Medical jargon and lots of it.

I have finally hit a hospital. Actually rammed right into it.

Being from a medical school background and having worked in a different set up I needed to get acquainted with the medical health care system in the United States. Most people like me do what is called an observational rotation in the hope that the hospital staff will like you enough to want to absorb you into their residency program. ( MD, and notice the Americanised spelling )

The only spot I could get in this overly populated hospital ( with people like me) was in Surgical ICU ( Intensive Care Unit). If the long name didn’t do it for you let me simply say it is very specialised. The only people who work in it are ER residents or Critical Care fellows and Attendings. I have a medicine background. That has nothing to do with surgery trauma or ICU’s. Unless I become an intensivist. When asked why I would like to shadow here, my response was that patients are patients. Didn’t matter surgical or medical. Plus I have been away from hospital for too long. I want to be back. I was welcomed immediately.

Suddenly I found myself responding to alarm clocks, wearing the white coat and happy. Didn’t take a day for me to realise I know nothing of ventilators critical care or trauma patients. Inspite of 5 years in Medical school and 2.5 years of work experience behind me I felt like I didn’t know medicine. The feeling was overwhelming. But challenging. Out came the books, the library was frequented and questions became rampant.

I have enjoyed every moment of patient contact and care. It is the politics of getting a residency that gets to me.

The long hours, the achy feet and yearning to go back keeps me going for now. I know now more than ever that I really want to do this. I have a rule I live by, if the person is sick I want him to be my patient. That is how much I like being a doctor. Just a small issue of now finding a residency.

I really want to respond to all the recent comments made. I want to thank all those of you who read what I wrote and wrote what they felt. How much ever I appreciate considering my writing as a potent artform I am but human with real emotions. I prefer conversation over a mere look and nod. Not necesaarily personal but conversation nontheless.

With life not taking the course it was meant to take I find myself at a loss of words cheer poetry or prose. Thence the lack of posts, phone conversations or urge to chat. I realised my reclusive self was becoming a problem when my parents left a voice message asking me if they could get an appointment to speak with me.

I have trouble realising that people are people and that I have to stop keeping them on a pedestle. The higher I keep them, the farther they will fall. Disappointment is inevitable. Do I  have control over it?

For a person who maintains a blog on a public domain, claiming to be a private person comes across as a lie. With the risk of repeating myself, a person isn’t what they tell you they but what they aren’t telling you, they are. Such an existence can be stiffling. I know I find myself there at times.

Time is the one thing I need and I don’t have. A past mistake has reappeared. Only uglier this time. A good friend cannot be more hypocritical. I find myself unable to forgive forget dissociate. I have an induration I really shouldn’t have.I have been deleting phone numbers from my phone which I never wanted to. I am  cold at 17 Degrees F. I miss being cared for thought of yearned about. I think I am allowed a  moment of weakness.

The wind has been howling since morning. The sun is deceptive. Like many other shiny projections. I have been having a distracted morning. A cuppa of adrak ki chai and draft section of wordpress remind me of a better place I have known; a stronger me that I recognize.

Emotions continue to faze me. It has been established that emotions are essential. They bring about survival instinct. So does genetic variability and random errors. Nothing is a coincidence. It is all profound and for a reason. I seek to know. Today might be the wrong day.

There is confusion between what I write here and what I say out loud.The readers and chatters and friends and blog friends and the curious people are confused. Welcome to my world. So am I.

I am all-right. I know how to be.This blog is not a communication plat form. When I want to say some thing I am known to make calls at 11pm. Only this time I did have a conversation. I am basking in the warmth of knowing some one was nice to me. Restored some faith. Left me more confused.

The big smile doesn’t help. Am I happy or am I hiding. One can’t tell. Neither can I. I am enjoying the disillusionment. The wondering keeps me from thinking.

Mixed signals are harmful, hurtful,unnecessary and generally end up badly. Confusion has done no one good. Neither has clarity. What ever comes in flashes, is just that. Flashes. Enjoy the moment. Let go the next. Move on.

Easier said than done. I know. The recent posts are a reflection. Did you know that only so much of a percentage gets reflected. This one is the artist in me. On a howling Sunday afternoon. See you next week. I should be painting a different picture.

Rant/ Sad… You have been warned.

It has been over 18 months I have had to actually get up to an alarm clock. I blank out for a few minutes, wondering what exactly I should be doing.

I was very excited to be where I am. I had totally forgotten why I hated it as much. The realisation is slow and painful.

Friends I were to make, have made it very clear they hate me already. I doubt there is a point in even making an acquaintance.

I am hung on a person I don’t even want to be with. The tug of war between my head and heart leaves me jaded and sad.

I am where I insisted to be. Not exactly where I wanted to be. It is hard to appear happy. I am tired of smiling.

It is an art. Of concealment. Takes more effort than facing the demons.

Gets tiresome. Painful. Counter-productive.

Eventually there is going to be an outburst.  How does one control such a release.

Another art to be thought about.