I’ve been wanting to do more writing recently, more short stories and drabbles. It’s been so long since I took a pen to paper. When I was in Kenya, I was so determined to finish Like Never Before that I wrote for two afternoons, transferring crumpled paper of many edits to computer, writing two new scenes. It was great, I was on a roll, things were progressing, and I was going to come home and surprise everybody–not that I think anybody has missed my story, it would have mostly been for my satisfaction. I saved it on my memory stick and when I turned on my computer the next morning, somehow the stick had gotten corrupted and I lost everything. My sister has the same brand and it died two weeks later, so we think it’s some error with the stick itself, but I lost all motivation again. I hope it comes back.

I’ve missed the creative outlet that writing provides, the satisfaction that came from getting just the right word and turn of phrase. I keep thinking about trying to tackle some original short stories or essays (you may have noticed some of the attempts in my journal entries, to make them sound a little more like prose rather than ramblings. I have no idea how well I’m succeeding–this entry would not be an example, btw). Especially since I heard that Brooke was writing a children’s story, which knowing her will be completely wonderful and witty and alive, since that’s how she writes naturally, and Michelle’s been corresponding with a friend, a la “Sorcery and Cecelia”. But I don’t have the time or the ideas at this point. Okay, I shouldn’t use time as an excuse, since Atul Gawande wrote Complications as a surgery resident, snatching 15-30 minutes away from precious sleep, and I have a ton more free time than that right now. (BTW, that’s the best book on the practice and culture of medicine I’ve ever read. I highly recommend it, even to those who have no medical knowledge at all. It’s a fantastic, enthralling read).

No, for me, the real hiccup is the creative side. I can’t seem to come up with a single original idea. Every time I attempt to invent characters or plots, they feel like pale ripoffs of every single author I’ve ever read. That is the reason that I love fanfiction so much–the characters are there with preformed motives, personalities, behaviors, etc and the trick is to write your own story within those boundaries. It’s difficult, yes, to stay in character, but I like the challenge combined with the ease. However, I really love the opportunity presented with the minor characters–people that we might have names and looks for, but everything else is a blank slate. Why I can invent personalities and mannerisms in this case and can’t with OF is beyond me.

Anyway. As I said. I’ve been wanting to write. Gilmore Girls has passed beyond inspiration. Even with the lure of Jess coming back for one more eppy hasn’t been enough to light the fire (maybe that will change come April). And I’m really wanting to try something new.

So. The sum up is that I found a prompt community called 7spells for Harry Potter fiction. It’s only seven stories which is much more manageable than the fanfic100 communities and I like the prompts, and even more amazing, there was a character pairing not taken that I thought I could actually maybe write something about.

Behind the cut is my master list for writing Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood. I’m rather excited, actually. I had so hoped that Luna would become a bigger character after she proved herself in the 5th book and was disappointed in the sixth book. I loved her scenes, she was hilarious, but it was lacking in substance–she was just the humorous situation generator. Where was the whole “Hermione and Luna balance Harry” plotline? Or the mystical “life after death” connection.

Erm. I’ll stop now. I’ll be posting the stories to my journal, since communities have a tendency to disappear and I don’t want to lose anything, but you have no obligation to read anything. Promise. 🙂

Harry/Luna challenge stories

The problem with taking some time away from your blog (without actually saying that you are taking some time away) is that you can’t just jump in and fill in with the conclusions of what’s been going on. For example, I had been going to start this entry saying that “I’m doing better now” and realized that since I’ve only had one vagueish entry in the last two weeks, you have no idea that I was doing “poorly.”

I hadn’t meant to take this break. I went through a little bit of a writer’s block and then when I wanted to write, I was way too emotional to write anything halfway resembling coherency.

It’s been a hard week. I’ve been figuring out all of these financial things (and I HATE dealing with money. Honestly, I wish we all would just convert to a system where we bartered with crayons), such as reconsolidating my loans (again), finding out my credit report, finding out how much of a house I could afford. I had a presentation on Wednesday that of course took much more time than I thought it would (but it went well, so yay!) and had all of the responsibilities of the end-of-the-rotation stuff to complete. I had to sign my initial contract for MCW, and I’m also supposed to send them my schedule by the beginning of next week. 8 months of hospitals wards. Three weeks of vacation and only two can be taken together. Do I need to take off an entire week for Sam’s wedding or can I arrange the few days off? Do I want to spread them equally over the year, so that every three months or so, I’ll have a week to look forward too–or have two weeks together where I could actually do something? Et cetera. Et cetera. And so forth.

