It's real

It really just hit me last night: I am going to be a doctor! Yeah yeah, of course I have known (or suspected) this for some time now, but sitting in lectures with 161 other people, listening to the same somewhat dry molecular biology I had learned in college and then worked with in the lab for 6 years, is not all that exciting. And it does not seem all that different from what I've been going for the past 10 years.

Also, med school is like middle school in some ways. Middle school with drinking games. There are clicks (I seem to be associated with one of the Asian clicks), gossip, silly stuff like "that girl hit on every guy at the bar last night" or "she had to be carried home from the club last night" (incidentally, those two occurrences involved the same person). I do somewhat envy the people who live off campus, in real apartments (like ones that have a living room or at least enough space to have more than 1 person over at a time), a little more removed from this fraternity-like social environment. But then in some ways, it's fun to live with someone who's doing the exact same things that I am doing. And she is fun! We get along really well. Which is a huge relief, especially after my living situation last year.

So last night, we had to prepare for small group conferences that we're going to have every week from now on. They are all based on specific cases, related to what we are learning in our lectures, but more like real life situations. Basically, we had to gather some background on four specific diseases that were in the cases, think about how we would advice the patients, etc. I swear it was not my idea to finish the mimosas I had left over from brunch this weekend! Nonetheless, it made for a really fun evening of studying/getting tipsy with my roommate.

And that's when it hit me. I was finally learning about medicine! About how the finicky details of eukaryotic protein synthesis relate to people who have a particular mutation in a particular gene that encodes for a protein that is involved in ion transport. Cystic fibrosis. I got so into it. While my study partner was breezing through the cases, I was going into excruciating detail reading about the various classes of mutations, how they affect the protein, what kinds of different symptoms they produce, and so on. As a side-note, we didn't have to know basically any of those details for today's discussions. In any case, she waited for me to finish - cooked both of us dinner in the meantime - and we did our required quiz at the end of the prep together. We agreed that I should probably be an oncologist, and her maybe a surgeon or an ER doc.

It finally feels real. Also, we have an exam in 3 days. That's when it's going to get really REAL! And then next week, when we have to do our first patient interview with actors (who are apparently very very good). All while wearing our white coats and stethoscopes!! :D

First day of medical school

First day of class is DONE. Ok, well, it wasn't yet a real day of class (although I did just spend an hour or so doing genetics problems already). It was more of an introduction, but still very cool and worth writing a few words about. We have a relatively new curriculum with many fancy-sounding features, such as "virtual patient #21 (VP21)" and "pillars of disease". So far, I figured out what the pillars meant. There are four of them: each represents a broader group of diseases. Diabetes, heart disease (atherosclerosis), colon cancer and TB (and no, TB is not an eradicated disease as one of my classmates suggested today). Throughout medical school, these four pillars will reappear in our courses, discussions, and then later on, in our clinical training. I think the whole point is to put real faces on diseases. So on our first day of medical school, we met four people, each of whom suffer (or used to suffer) from one of these diseases.

What's actually super cool is that almost exactly two years ago, before I even began applying to med school, I read this article in the Times, exactly about what I have just experienced today:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/03/nyregion/03medschool.html

So today, I was there, one of the slightly nervous new medical students in the audience. How cool is that??!! I cannot even believe it.

In any case, it was so touching to hear these patients speak about their experiences: good and bad ones alike. They clearly had great relationships with their current physicians (otherwise, I assume, they would not have agreed to do this) and that was really nice to see. They all shared some very personal stories, with 162 complete strangers; all in the name of education. Wow!

Later in the day, we met a few doctors, all with different paths to where they are today. Some had known what they wanted to be since they can remember; others made their minds up later. The common theme was that they all defied some odds. My favorite one was a woman in her 60's maybe, who switched residencies a few times before she realized that she really wanted to be an orthopedic surgeon - not so easy for a woman even 20 years ago - and while fighting to be accepted, working twice as hard as all the men around her, she decided that even though she was single and never had much time for dating, she wanted to have a baby. So she did. While she was a fellow. And single. Wow. Nothing is impossible.

