The year began wonderfully and quietly, and I believed it would turn to be an excellent year. Then on January 10th, or 11th, Pam Miller committed suicide. I received a phone call from John Drage informing me of what had happened. We hadn't been very close for quite some time, but Pam Miller is possibly the person most responsible for who I am now today. I believe there are God-ordained moments in time that influence our entire lives, and for me one of those moments came in the winter of 2002, the second semester of my freshman year at MU.
I had grown apart from the friends on my floor I had initially made when their desire to go party and drink and my desire to stay sober led to our no longer hanging out quite so often. On a Saturday night I sat in the 4th floor lounge of Hatch Hall playing old school Nintendo alone, and most of the floor was gone doing other things. Pam Miller suddenly appeared passing through, and having met before she saw me and came and said hello. She invited me to go to the Rock church with her, and not wanting to continue to be alone over the weekend I said yes. I persisted in attending the Rock church, and God's pursuit of my life finally ended with me being caught by a real community. I was already a Christian at that time, but not until college did I really understand what it meant to live like one. Were it not for that Saturday night my freshman year, God perhaps would have gotten me in some other way, but perhaps not. History is already written, and what could have been is not what God allowed. Rather, what God had already known and intended has been accomplished in my life in regards to that perhaps divine moment.
Pam's death left me with a weight of guilt at not being a closer friend. It was the first time in 2006 that I mulled for days and even weeks the "what-if" of whether I could have intervened with something as simple as an email or a phone call.
On Saturday, March 4th I found myself in Chichicastenango, Guatemala, as part of a medical mission team composed of CMDA students from MU, a couple male significant others, intern Matt Page, nurse Grace Hodill, a couple of nurse practitioners from Columbia, and an MS4 from SLU named Tyler Reynolds. The trip was exciting and challenging. It was the first time I was able to combine a love of travel, a desire for ministry involvement, and a passion for medicine all in one activity. It inspired me to continue to pursue medical ministry work in any capacity possible. I was able to do everything from triage to physical exam to prenatal ultrasounds, and I even diagnosed aUTI after making the correct call to order a urinalysis. Succeeding in seeing my knowledge correctly applied was more than empowering. At the end of the trip I visited one of the most beautiful locations I have ever seen or could hope to see; LakeAtitlan. Lake Atitlan is a huge lake that sits in the bowl formed by a mountain ridge and bordered to one side by three volcanoes. Markets, wilderness, water, mountains, all jammed into a relatively hidden valley.
One of the best things about the last test day of my first year of medical school was waking up to a huge hot breakfast, made entirely by Tyler, my roommate. When I came down the stairs, I was met by a very awake and very smiling Tyler who spread before me a meal of eggs, bacon, coffee, pancakes, and orange juice. I was more than prepared to finish the year on a high note after that meal.
Shortly after the school year ended the wedding season began. Starting with my friends Joe and Liz, I attended three weddings in four weeks, being in two of the three. After the wedding blitz of the early summer came some recompense (and there were two other weddings I declined invitations to, not only due to schedule constraints but also for personal sanity). The weekend after Liz and Joe was the wedding of my friend John and his fiance Emily. Two weeks later was Adam and Jessica Fitzgerald's wedding in St. Louis.
The Fourth of July weekend was enjoyable. A camping and floating trip over the 1st and 2nd, and watching the city display over Faurot field as Ray Charles crooned "Georgia" over Ben's truck speakers. I was reminded of one of my favorite movie scenes in The Sandlot, when the kids are so captivated by the fireworks display that the forget their ballgame. I too was captivated by the nostalgia of July 4th, and thanked God for being a free man in America.
At 5:30 a.m., Saturday morning, July 22nd, 2006, my roommate and good friend Tyler Downey was killed in a car accident. My other roommate Chad was driving to St. Louis to catch a flight home, and Tyler was going to drive the car back to Columbia to use. I was home in West Plains seeing family. I heard the news from John, who called me on the phone for the second time in half a year to tell me that another friend was dead. I have written in more detail about this event in Glorification for Him, Sanctification for Us elsewhere. If I failed to believe that encountering Pam my freshman year was scripted by the hand of God in His pursuit of me, I could by no means now deny His sovereign power. I hope that you will go and read this previous entry linked above to understand more fully why. In short, I believe that a large number of things leading up to that event were known by God and that history was playing out in a divine fashion.
The fallout of Tyler's death is still affecting me. Not that I have not found resolution in his death, but I have struggled to find resolution in the community I live in. I have at many times been disillusioned, most of the time jaded, the entire time following struggling with feeling I belong anywhere and with anyone. The world has moved especially fast following the beginning of the academic year, my second year of medical school. I have felt oftentimes I am struggling to just hang on and make it to a point where I can rest. At first the academic year began promising, and I enjoyed my group. One month in I began to feel frustrated with people in my group, and as though I didn't belong or wasn't listened to. This persisted, and lack of community with people in my church led to further depression. After Tyler's death I struggled (and still struggle) to trust in people. A hard thing with community after Tyler's death was feeling that since I was not in the car with Chad and Tyler that I was not as hurt as Chad was at losing a friend. I felt that since I hadn't known Tyler as long as some that living side by side with him for a year wasn't enough to become very close friends. I felt that since we didn't come from the same social circles that I was somehow less affected. I felt that since I didn't want to get a tattoo that I was somehow remembering him less. I was frustrated that some people who I never saw were all that close with Tyler getting tattoos because they felt they were.
My good and wonderful friend Paul Matadeen moved away from Columbia a couple weeks after Tyler's death. Having lived on my couch essentially since Tyler had died, he was a much needed consistency in my life. It was a hard thing to see him leave for Panama City, Florida, but the distance has not kept us from remaining close with very frequent phone calls. If anything, the distance has underscored the need to maintain regular communication to keep up a close friendship.
Not long after Tyler's death the wedding season resumed, and my good friends Ryan Kromann and Kate Germain were wed in August. I remember being very happy for them when Ryan called me on Christmas as he shared the news with friends that he had proposed on Christmas Eve and Kate had accepted. A small time later, Aaron Ferguson and Stevi Davis were wed in the fifth and last wedding I attended in 2006. Theirs was easily the most unique of all, being small, outdoors, and very personal with no groomsmen and only a couple bridesmaids as attendants. So many weddings, regardless of how joyful they are, remind a single male that he is indeed single. Being content as a single becomes difficult when it is far more exciting to celebrate engagement and marriage. It feels as though it is something I have thus far failed in, seeing that there are others younger even than me becoming engaged and being married. I know this is not true, but there is not a large amount of encouragement given to men who are single without relationships to counter the feelings of inadequacy that sometimes attack. Still, make no mistake about how incredibly happy I am for my married friends. They all serve as wonderful examples of loving God-honoring marriages and give me volumes of lessons on how I should conduct myself as a husband in the future.
The Rock 22-hour fall retreat was much needed, and I am still learning how to listen to God and be silent since then. That was the principle lesson of the weekend; how to listen to God and heed his voice in whatever capacity it occurs. Recently I reread a book by Henri Nouwen titled The Way of the Heart. It describes using solitude, silence, and prayer to connect with God, and I am beginning now, a third of the way through life, to grasp the basics of what it means to communicate with God. Or maybe not, but maybe I am relearning what was once intuitive as a child and was lost with the development of rational adult thought.
