mud pies to medicine: Give Me a Break

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Give Me a Break

Did you know you can get some severe neck and back pain from hardcore studying? I mean, I was a pretty dedicated undergraduate and never had that sort of problem until medical school. Walk around the cubicles and you'll see fancy book stands. At first I chuckled at this extreme nerdiness and then somewhere around my second exam I had these shooting pains down my back, coincidentally every time I would look down at my book. I now own a book stand. It's exam week which means I get behind on things, like resolutions, consume too much caffeine, spend too much money at Starbucks, and my back hurts. So, I'm a little late on this one, but give me a break! And what is the only thing I have to take pictures of? Caffeine and notes of course!

#9 The Art of Coffee. I never drank coffee before medical school, I hated it. My sister jokes that even now I don't like coffee, I like over-sugared milk with a tiny shot of espresso. Nevertheless I've been working on my coffee making skills with a Bialetti espresso maker. The milk is really the artful part. Figured out how to really get it frothy with the wisk. Making my own means saving money AND the added bonus of not having to change out of my pajamas and traipse outside.

My morning coffee is a bit over romanticized. Life looks a little more like this right now:

i own every pen in every color, ever

2 comments:

DayiChokriJanuary 11, 2012 at 1:45 AM
I wish i had cup of coffee that looked like that top picture as i study neuroantomy, which looks more like that bottom picture! :)

this blog makes me happy :)
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DJanuary 11, 2012 at 2:36 AM
Thanks, Amy. I sympathize with the neuroanatomy. We had 11 weeks straight of nothing but Neuro and it was awful! I can't imagine dental school is much better. Why are we doing this again?!
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The inspiration you ask?

I miss making mud pies. There is this huge rock in my front yard. To call it a rock really does it a dishonor. It is a boulder, brought home by my father on a huge dump truck after he blasted it out of a work site. My mom one day told me that even though it is nearly 2.5 feet high, 6 feet long, and 2.5 feet wide, that it was, in fact, only half-showing. The scientist inside of me was disbelieving and set out to get some proof. Clad in a dress, bow in my hair, and my best accessory, a shovel, I trudged outside ready to prove my mother wrong. That is when the digging began. I dug, and dug, and dug, and nearly all 3.5 feet of Danielle fit in that hole when I had reached the bottom of the rock. That became my digging spot, my mud pie kitchen. Each day it was dug, and each evening it was filled back in. Sometimes the holes were small, sometimes they were enormous, and most days the hole was turned into my mud mixing bowl with that rock as my counter. The novelty never wore off. The ebb and flow of my childhood was, in many ways, measured by the ever-changing depth of that hole in the front yard, the hole that never really disappeared even each day after it was filled in. Even though the grass has grown back in that spot, there still remains, an indentation, the scars of a childhood well lived and the disbelieving scientists I have always been.

So, you ask me why I want to be a doctor? I do not want to be a doctor. I want to open a mud pie bakery with the cash register on that rock in my front yard. But, somehow, I doubt I would stay in business long, for the world seems to have lost its taste for mud pies. I guess being a doctor will have to do.