Maybe it was worth it, afterall...

Okay, I'm gonna brag a little. I apologize at the outset. Think of this as encouragement to other first year medical students out there.

If you've followed this blog, you know that my first year of med school was frickin' hard, both academically and personally. I can't believe I survived it, really.

I didn't do well winter quarter. In fact, I failed the very important points location class.  As much as I love the medicine, I very much doubted that I had what it takes to complete four years. I was feeling pretty awful about myself.


Now, I'm on break, unpacking my new house and looking forward to, with a little anxiety, starting at Five Branches University next month. I'm 46 years old, but I still get "new girl" anxiety.

In the nick of time, I just discovered that I got honors in A&P, got a B on my TCM final, and my Classics professor just sent me an e-mail about my final papers. He wrote, "...the first paragraph of your reflective paper was sheer genius...You will be a great success in Chinese medicine, but keep writing too."

It means so much to me to have finally succeeded. I feel myself open to the possibility that I might actually make it through the program, pass the boards, and become a practitioner. There were some very dark moments of doubt this past year. These little things, the grades and positive comments from teachers, are beams of light shining into the darkness. I could weep with relief.

Yesterday, I met my friend Linda at the Cantor Art Museum on the Stanford University Campus. I love Rodin and it was nice to get up close and personal to The Gates of Hell. You can't do that at the Musee d'Orsey in Paris. Tsk-tsk, non!

Linda is a biologist, so it was fun to marvel over the exaggerated muscles and impossible poses. I never thought about how much learning anatomy would enhance my love of art.

Before Linda arrived, I watched a group of elderly photographers set up their crane-legged tripods and lens-heavy cameras. A Chinese woman, big black camera slung around her neck, approached me and asked where the toilets were. I pointed into the museum. When she returned she sat next to me and we talked. Her name was Wai and she is 71 years old.

She told me that she had come from China 30 years ago to practice dentistry. She told me of the discrimination that prevented her from opening a practice here. I was shocked. Growing up in the South, seeing up close and personal how badly the white culture could treat African Americans, I believed that it was different in the rest of the country--especially California. As she talked, I again felt that same burning shame about the color of my skin and my fellow white's sick inclination to keep things pure--what ever the hell that means.

She rubbed my arm and said, "You'll do well in Chinese medicine because of this."

I asked her why. She told me that the Chinese love Americans, that I would never experience the same racism there that she had here. She also told me that I would have a wonderful and prosperous practice. Wai said she could tell because of the way I looked at her and listened.

That made me feel warm and fuzzy all over. Then she warned, "If you don't have a husband by the time you go to China, you will be courted there. The Chinese doctors will fall in love with you."

My friend Linda confirmed much of what Wai said about the culture. Linda's parents are from Japan. After Wai left, Linda and I giggled about the prediction of finding a husband. We both have a huge crush on Chow Yun Fat. I wonder how he'd look in a white jacket...

Suddenly, I'm looking forward to my studies, again.

It hurts right here if I cough while Mercury conjuncts Pluto

A few weeks before school ended, I noticed a new trend in my life. Every now and then when I tell someone that I'm studying Chinese medicine, the person gives me a list of symptoms then asks if I know what the problem might be.

Once I get past the deer staring into the headlights sensation, I panic. This question brings up a lot of issues for me. I've only studied for one year, folks! I have only a vague idea, if any, of what might be wrong with you. I'm not, in anyway, in a position to be giving medical advice. And, worry of worries, what if I give you the wrong advice. Yikes!

I asked two different professors how to handle this. I got a very vague, answer-me-with-a-question from one teacher, and an impatient, not-too-helpful answer from another instructor.

Just because the universe likes to really drive issues home for me, I have a new acquaintance who always wants medical advice. I am truly at a loss with her. It makes me wonder why Anatomy and Physiology isn't required for everyone.

She's a wonderful person, but her medical knowledge is zip. Not a problem except she spends a lot of our time together talking about her latest self-diagnosis. I won't go into detail because of HIPPA, ethics, and because most of what she says doesn't make much sense.

I've only completed one year of medical school, but I can say this person's ideas of how the body works and her dependence on the latest new age cure is really disturbing. I listen patiently and try to make sense of her nonsense. I ask a few clinical questions based on what little I know to try to help. Mostly I end up feeling anxious and driven to get her to a competent practitioner and advocate for her.

I won't be her advocate because I know I'll be pulled into a co-dependent situation that I don't have the time or patience for. She isn't experiencing anything life threatening. I would definitely step up if she was.

I realize that she makes me uncomfortable in part because I use Reiki to help people. I often wonder how naive and full of nonsense I've sounded when talking to people about this practice. Going to Acupuncture school has done much to boost my confidence, but I have a long way to go.

In contrast, I spent the next day with another new friend who is a biologist and does research studies for pharmaceutical companies. It was wonderful talking shop with her. She rounded out my limited knowledge about how medical studies are conducted--the protocols, limitations, and the researcher/patient relationships.

Sometimes, I worry that I'll never know enough for my patients. After spending time with my biologist friend, the inner critic came online, "You should have taken more biomed courses! You won't know what you're doing! One semester of cellular biology isn't enough!"

I smacked that voice of guilt and hysteria down by driving by my new school, Five Branches. I began to feel excited about getting back to my studies. To boost my confidence a little more, I looked at my Anatomy and Physiology grades one more time. Those A's sure feel good.

Maybe one day, I'll not only be a great practitioner, I'll know how to interpret new age mumbo-jumbo into a diagnosis.