Following the retreat began a new school block and a new group. This last block of the year saw me embrace a jaded, cynical view of my world and fall deeper into a bleak depressive spell. It was no help that in block 6 psychiatry was part of the curriculum, the study of which will lead any sane person to believe they are losing their mind in some capacity. I trudged on burdened through this block, battered by the lies clamoring for the podium of my mind telling me I was worthless, unloved, abandoned, and forgotten. Thanksgiving break week further pushed me towards feelings of abandonment as I spent the entire time at home with family, struggling still with depression and hearing no word from others over the week. Some solace came one Saturday night in December when I visited some classmates at Flatbranch for a beer and rest, and many of my classmates admitted to suffering with stress-induced depression. Over that same weekend I read an article addressing the phenomenon of depression in medical students and realised that although not good, it is a common occurence.
I have spent the last two weeks of my break recovering. I have recovered somewhat from isolation, although I still struggle to know how to trust many people. I will have much work to do on that in 2007, but I believe God can heal me even if I don't know how to let Him. Eventually He will force me to submit completely. Last night at Drage's house a small group gathered for prayer, and Romans 15:13 was shared. It reads "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." And there it is. The reason I am pressed but not crushed - hope - exists as a small smoldering ember deep inside me amidst a cold pile of ashes, ready for fresh tinder to ignite once again a burning flame.
Looking ahead to 2007 I have one simple summarizing goal from which many more precise goals will be born. My first and primary goal is to clearly define my purpose. I have a previously written purpose statement, however it is very impersonal and consists of a combination of Biblical verses and principles. In the new year I hope to draft a far more specific and personalized purpose statement, and draft a mission statement that will help me to direct my life. I had mulled over rewriting it many times close to the end of 2006, and it is perhaps fitting then that a couple of weeks ago a speaker at church talked about the power of creating a personal mission statement to help focus your life and help remind you of what your purpose is. Other goals will flow from clearly knowing my purpose: goals relating to my interpersonal relationships with friends, colleagues, classmates, leaders and teachers; my career ambitions; my life ministry vision; time management; and family relationships.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Friday, November 17, 2006
The Global Missions Health Conference
Last weekend I was able to attend the Global Missions Health Conference in Louisville, Kentucky. The conference is on Christian missions-field medical and health care work, both nationally and internationally (although international medical missions is overwhelmingly represented). I attended the conference with one other person, Halley, a nursing student I am friends with who heard of the conference through the Nursing Christian Fellowship group. We left town together on Thursday night last week to be able to attend the whole day's sessions on Friday. Being a six-and-a-half hour drive from Columbia (seven and a half when factoring in the time I drove in the wrong direction), we arrived in Louisville at 3 a.m. central time. Louisville unfortunately is on eastern time.
After a two hour nap on Friday morning I awoke shortly after six to get over to the conference. The church that it is held at is so big you could fit my entire hometown's population inside the building (West Plains, MO has approximately 10 - 11,000 people now) with room to spare. I spent the day between main conference speakers and breakout sessions discussing where to find equipment for the medical field, leadership lessons, where to send students, inner city medical ministry, and much more. A highlight of the 15-hour day was hearing Steve Saint, son of martyr and companion to Jim Elliot on the trip they both were killed on, give a talk on God's will. Saturday featured a slightly shorter day that ended at 3 p.m. and featured a few more keynote and breakout session speakers (one I enjoyed immensely was a session on integrating academic medical research and training with ministry-based health care centers overseas).
Another feature of the conference was the missions-agency convention. This is held on two stories and is set up like a basic convention; each agency or organization has their own little booth, and people sit behind a table passing out information or answering questions. A few booths had their representatives practicing the "sales-pitch", standing in front of the booths just waiting to make eye contact with passers-by. My feelings regarding the convention are mixed; I believe it is a great opportunity for those earnestly seeking to find a place to serve to do so, but on the flip side some people representing organizations seem to be selling a product to a consumer-minded missionary.
So where does ministry and missions in the medical field find me? I would love to practice medicine as a ministry and do so representing a Christian organization. At this point though, I am not sure I feel that I am to do it full time year 'round. I was very encouraged however to hear many people speak about doing extended short-term mission work internationally, on the level of a few months overseas each year. Something of that nature could be feasible for, say, the summer months. That would be especially doable with a family, when children do not have school. In any case, it's a dream that is not likely to die soon. At this point, however, it is too overwhelming to simply choose an organization and sign my name to a commitment simply for commitment's sake. I want to pray and wait and pray and wait and pray again and wait until I hear a call from God, hopefully occuring somewhere away from the Christendome shopping mall. I want to be ready to plunge in and take the risk of answering that call when I feel it beckon.
I want to heal people. I don't want to lose the idealism that drove me towards medicine as a profession. I want to avoid cynicism and fatalistic thinking. I don't want to live simply to make a buck. I want to be reminded daily why I am valuable to the kingdom of heaven. I want to know that I am making a difference and that I am not beating the air with my fists. I want people to walk away feeling cared for and listened to, not just better off physically.
After a two hour nap on Friday morning I awoke shortly after six to get over to the conference. The church that it is held at is so big you could fit my entire hometown's population inside the building (West Plains, MO has approximately 10 - 11,000 people now) with room to spare. I spent the day between main conference speakers and breakout sessions discussing where to find equipment for the medical field, leadership lessons, where to send students, inner city medical ministry, and much more. A highlight of the 15-hour day was hearing Steve Saint, son of martyr and companion to Jim Elliot on the trip they both were killed on, give a talk on God's will. Saturday featured a slightly shorter day that ended at 3 p.m. and featured a few more keynote and breakout session speakers (one I enjoyed immensely was a session on integrating academic medical research and training with ministry-based health care centers overseas).
Another feature of the conference was the missions-agency convention. This is held on two stories and is set up like a basic convention; each agency or organization has their own little booth, and people sit behind a table passing out information or answering questions. A few booths had their representatives practicing the "sales-pitch", standing in front of the booths just waiting to make eye contact with passers-by. My feelings regarding the convention are mixed; I believe it is a great opportunity for those earnestly seeking to find a place to serve to do so, but on the flip side some people representing organizations seem to be selling a product to a consumer-minded missionary.
So where does ministry and missions in the medical field find me? I would love to practice medicine as a ministry and do so representing a Christian organization. At this point though, I am not sure I feel that I am to do it full time year 'round. I was very encouraged however to hear many people speak about doing extended short-term mission work internationally, on the level of a few months overseas each year. Something of that nature could be feasible for, say, the summer months. That would be especially doable with a family, when children do not have school. In any case, it's a dream that is not likely to die soon. At this point, however, it is too overwhelming to simply choose an organization and sign my name to a commitment simply for commitment's sake. I want to pray and wait and pray and wait and pray again and wait until I hear a call from God, hopefully occuring somewhere away from the Christendome shopping mall. I want to be ready to plunge in and take the risk of answering that call when I feel it beckon.
I want to heal people. I don't want to lose the idealism that drove me towards medicine as a profession. I want to avoid cynicism and fatalistic thinking. I don't want to live simply to make a buck. I want to be reminded daily why I am valuable to the kingdom of heaven. I want to know that I am making a difference and that I am not beating the air with my fists. I want people to walk away feeling cared for and listened to, not just better off physically.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Seeing more patients, a family member diagnosed with a disease, and Health Science Research Day
I apologize in advance for the length of this post, but it will likely be a week before writing again due to a busy schedule at the moment. So sit back and digest this in pieces if you like (although, if you want to know when you can see Dr. Peppers in action, scroll down to the last heading). I've provided some headings for breaking it up a little bit.
