My poor clogged arteries… June 8, 2010

Out of boredom I’ve decided to count things from the most recent study period (for those non-meddies out there, I’m sorry I’m such a broken record. I promise to have something good and non-exam/study/med related in a week or so). Some accumulated numbers over the past 7 days:

1. 6 bags of candy.
2. 10 McNuggets in one go.
3. 1 tub of 2 L cookie dough ice cream
4. 2 visits to the gelato place (ice cream consumed independent to afore mentioned tub)
5. 1 bag of whole grain tortilla chips (oh yeah, no white chips for me. I only go for the healthy stuff)
6. 2 medium fries
7. 0 exercise
8. 5 lbs gained
9. 1 fried brain

And guess what I’ve been studying? Risk factors to cardiovascular diseases such as heart attacks and strokes. No, there is no irony at all.

On a related note, I went for a jog (although a while ago), and had an absolutely horrifying experience. It came on about 20 minutes after I had started. I was pleasantly into my jog, thinking desperately about how I wanted it to end. (I usually start thinking about how I want the jogging to end 5 minutes or so after it starts, but manage to hold out for another 55 minutes out of pure will, grit, and courage). Usually it’s just my calves that respond and between them bicker about who hates me more. But on that fateful day, a much more integral part of me protested.

I started experiencing a pain both dull and sharp at the same time in my upper left shoulder area. Of course, my first thought was, I’m too young to die! It’s not fair! And I’m exercising – where’s the justice in that? As I kept going (a little chest pain isn’t going to stop me from being fit!), I started to try to alter my breathing to try to relieve the deadly, knife-in-my-chest pain I was experiencing (I might be exaggerating a little for effect, but you get the idea). First I tried taking deep breaths in. Then I tried blowing deep breaths out. Then I tried shallow ones both ways. In the end, nothing helped, and I started scanning the area to make sure there was someone around who could see me collapse in a puddle in the middle of the road and call 911 and bring me to the nearest hospital some 10 minutes away. There was no one around – and how wrong is it that I’m in the middle of Vancouver and there’s not a single person around?!

My mind then started playing an all too realistic scenario (all my scenarios are realistic) about how a nice sweet 80-year old man who fought in WWII would come upon me on his daily evening walk, some 6 hours later. I say 80 because I’ve had numerous friendly encounters with persons over the age of 65 on my jogs or walks in the park. At first, he would just see my left foot sticking out from behind the bushes. He would be curious, and because of his vast experience with dead people he would know instantly that something was wrong. He would wobble to the bush, and there I would be. With one hand over my forehead like the upper-class ladies do in Victorian novels (because I would fall in a completely lady-like manner). He would try to revive me, but it would be too late.

At my memorial attended by some hundreds, even thousands of people, great speeches would be made about the greatness of my humour and warmth and being in general. There would be lots of crying and smiling through tears because I would have inspired, even in death. Ironically, there would be formation of the Nancy Y. Exercise Teams, and diseases like diabetes and obesity would be eliminated in the coming years. For the record, I realize that there’s something extremely strange and possibly narcissistic and extremely maudlin about this line of thought, but the mind thinks what it thinks.

At this point in my jog, I cut a corner and fell into a bush. And it felt like the beginning of something weird and Twilight Zone-y. But then I got up, finished the jog and went home, and lived to tell the tale.

The Realities of Summer May 14, 2010

As exams draw closer and more and more panic sets in, I can’t help but think of happier times of trees and the flowers and the birds and the bees (which incidentally IS school-related. Hello, sex-ed…). Of having conversations (or – prepare yourselves – meeting up) with friends for more than 30 minutes at a time. Of summers and what will happen in them…

I’m going to break down the average summer for the average pre-med student, or an ultra-keen med student – and FYI, there is no such thing as a med student who is NOT ultra-keen. Why would med students be ultra-keen, you wonder, when all we need is to learn (and 60%)? It’s bred into our bones as surely as some people are bred to be athletic or drool excessively or say inappropriate things in social settings. Some of us want to be good doctors. Others want to get into incredibly difficult and laborious residency programs so they can say “sure, saving a baby from a burning building is hard, but it’s not neurosurgery.” (Watch this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THNPmhBl-8I). Then there are those still who want to save the world. Below is a list of what I want.

What my delusional mind conjures up for the summer:	What will actually happen:
Master some kind of artsy fartsy class like painting or pottery or interpretive acting using my toes.	Doodle smiley faces in my notebook that I bring for “creative writing” at the beach.
Learn another language (like Italian) and wow the locals with it in Italy, accent-free.	Practice rusty Chinese with my parents and be reprimanded for how poorly I speak.
Lounge in Italy in a villa and make wine by stomping on grapes (common wine-making practice, no?)	Travel to Surrey and drink cheap beer.
Write a best-selling novel about something incredibly profound.	Read way too many novels so trashy I can’t even talk about them on a blog.
Bike the perimeter of Vancouver Island. And due to its wild success, extend the trip to all the way up the BC Coast. Maybe even Alaska. (If there were still a land bridge, I’d be well in Asia somewhere)	Bike to Richmond on a good day. And take the skytrain back.
Bake a gazillion healthy goods for friends, family, the sick, and the homeless. (If there were still orphanages, then I sure would get them too!)	Eat a gazillion baked goods, loaded in cream, chocolate, and butter and topped with cream, chocolate, and butter.
Cure cancer in my backyard.	Sunbathe in my backyard.
Eradicate HIV/AIDS. And those pesky malaria-ridden mosquitoes while I’m at it.	Get bitten by mosquitoes. Hopefully not malaria-ridden. Maybe West Nile, though.
Eliminate world hunger.	Eliminate MY hunger. And overcompensate every time.
Let’s just throw in world peace and gun control to round it all up (if you don’t get the Miss Congeniality reference, you’re missing out on a high-class, ultra-intellectual cinematic piece)	Watch “Killers” (violence AND a Katherine Heigl-led ultra chick-flick? A little something for everyone).

Huh, even the list of things I think will actually happen sound a bit intense and delusional, now that I’m reading it. Maybe I should have made 3 columns…