We also spent nearly two hours listening to our own classmates talk about the different events, people or things that have motivated them to arrive at this point in their lives. Most stories were very personal: a sick family member, friend, an experience with death, or with unjust social situations. One girl was a lawyer before she decided to pursue medicine: she was working with refugees, which ultimately motivated her to change careers and now she is here. I hope I will get to talk to her at some point.

Tomorrow will be a day of real classes. Paying attention, taking notes, learning things. Should get some rest before.

Getting oriented

Wow, what a week! I've been back in NYC for 10 days now, and it seems like it's just been one really long day. Moving, settling in, meeting my new roommate, meeting a hundred other people - I only remember about 10 of their names - trying to be super social... on some days, I can totally do it, but on some others, it takes some special effort. The thing is - both good and bad - that I have been living in this city for 7 years now, and I have tons of friends. In fact, I have been trying all week to catch up with my friends I hadn't seen for nearly two months. So, in a way, I feel like I don't have to make a huge effort making a ton of new friends. On the other hand, I'd like to. And of course, I'd like to spend time with the people who I am going to share this whole medical school experience with for the next 4 years.

The first social event of orientation was an ice-cream social I might have mentioned in my previous post. I walked in there and was immediately mortified. Imagine about 100 people, averaging 23 years of age, all talking at the same time, all of them meeting each other for the first time, everybody asking the same few questions: where are you from, where did you go to undergrad...? After the first 5 of these conversations, I started to desperately look for people who looked older. I met a few, who were 25-26, most of them married, not even living on campus. Now, I know that I will have to get over this idea that I am older and therefore, I somehow don't fit. Once we are all in the same classes and learning the same things, it will no longer matter, I am 100% certain. We will all be study partners. We will all be sharing the same experience. But this first week was a little tough. I also had my birthday during orientation, entering the last year of my 20's. While I really don't think it's a big deal at all - in fact, I feel way better in my skin than I did at 22 or 23 -  it did make me feel especially old when looking around the room this whole week.

With all that said, I did meet a few people already who I really like. Perhaps not surprisingly, they are originally Chinese, Korean, Russian and Pakistani. My roommate is the nicest girl; when she found out it was my birthday on Wednesday, she went and bought an ice-cream cake, which we've been munching on all week.

On Wednesday night, however, all I wanted to do was to get away and hang out with some old friends.  I took my newest Russian friend, Maia, along with me to my favorite Upper East Side dive bar, and it was lovely. This whole week, most of the people in my new class have been wanting to just go out and drink and drink and drink. I guess that's what happens right after college. I suppose I used to go out a lot more, to awful places where you can barely move and can most definitely not hear anybody talk. It no longer appeals very much. But at least I know that now, and can chose not to do that.

One evening, we went on a really nice harbor cruise around Manhattan. It included a very yummy dinner and 2 drinks (half of the class being young Asian girls, I managed to collect a few extra drink tickets for myself, which made the whole experience a lot more enjoyable).

                                                             My roommate

Then the best part of the whole week came: we got our white coats (that we'll be wearing as medical students when we see patients) and other doctoring equipment. The white coat ceremony is a big deal at most schools. It's sort of like a reverse graduation. Everyone went up on the stage individually with the white coats, and one faculty member literally helped us into them. It's a nice gesture: they are handing down their knowledge to us in the next 4 years, and also putting on our white coats, which symbolize being a physician. The keynote speaker for the ceremony was a historian named David Oshinsky, who wrote a book titled Polio: An American Story a few years back, which won the Pulitzer. I loved that the speaker was a humanities PhD; well spoken, very interesting, he gave such an amazing and inspiring speech! I didn't know before that both Sabin and Salk, who were responsible for two different Polio vaccines, attended NYU Medical School back in the 1930's. He gave a nice overview of the history of the medical school, and Bellevue Hospital in particular, which is the oldest public hospital in the US. It's pretty amazing that I am going to be training in that hospital in less than 2 years time! After we were "cloaked", we also took an oath - sort of like a pre-medical school Hippocratic oath:

I solemnly pledge to devote my life to the service of humanity;
I will give my teachers and faculty mentors the respect and gratitude which is their due;
I will carry out my studies and training with conscience and dignity;
My studies and the health of my patents will be my first consideration;
I will maintain by all means in my power, the honor and noble traditions of the medical profession;
I will not allow consideration of age, gender, ethnicity, religion, politics, or social standing to interfere with my relationships with my patients of colleagues;
I will maintain the utmost respect for human life and death and will not use my medical knowledge contrary to the laws of humanity;
As a physician-in-training I make these promises freely and upon my honor.

