God’s Doors

I sit on the couch and watch TV whilst surrounded by boxes and mounds of shit.  I started moving three weeks early because I wanted to get enough of a head start to have a little break, and because now that school is over for another year, I don’t have anything better to do. 
In the weeks leading up to the end of class (and the beginning of freedom) we all make a lot of plans for our holidays.  Now, I know I will eventually do something fun, but I think the first week or so is spent in the inertia of university life – I’m quite stunned by my freedom, and in not knowing exactly what fun activities to start with, I just do nothing.

I’m packing slowly, and enjoying (lamenting?) the fact that the boys are either moved out or on a working holiday and I’m all alone, holding up the forte.  It doesn’t matter, because pretty soon I’ll be moving to that little share house in Kingston, right?

Oh….so wrong.

When it was coming up to exam time, I was in the midst of finding places to live.  Poor timing, but what are you gonna do?  That’s life.  I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find two or three people to share with, since there is about 30 of us committed to the same hospital for the next two years.  But again, I was wrong there too.

I didn’t find anyone to move in with, and all my time spent searching for the perfect 4 bedroom house was now all a giant waste.  With very little time up my sleeve, I started searching share accommodation.  If I couldn’t find some mates to move into a big house with, I could find the big house already full of people and rent a room.  I entered my price range into the search engine, and ticked the ‘must love pets’ box.  The search resulted in exactly 1 property, in Kingston. 

“That’s fine,” I thought to myself.  “I only need one property.”

I made plans to view the house, but told myself to have low expectations, as long as there was a fully fenced yard and the place wasn’t 4,000 kilometers away from the hospital, I’d just take it.  I mean, it’s not like I can expect to live in the lap of luxury forever, right?

Today, I drove to the house, all the while making grand plans of calling to disconnect my electricty tomorrow, and emailing the dog farm with my new address.  2 minutes after walking into the house, I had decided this was not going to be my new address. 

There was no lock on the front door, and let’s face it – since this part of Kingston tensely nudged the boundaries of Logan Central, a lock if not a gun was going to be an essential.  The house – which was really the ’self contained’ bottom floor of a two story house – had all the natural light of a prison cell, which made sense when I took a look at the bedrooms.  Imagine a piece of blue cardboard, dimensions 12” x 6”.  Now, in your imagination, build little walls around the edges of the cardboard, and randomly put in a tiny little square window measuring 1” x 1” somewhere more than halfway up one wall and near a corner.  Finally, curl the four corners of the cardboard floor.
That’s what the bedrooms looked like.

The backyard was as huge as was described, but somehow the ad failed to mention half of it’s sizeable expanse was covered in weeds that may or may not be young sequoias, given their size.  I imagined a pup getting completely and utterly lost in such a jungle. 

The upstairs neighbours are apparently quiet and friendly students.  However, the luck of the guy showing me around failed when a 300 year old toothless man came down the stairs to empty an entire carton of empty beer bottles into the bin.

I told him I’d be in touch, and then – tires screeching – legged it out of the dump.

“Fuck,” I thought.  “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.  Where the hell do I go from here?”

I decided to drive back to the Coast, and make a stop at the university (where I am now) to jump back on the real estate websites and pray something new had popped up in the last few days.  Habitually, I check facebook before anything else.  As I logged on I thought to myself, “Wouldn’t it be nice if Beth* emailed me about wanting to move in,” knowing full well that it would be more a ‘hollywood’ moment than a ‘reality’ moment.  Beth and I had briefly spoken about moving in together months ago when we found out we were at the same hospital, but had never broached the subject again.

I log in, and find 1 email in my inbox:

Hey,
sorry its taken so long to reply. I havent had the net so been rather difficult.

well, Im not sure where you are keen to live, but I may have a place, my sister has just bought a place in Kingston, its only one station form the hospital, so its much closeer than marsden. Marsden is actaully rather difficult to get too.
You can still have a dog, infact there may be a dog there as well. Possibly an idea
It would prolly on be $100/week plus expenses.
what do you think??

Beth.

—————————————–

Well.  When God closes one door…

 

 

*Name has been changed for the usual reason.

Love Lockdown

Cycles repeat.  I get it.  But when no effort is put in, they’ll never be broken.

I know you’re jealous of me, and that’s the saddest part.  That’s why you hit me.  Isn’t it?

Well, I’m done looking for your approval.  I don’t need it.  I don’t respect you, and I realise that I haven’t really respected you for a long time.  Respect comes from fairness and consistency, and you have neither. 