Today was the second time my APD (read: advanced physical diagnosis) group met over at the VA hospital. This time however we were actually able to see patients, thanks to Dr. K, who is the resident paired with the attending in charge of our APD group. Dr. K had a talk with us about how she understood we needed to see patients in order for this to be a learning experience at all, and we proceeded to the second floor wards. Today we saw three cases.
This week's cases: VA Hospital
Mr. H was an elderly man who had developed pneumonia and a pleural effusion in his left lung. He was cooperative with allowing student doctors to examine him, however did not seem to be feeling very pleasant in both mood or health (and who could blame him for either, sick in the hospital?). One physical exam sign to look for when listening to a patient with pneumonia and/or a pleural effusion is egophony. Egophony is E to A changes when listening to the lungs with a stethescope; while listening, when the patient makes a long drawn out E sound, the difference in density in the affected lung causes the sound to come out as an A. Mr. H had a very notable egophony.
Mr. B was a robust man who had interstitial lung disease. Mind you, there are several hundred interstitial lung diseases of distinct etiologies, making that a very broad disease specification. His lung disease was due to exposure to metals and chemicals from a history of polishing aluminum engine blocks on racecars. He also had a year's worth of asbestos exposure. Mr. B was in a far better mood than Mr. H, and welcomed the attention of students come to examine him. Listening to his lungs, I could hear the tell-tale velcro sound of a restrictive interstitial fibrosis, and his breathing was rapid and shallow. At the apices of his lungs on both sides was a faint wheeze. I mentioned this to his attending, Dr. O, who proudly put a hand on my shoulder and proceeded to give a mini-lecture on how that was likely due to a superimposed respiratory infection, which Mr. B affirmed by speaking of a chest cold that drove him to the doctor. Dr. O then played the "guess my age" game by asking us to guess how old Mr. B was. We guessed he was roughly 60, 61 years old. We were only off by about 22 years; his actual age was 83, but boy did he look young and energetic.
The third case was Mr. J. Mr. J had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (or COPD). Whereas a restrictive disease prevents you from filling the lungs, an obstructive disease prevents you from being able to get air out. Try taking a deep breath, as deep as you can, and then making due on short, shallow breaths without fully emptying your lungs. This is what Mr. J feels like. The air trapping is due to airway collapse during expiration, so that air in the lungs gets trapped (hence the term air-trapping). People with COPD will attempt to counteract this by pursing their lips, creating a pressure that helps keep the airways open and allows them to empty their lungs. You also notice more accessory muscle use in their breathing; their sternoclinomastoids and intercostals are visibly engaged in trying to help them breath.
My cousin's diagnosis
Over the weekend, I received a call from my parents passing along some news about my cousin B. She had been having some long standing swelling and pain of her knees and ankles, and had seen the doctor about it recently. Initially the doctors thought that she might have rheumatoid arthritis, an autoimmune disease that affects the distal (far from the central body) joints and is more common in females. Bloodwork apparently was negative, and so they tested her for SLE, or systemic lupus erythematosus. SLE, or lupus as most people know it, is an autoimmune disorder characterized by immune complexes composed of antibodies and compounds called complement settling out of the blood in the vessel lining, causing inflammation of the vessels. After the diagnosis, they presumed that some other symptoms she had involving gastrointestinal distress were likely due to SLE as well.
I was shocked to hear about the diagnosis. My parents seemed to think that all would be just fine, and I agreed, provided that she (my cousin) doesn't develop a severe case of SLE. The most serious complication of SLE is kidney damage; most patients who die of SLE will die of kidney failure due to the overwhelming loss of kidney function. Luckily, with close monitoring and control, this is rare in mild to moderate cases of SLE. I asked if she was on prednisone (a steroid anti-inflammatory drug), and she was. Interestingly, I know that you can also use hydroxychloroquine, which is an anti-malarial drug, to help prevent flare ups of SLE.
The other thing that concerns me about this is that my cousin is only 16. If you read up at all on SLE, you may find that it affects females more than males, and starts during the prime childbearing years (16 - 40); and a concern of mine is how early it is starting for her. That'll be something to be in prayer about.
Health Science Research Day, Thursday Nov. 9th, School of Medicine
After a very straining weekend of work, I've finally finished my research poster presenting my summer research in the pediatrics department. It'll be displayed in the School of Medicine Atrium on Thursday starting at 9 a.m., and will hang until 1 p.m. (just a plug, in case you have a chance of dropping by to see it).
Towards the end of this project, I've begun to grow more disgruntled in having to do it. I have been thinking about all the other things needing to be done (mostly study for school) and my lack of being able to enjoy as much free time as I would if I weren't working all weekend on the poster. The other aspect that has had me disgruntled has been due to my own lack of experience in participating in research, and simply not knowing what goes into making a good poster presentation, and being expected to know what does by my boss/mentor. Some misunderstanding via email led to me receiving a scathing email from my mentor about the precious time wasted correcting discrepancies found in my data, the fact that accuracy should have been a priority of mine, and the confidence that I will one day mature into more than a simple data-gatherer. It was perhaps only meant to motivate (and it did, as I turned out a far better and more complete write up for the poster content that very same day), but the content and wording has still left me feeling less than amiable towards my mentor.
There is a first prize of $500 for the best project and presentation, with smaller prizes for second and third. I am not expecting to win, but am excited to be able to have a chance at the very least. My research will be alongside posters from other M1's, M2's, and some M4's who are doing research before graduating.
Today was the second time my APD (read: advanced physical diagnosis) group met over at the VA hospital. This time however we were actually able to see patients, thanks to Dr. K, who is the resident paired with the attending in charge of our APD group. Dr. K had a talk with us about how she understood we needed to see patients in order for this to be a learning experience at all, and we proceeded to the second floor wards. Today we saw three cases.
This week's cases: VA Hospital
Mr. H was an elderly man who had developed pneumonia and a pleural effusion in his left lung. He was cooperative with allowing student doctors to examine him, however did not seem to be feeling very pleasant in both mood or health (and who could blame him for either, sick in the hospital?). One physical exam sign to look for when listening to a patient with pneumonia and/or a pleural effusion is egophony. Egophony is E to A changes when listening to the lungs with a stethescope; while listening, when the patient makes a long drawn out E sound, the difference in density in the affected lung causes the sound to come out as an A. Mr. H had a very notable egophony.
Mr. B was a robust man who had interstitial lung disease. Mind you, there are several hundred interstitial lung diseases of distinct etiologies, making that a very broad disease specification. His lung disease was due to exposure to metals and chemicals from a history of polishing aluminum engine blocks on racecars. He also had a year's worth of asbestos exposure. Mr. B was in a far better mood than Mr. H, and welcomed the attention of students come to examine him. Listening to his lungs, I could hear the tell-tale velcro sound of a restrictive interstitial fibrosis, and his breathing was rapid and shallow. At the apices of his lungs on both sides was a faint wheeze. I mentioned this to his attending, Dr. O, who proudly put a hand on my shoulder and proceeded to give a mini-lecture on how that was likely due to a superimposed respiratory infection, which Mr. B affirmed by speaking of a chest cold that drove him to the doctor. Dr. O then played the "guess my age" game by asking us to guess how old Mr. B was. We guessed he was roughly 60, 61 years old. We were only off by about 22 years; his actual age was 83, but boy did he look young and energetic.