 It feels like I already have a lot of responsibilities.

May I say that this white coat looks pretty good on me?? :)

On the last carefree weekend of the year, I wanted to do fun stuff - besides having had to run a million errands still, and whatever did not get done by tonight, I know will not get done for a very long time to come! After having avoided a sunburn all summer, through sightseeing in various European cities and spending days at the beach in Dubrovnik, I managed to burn myself on an overcast NYC day, at the Governors Island Jazz Era Lawn Party. Anyway, it was fun! Imagine a whole bunch of New Yorkers dressed in 1920's era clothes, swing music playing in the background, people having a picnic on a relatively isolated island off the coast of Manhattan.

Apparently, half the city was there because I ran into three people I knew whom I didn't go with. One of them had VIP access and got me delicious champagne cocktails. Another girl, I used to fence with at a NYC club for a few years after college, tried to convince me that I should come back and go fence with her sometimes. Very appealing actually, when I think about the frustrations that might be coming my way, the thought of going to hit people with a weapon sounds like a good way yo release some stress and anger. I will think about it in the coming weeks.

                                        Governors Island view of lower Manhattan

Well, it's getting late. And I just had two Mojitos, last night of carefreeness for a while. Tomorrow, a new life starts :) How freaking exciting!!!!

Everything is ok

About a memory:

Each time it appears, it delivers a kick to some part of my mind. "Wake up," it says. "I'm still here. Wake up and think about it. Think about why I'm still here." The kicking never hurts me. There's no pain at all. Just a hollow sound that echoes with each kick. And even that is bound to fade one day. At the Hamburg airport, though, the kicks were longer and harder than usual. Which is why I am writing this book. To think. To understand. It just happens to be the way I'm made. I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them.

Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami


Everything is ok as long as I keep moving. And thankfully there is a lot of moving to do these days. My new apartment initially seemed so small, I almost started having second thoughts about all this. Am I moving back to the dorms? Is this like college all over again? Then, everything was ok. Everything fit. Moving was easy (thanks to a very dear friend). I have a bed to sleep on. Assembling things is very therapeutic. I see why people enjoy building things, repairing things and such. And writing. To fully comprehend things, I couldn't agree more with that statement.

So far, I am having a hard time with this transition. It hasn't sunk in yet. I am in medical school. What the hell?? How did I get here? I have been preparing for this for years and thinking about it, and hoping for it and now I am here, and I can't even believe it is happening. Maybe once I get thrown into the deep water. The past few days I have been trying to catch up with friends, since I haven't seen anyone in 2 months and now I will probably not see them for 4 years - hopefully, that's an exaggeration - but now I have to start meeting new people. New mindset. My roommate is very sweet, friendly, social. I am so glad. And in a few minutes, we are heading to the first social event of medical school: the first year ice-cream mixer. I think I might be back in college... did I mention that someone in the elevator asked me if I was a resident???

Home is...

"Home" is a strange concept. Is it where we live, where we were born, where our loved ones are? Perhaps, where we feel at home? For me, Home, with a capital "H", is Budapest. Born and raised there, I think it's one of the most beautiful cities in the world, my family is there, and many friends. When I go to Budapest, I say and feel that I am going home. Whether I stay with my parents or at my own place, I am home. Even though I have less and less friends there, it's so important to me to at least try to nurse my relationships with people there. The funny thing is, sometimes, when I am in Budapest and I talk about going back to NY, I say I am going home. home with a small "h" maybe, but home nonetheless.

When I lived in other places, like near Chicago, it never felt like home. Whenever I traveled somewhere, which was often, I was a little sad to return there. College wasn't my favorite thing in the world, and I had trouble meeting people at first, which I think had a lot to do with this feeling. When I return to NY, I am never sad. Even after an amazing summer vacation, landing at JFK was thrilling. (Having to fight my way through midtown craziness, however, was not at all thrilling. Why oh why does any New Yorker go to Times Square???)

