A whole year.

It'll be a year minus 6 days that I have written on this blog. You'll have to excuse this entry, as it has really nothing to do with most of the previous entries. I guess I'll call it a personal touch to a rather mundane collections of previous thoughts.
One year has passed. Much too long to for my head and my heart - because I feel like I might explode from several emotions that are flooding my body right now. I would explain the catalyst of this bizarre emotional roller coaster if I knew exactly what it was. Its terribly hard to really sum up a year. One blog entry for a whole year? I say it cant be done, but here I am.
To sum things up: I'm in mourning.
I'm not sure how long it will go on but I'm mourning the loss of several things, some of which are too painful to even try to express. My grandmother passed away. I have decided that the manner of her passing was particularly hard for someone who works in medicine, although I cannot say it was particularly harder on me than anyone else. Primarily, it was hard because I was helpless - and God forbid a medical professional be helpless. It seems to be ok when we are helpless with others medical problems, but when it comes to being helpless regarding a loved one, its particularly heinous. I'm certainly not the only one that was helpless in this situation. I cant help but thinking that if I was in charge of my grandmother's medical care, that she still might be with us. Its a silly regret, as I've frustratingly come to realize that it will be painful to let go of. I feel oddly responsible even though I believe my grandmother's fate, along with everyone else's, was sealed long ago.
My grandmother's death made me acutely aware that, in spite of my medical know-how, I'm poorly equipped to deal with personal loss and illness when it comes to my family. I'd probably lie to most people and profess that I'm more equipped than the average person to handle death, but I think I might be less able to. I'm not sure why this has surprised me, but I was blown off course so badly it was hard to continue on.
I am seeking refuge in this blog to help me move on. A blog is perfect for such a thing, because it just absorbs the energy of the writer. I have come to realize that when we write, there is an element of transference that occurs. I am actively seeking this because, if I dont, I think I might explode.
Along with the mourning of my grandmother, I am not sure if I have recovered from my other grandmother being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I dont think I could verbalize the the searing pain that is accompanied with the first time you hear that a loved one is diagnosed with cancer. Its a unique form of torture which could only have originate from the pits of hell, wherever that might be. I remember the frantic waves of panic that came over my body as I researched endlessly, grasping for things that didn't materialize. Retrospectively, its hard to imagine being told someone has cancer, and that someone has died and feel very differently. Of course there are differences, but the human psyche seems to process this the same. The scars of shock and pain seem fresh at times. Fortunately, my family - my ever-enduring family - held together. My grandmother's body miraculous mended after surgery, and again after chemo where we arrived to remission. I'm not sure if its hard for everyone to swallow the concept of remission, bit it was a bitter pill which did not pass easy for me.
Medically speaking, I would refer to this as the purgatory for all of medicine. A bitter word which implies that something is gone, but for an unknown amount of time. Its a bizarre place to exist because it hard to not assume the worst. With cancer, once the word is spoken, even though it might physically be gone, I feel like it takes root in our mind and comes out to torture us once in a while. Clearly, there has to be joy to recover and continue on when entering a time of remission. Yet, one cant help but be pessimistic facing the odds.
Thirdly, I'm mourning the general loss of my spirit for why I do medicine and the confusion I get when I can't for the life of my figure out where it went. I think I might have drowned it the minute I started doing it for money, or maybe I slowly starved it to death when I started resenting patients. Maybe it started after repeated abuse from patients and doctors or the abuse of power in our "fast food" oriented medical system. Wherever I lost my spirit along the way, I'm hoping it is holding on for something better.
I have noticed that I have started longing for the days of house calls and community oriented medicine. Where you helped someone in your community because they were sick. You helped them because they were your neighbors. I want to do medicine under those circumstances. I have grown weary of worrying about insurances, codes, deductibles, and eligibility. I have come to realize why people use the emergency room - because they get medical care regardless. No matter who you are, you get medical care.
This may be a bit idealistic because our capitalist system could never allow for such a thing but I will continue to hope for such a thing. I think these thoughts have come to mind in the wake of reading the The Hunger Games trilogy. A story which I'm still trying to figure out metaphorically and philosophically. I'm piecing together what it means to me and how it reflects our society today and I cant help but think that it speaks volumes of our society in its current condition - where we fight tooth and nail for materialistic things, no matter what we have to do for them. I think that I mourn this as well.
What I have to offer as far as hope is that we all mourn together, which I am desperately hoping will be enough. We each struggle through each day and we can continue on knowing that although we are separated into several different categories, niches and prejudices, we are still in it together - regardless of differences. Our joys and sorrows unite us. Panem et circenses.

