Bubblegum Ice Cream

I cannot remember the brand of ice cream that came out with the bubblegum flavored treat many years ago.  The color was mint green and pink, and the plastic cone shaped container contained a gum ball at the bottom.  The frozen treat was discontinued for a while and during that long dry stretch of the bubblegum ice cream missing from supermarket freezers, yours truly turned to Dipping Dots for a dose of bubblegum goodness.


Coffee crumble and pistachio and mint chocolate chip still rank above bubblegum in the scale of my favorite flavors, but ice cream is ice cream.  Bubblegum ice cream is special.  Bubblegum ice cream brings me back to happier days.  Never mind that the milky treat is full of artificial colors and flavor; bubblegum ice cream is bubblegum ice cream.  It's comforting and as indulgent as, say, cotton candy.


Naturally, a cone made me very happy for today.


♥ Ice cream is love. ♥

Yes, This.

It's so beautiful to wake up on a Monday, without any trace of worry or without a barrage of stressful thoughts to send my sympathetic nervous system into high gear.  No quizzes, no long exams, no assignments, no books to read, no manuals to complete...nothing.  It's so ironic that perhaps the lecturers/professors are now the ones scrambling over tons of paper or losing sleep over the workload (our grades) that they have to compute those and submit it by deadline.

And I won't think of grades even now.

Cortical Spreading Depression

1. Wake up with a killer migraine.

2. Take one shifting exam with head feeling like it could explode anytime.

3. Try everything to ameliorate pain.  Eat a good nutritious meal, drink two liters of water, keep self in ambient temperature, get eight hours of sleep, do deep breathing exercises, take painkillers, stop reading your handouts and books, keep self in horizontal position, and close eyes against the migraine's aura.

4. Cringe as pain continues to pulsate and migraine aura intensifies.  Restrain self from chucking up the food, water and meds-the toilet bowl need not be your best friend.

5. Watch in horror as BP (normally 90/60) shoots up to 130/100.

6. Take mega-dose of Ibuprofen and start praying the rosary.

7. Try to sleep against the pain.  Place sleep mask over eyes to shut out the dancing stars, the blinking lights, and ribbons of colors associated with the pain.  Distract self from thoughts of an impending cerebrovascular accident or a possibility of a brain tumor.

8. Wake up with a sore head.

9. Remember that you weren't able to go over your notes and text for the shifting exam and the final exam in another subject.

10. Sigh and say, "Oh well, I'm just experiencing the complexities of life."




What is wrong with my brain?  Something triggered a cortical spreading depression that led to release of inflammatory substances that irritated my trigeminal nerve roots that translated to the mammoth migraine.  I can only sigh with regret because the migraine occurred while I was taking the exam for my favorite subject, and my head was still sore (and devoid of some necessary bits of information) when I took the exam for my second favorite subject.

Maybe they were right in saying I'm stressing myself too much trying to read the material when I can always read the samplex instead.  (And darn, those two exams were mostly samplex-based.)

Goodbye 2007

This past year was mostly filled with too much of my whining.  Maybe my expectations were so high (from the intense experiences of 2006) and I just wouldn't move to reach my goals, that I wound up feeling like a loser in 2007.  I have a lot of excuses, but I know I can't blame them for what actually happened in my life.  It was the collective effect of bad decisions, pessimism, and out-of-place-perfectionism.  I've kept moaning about all the regrets I had/have, but then I never mustered enough self-discipline to bring about the changes I wanted.

Of course, I had some ups as well.  I graduated college.  I was able to drive a bit more.  Friends lent their hearts, time, and muscle to get me through very rough times as I started med school.  I slowly got the hang of surviving the new school.  I made new friends and found new role models.  I believed in the power of crushes.  I read Book Seven of Harry Potter.  I found myself able to hold on to money.  I managed to adapt.  I opened my eyes.  I find myself becoming more mature.  I see the emergence of character and conviction.  Maybe I have tons to be thankful for, but I'm too stubborn to recognize them as little miracles or blessings-in-disguise.

So no matter what the stars say, I vow to be braver, more caring, more dedicated, more disciplined, more loving, happier, more grateful, a better friend, a better sister, a better daughter, a better member of the community, and a better child of God.  I know I can reach for even bigger things but I know I must work harder, play even harder, and enjoy and learn.

Happy New 2008.

Post Caffeine Hangover

Waking up with an enormous sleep debt and some caffeine running amok in your system isn't exactly the best feeling in the world. But anyway, I had to discipline myself to attend the morning classes.  Yeah, anatomy was a tough thing to study, but what the hell.