Today, I had many errands to run: renew license, go to the bank, go to the doctor, more blood tests, more vaccinations, buy a bed (IKEA is both heaven and hell), say hi to friends... it was stressful! And I was in some unfamiliar areas of the city: even though it's the same city, there is something about new places that stress me out a little bit. I remember when I first moved to Harlem, I didn't find it particularly appealing, and I didn't think I would like it, but a few weeks later, the streets felt familiar and comfortable again. I am sure it's going to happen with my new neighborhood too.

After a particularly bad pang of nostalgia, while riding the water taxi towards Manhattan (IKEA is at a far-away place in Brooklyn), I decided to go visit my old neighborhood. More accurately, the lab. Yup, I could not wait to get out of there 2 months ago, and here I was, a little sad, very nostalgic, and the place I most wanted to go was the lab. I took the train uptown and surprised the 4th floor of HSS. I brought some chocolates from Europe, so everyone was happy, told them stories from my summer, we laughed like we used to so much. Someone from the end of the hall ran towards us: "I heard you were here from all the way back there!!" Like good old days, gossiping in the hallway, being loud, laughing out loud. Ahh, I missed those girls! That damn lab, I have to admit, that I spent 5 years in, feels like home.

I suppose it's not about the place, the city - because being in NYC just one day reminded me of all the things I did not miss about it: the humidity, the traffic, the taxis, the honking, the subway, the rats, the roaches, the trash - but about the people, and about where your heart is. Even when I am sad or a little lonely, I know the people and the places here that will cheer me up and make me feel at home. I hope that my new place will soon feel like that too.

All things end

All good (and bad) things come to an end. I suppose it's the great struggle of many of us humans: the moments that last ages, which we cannot wait to get over, and the moments we want to spend years in, which fly by so quickly, all that's left is a fleeting memory of it. Moments when we wish we could stop time: a perfect day by the sea, riding your bike in the wind, touching your lover's face to try to memorize it before the moment of parting, hugging your best friend good-bye before a long journey, or a summer of freedom. I have had nearly two months of those moments, and now it is coming to an end. I am sad. I feel like I am losing something that I can never get back. These memories will always stay with me, I hope. Some of them will make me smile and some will make me cry when I look back to them. But now, it's time to look forward into the future; the coming weeks and months fill me with anxious excitement. A new chapter soon beings in my life. All things end, but then new things begin. Such is life.

It'll all be okay

I am not the kind of person who just goes with the flow. I like definite plans, I like feeling in control. Meeting at 10pm outside the Great Portland Street underground station: that is a definite plan I can easily live with. Especially when an underground station only has one exit. Usually, even if I am unsure, I can just pick up the phone and call. I know exactly one person who does not have a cell phone. However, there are some other rare situations when people can't use cell phones. 10 years ago this would not have been very stressful; it used to be totally ok. But now, who can live without a cell phone? When someone tells me "Don't worry, it's gonna work out" I usually cringe: it doesn't always work out ok! I am, however, determined to go with the flow more. After all, there are situations in which we cannot and should not have complete control and I better get used to that. And sometimes, just maybe, when something is meant to work out, then it just does. Gotta have some faith in it.

One time not too long ago, I was meeting a friend after a competition. Foreign city, no cell phones, thousands of people and darkness. He said let's meet by the river, near the wake-boarders, there is a small grassy area across, and some restaurants, it's really near the exit, you can't miss it! Um, ok. Suppressing my usual neurotic self, I tried to not worry; at least not show it. Ok, ok, I said, I will be there.

A few hours before the meeting time, I was heading to the competition. I got on the wrong train, which I noticed quickly and got off at the first station, with the intention of taking the train back one stop and finding the right train. However, I was in a rush to meet some other people, and when I got off the train, I noticed I wasn't the only one lost. There was a small group of people looking around in confusion: we were all directed towards the exit where signs informed us that we can walk to our destination in 15 minutes. So we all took off in a group and followed the signs. In a few minutes, our destination was already visible across a little bay. When we got to the bay, I noticed a bunch of wake-boarders. Then a little grassy area. Restaurants. Ok, this must be where I have to be in a few hours. But wait, it's not just not near the exit, but in the complete opposite direction! I stood there thinking for a few minutes. Does my friend have a bad sense of direction? I know I have a great sense of direction, so I decided to trust my instincts: this must be the place.