The third case was Mr. J. Mr. J had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (or COPD). Whereas a restrictive disease prevents you from filling the lungs, an obstructive disease prevents you from being able to get air out. Try taking a deep breath, as deep as you can, and then making due on short, shallow breaths without fully emptying your lungs. This is what Mr. J feels like. The air trapping is due to airway collapse during expiration, so that air in the lungs gets trapped (hence the term air-trapping). People with COPD will attempt to counteract this by pursing their lips, creating a pressure that helps keep the airways open and allows them to empty their lungs. You also notice more accessory muscle use in their breathing; their sternoclinomastoids and intercostals are visibly engaged in trying to help them breath.
My cousin's diagnosis
Over the weekend, I received a call from my parents passing along some news about my cousin B. She had been having some long standing swelling and pain of her knees and ankles, and had seen the doctor about it recently. Initially the doctors thought that she might have rheumatoid arthritis, an autoimmune disease that affects the distal (far from the central body) joints and is more common in females. Bloodwork apparently was negative, and so they tested her for SLE, or systemic lupus erythematosus. SLE, or lupus as most people know it, is an autoimmune disorder characterized by immune complexes composed of antibodies and compounds called complement settling out of the blood in the vessel lining, causing inflammation of the vessels. After the diagnosis, they presumed that some other symptoms she had involving gastrointestinal distress were likely due to SLE as well.
I was shocked to hear about the diagnosis. My parents seemed to think that all would be just fine, and I agreed, provided that she (my cousin) doesn't develop a severe case of SLE. The most serious complication of SLE is kidney damage; most patients who die of SLE will die of kidney failure due to the overwhelming loss of kidney function. Luckily, with close monitoring and control, this is rare in mild to moderate cases of SLE. I asked if she was on prednisone (a steroid anti-inflammatory drug), and she was. Interestingly, I know that you can also use hydroxychloroquine, which is an anti-malarial drug, to help prevent flare ups of SLE.
The other thing that concerns me about this is that my cousin is only 16. If you read up at all on SLE, you may find that it affects females more than males, and starts during the prime childbearing years (16 - 40); and a concern of mine is how early it is starting for her. That'll be something to be in prayer about.
Health Science Research Day, Thursday Nov. 9th, School of Medicine
After a very straining weekend of work, I've finally finished my research poster presenting my summer research in the pediatrics department. It'll be displayed in the School of Medicine Atrium on Thursday starting at 9 a.m., and will hang until 1 p.m. (just a plug, in case you have a chance of dropping by to see it).
Towards the end of this project, I've begun to grow more disgruntled in having to do it. I have been thinking about all the other things needing to be done (mostly study for school) and my lack of being able to enjoy as much free time as I would if I weren't working all weekend on the poster. The other aspect that has had me disgruntled has been due to my own lack of experience in participating in research, and simply not knowing what goes into making a good poster presentation, and being expected to know what does by my boss/mentor. Some misunderstanding via email led to me receiving a scathing email from my mentor about the precious time wasted correcting discrepancies found in my data, the fact that accuracy should have been a priority of mine, and the confidence that I will one day mature into more than a simple data-gatherer. It was perhaps only meant to motivate (and it did, as I turned out a far better and more complete write up for the poster content that very same day), but the content and wording has still left me feeling less than amiable towards my mentor.
There is a first prize of $500 for the best project and presentation, with smaller prizes for second and third. I am not expecting to win, but am excited to be able to have a chance at the very least. My research will be alongside posters from other M1's, M2's, and some M4's who are doing research before graduating.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Glory, pt. 1
Today was the Rock Equippers retreat. Basically, the equippers retreat is a day long getaway out of town somewhere where the small group leaders can gather together, be encouraged, share stories, and have John Drage remind us of what we have committed to as leaders and renew our commitments to ministry. One of the verses John shared in his introduction of our time together was 1 Peter 2:9. It says:
But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. - 1 Peter 2:9
The verse is exceptionally powerful. I was reminded of the following quote:
"It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship....There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal." - C.S. Lewis
These are truly humbling words, yet why should we even feel ashamed? I was also reminded of another quote (which I had thought was from Lewis, but in looking on the internet appears to be widely attributed to Marianne Williamson. I feel certain that I have read it in something by Lewis once before, but I digress):
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
I have lived in this fear for some time, especially this year. I fear to be myself oftentimes, because I am afraid that who I am will run so far from where anyone else is at in their lives that I should alienate those around me. Who am I to be brilliant? Who am I to be talented, or esteemed? Who am I to be someone special? Why should I risk pushing into strange new territory and discover the depth of the potential God has bestowed me? Complacency is far safer territory, and requires far less risk.
While talking to John, I started talking about why I often hold back from taking risks. The fear with risk is that if you would risk seeking something; be it romance, a job, some other opportunity, sharing the gospel with a close unbelieving friend, or anything, you just may find that you are refused. It's funny that I, or anyone for that matter, should deny themselves the chance at realizing some joy for the sake of preserving it's possibility. Let me say that again: if I should never risk losing anything, I will comfortably perpetuate the potential of gaining it, without ever actually attaining it. I settle for a hope instead of a reality. But the comfort I get in enjoying the permanent possibility of gaining is overshadowed by the misery in not attaining what I desire, made greater by the refusal to chase it.
So, tying in to the verse shared above, should I truly believe that I am made a priest before Christ? Should I dare believe I am part of this sacred assembly? Can I grasp that I have a glory that will one day be made fully apparent? Can I live with that knowledge? The fear is to believe that I am truly that wonderful; my false humility makes us believe that we should be lower, undeserving, unworthy of happiness, incapable of being loved by people. And yet, here it is. It's right there. Priesthood. Elsewhere the Bible declares that we are adopted sons of the Most High God. We are in the process of being made into what Christ is. We are indwelt with a power that can literally transform the course of life and history itself, if only we would let it out. That power is the Spirit of Christ.
Living by the Spirit, I've always felt, was a process of letting go. It wasn't about performing some particular skill movement, or thought, or attaining some special knowledge. What it's about is submission to the Spirit and not letting my human mind and rationality stand in the way of the Spirit's desires and intentions. That is the way to glory. The risk is trusting that Spirit with control of my life. The fear is that the journey will be uncomfortable, and that there will be a loss of things I hope in. The reward is more than I can now or ever fathom.
Next time, I will talk about some of those hopes and dreams that need to be risked, and more specific fears. I figured that if I write too much all at once, people are going to fall asleep, haha.
But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. - 1 Peter 2:9
The verse is exceptionally powerful. I was reminded of the following quote:
"It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship....There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal." - C.S. Lewis
These are truly humbling words, yet why should we even feel ashamed? I was also reminded of another quote (which I had thought was from Lewis, but in looking on the internet appears to be widely attributed to Marianne Williamson. I feel certain that I have read it in something by Lewis once before, but I digress):
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
I have lived in this fear for some time, especially this year. I fear to be myself oftentimes, because I am afraid that who I am will run so far from where anyone else is at in their lives that I should alienate those around me. Who am I to be brilliant? Who am I to be talented, or esteemed? Who am I to be someone special? Why should I risk pushing into strange new territory and discover the depth of the potential God has bestowed me? Complacency is far safer territory, and requires far less risk.