And then Chris and I started arguing. No, argue is too strong of a word–I can’t come up with any kind of definition for what it was. He said some things, a little more biting and sarcastic and mean, which I didn’t pick up on at first, because they were more mild than some of what he’s said in the past few times I’ve been with him. And he called and apologized after I left. Which should have made things better, but they didn’t, because it just made me realize everything that was wrong with us. I mean, I forgave him completely, but before all of this, he never said anything mean to me. If he teased me, it was good natured and I knew it–there was never that ribbon of malice that seems to tinge the conversations now. Not to mention this whole not speaking about Melissa thing–I thought I was being the good friend by giving him space to talk to me about it when he was ready. Turns out, he is talking to another one of our friends–and hanging out with her when he’s telling me that he has no time to do anything. Me–very jealous. Very hurt.

So, that’s what sent me into my week long depression. But I’m better now. I finished most everything on my “MUST. DO. NOW.” list, which relieved the stress, managed not to think about things that I could fix, and got some sleep. And Chris and I worked out this afternoon (20 pound stationary front rows, baby! I’m improving!) and while we didn’t talk about that fight–things were better between us, back to normal. He actually talked about Melissa and his feelings about what’s going on. I was so relieved that when he hugged me goodbye, I almost started crying. Yep, I’m an emotional wuss. I think that has been thoroughly established here by now.

The jealousy thing is getting a little better too. I’m still hurt that while I thought she was a friend of both of us, I’m getting left out of things, but I’m not having the stabbing thoughts that I’m getting replaced and will be Last Year’s Model long before the move to Wisconsin happens. And that’s a much better feeling.

So anway, I’m winding down on medical school. I have six weeks left–2 weeks of research/paper writing, two weeks of class (I’ll be also taking a Wilderness Medicine class then and will be able to tell you how to treat that snake bite!), and then 2 more weeks of the research/paper. That’s it. The research thing is kinda worrying me — I’ve known about it for months and have been trying to brainstorm what I could do without much luck, and I want to get everything done in two weeks, so that I can have surgery during the last two. That would be the perfect timing, so I could be fully recovered by the time residency starts. I see my doc on the 10th of April–I should know better then how I can fit everything together.

I’m taking a “Basic Life Support” class tomorrow (I need “Advanced Life” for residency and you have to have the basic first). It’s rather amusing that I’ve gone through all of medical school and never been formally trained on CPR or anything–I mean, I know it, but I’ve never had to pass it off and become certified, until now. Melissa’s taking the class as well–it’s the first time that I will have seen her since the New Year’s. I have no idea what to say to her. Not a one.

Always nice to discover another personal weakness.

What makes it worse is that it really is over NOTHING. Nothing. But I feel supplanted, which makes me panic that that I’ll be replaced before you can say Milwaukee and that makes everything worse. Compounding the feelings of inadequacy, is the knowledge that I’m boring the socks off of every person in my vicinity. “We keep having the same conversation over and over.” Thanks, just what I needed to hear.

I’m woeful and angsty and really just using this to vent vaguely. But that’s the purpose of a journal, ain’t it?

The late night gab-fest had turned from silly to serious as we fought sleep. Perhaps it was I who began fretting about the inevitable change as we curled up on the couch. She, one of my dearest friends, was leaving very soon and I wouldn’t see her for more than a year and a half. Time had crept in and our idyllic college days, where we had all romped and discovered a second childhood, were coming to an end.

“I hate growing up and becoming an adult.”

“We may be older, but we are not grown-ups yet. That requires bigger steps.”

“Such as?”

“Marriage.”

“Laura and James are married and they’re not adults yet–they’re just more like permanent roommates.”

“Okay. Maybe not marriage. But kids do.”

“Oh, yeah. Kids make you an adult.”

Together, we made our list. Kids, definitely. Buying a house. Buying a car that cost more than $500. Have a career. And, as we stared down at the sofa that we had “rescued” from the side of the road, we added one last thing to the list: purchasing a new, real couch. That would be the things that changed us from irrepressible youth to Responsible Adults.

The years have slipped by from that conversation, seven years by my calculation. Liz went away, came back, and lived with me for another two years. My friends all married, had kids, purchased houses, cars, and yes, new sofas, and I was left behind, still lurking on that cusp of being a grown-up. I remained single, in a small apartment with roommates, and my couch, with its hard wooden sides, was replaced with one with softer, smaller arms but a torn seat that had to be supported with books. As that one gave way, it too was replaced with a worn, but matching sofa and love seat (an improvement!), graciously donated by Chris. Still not quite classified as the real grownup purchase.

