Israeli poppies. Try as many foods as you can and never turn down invitations to Shabbat, Passover, Rosh Hashanna or Succoth.
Spend lots of time in Jerusalem – especially the Arab Quarter of the Old City – and try to hang out in the Armenian Tavern for dinner at least once. See the Wall and the Dome on the same day.
Jump on chances to go to Europe, especially the eastern countries. See Turkey, Jordan and at least the Sinai of Egypt. Get certified in SCUBA in 3 days on the Gulf of Aquaba (look up a guy named Hamdi in Dahab if you are interested). Consider your experience there a colossal failure if you miss out on many of these opportunities.
Pick up a cause that will build the school. I started the literature and medicine class. I think it’s a required class now, so if you hate it, you can thank me. Pour part of your life into the school. Put MSIH on the map in your own small (or big) way.
Will every moment of your experience into the marrow of your soul; drink its precious nectar as if you never will again. Because you won’t.