So blessed to be in the company of my beloved friends tonight.  I wonder, though, when we will see each other again.  We're all starting new chapters in our lives and slowly drifting apart (physically).  Maybe the best thing we all can do is cherish our moments together and keep talking to each other through all means possible.

A Sort of Fulfillment

It is always, always lovely to start each school day with a lecture given by a competent teacher. This particular Neuroanatomy lecturer fast became my favorite when he used ordinary terms for the excessively-hard-to-remember jargon of the subject. This morning was particularly very special, because he did the lecture with a swollen hard palate (he had a cyst taken out recently)-talk about dedication to the thankless job of teaching medical students. The added bonus was that I remembered everything in the lecture after the two hour session. It is also very lovely to end the day with a sense of accomplishment. I am actually exuding the lovely fumes of the Gross Anatomy lab as I type this entry in an Internet cafe near my dormitory, but I don't even care that I have that faint and unique smell of formaldehyde/cadaver/whatnot around me. That's saying something, considering I always hate the way the smell sticks to me after the sessions. I thoroughly enjoyed my Anatomy class this afternoon, because I finally had a good dissection session; I was able to get a perfect dissection grade and an added bonus for identifying all pertinent structures. What makes this very fulfilling is that I did the dissection perched on the cadaver's gurney (a very disgusting place to be on) without gloves. I worked for the grade, and the doctor was kind enough to affirm the effort. :) So, maybe I'll be off to reward myself with some sushi and a luxurious shower later on. The adrenalin's wearing off, yet I'm too happy to care about my sore muscles.

Happy Halloween

I am alternately bored and procrastinating, while I bare my fangs out of the window to scare the evil spirits (who are no doubt hoping to have some good old fun) quivering and shitless. (Yeah, I have a bit of that in me. I believe in that delusion that I am too crabby for any spirit to try to haunt or terrify. They stand to gain nothing in trying or in doing, but they lose a lot of their credibility in trying or doing.) In the spirit of All Hallows Eve, I just wanted to share the seven majorly mortifying thoughts that have turned me into a right old mardy for the longest bleeding time. It might sound like a load of bollocks to anyone, but hey, I'm the jessie here. 1. I am mortified to have realized that I am no longer interested in trying to learn as much as I could. I am scared that somehow this will affect my future patients, in the sense that any other practitioner might be able to spot the problem in record time while I try to remember that tiny memory that contains a smidgen of recognition for whatever my patient complains of. I survived so much (until today) because I was such a nerd way back in high school. Maybe I have been too complacent, especially in college and more so in med school. Maybe I am bored, I find the pacing or the teaching style way out of sync, or I simply cannot accept the fact that passing most of the med school exams entails a lot of memorization without understanding. 2. I am mortified that I am no longer trying to keep myself in good health. It is a given that medical school students do not get enough sleep, yet I am not taking advantage of the sem break to catch up on some snooze time. I do not eat when I am hungry, yet I stuff myself full of empty calories or the wrong proportions of food groups simply because I am too tired or lazy to prepare a decent meal. The idea of going to the gym does not hold any appeal because I make a lot of excuses for not going. The prescription for my new eyeglasses had taken permanent residence inside my wallet since July, and has never seen daylight since. I do not even visit the dentist every three weeks like I did before, so now, the removal and transition to retainers has been delayed. Topping all these health sins off is my forgetting the proper schedule of immunizations. Demmit. 3. I am mortified to find that my recent entries here on LJ have been nothing more than terse phrases or rants. Nothing like the very first entries of the blog. Writing was one of my secret pleasures before, something that could give me immense happiness in a short span of time. My journal entries were highly treasured, for they held more than memories or emotions captured in words. These entries allowed me to see how I grew as a person, how my own views of the world had changed, how I was working towards my goal. As of late, my muse seems to have had the knickers in a knot, because I have leashed her to make way for things that now seem terribly unimportant. How did I let one part of my life enroach what I previously held so dear and high? 4. I am mortified to realize that I am crippled in the relationship department. Romantic interests are not quite my priority right now, because I am actively seeking for the tightest circle of friends I could have. I have lost touch with my bestest friend from elementary school. High school was pretty much spent in complete isolation. College was wonderful and colorful, however, no matter how much effort I put into keeping touch, I quite understand that my college friends are caught in the wonderfully woeful grind of academia too much to even reply at times. I really cannot trust my classmates here in med school; playing the part of a wallflower pretty much lets me see that they are not interested beyond the person who can do their presentations or tutor them in tough subjects. Even the guidance counselor in med admitted that most of the people here are cut-throat and ultimately user-friendly; in her own words, real and good friends are a rarity in the institution. Somehow being too independent or aloof has afforded me the seclusion I have loved so much, yet I feel I have traded in the joys of companionship for that. It does not quite help too that my parents are grappling with the idea of me already a young adult that they keep a too-tight leash on me (more like caging me in), which actually cannot allow me to go about building good relationships with ease. 5. I am mortified to find myself failing the very reasonable expectations I set for myself. Even if I can blame my horrible habit of procrastination stemming from my absurd perfectionist tendencies, the very reminders of my lack of responsibility in the achievement department irk me. Banging my head against any solid surface would not give me answers in any way, and most likely would leave me a mild concussion that may be enough to change my personality permanently. Maybe I failed to think of a back-up plan, too confident that things would fall exactly where I though they would. Staring back from the plate set before me is a jumble of broken dreams, nuggets of opportunity, slivers of reality that wound invisibly, morsels of hope, little heaps of regret, portions of truth and a smattering of memories. All that is left for me to do is to chew on the 'meal' and move according to what I can synthesize from them using what's left of my neurons that have seemed to be moving towards a gradual extinction as of late. 6. I am mortified to realize that I am second guessing every little thing I do. Admittedly, self-esteem was/is not one of my strongest points, as my life experiences so far can attest to, but I never found myself in a situation where self-doubt clouded every single decision I make. Making monumental mistakes or failing my expectations (see above) reduced me into a veritable coward. Never mind the thought that second-guessing is a protective mechanism being used by my over-deflated ego. There is such a thing called prudence that I have indeed learned to exercise (albeit a bit too liberally as of late) as I changed into a young adult, but second-guessing is entirely unhealthy and can never be described as a virtue. 7. I am mortified by the possibility that I am trying to live up to the expectations of the people around myself instead of dancing to my own tune. Anyone will surely hate being reduced to a puppet made to perform to please others. Anyone will truly hate trying to do what others would deem proper, when doing so actually grates against one's personal style. I am quite terrified that I am becoming a plaything. I am quite terrified of the possibility that I am being groomed to become part of a zombie-like herd (forgive me if this sounds way too paranoid) when I quite enjoy sticking out like an 'errant' (more like maverick) animal. Expectations from observers merely weaken or severely limit what anyone can accomplish through time, short term or long term if allowed to do so. (Don't get me wrong-I am in, and enjoying med school, but I feel hopelessly disappointed in the learning institution; I never realized until today that not sharing the views of the institution is so hard to live with.) So...there. Maybe working through these mortifying thoughts will help me overhaul my life right now, or even spark the change I think I desperately need. Happy Halloween, indeed.