That is all about to change. I contacted a realtor today to discuss purchasing a house in Milwaukee. In a few weeks, if all goes well, I’ll be a home owner. A few weeks after that, I’ll have a degree and a new title. I’ll have a real job, a career where I’ll be responsible for the welfare of all the patients under my charge.

It’s official. I am now an Adult. A Grown-up. At 27 years, it’s probably about time.

But I don’t think I’m getting rid of my secondhand sofas yet. I’m not ready to be that old.

During my two weeks on Neurosurgery last year, I walked into the operating room and discovered that the trauma patient that everybody had been talking about in rounds was somebody that I knew extremely well, from my hometown of 250 people. She was one of my mom’s good friends and her granddaughter is one of the few people that I count as a friend from high school. She had been in an accident and had broken her back. Needless to say, that surgery is one of my most memorable–and not in a good way.

Because I was on service, I had the opportunity to visit with her on a daily basis, until she was moved to the rehab ward. Most of the time, I didn’t do much more than hold her hand while she slept and even that was hard. I wanted to do so much more and was powerless. I couldn’t offer words of encouragement–we as her care team had no idea if she would get any movement back, no idea how much surgery she’d require, no idea when the pain would start to dissapate–and even though I wanted to say everything was going to be okay, I couldn’t. She’s had a hard recovery. She can walk now with the assistance of a walker, but it is very tiring and the numbness has never left her legs. She fights with depression on a daily basis now, wondering why she survived. It’s hard watching her go through this trial–this once happy, vibrant lady.

All this has been in my head this week as my friend lies in the hospital for a very similar reason. I haven’t been up to see him yet, partially to give him time to heal, partially to give myself time. Becuase, and I hope this doesn’t sound selfish, although I don’t have any idea how hard it is for the person who ahs been through a traumatic event, it’s difficult being the relative/friend and finding the right words of support. As I’ve mentioned before, I have gotten to the point that I can relate to patients and share in their grief–but when it affects someone I know, I become useless again.

He’s doing a little better in terms of his spirits. We held a meeting on Tuesday to try to come up with ways to help with his medical costs, personal needs, and to help find ways for him to finish school. I’m now on a committee trying to come up with fundraising ideas–something that, as always, has turned out to be more difficult than intended. We had thought that we would pull all of our frequent flyer miles together to get his family here–but Delta airlines is a business and is charging $50 to transfer the miles–plus 50 cents for every mile, and they won’t waive it. We’ve gotten the local media available.

Anyway, I really do appreciate the words of support that you all have offered. I thought some of you might be interested in reading some of the articles that have appeared in the local newspaper.
http://www.sltrib.com/utah/ci_3583898
http://deseretnews.com/dn/view/0,1249,635190427,00.html
http://umed.med.utah.edu/ms4/gael/Gael%20letter.doc

And I know none of you know him at all, but if you wanted to donate something to his cause, email me and we can talk. 🙂 No pressure really.

I’ll do another post later about things going on in my life (and there are a few things), but I’m pretty bad at updating on things I’ve written about in the past and thought this might be of interest.

There are some people who just brighten your life the instant they walk into the room.

Gael, one of my classmates, is one of them. He always used to hug me when he saw me, and I, who thrive on hugs, often sought him out when I was having a bad day. He irritated me several times, that’s true–I didn’t like his condensending attitude towards women (you could forgive him some of it since he was very French) and working with him on rounds could be challenging, but he was my friend. Depending on when you asked him, he was going to be an Orthopedic Surgeon, an Ophthalmologist and most recently, a Neurologist like me. He had big amibitions and the gutsy charm to get what he wanted.

I just found out that he was in a snowboarding competition yesterday. There was an accident and he transected his spinal cord. He is paralysed from the waist down and will most likely never walk again. The neurologist-to-be is now in the neuro critical care unit, will undergo surgery tomorrow and will struggle to regain even a semblance of what his life had been like.

He’s not wanting visitors for the next few days, so the challenge of figuring out words and action of comfort can be mused over and thought out, but this has certainly put a stop to my “woe is me” little pity parties I’ve thrown myself these past couple of weeks. There’s nothing like a bit of perspective–I just wish that it hadn’t come at the expense of my friend.