You see a lot of strange things living in New York City. Some of them funny, others upsetting. But today as I walked down the sidewalk, I saw something pleasantly poignant. So much so that though I was hurrying back to my apartment to study, I paused to take a photo. The message, faded by rain and the elements, is a good reminder for us all.
Apparently, there are more of these messages. See images of them here.
The brain is complex. Studying it is fascinating — and also frustrating. Thankfully, I have people in my life who help me keep my sense of humor about this amazing organ, and the two months spent studying it during medical school.
“Just inflate!”
First, there’s the Emergency Brain, with the tag line “Just inflate!” If only it were that easy, right? It’s a nice thought though, and one that makes me laugh.
Second, there’s The Handy Brain Model. This is a brain model like you’ve never seen, a mitten of sorts that you put on your hand to simulate the lobes of the cortex as well other structures like the amygdala and the hippocampus. It’s both funny and practical. Who could ask for more?
Thanks, guys. Laughter really is the best medicine.
You know you’re a still copy editor at heart when …
… You’re reading a neuroanatomy textbook, trying to learn about the vestibular system, and come across an antibiotic spelled in two different ways on the same page. Not only do you notice this, but you feel the need to investigate: gentamicin vs. gentamycin? The former is the correct spelling (with the “i”), according to multiple online sources including the Mayo Clinic. But this isn’t enough. You now need to grasp the roots of this mistake. So you dig deeper, and discover that the misspelling is somewhat understandable given that other antibiotics — streptomycin, neomycin, and tobramycin — spell that syllable with a “y” rather than an “i.” And actually, gentamicin (with an “i”) is sold under the brand name Garamycin (with a “y”). After all this, you are mostly satisfied, except that you have no power to correct the error.
Following such a lengthy digression, this is your final, perplexed thought: “Now what was I reading again?”
When I moved into my new apartment in August, the couch I’d bought off another student simply didn’t fit through the narrow hallway of this ancient New York City building. That was frustrating. So I found an online company, Home Reserve, that sells couches (and other furniture) you assemble on your own. Furniture assembly is always an adventure. You never know what the instructions will be like, or whether the parts will be banged up. But I didn’t have much choice. The company’s website emphasizes that the UPS boxes containing the couch parts will fit through narrow spaces, and the videos they posted made the process seem pretty self-explanatory. So I hoped for the best.
The two boxes, each weighing about 60 pounds, were delivered last night. My kind next door neighbor helped me lug them up the stairs. This morning, I put everything together. In less than three hours, I went from two big boxes of flat wooden pieces to a fully finished, upholstered couch. Pretty amazing. My apartment finally feels like a home — a home where I have somewhere to sit other than my bed. That’s a good feeling.
Note: Click on any photo for an enlarged slideshow.
“No rat will ever turn down a wet chocolate chip cookie. And I can actually testify to that from personal experience.”
Watching lecture after lecture can get tiresome, no matter how interesting the material. So I definitely appreciate when a speaker injects a bit of humor, including the above gem from today’s presentation on the hypothalamus. Our professor was explaining the role of the hypothalamus in regulating eating behavior. I’m still struggling to understand everything the hypothalamus does (it does a lot!). But what an unforgettable image …
Words to live by — and take a test by.
Becoming a physician tests you. Your intellect, patience, determination, resolve, and inner strength. Your humanity. This testing happens every day — in the classroom, in the clinic, in the hospital. Part of this process also occurs during actual multiple-choice tests.
More than three years ago, on May 23, 2013, I took the MCAT — the gate-keeper exam for entering medical school. A little over four months from now, on Feb. 10, 2017, I take the next exam in this sequence toward earning my M.D. — the USMLE Step 1 board exam. It’s an 8-hour test, with more than 250 questions probing “whether you understand and can apply important concepts of the sciences basic to the practice of medicine, with special emphasis on principles and mechanisms underlying health, disease, and modes of therapy,” according to the official United States Medical Licensing Examination website.