While talking to John, I started talking about why I often hold back from taking risks. The fear with risk is that if you would risk seeking something; be it romance, a job, some other opportunity, sharing the gospel with a close unbelieving friend, or anything, you just may find that you are refused. It's funny that I, or anyone for that matter, should deny themselves the chance at realizing some joy for the sake of preserving it's possibility. Let me say that again: if I should never risk losing anything, I will comfortably perpetuate the potential of gaining it, without ever actually attaining it. I settle for a hope instead of a reality. But the comfort I get in enjoying the permanent possibility of gaining is overshadowed by the misery in not attaining what I desire, made greater by the refusal to chase it.
So, tying in to the verse shared above, should I truly believe that I am made a priest before Christ? Should I dare believe I am part of this sacred assembly? Can I grasp that I have a glory that will one day be made fully apparent? Can I live with that knowledge? The fear is to believe that I am truly that wonderful; my false humility makes us believe that we should be lower, undeserving, unworthy of happiness, incapable of being loved by people. And yet, here it is. It's right there. Priesthood. Elsewhere the Bible declares that we are adopted sons of the Most High God. We are in the process of being made into what Christ is. We are indwelt with a power that can literally transform the course of life and history itself, if only we would let it out. That power is the Spirit of Christ.
Living by the Spirit, I've always felt, was a process of letting go. It wasn't about performing some particular skill movement, or thought, or attaining some special knowledge. What it's about is submission to the Spirit and not letting my human mind and rationality stand in the way of the Spirit's desires and intentions. That is the way to glory. The risk is trusting that Spirit with control of my life. The fear is that the journey will be uncomfortable, and that there will be a loss of things I hope in. The reward is more than I can now or ever fathom.
Next time, I will talk about some of those hopes and dreams that need to be risked, and more specific fears. I figured that if I write too much all at once, people are going to fall asleep, haha.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Tales from the ER
***Note, some of this material may not be suitable for those sensitive to squeemish topics. Those sections will be starred for your own warning***
Last night was my first day of ACE (Ambulatory Care Experience, basically a glorified shadowing patient-seeing experience before your clinical years) and this block I am doing my ACE in the Emergency Department. I was apprehensive at first, not because of what I might see, but because having volunteered there as an undergrad I was not given much to do in terms of volunteer service. In fact, they acted like they didn't know what to do with me.
I called the ER to get the passcode for entry shortly before 4 p.m., and then, donning my white coat, proceeded down the hallway leading towards the west elevators and turned the corner towards the ER door. I let myself in, walked confidently up to the first person manning a desk station, and asked for the attending. There were two that night, and I was recommended to go to Dr. D. Introducing myself to Dr. D, I was then told he needed to catch up some stuff and to introduce myself to Dr. C. Dr. C was very busy, and it was a good 10 minutes before she finally stopped and slowed down to catch my name. And then she embarrassed me thoroughly by yelling for the entire ER to not show me anything except "interesting" stuff, and that I wasn't here to see anything boring.
After I had been sitting around a while, I finally managed to see my first patient. It had only taken about a 30 or 40 minute wait for someone to offer to take me in tow on their duties. So I ended up with an M4 named A, and saw my first case of the night.
S was a 20 yo student at the University who had had a terrible headache for the course of the day that was localized behind her left eye, accompanied by photophobia (an aversion to lights) and an episode of syncope upon standing in class (fainting, likely due to low blood fluid levels). I got to perform a funduscopic (eye) exam, just to be sure she didn't have any increase intracranial pressure from some more serious pathology. She was later discharged with some migraine medicine I believe.
Dr. D later motioned for me to follow him, and I was led to a room where M4 L was working on a kid's ear. His barbell had been ripped out of his earlobe sideways while he was playing with some dog, and he was going to get his earlobe sutured back on. Dr. D said he would let me suture except it was the ear and not as easy as somewhere more accessible. After Dr. D left however, L asked me if I wanted to learn to suture and she taught me how to do the tie off and how to insert the sutures. Most people get their first practice on pig's feet, but mine was on some guy's ragged ear.
****
"Want to see a guy with priapism?" Dr. D asked as he started to walk towards an exam area. I didn't see anything better to do but to follow, not seeing any patients at the moment. Priapism, for the unawares, is a painful non-excited erection that can lead to serious consequences (read: loss of the male organ) if not treated. I didn't stay in there long, as there was not much to do but see the man's priapism and leave. It turned out that the man had sickle cell anemia, a red blood cell disease that causes the red blood cells to "sickle" or elongate into long hard slivers, almost like tiny shards of glass. When they pass through the tiny capillary vessels, they can get stuck and cause a lot of pain. In this guy, they happened to get stuck and block the venous outflow of his penis.
Case 3 was a Hispanic woman who had awoken that morning at 4 a.m. with the "worst headache of [her] life". Mind you, this is always a red flag, as it could signify a subarachnoid hemorrhage (a bleed into the brain that can cause serious damage due to the increased pressure), but she had no neurologic deficits upon physical exam. She had an aversion to noise and mindly to light. Since it was already past 5 pm and she wasn't dead, the subarachnoid bleed seemed less likely, but she was sent for a CT anyways. The M4 I was accompanying, SS, almost didn't do a fundoscopic exam, but finally remembered to do so and I mentioned I would have suggested it had he not.
****
Priapism wasn't finished with me yet, and I was motioned to join Dr. D and the physicians assistant back to the priaprism room. They had paged a Urologist who was going to take charge of the case. The means of treating the man entailed draining the organ via a butterfly needle inserted into the side and having the sickled blood pumped out via a syringe. I watched about 70 - 100 mL of blood pumped out (roughly three syringes) until I got tired of balancing on the edge of a vaso-vagal response and left the room.
Case 5 was an intoxicated man named J who said he "fell down". However, a single glance at his face would say that if he did indeed fall down, the curb had beat the living bejeezus out of him for violating it's personal space. He had several lacerations, one on his chin which very evidently was from hitting a curb or something rough, but several other cleaner cuts that looked like they were inflicted by a sharp knife or other tool. He was given a shot of Ativan and SS, a female physician's assistant, and myself proceeded to scrub J's face and start suturing. With the door closed, this was the calmest area of the ER to be in at that point. SS and lady calmly sutured in quiet, all of us lightly conversing until it had reached 8 p.m., and I announced that I had other stuff I needed to get done that night and took off.
Life in the ER will be continued next week.
Last night was my first day of ACE (Ambulatory Care Experience, basically a glorified shadowing patient-seeing experience before your clinical years) and this block I am doing my ACE in the Emergency Department. I was apprehensive at first, not because of what I might see, but because having volunteered there as an undergrad I was not given much to do in terms of volunteer service. In fact, they acted like they didn't know what to do with me.
I called the ER to get the passcode for entry shortly before 4 p.m., and then, donning my white coat, proceeded down the hallway leading towards the west elevators and turned the corner towards the ER door. I let myself in, walked confidently up to the first person manning a desk station, and asked for the attending. There were two that night, and I was recommended to go to Dr. D. Introducing myself to Dr. D, I was then told he needed to catch up some stuff and to introduce myself to Dr. C. Dr. C was very busy, and it was a good 10 minutes before she finally stopped and slowed down to catch my name. And then she embarrassed me thoroughly by yelling for the entire ER to not show me anything except "interesting" stuff, and that I wasn't here to see anything boring.
