Who wouldn’t love some Sunday morning spirituality, when after-church-brunch plans are this beautiful:
Thanks to the lovely Helen for capturing this gorgeous Sunday morning ale flight at a GREAT Cambridge restaurant. Her immense Bloody Mary was a beauty to behold, as well. This was followed by a filling Buffalo tofu scramble, and a tall glass of non-alcoholic water. :)
That morning’s sermon focused on “doing stuff for God”, and I dare say that some old-fashioned in-person un-rushed conversations with friends are a great way to focus on loved ones the way God intended it: joyfully.
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It all started when I received this snazzy news on Friday afternoon:
“On behalf of the Committee on Admissions and Degrees, I am pleased to extend to you an offer of admission to the Harvard School of Public Health (HSPH). We hope that you will join the HSPH class entering in the 2010-2011 academic year as a candidate for the full time Master of Public Health degree program in Health Care Management and Policy with an expected graduation date of May, 2011.”
This means that the Harvard School of Public Health will be my FIFTH college and/or university attended since graduating from high school, and I can officially join the ranks of such famous educational wanderlusts as SarahBarracudaPalin. It’s an honor to have this opportunity, because I think this school best matches my future goals and it makes me dizzy to think that Harvard will let me infiltrate two of their fine institutions. MADNESS!
I’m not going very far, since it’s literally next door to the dental school. Nor will I be gone for long, since it’s a brisk nine month degree! My inner curmudgeon is hesitant to get acquainted with yet another group of eager classmates, but thankfully my current colleagues will be very close by, doing their first extractions and dentures and whatnot. I plan to pester them persistently. My own clinical work will begin June 2011, and will one day finally graduate as a master public health medentalist!
As for now, I will savor the medical courses still left (hormones! digestion! poop!) and look forward to a nice looonnnggg summer. Life is good.
I wish I had the energy to come up with a great knock-knock joke or punny riddle to contrast the intensity of life in prison with the fabulous lifestyle enjoyed by most dentists. It would be like pulling teeth to think up such a line, so instead I’ll say straightforwardly that working in a prison might be the ONLY WAY to envision myself as a hardcore health professional.
Aside from literally pulling peoples’ teeth in our own parking lot after dark, a career in prison health is about as antiestablishment towards modern privatized dentistry as it gets. Am I that cool and counter-culture? Probably not. In fact, I am so thrilled with the low level of hardcore stress involved in the life of a dentist, that I decided to pursue it as a career. Would prison dentistry be more or less stressful than running your own clinical business? Who knows. At least I’m now officially invited to find out for myself:
In two weeks, I’ll be spending several days in Baltimore with hundreds of other dental students from all fifty-something tooth schools in the U.S. Can we say PARTY?!? Bahahahah. I have faith that us dental students can be just as irresponsible as every other kind of student I know, and therefore we will hopefully have a fabulous time together.
Blurred for security. Like it matters.
All I can say is that I hope our evening receptions at this conference aren’t sponsored by the Bureau of Prisons, because judging by the budget available for these fancy recruitment fliers, we would be enjoying cold water and stale popcorn together if they were footing the bill. No offense, Prison System, I know you’ve got THREE F!@#!N MILLION of my fellow citizens to take care of these days. Must be real hard for you to recruit healthcare providers when you’re so busy recruiting all those dangerous marijuana abusers and untreated mentally ill adults around the country. Hrmph. Don’t get me started.
I’ll censor myself now, before I piss off some family members for protesting their personal experiences with the law. Suffice to say I have a thoroughly conflicted view on American law and order. But this was about dentistry to begin with, right? A severely more benign American industry than criminal justice, so I’ll conclude with: Y’ALL BETTER FLOSS NOW!
Happy Friday.
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I hate to admit that school is requiring more of my attention than usual, but there. I said it. Me mortal. Maybe instead of just whining that I hate studying, because I typically don’t take well to boring memorization, I’ll fill you in on the reason why studying is getting more interesting: IT’S SO GROSS! Captivatingly nasty! Hideously fascinating! For example:
This pleasant set of images is HUMAN OVULATION IN ACTION! Like, actual egg emerging from actual ovary, and wishing it were landing in an actual uterus. Effing amazing.
We all started from a little jelly ball just like this one… unbelievable.
This might be the most calm depiction of my parents’ relationship in the history of my prolific journal. I typically omit the more stressful entries, and was so thrilled to see this gem of a story. Maybe we were a normal family (sometimes) after all! My father remains a big fan of pizza at home, and my mom continues to have birthdays. Adorable.
Today we spent our clinical afternoon with a man who has been undergoing dialysis treatments for three years, which is generally required once kidneys start shutting down from any disease at all. For example:
I had zero clue what the hell dialysis was until a few recent lectures, and it ain’t pretty. Even though his experience with this hardcore intervention has been fairly successful, it’s still an incredibly tough prospect to think about spending 12 hours a week getting your entire blood volume sucked out and flooded back in, and having to do so FOREVER.
I couldn’t help but think about my own diabetic mother, and shudder at the thought that she might one day have to depend on this life-saving technology. There’s no going back after that, and many patients will eventually decide to stop treatments and then pass away on their own terms. Bleh. DEPRESSING.
I think my low-level anxiousness was heard somehow by the Big Man Upstairs, because just as soon as I settled in at home tonight, my mom called and proudly announced that for the first time EVER, she actually measured her blood glucose in her own kitchen with the help of a sympathetic ‘n’ diabetic neighbor friend who showed her how to use the finger prickin’ machine that I got her ages ago. HELL YEAH! ‘BOUT DAMN TIME! Even went on a walk today around the block, like she was struttin’ her normoglycemic stuff for all to admire. :) She’s a feisty fighter, and I am VERY proud of her. No dialysis for THIS lady, thank you very much.
The end.
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