We went to dinner with a third-year med student last night. He talked about his dating dramas. In the course of that conversation I told him that Drew and I had a hard time at first. So much so that some of my friends thought I should just give up on it.

Now Drew wants to know which friends.

It shouldn't bother him. Those friends love him now. They weren't even my closest friends at the time (I probably didn't want to poison my best friends against my relationship by revealing too much of my anxiety and frustration). Those people hadn't even met him yet, and once they did they saw how great we are together. But still, Drew wants names.

I shadowed my preceptor yesterday. Her speech is always rapidfire and usually isn't directed at me. Normally she's talking to the third-year students or the residents. But yesterday as she was ticking off a dozen facts during a physical exam she asked the patient to lift her thigh off the table and asked me what muscle she was testing. I had an answer, but I was unsure of myself. "I don't know."

"Iliopsoas."

I spent the next three hours of clinic beating myself up for my lack of confidence. In a cheesy television medical drama that was the moment where a student proves himself, cluing the audience into the fact that he's not your average newbie but a diamond in the rough. Pppttthhh. So while I harrassed myself internally for not venturing a guess I also started thinking about how stupid those tv shows are.

But mostly I was wondering what my preceptor would think of me. How was this going to shape her characterization of my abilities? Truthfully, it probably didn't mean much; she's constantly quizzing people and they're constantly failing the quizzes. She remembers you if you get it right, but I suspect a wrong answer doesn't really register.

Today I'm wondering how Drew and I -- who both have so much going for us and so much life experience to back up a firm sense of our own identies, our own abilities -- how we could both be so vulnerable to the perceptions of other people. I guess it's normal, but it does seem like a lot of wasted mental energy.

Energy which I can't really spare. I have to study for Exam #3. Doesn't it seem like they just keep coming, one right after another? Wasn't Exam #2 just a few days ago?!? We have this next exam on Tuesday, then another exam AND a final by December 19th.

So expect many exciting posts in the next 3 weeks.

 

Click here. And if you're really busy just skip to the end for the part where Uncle Jeff and my godson Brady killed a turkey.

 

I got a 96 on my exam.

I say the following with the understanding that part of me is probably fishing for some kind of validation from you, one of the four people who actually reads this blog, while another (bigger, I think) part of me really and truly means it: I was not happy with that score.

I realize that 96% is great. Really great. I should be proud. And I am. Sort of.

The problem is that there are 20+ other people who got a 96 or above. Although my medical school is pass/fail, at the end of each block you either fail, pass, high pass or honor the class. Honors is the top ~10%. I missed the cutoff in anatomy by less than one point.

Getting honors in these classes will make it easier for me to get into the specialty I want (TBD) in the city I want (currently Los Angeles. Or, if you're reading this and your name is Drew, definitely L.A. without a doubt.)

Also, I'm just competitive and want to do better than everyone else.

And then finally, it kind of upset me when I realized that 4% of the test correlates with 23 pages of material. That's 23 pages I didn't understand. But that's a minor point because it also means that I did understand 577 pages. And even I realize that when you look at it that way, 577/600 is pretty good.

 

I think the exam went all right. I should get my grade sometime this week.

I'm missing class on Wednesday to fly to Missouri for Thanksgiving. I hate missing class. Plus, I just found out that Wednesday's lectures are not going to be available online. 95% of them are uploaded to the web as audio files. A lot of people don't even bother coming to class, opting instead to sit at home and follow along on their computers. But they consider some of the lectures attendance-mandatory and don't put them on the web. Pppttthhh.

I've not done much work this weekend, but that's all right. It just means I'll have to do a bit over the break. I'm not far behind or anything (we've only had two days of lecture since the exam).

Crap, I have to go. Drew made dinner.

 

It started off really well (thanks to Drew). But now it's 7:15 on my birthday and I'm stuck in the library reading about the obesity epidemic.

 

I had a good day of studying Friday, a great day of studying Saturday, and then today it all fell apart.

Oh well. The test isn't until Wednesday. I guess it's probably good not to peak too early.

I took a practice test today and felt craptastic about it (I got a 91%). I realize the score was decent, but considering how much work I've put into this exam, getting 1/10 questions wrong wasn't exactly the performance I was looking for.

Then, because I'm such a big baby, I was too depressed to push through and study more than 3 hours.

Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm going to be 31. A few days ago I asked my Grandpa how old he thought I was and he said 26. It does seem like I should be 26 given the state of my life. I asked him what he was doing when he was 31. He and Grandma said that by that point they had bought their second house, they had three kids, and Grandpa said he was working 15-hour days 7 days a week.

They were coming from a different place, obviously. It's not fair to compare. But that disparity in our positions is interesting (his in 1958 and mine today). I wonder what my life would be like if I had been born heterosexual. Would I have had such a strong desire to move away for college? Would I be married to a woman and raising kids by now? Would I have taken the safer route in college and gone premed? I think I probably would have indulged my desire to go into politics, which would have been disastrous considering how annoyed I get with people. What am I talking about? That's not exactly a great quality in a doctor, either. I just feel like politicians have to have more charm and less snarkiness than I have. (Although I gotta say Hillary seems pretty damn snarky.)

Thirty-one. Jesus. I think my parents divorced at 32 after 15 years of marriage. I'm seriously deep into some serious adulthood territory here.

I'm going to eat some cake now.

 

Exam #2 (for this block) is in eleven days. I'm trying to cram this weekend as though the test is next week, that way I won't be quite so screwed next weekend.

Drew and I had a couple from my class over for dinner last night. I really wanted to cancel so I could study, but I decided to indulge my sane side and admit to myself that I would probably need to eat dinner anyway. Drew made some amazing braised short ribs and polenta. Travis and Beth brought wine and mini Snickers. I ate all but one or two of them.

I'm getting fat.

Today I got a good chunk of work done. Whether or not the weekend is a success will depend on what happens tomorrow.

I need to go for a run. And pay bills. And shop for groceries. And study 10-12 hours.

We're watching The End of the Affair right now. We paused it so Drew could take Madeline for a walk. It was one of my favorite movies when it came out. I'm hoping Drew will agree.

I'm drunk on one glass of wine.