Now my heart is closed to you for good, and I can have peace.  You’re on a love lockdown, and you’re never getting back in.

You lose.

Friday 13

Hehe, my insides are jiggling, and I don’t know why.  It tickles.

Anyway, I’m just here to procrastinate a little.  You know the drill. 
I’ve been procrastinating in my real life quite effectively also - I even went for a really long walk with my iPod yesterday/last night.  I felt like going for a walk, but that might have been my brain cleverly diverting me from study.  Probably was.
I’ve also been doing laundry, some cleaning (not much, or enough), and spending a lot of time in the garden with my various plants and have even been singing to the tomatoes.  Oh, and my insides are jiggly.

It’s Wednesday today, and I have an exam on Monday and two on the following Thursday – and then freedom until next year!  Suffice it to say Christmas is coming early this year – Friday 13th of November!

Triskaidekaphobians be damned – it’s gonna be a great day!

The Causes of Hypertension

It’s exam time.  Yet again.  It always seems like exam time. 

I’m at the uni doing a mixture of study and buggering around that is probably best described as 10% study and 90% buggering around.  I’m not motivated – as usual – to study, but this time it’s a little worse because it’s an exam covering everything from the last two years.  While that sounds scary, my brain tells me: ‘at least this time there’s no mad dash to just cover the material at least once – you’ve already done it.  Kick back.’
But I know my brain tries to deceive me.

So, here’s my list; the causes of hypertension:

• Idiopathic (aka we don’t know)
• Pregnancy
• Age
• High BMI
• Cushing’s Syndrome
• Conn’s Syndrome
• Hypothyroidism
• Hyperparathyroidism
• Oral Contraceptive Pill
• Phoeochromocytoma (my favourite)
• Shitty Diet and lifestyle (salt, tobacco, fat, stress), and
• EXAMS.

I really can’t get my mind to go past that one!

Red Velvet, If You Please

For years my mother has been banging on about a red velvet cake.  It’s something she’s seen on movies and American TV shows or whatever, and has decided somewhere along the line that it’s something she’d like to try.  Of course, there’s nowhere around here that sells red velvet cakes.  So this led to her asking for one for her birthday – along with a huge seafood dinner home-cooked by my sister and myself, which we of course agreed to. 

But she fell ill shortly before her birthday and so we decided to postpone it.  And then it just never actually happened.  And I’m sure she thinks we’ve just forgotten.  Well, I’m not in the financial position to put on the seafood spread, but the red velvet cake I can do.  And plan to surprise her with it very soon.

This recipe sounds good; I’m sure there are a million different opinions about the ‘right’ way to make it since it seems to be quite an iconic dessert, so I’ve just taken one at random.  Or actually, not so much at random as on the basis of the beautiful photography of the process by the author. 

I think what I’ve done here is made it difficult for myself – I’m not sure my photos will be able to stand up against hers!

 

PassOut

Today was the last PBL session ever.  PBL is something we’ve been doing since first year, and it seemed like a fixture in the med curriculum, because who could confidently see themselves with their head above water at the end of second year?  Nevertheless, today was the end of PBL.

Sure, on Friday we have the conclusion session to the current PBL case, but that’s in the lecture theatre and not the intimate group of 9 that we’ve been so used to.  That part is over.  It’s a big deal, because it really brings home the fact that there’s one week of classes left in the year.  No, it’s one week of classes left in second year.  No – it’s one week of class left in the pre-clinical years of medicine. 

The game is entirely different next year, with full-time clinical placement.  We have one week left in the classroom ever.  After that, it’s being totally accountable for your level of knowledge.  Of course, none of the medico-legal responsibility rests on our shoulders, so that’s something to be glad for!  But by all accounts, it’s a big change from the pre-clinical format.

In other – and totally related news – I passed my supplementary exam.  This means my chances of actually getting to 3rd year are now massively increased.  The supplementary exam was harder, but I did better than I had in previous exams.  Just goes to show how much difference a bit of terror makes.

Anyway, I’m taking a quick break from the study now, because although we’re at the end of it, the final exams are testing us on anything and everything from the last two years.  And that’s kinda scary.

25 – It’s Less Than OK

Oh, I jest.

25 today!  I’m older it’s true, but as a friend said,  my insurance rates go down today.  Today I can hire a car.  To these, I could raise a glass!

Dark Day

The morning was hot and sunny, even though it was early and I was making my way up the hill to school.  I reached the fifth floor a bit out of breath and a little sweaty.  It wasn’t because of the walk.