After I had been sitting around a while, I finally managed to see my first patient. It had only taken about a 30 or 40 minute wait for someone to offer to take me in tow on their duties. So I ended up with an M4 named A, and saw my first case of the night.
S was a 20 yo student at the University who had had a terrible headache for the course of the day that was localized behind her left eye, accompanied by photophobia (an aversion to lights) and an episode of syncope upon standing in class (fainting, likely due to low blood fluid levels). I got to perform a funduscopic (eye) exam, just to be sure she didn't have any increase intracranial pressure from some more serious pathology. She was later discharged with some migraine medicine I believe.
Dr. D later motioned for me to follow him, and I was led to a room where M4 L was working on a kid's ear. His barbell had been ripped out of his earlobe sideways while he was playing with some dog, and he was going to get his earlobe sutured back on. Dr. D said he would let me suture except it was the ear and not as easy as somewhere more accessible. After Dr. D left however, L asked me if I wanted to learn to suture and she taught me how to do the tie off and how to insert the sutures. Most people get their first practice on pig's feet, but mine was on some guy's ragged ear.
****
"Want to see a guy with priapism?" Dr. D asked as he started to walk towards an exam area. I didn't see anything better to do but to follow, not seeing any patients at the moment. Priapism, for the unawares, is a painful non-excited erection that can lead to serious consequences (read: loss of the male organ) if not treated. I didn't stay in there long, as there was not much to do but see the man's priapism and leave. It turned out that the man had sickle cell anemia, a red blood cell disease that causes the red blood cells to "sickle" or elongate into long hard slivers, almost like tiny shards of glass. When they pass through the tiny capillary vessels, they can get stuck and cause a lot of pain. In this guy, they happened to get stuck and block the venous outflow of his penis.
Case 3 was a Hispanic woman who had awoken that morning at 4 a.m. with the "worst headache of [her] life". Mind you, this is always a red flag, as it could signify a subarachnoid hemorrhage (a bleed into the brain that can cause serious damage due to the increased pressure), but she had no neurologic deficits upon physical exam. She had an aversion to noise and mindly to light. Since it was already past 5 pm and she wasn't dead, the subarachnoid bleed seemed less likely, but she was sent for a CT anyways. The M4 I was accompanying, SS, almost didn't do a fundoscopic exam, but finally remembered to do so and I mentioned I would have suggested it had he not.
****
Priapism wasn't finished with me yet, and I was motioned to join Dr. D and the physicians assistant back to the priaprism room. They had paged a Urologist who was going to take charge of the case. The means of treating the man entailed draining the organ via a butterfly needle inserted into the side and having the sickled blood pumped out via a syringe. I watched about 70 - 100 mL of blood pumped out (roughly three syringes) until I got tired of balancing on the edge of a vaso-vagal response and left the room.
Case 5 was an intoxicated man named J who said he "fell down". However, a single glance at his face would say that if he did indeed fall down, the curb had beat the living bejeezus out of him for violating it's personal space. He had several lacerations, one on his chin which very evidently was from hitting a curb or something rough, but several other cleaner cuts that looked like they were inflicted by a sharp knife or other tool. He was given a shot of Ativan and SS, a female physician's assistant, and myself proceeded to scrub J's face and start suturing. With the door closed, this was the calmest area of the ER to be in at that point. SS and lady calmly sutured in quiet, all of us lightly conversing until it had reached 8 p.m., and I announced that I had other stuff I needed to get done that night and took off.
Life in the ER will be continued next week.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Three's a charm
In psychiatry, there's a set of three patterns of thought that are observed in depression known as the cognitive triad. The cognitive triad consists of the following:
To start, I've had a decent amount of difficulty with self-esteem, and with large groups of people social anxiety as well. When I begin to start feeling depressed, it will often start with "a negative interpretation of experience". Usually with people this manifests as an anxiety that the person or people do not care for my company, or are bored of me, or less excited about spending time with me than were I to be someone else who's company they prefer more. In the past when I worked in Residential Life it manifest as "my residents don't seem to think I'm exciting to be around", or if I'm trying to plan a social event and people don't show up, I may become down on the event and blame myself for not being desired for company. These negative experiences often lead towards the "negative view of oneself" although not always a direct thought of "i'm a failure". Oftentimes I find an end-around to essentially reach the same conclusion, which is "these people/this person must think I'm a failure, or worthless". The only difference in stating this is I am accentuating the importance I hold in what others think of me, and that is a futile source of affirmation. The last thought pattern, "a negative view of the future," occurs when I believe that the previous two thought processes are true and unchangeable, and that the negative experience will ultimately continue or pervade other aspects of my life, or that I simply cannot be any more appealing to people than I am, and fail to feel validated.
I've thought through what might occur were one of the three thought patterns were to be removed. If I remove a negative view of the future, then the mood would never persist, and any negative thoughts about myself or an experience would ultimately be forgotten. If I remove negative thoughts about myself (and this would come only through affirming my worth through God, and disregarding any concern for peoples' opinions of me), I would never blame myself for something wrong that occurs, and likely be a lot more motivated to change things. If I were to cut away the negative view of an experience (which is often where I start in the first place) I likely would not fall into the other two thought patterns.
I had a conversation with a friend the other night about this kind of thinking during times of depression. It's no secret to many people that I've really struggled with depression the last two to three months, and a lot of it falls into the above triad; a few small things started the ball rolling, and eventually it was so big that what was left was a massive amount of hopelessness, despair, and unresolved anger. Some of that is resolved, but some of it I'm not sure. I know that I haven't completely resolved or done away with the triad thinking (and I'm not sure how to permanently remove it), but its something to work on. What it will ultimately boil down to, I assume, is a willingness to trust God's sovreignty on a good many things, and a faith that I am loved by God, something I think I have a difficulty with deep down. Lastly, a faith that I am loved by people and that my circle of friends is broader than three.
- A negative view of oneself
- A negative interpretation of experience
- A negative view of the future
To start, I've had a decent amount of difficulty with self-esteem, and with large groups of people social anxiety as well. When I begin to start feeling depressed, it will often start with "a negative interpretation of experience". Usually with people this manifests as an anxiety that the person or people do not care for my company, or are bored of me, or less excited about spending time with me than were I to be someone else who's company they prefer more. In the past when I worked in Residential Life it manifest as "my residents don't seem to think I'm exciting to be around", or if I'm trying to plan a social event and people don't show up, I may become down on the event and blame myself for not being desired for company. These negative experiences often lead towards the "negative view of oneself" although not always a direct thought of "i'm a failure". Oftentimes I find an end-around to essentially reach the same conclusion, which is "these people/this person must think I'm a failure, or worthless". The only difference in stating this is I am accentuating the importance I hold in what others think of me, and that is a futile source of affirmation. The last thought pattern, "a negative view of the future," occurs when I believe that the previous two thought processes are true and unchangeable, and that the negative experience will ultimately continue or pervade other aspects of my life, or that I simply cannot be any more appealing to people than I am, and fail to feel validated.
I've thought through what might occur were one of the three thought patterns were to be removed. If I remove a negative view of the future, then the mood would never persist, and any negative thoughts about myself or an experience would ultimately be forgotten. If I remove negative thoughts about myself (and this would come only through affirming my worth through God, and disregarding any concern for peoples' opinions of me), I would never blame myself for something wrong that occurs, and likely be a lot more motivated to change things. If I were to cut away the negative view of an experience (which is often where I start in the first place) I likely would not fall into the other two thought patterns.