Gay

Right. Brava, Ms. Rowling. I thought you'd never say that.

Whiff of Death

The preserved cadaver lies prone or supine on the black body bag on the cold metal table, helpless against the assault of my group's steel tools. We pray for the soul of the cadaver, make the incisions, remove the fascia and the fat, isolate the neurovascular structures, cut across muscles, point out tendons, and then we leave after cleaning up, sometimes forgetting to pray. All the time I am exposed to the indescribable smell of necrosis and of the menthol-smelling lachrymator that is formalin; somehow, in an utterly inexplicable way, I think I know the smell of death. Many people won't know that I somehow sense/see future events; it may sound freakish that these thoughts come to fruition without my interference. Two boats that sank, an airplane that crashed, a pregnancy, two deaths, and just recently a foreboding that another death will come along. The very thought sent shivers down my spine and has taken over my mind. The foreboding came when I was with the person, and I invariably caught a whiff of death in this person. I've tried to banish this thought from my mind, but knowing the habits of this person, I'd say an early grave wouldn't be too far behind. But I never wish this death to happen because that person is quite dear to me, and I could never will anything terrible happening to that person. Or maybe I've been spending too much time with the cadaver that the embalming chemicals are giving me hallucinations now.

Two Weeks Gone

It's almost been a month now since I've gone to medical school, and I still can't find the proper groove. It's as though everyone around me is working on their foxtrot while I'm dancing to an improvised jig. As my friend has put it, I'm in a double whammy of adjusting to medical school AND adjusting to a new learning institution. I sorely miss my former school, and I'm only realizing now that I've took all those liberties I exercised there for granted. I'm not too keen on being instantly attached to my new uni or to my classmates who went there for undergrad; it's just that we are too different as of the moment, and I don't really want to press it. I think I have certain expectations of the new uni that have yet to be met. I think it's like coming to Beauxbatons, from Hogwarts. I'm also adjusting to the fact that my family thinks that weeekends are free; I know they miss me somewhat, but I'll never be successful or I won't even survive school if they keep eating up my time. I miss my home truly, but I'm more pressed to do well in school right now. Two weeks of pure academia have gone by in a blur. I'm still waiting for that bus that will take me for the best ride of my life.