I sat down in the chair and tried to write my name on the four-million exam pages laid out in front of me.  I’ve always seen it as a bit of torture; something to freak you out with as you watch your hands tremble under the weight of all that horrible pressure.

Anyway, the perusal time started and I flicked through the pages of the supplementary exam.

‘Oh, no,’ I thought to myself as my heart sank.  This was not what I studied.  In fact, this exam seemed to be crammed full of the stuff I didn’t study.  I must have misjudged entirely what the second-year coordinator had said about this supp exam, because I was under the impression that this exam would be much like the last.  In fact, this was much harder that the original exam that I failed.

I flew through the exam while being as careful as possible to put every detail down.  Although I shouldn’t have been watching the clock, I did have a charity meeting to attend about 20 minutes before the exam was slated to finish, so I may have rushed myself a little.

Anyway, the exam finished and I had enough time for a cigarette downstairs before running up to the meeting that went on for ever and ever.  By the time I got out I was already running late to go to a colleague’s house to complete a paper outlining research in pregnant women.  As soon as I got outside I felt rather than saw the change in the weather.  There was a bitterly cold wind whipping through the admittedly permanent wind tunnel that is sandwiched between the hospital and the medical school.  I looked up into the sky just as it was broken by a delta of lightning bolts.
I felt like I had been asleep all day and was just waking up.

I drove the 40 minutes or so to the colleague’s house in hail and rain to continue my day of dull duties.

Sometimes I feel like my time has been so over-appropriated by my life as a med student that it bites severely into my sleep time.  Oh well, I’m sure I’m supposed to just suck it up.

In any case, that was last Wednesday.  I’m not sure when the results are coming out, but I won’t hold my breath for them.  I think time will pass a little smoother if I just forget about it entirely.

This weekend was a rural health trip to Bundaberg, and of course the famous Bundaberg rum was sampled at some stage.  Although I could have given myself a weekend free to fuck around in the garden (my tomatoes are growing like bamboo), I decided to take a look at rural health.  The weekend involved intubations and resuscitation of a bleeding neonate.
Thank God the individuals involved were made of plastic!

But now I can sit back and smile because an irritating phase of the year has just passed.  And now I’m just bloody tired.

New Look

My dad has an online business which is a new car brokerage.  His website – www.aussienewcarbrokers.com.au – is fairly inconsistent with a relatively poor design, but the thing  is his business model is so great.

Aussie New Car Brokers works by a consumer filling out an online form detailing the car that they want to buy.  It then goes on a database that car dealerships can peruse, and if they have the car they can contact the brokerage and submit a price.  This price is then presented to the consumer and the other dealerships.  If a competitor dealership has the same car, they can submit a lower price, which would obviously appeal to the consumer, and ensures they get the business.  It doesn’t take too much brain power to see that this leads to a bidding war between the dealerships, and the customer can just sit back and watch the price of their new car plummet further and further.

For the trouble of facilitating and maintaining the communication between buyer and seller (which is never a direct communication – something I’d love!), dad takes a flat fee from each sale which comes not from the customer but the dealer.

In short, everyone wins.

In my opinion, the face and linchpin of the business is the homepage.  So in an attempt to improve the image of Aussie New Car Brokers I have designed a new face plate – feedback would be appreciated!

(Clicking on the image will show full size)

Birthday Cake

I’m irrational.  We know this.  If you’ve read even one of my previous blog entries, you’ll probably know this about me.

The thing is, I’m turning 25 soon, and I don’t really like it.  I’ve never been one of those people who worries about his age, and I know I won’t feel any older once my birthday arrives.  It’s not really about getting old.  It’s just that I feel like I’ve reached a point where I need to grow a lot more in order to make the most of my age.  I don’t want to get to a point when I’m older and look back thinking I wasted my prime feeling insecure, or that I haven’t traveled enough, or experienced relationships enough.

I guess what I’m trying to articulate is that I’m very mindful that right now might be the ideal time to make all of these realisations so that I may spare myself some regret later on.  I want the wisdom of age now.

The thing is, even I don’t think that’s entirely realistic.  I believe wisdom comes from experience, which doesn’t necessarily come with age.  If you waste your time (hence this post), your minimal experience might not count for much.

Whatever.  I feel totally emo right now.  Maybe that’s me clinging to youth?  Haha, or maybe I’ll just mash my face into some birthday cake, like when I was a little kid.

T minus 11 days.  *sigh*