The stakes are high — I have to pass this exam to move forward. But focusing my thoughts and energy on how high those stakes are is a sure path to test anxiety. After classes end on Dec. 16, I have until my exam date to prepare (minus a trip to Chicago to see my family for Christmas). That’s plenty of time to review and solidify my understanding. It’s a matter of perspective, and directive. Which is why I think it’s time to repurpose the “rules” I developed for the MCAT. They apply here too.
Lorien’s USMLE Step 1 rules:
1. Take a breath.
2. Trust your gut.
3. Take this seriously.
4. Focus.
5. Maintain tempo.
6. Think NOW – not ahead, and not behind.
7. Read every word carefully: passages, questions, and answer choices.
8. Eliminate wrong answers.
9. Estimate.
10. Guess and move on after the allotted time.
11. Keep calm and carry on.
12. Think positive, not negative thoughts.
13. Channel confidence, not fear or doubt.
It’s hard to believe that exactly two months ago, I was on a safari in Uganda. My second year of medical school has started, which means I spend more time looking at pictures of brain anatomy than pictures of any vacation destination. But this rainy, September day is a perfect time to flip through some of my safari photos, and to remember what a magical trip it was.
(Click on any photo to see an enlarged slideshow.)
The collared female lion, Harriet, sitting up and watching US.
Locking eyes with a wild lion and living to tell about it — that’s something few people can say they’ve done. But it was a privilege I had while on my safari in Uganda’s Queen Elizabeth National Park.
The park’s Ishasha region is known for its tree-climbing lions. Lions don’t normally climbs trees as far as I know, but these do — to escape the buzzing flies hovering low to the ground, and to gain shade from the beating equatorial sun, according to my guide.
One of the things that is so exciting about a safari is that you’re not guaranteed to see the animals. That might sound paradoxical, because you’ve gone on safari to see the animals. But their rarity, and hidden nature, reminded me that these are truly wild animals. This is not a theme park or a zoo.
We encountered the Ishasha lions mid-afternoon, after several hours of driving. Four of them lazily reclined on the horizontal branches of a fig tree, seemingly oblivious to our rumbling van and mumbling voices. My guide, Joseph, identified the larger, collared female lion as Harriet. (Joseph later told me that on one of his other safaris, Harriet decided she was tired of being watched, and had come up to the van and started ramming its side. I appreciate that he told me this story after my lion experience. It was probably better that way.) As we watched the four lions, Harriet stretched and sat up. She yawned, displaying her razor teeth. Between that and seeing the lions’ dangling paws — and hence claws — I had no trouble keeping my distance and following my dad’s joking mandate of “Don’t pet the animals.”
Four Ishasha tree-climbing lions resting in a fig tree.
From this vantage point you can see the lion’s dangling paws — and imagine its claws.
Do you like children?
A momma velvet monkey, with her baby clinging to her chest, came down out of a tree when Joseph proffered a tempting banana.
My safari guide, Joseph, asked me this question (I’m paraphrasing) during our six-hour drive from Kampala to Queen Elizabeth National Park. It’s a fair question. I’m almost 35 years old, and I don’t have any kids. I am not in a position to have kids right now, or anytime soon — maybe ever. I’m fine with that.
I told Joseph quite emphatically that I do like children. At this point in my life though, I enjoy playing with them, and then returning them to their parents. Joseph said he would make a prayer for me to have a baby. His prayers were answered over the next several days, though not in the way he anticipated. During my four-day safari, I saw dozens of baby animals: elephants, hippos, pumbas (warthogs), kob (antelope), velvet monkeys, baboons, and chimpanzees. Seeing all of these little ones — well, some of them were quite big — was one of the highlights of my safari adventure.
Funny how a several hundred pound baby elephant can be considered “cute.” But I’ve always loved miniatures. I even collected tiny figurines as a kid. And I guess a baby elephant is a miniature compared to its parents.
Here are a few photos of the baby animals I encountered. They were all adorable. But I reeeeaaaallllly wanted to take one of the baby monkeys home with me. Just look at those faces!
A baby elephant nursing! I saw this amazing sight while on a boat cruise.
A baby baboon riding on its mother’s back, little bare rump exposed.
A baby hippopotamus next to its mother (to the right).
doc w/ Pen 