I had a conversation with a friend the other night about this kind of thinking during times of depression. It's no secret to many people that I've really struggled with depression the last two to three months, and a lot of it falls into the above triad; a few small things started the ball rolling, and eventually it was so big that what was left was a massive amount of hopelessness, despair, and unresolved anger. Some of that is resolved, but some of it I'm not sure. I know that I haven't completely resolved or done away with the triad thinking (and I'm not sure how to permanently remove it), but its something to work on. What it will ultimately boil down to, I assume, is a willingness to trust God's sovreignty on a good many things, and a faith that I am loved by God, something I think I have a difficulty with deep down. Lastly, a faith that I am loved by people and that my circle of friends is broader than three.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
The Weight of the White Coat
Last week was the end of block test week, and at the very end of the week, on Friday, I left for Mexico, Missouri for my church's annual 22-hour retreat. For the last two years it has been perfectly scheduled to coincide with the very end of test week and the beginning of break week, and both times so far has been an incredibly refreshing way to escape the world of academic medicine and the bustle of the city. "Cell phones don't work out here," I mused on the drive out to the camp.
The camp where we hold our retreat is several small buildings owned by a Baptist church group out that way that allows us to use it each year. The property is the size of several football fields, with a creative array of fields, wooded hollows, remnants of a creek and some runoff lanes between rises in the ground. There's a lake with a dock that is the perennial wilderness baptismal. There's also a barn-like building that now serves as a chapel. A firepit next to an outdoor ampitheater, the fellowship hall, and a small group of three cabins rounds out the scenery.
After having the night's turkey feast, and the first sermon of the retreat, it was dark and a chill was finally developing. I headed to my friend Jesse's Jeep for my fleece to help fight off the night's cold. Walking back towards the fellowship hall, I started hearing my name, and approaching the light of the open door was spotted by my friend Ryan, who ran to greet me and alert me that I was needed. As I followed him into the hall, a young man was brought before me by my pastor John. With his left eye starting to swell, the white of his eye a uniform pink-red, and a trail of blood flowing from the outside corner down to his jawbone, I immediately knew why I was so urgently sought; the man needed medical care, and I was expected to provide it.
The young man had been hit by a hedge apple about the size of a softball in the dark (apparently, some people were throwing hedge apples around for fun). My stomach clenched a bit at the first sight of him. "What if I don't know what to do? What if I can't be of help?" I thought. I was afraid to let him and everyone expecting me to help down. Very quickly though, I put all that aside in favor of an air of authority and control as I asked for a flashlight. My pastor informed me that there was a better lit first aid room in the basement, stocked with medical supplies. He beckoned with his hand and led me and the young man down the stairs to the room. The room had a couple chairs, a cabinet with a stock of general first aid supplies, and a large examining lamp anchored to a desk corner. Soon Korrin and her husband Cannon (A nurse and a fireman with some EMT training, respectively) and my friend Ben (also with EMT training) arrived.
As we started to undertake cleaning the wound and examining the young man's eye, it became apparent how much respect was being deferred towards me and my decisions. I also became aware of my own initiative to direct the care of the young man. Thus it became evident the weight the white coat carries in a medical situation.
It is hard to find anyone who hasn't heard the proverbial question "Is there a doctor in the house?" in passing, but seldom ever do people hear it in honest inquiry. One time when I was in high school I saw it employed; at a chorale competition in the gymnasium in front of a crowd of families and friends from the competing schools, my assistant director rushed in from the hallways to announce that a lady had collapsed, and inquired if there were any doctors available. At least two, if not three if I remember rightly, quickly made their way from their seats to the scene. I can liken that scene now, roughly eight years ago, with what happened this past Friday night. The profession of physician extends beyond the realm of the office and the examining room, beyond the halls of the wards and the beds of the trauma unit. Once a physician it is an expectation that in the immediate presence of a medical emergency you appear like an expected hero, with the calm and the knowledge to handle the concern in an instant. Not even awarded the title of M.D. yet and I already feel this expectation.
Maybe this event seems different simply because of the blood. There's been numerous times stretching back to before even entering medical school that friends have approached me with a medically oriented question. Sometimes it's been because of an injury while out playing sports; a twisted or bruised limb is especially common. But the blood is different. People react. Some faint, some feel nausea, others panic. The doctor is expected to fulfill his role of hero and savior and not be bothered by the blood. The doctor is expected to be the leader as the first responder. His degree and his pay and his years of study preceed him in many people's minds to the point where it is a crime now to be considered fallible. Fallibility isn't a characteristic of a doctor, but negligence is.
Soon, patient encounters will occur on a routine basis within the hospital, but I will be the student in a world of professionals who know my fallibility. Slowly though, as the tails of my white coat grow (which is set to happen in May of 2009) and my presumed knowledge and authority increase (sometime after residency) there will be more people who will defer to my expertise, and I will have no choice but to shoulder the responsibility. Patient's and nurses and residents and medical students will all at some point lean to my authority. The implications of that are beginning to reach me, and I am deeply humbled.
The camp where we hold our retreat is several small buildings owned by a Baptist church group out that way that allows us to use it each year. The property is the size of several football fields, with a creative array of fields, wooded hollows, remnants of a creek and some runoff lanes between rises in the ground. There's a lake with a dock that is the perennial wilderness baptismal. There's also a barn-like building that now serves as a chapel. A firepit next to an outdoor ampitheater, the fellowship hall, and a small group of three cabins rounds out the scenery.
After having the night's turkey feast, and the first sermon of the retreat, it was dark and a chill was finally developing. I headed to my friend Jesse's Jeep for my fleece to help fight off the night's cold. Walking back towards the fellowship hall, I started hearing my name, and approaching the light of the open door was spotted by my friend Ryan, who ran to greet me and alert me that I was needed. As I followed him into the hall, a young man was brought before me by my pastor John. With his left eye starting to swell, the white of his eye a uniform pink-red, and a trail of blood flowing from the outside corner down to his jawbone, I immediately knew why I was so urgently sought; the man needed medical care, and I was expected to provide it.
The young man had been hit by a hedge apple about the size of a softball in the dark (apparently, some people were throwing hedge apples around for fun). My stomach clenched a bit at the first sight of him. "What if I don't know what to do? What if I can't be of help?" I thought. I was afraid to let him and everyone expecting me to help down. Very quickly though, I put all that aside in favor of an air of authority and control as I asked for a flashlight. My pastor informed me that there was a better lit first aid room in the basement, stocked with medical supplies. He beckoned with his hand and led me and the young man down the stairs to the room. The room had a couple chairs, a cabinet with a stock of general first aid supplies, and a large examining lamp anchored to a desk corner. Soon Korrin and her husband Cannon (A nurse and a fireman with some EMT training, respectively) and my friend Ben (also with EMT training) arrived.
As we started to undertake cleaning the wound and examining the young man's eye, it became apparent how much respect was being deferred towards me and my decisions. I also became aware of my own initiative to direct the care of the young man. Thus it became evident the weight the white coat carries in a medical situation.