I didn't think much about the whole thing until a few hours later, when I was getting ready to walk there. Going towards the exit, I ran right into my friend. Oh hey, listen, are you sure this place is towards the exit? No, I guess not, oh well, good thing you know where it is, I thought it was in the other direction.

The point of the story is, well, if I hadn't gotten on the wrong train, I would have most likely never found the wake-boarders and the grassy area in the dark. And if I hadn't run into my friend later on, he most likely wouldn't have found it. But I have to admit that everything worked out as well as it could have. Maybe, just maybe, when something's meant to work out, then it just does. I need to have more faith.

Parting

"I can't describe to you how surprised I was to find out I loved her, old sport. I even hoped for a while that she'd throw me over, but she didn't, because she was in love with me too. She thought I knew a lot because I knew different things from her... Well, there I was, way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute, and all of a sudden I didn't care. What was the use of doing great things if I could have a better time telling her what I was going to do?" 

On the last afternoon before he went abroad, he sat with Daisy in his arms for a long, silent time. It was a cold fall day, with fire in the room and her cheeks flushed. Now and then she moved and he changed his arm a little, and once he kissed her dark shining hair. The afternoon had made them tranquil for a while, as if to give them a deep memory for the long parting the next day promised. They had never been closer in their month of love, nor communicated more profoundly one with another, than when she brushed silent lips against his coat's shoulder or when he touched the end of her fingers. Gently, as though she were asleep. 

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

London welcomes the world

Wow, I was at the Olympics! It's still hard to believe. What an amazing few days! I don't know if I can write very cohesively about it; I had so many impressions, little experiences, I'll try to remember some now.

The arrival was very smooth. On the plane from Budapest, I overheard several people talking about the chaos that London is going to be. A British couple next to me talked about it the entire flight: "I just hope we make it home ok, I am gonna be so mad if there are crowds everywhere!" I think the general opinion of Londoners was that they needed these Olympics like a hole in the head. Well, it turns out that London was relatively empty. At passport check at Stansted airport, I was my own line. On the train to Central London, I had a whole car to myself. On the underground, I sat the whole time. No chaos, quite the opposite indeed. Thousands of volunteers all over the city (all but one I interacted with were very nice but not always very helpful), amazing organization - for example, many train stations around the olympic sites were made one-way: one station for entrance, one for exit. This way, the crowds are never going at each other, only nicely flowing in one direction. I was not too happy though when they would not let me enter an empt train station to get onto the trian I needed one monring. Oh well, in 10 minutes, I walked to the next one.

ExCel is the largest convention center I have ever been in. Since it was also one way, and the fencing venue was in one end, I got to walk the whole length of the building, several times. Took about 15 minutes from one end to the next. There were 7 sports in ExCel, fencing being one of them. The morning I had a ticket for went smoothly too. The trains were crowded, but mostly because it was morning rush hour. Security was like at an airport except that the people in charge were very nice. Everyone got a "Welcome to the Olympics" smile, the volunteers were chatting with people in line, it was rather pleasant. Once inside, I realized I could no longer leave. One ticket was only for one entry. Considering how large the arena was and how small the fencing area, I was a little upset about that. I wish I walked around some more before entering the fencing section, but anyway, it wasn't the end of the world. Of course, each area had all the essentials: food, beer, bathrooms and souvenir shop. For most of the morning, I was in and out of the venue. Watched a round of fencing, then went out to try to find people I knew. There were a few. Some unexpected. It's funny when you run into people you know at the Olympics. At one point, I was just sitting around, waiting for a friend when the guy sitting next to me turned to me: "Don't you think fencing is rather boring? I wish I had gotten tennis tickets!" I looked at him puzzled, thinking why anybody who doesn't know fencing would come to watch it. All I could say was that the next round should be a lot more exciting. I doubt he thought so.