1950s Manhattan? Yes please.

Why I need a case for all my watches...

I'm not sure where all of my self-reflection is coming from but here it is and its flowing like cheap champagne at a wedding...
I have a display case for all of my watches. I'm obsessed with watches. It all started with a deal and now its pure insanity. Minutes of every hour are dedicated on most of my days to scouring websites for good watch deals. I just recently discovered the whole watch culture and now I'm caught in a tidal wave of bizarre consumer behavior. There are watch blogs which catalog the latest outrageous watch from unknown swiss watch house which costs more than a house. And for some odd reason, I want to spend a mortgage on a watch. Lord knows why... nobody would even know the difference. But I would know. And for some reason, that makes all the difference right now.

I'm trying to laugh about how ridiculous this is but seriously, I feel nauseous thinking about the ends we go to in an attempt to gain stature, power and wealth. We bury ourselves under the burden of loans, mortgages and credit cards and we wonder why we need a scientific cocktail to make ourselves feel better.

I'm trying to laugh my way through the seriousness of it all so I can feel better -  but on the inside, our greed is our malignancy. I need to take my own advice so I can avoid all the chemo.

Welcome to my life.

#41 - Arcade Fire - Neon Bible & Wake Up
Uploaded by lablogotheque. - Explore more music videos.

A gentle reminder...

... that in a constant down-pour of sorrow, we might have to sing to get through it - even if we cant sing as good as Gene Kelly.

Camels in the hospital.

I wonder what we will look back on in 30 years and think the same thing we think about this ad...

When the loneliness kicks in... I turn to videogames.

I've been sleepwalking a lot lately. I'm not really sure why. It makes me nervous really - paranoid I might be walking around the neighborhood at night in my underwear.

I've come up with a theory about why I might be sleep walking but its only theory. I wonder if it has to do with my subconscious mind - like there is something looming and the only way it can get out is via subconscious action. Like there is something that I have yet to realize in my conscious mind... which really only makes me feel more insane to be honest. Our minds 
One thing is for sure, I cant be found wandering around the neighborhood in my skivvies.
I've started locking myself in my room now... we shall see if this helps. I think I've developed slight insomnia from it because who wants to go to sleep when they are just going to get up and walk around.
Alas, here I sit watching all manner of terribly depressing romantic comedies which mock the severity of my singleness.
Quite the dilemma.

Insanity.

Anemia of the soul...

Ever think about how bizarre it is that we give blood transfusions?
Dont get me wrong, I think its great that we can save lives with transfusions but I think we forget how significant it is to pass our blood on to another person. There is this really interesting point about how the beginning of life begins when blood starts to flow through the body. I'm not sure if I think this is correct, but I think its thought provoking.
If this happens to be true, are we passing part of our life, our soul, along to another person? The implications of this and its effect on the soul could be quite profound.
As healthcare providers, we forget about the implications of what we do, especially in the realm of the "supernatural". The spirituality of our patients is significantly effected regardless of religion by what we do. When did they ever talk about that in school? I find myself wondering how things would be different if we practiced with a focus on mental health first, bodily health second. Would we have prescriptions for mental health, spiritual awareness and peace of mind. What if our industry was built around this? Weird.

Makes you want to get all squiffy doesn't it?

I'm not even sure where to begin... I've literally been sitting here for the past five minutes trying to process the past weeks and simultaneously think of something witty to say about. It seems as though I might not have anything significant to say really.
I went to London and realized that although you can exist anywhere, there are really only certain places where you can flourish. I'm not necessarily made to live in London, but I realized that we forget what else is out there... we exist inside boundaries.
I, for one, had forgotten how young and shallow America is. I dont mean it in a negative way, per se. I mean it in a way that we have yet to have depth in our history. Our own lives rarely reflect the history of our country and our reverence is lost because of it. It seems as though London exists in modernity but with a respect for the past. I'm not sure we do that here. I barrel on without regard... as if what I have exists in and of itself, and nothing else. No connectedness to anything but perhaps my home, profession or coming out of my paycheck.
God save the Queen.