For me, it wasn't that different from another fencing tournament. Of course, the atmosphere was amazing, but there was no Hungarian team to cheer for, and the US girls, some of whom I knew a little, lost early on. For the rest of the day, I was cheering for the referees, and whoever was fencing the Italians. I managed to get a last minute ticket for the finals, which were pretty exciting. Italy versus Russia. We sat right in the middle of the Italian cheering section - although I think the whole arena was a gigantic Italian cheering section. Every time the Italians scored, there was a minute of screaming, flag waving, craziness!! They have a crazy strong team in women's foil: they took gold, silver and bronze in the individual, and then won the gold pretty easily in the team even as well. They are nearly unbeatable at this time. I was so proud of my friend who refereed this final with class and confidence!

A word about the official Olympic goodies: I would be so happy to just get all the great outfits the participants received! The referee suits looked nice, the volunteers wore purple themed uniforms while the officials had blue ones. There were Adidas tennis shoes with London2012 logos, umbrellas, bags, all really fun and nice! I managed to score an umbrella and am pretty happy about it :)

The general atmosphere in London was very special. It really did feel like London was welcoming the world. According to some locals I spoke to, more Londoners tried to leave the city for these three weeks. I think it's insane! If I lived in a city that hosted the Olympics, I would invite all my friends to come stay with me and try to get as many tivűckets as I could. But that's just me. The mayor managed to scare half the city into leaving, with all the talk of chaos before the games began. So walking around in the city, if really felt like the only people there were somehow involved in the Olympics. Every other person I passed on the street had an accreditation pass around their necks, was wearing national warm-ups or flags. There were more languages spoken in London than on any given day in NYC. One evening, I went out to Hyde Park for a run. It was my second time running there: about a month ago, I went for a lap with Daniel one weekday night: then, it was pretty empy, not like an evening with good weather in Central Park. This time around, however, the park seemed like a buzzing, crazy Central Park. Part of Hyde Park is set up as a huge spectator cheering zone. There are large screens and anyone can go for free to watch among thousands of other people. I can imagine the atmosphere there.

I never realized that the Brits were so patriotic! So many people were wearing the British jerseys, flags, tattoos on their faces. It was good to see so many of them cheering in the fencing venue for the mediocre women's foil team, also out on the streets when I went to watch a little bit of the women's triathlon and marathons. When the British athletes were running or biking past the crowd, everyone was going absolutely nuts! It seems to be working because the British team is doing awesome, third in the medal standings currently. 

One night I went to a party with my friend, Jeff. He is quite international himself: an American who grew up in many countries, went to college in Chicago, and settled in London afterwords. He has a super international group of friends in London too. The party he invited me to was hosted by a Japanese-American and a New Zelander. There were people from every corner of the world. Naturally, everyone was talking about the Olympics. One guy who was British but probably from an Indian family volunteered at the opening ceremony: he was a dancer in the "current music" section. Another girl I spoke to was from Italy: she said she loved fencing! I was intrigued. I asked if she fenced. No, never. But in Italy, fencing is a star sport! Valentina Vezzali is a national hero. Everyone knows that Elisa Di Francisca just won two gold medals. She said she watched on TV and it was very exciting. For someone who had never fenced, she knew about the rules and the people like someone who has been involved in the sport for years. Later on, the heptathlon final was on TV, with Jessica Ennis being the favorite before the final event, the 800m run. I had even heard of Ennis before, who was profiled in some video I watched months ago as a rising star in athletics; also a very sweet charming young girl. When her final was abou to start, nearly EVERYONE at the party crowded around the one TV in the flat and cheered for her as if we were all British. She won by a lot and we all watched her make her many victory laps, wrapped in the gigantic British flag. What a great moment!

The marathon course in front of Buckingham Palace:

Caught just a glimpse of the runners:

More marathon course:

Overall, what an experience! Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes. To me, the Olympics represents so many of the things that matter: not just athletics, but hard work and perseverance, people with common interests coming together, people from all over the world coming together. It brings people together. Literally and metaphorically. And for a few days, I felt like a really tiny part of it.