It is hard to find anyone who hasn't heard the proverbial question "Is there a doctor in the house?" in passing, but seldom ever do people hear it in honest inquiry. One time when I was in high school I saw it employed; at a chorale competition in the gymnasium in front of a crowd of families and friends from the competing schools, my assistant director rushed in from the hallways to announce that a lady had collapsed, and inquired if there were any doctors available. At least two, if not three if I remember rightly, quickly made their way from their seats to the scene. I can liken that scene now, roughly eight years ago, with what happened this past Friday night. The profession of physician extends beyond the realm of the office and the examining room, beyond the halls of the wards and the beds of the trauma unit. Once a physician it is an expectation that in the immediate presence of a medical emergency you appear like an expected hero, with the calm and the knowledge to handle the concern in an instant. Not even awarded the title of M.D. yet and I already feel this expectation.
Maybe this event seems different simply because of the blood. There's been numerous times stretching back to before even entering medical school that friends have approached me with a medically oriented question. Sometimes it's been because of an injury while out playing sports; a twisted or bruised limb is especially common. But the blood is different. People react. Some faint, some feel nausea, others panic. The doctor is expected to fulfill his role of hero and savior and not be bothered by the blood. The doctor is expected to be the leader as the first responder. His degree and his pay and his years of study preceed him in many people's minds to the point where it is a crime now to be considered fallible. Fallibility isn't a characteristic of a doctor, but negligence is.
Soon, patient encounters will occur on a routine basis within the hospital, but I will be the student in a world of professionals who know my fallibility. Slowly though, as the tails of my white coat grow (which is set to happen in May of 2009) and my presumed knowledge and authority increase (sometime after residency) there will be more people who will defer to my expertise, and I will have no choice but to shoulder the responsibility. Patient's and nurses and residents and medical students will all at some point lean to my authority. The implications of that are beginning to reach me, and I am deeply humbled.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Welcome to the Big Leagues
The summer research jump from last year to this year has been quite a step. I did a small research project, not too terribly important, last summer, that was published in a free online-only journal (in other words, not a real big deal, but worth being proud of).
This past summer, I worked on infectious disease research in the pediatric department at the University's Children's hospital. My mentor, Dr. Mato, gave me and my classmate Amanda assurance that we would most definately see our work published. Yesterday, when I dropped by Dr. Mato's office while up on the pediatrics floor, she spoke of submitting my research for the Pediatric Academic Societys' annual meeting in Toronto for presentation. If my work is accepted, it would mean the chance to present my poster and research in front of doctors and researchers from across the country.
Being only a medical student at best, I was humbled to find out she sees us presenting research amists other researchers who have done this their entire lives. Maybe I won't end up getting to go at all, but I'm excited and hoping that I'll get the chance (and hopefully my classmate Amanda will get the chance to go as well, and we can keep each other company having fun in Toronto).
This past summer, I worked on infectious disease research in the pediatric department at the University's Children's hospital. My mentor, Dr. Mato, gave me and my classmate Amanda assurance that we would most definately see our work published. Yesterday, when I dropped by Dr. Mato's office while up on the pediatrics floor, she spoke of submitting my research for the Pediatric Academic Societys' annual meeting in Toronto for presentation. If my work is accepted, it would mean the chance to present my poster and research in front of doctors and researchers from across the country.
Being only a medical student at best, I was humbled to find out she sees us presenting research amists other researchers who have done this their entire lives. Maybe I won't end up getting to go at all, but I'm excited and hoping that I'll get the chance (and hopefully my classmate Amanda will get the chance to go as well, and we can keep each other company having fun in Toronto).
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Last wedding of the season
Today I attended my fifth (yes 5th) wedding of this year. No one else that I know of is getting married before the end of the year, and that's good, because one season of giving wedding gifts is enough to break the bank. I easily spent an undisclosed large sum of money altogether on wedding gifts. Sheesh!
Weddings can be incredibly wonderful, and sometimes difficult. Incredibly wonderful predominates however, as I am usually very excited to be able to participate in a lovely couple's special day and celebrate with them. Difficult sometimes in that if I'm not careful I can either 1.) start to feel the wedding-fever creep up and make me feel like I need to start looking for my own wife-to-be, or 2.) remind me that I haven't gotten to that point of finding someone to marry yet. I'm glad that for today's wedding, I was able to avoid falling into both traps. Now, about the wedding.
Aaron Ferguson and Stevi Davis had known each other since I can remember. I had always wondered if they ever thought about dating each other, or were ever going to date each other. Somehow in the back of my mind I saw it as a future possibility. After all, I knew one and the other in tandem amongst a small group of friends I had. Eventually, they coupled together, and some time later we now find them deep in the woods, at Stevi's parent's property; Fern Lake.
The wedding was held outside, in a meandering glade that overlooked a receeding lake. The air smelled damp and green, and when I pulled up I noticed how casual things seemed to be. As for the wedding ceremony, the bride and groom exhanged vows under a sheet that had been decorated with their very vows written into it, hung via a canopy truss. There was no large procession of groomsmen or bridesmaids, just the man and the woman. As I had already told Aaron, the thing I enjoyed best about the wedding was how much of it was a reflection of Stevi and him, and how much of it was done without hiring outside help. That I think was part of their goal, and I think part of the simple charm of the wedding. No big entourage, just God and the guests, to witness and celebrate two becomming one.
Weddings can be incredibly wonderful, and sometimes difficult. Incredibly wonderful predominates however, as I am usually very excited to be able to participate in a lovely couple's special day and celebrate with them. Difficult sometimes in that if I'm not careful I can either 1.) start to feel the wedding-fever creep up and make me feel like I need to start looking for my own wife-to-be, or 2.) remind me that I haven't gotten to that point of finding someone to marry yet. I'm glad that for today's wedding, I was able to avoid falling into both traps. Now, about the wedding.
Aaron Ferguson and Stevi Davis had known each other since I can remember. I had always wondered if they ever thought about dating each other, or were ever going to date each other. Somehow in the back of my mind I saw it as a future possibility. After all, I knew one and the other in tandem amongst a small group of friends I had. Eventually, they coupled together, and some time later we now find them deep in the woods, at Stevi's parent's property; Fern Lake.
The wedding was held outside, in a meandering glade that overlooked a receeding lake. The air smelled damp and green, and when I pulled up I noticed how casual things seemed to be. As for the wedding ceremony, the bride and groom exhanged vows under a sheet that had been decorated with their very vows written into it, hung via a canopy truss. There was no large procession of groomsmen or bridesmaids, just the man and the woman. As I had already told Aaron, the thing I enjoyed best about the wedding was how much of it was a reflection of Stevi and him, and how much of it was done without hiring outside help. That I think was part of their goal, and I think part of the simple charm of the wedding. No big entourage, just God and the guests, to witness and celebrate two becomming one.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
The long catchup weekend
Four weeks of school have gone by faster than should be allowed, and I'm already looking downhill towards my first test week of the second year. I'm thankful that Labor Day weekend falls right at this point; the three day long weekend will give me some chance to catch up. I have unfortunately been spending too much time in the evenings to socialize with those who come to visit (which, in the last two nights, has been a lot of people over). But I also think, maybe that's fortunate, because I know how easy it can be for me to fall into a sense of loneliness if I don't get enough contact with people, especially the kind that leaves me feeling as though I've been able to connect with others.
I was asked today by my friend Davey if school has started to be stressful yet. I find it unfortunate that I usually feel stressed in general about school. Having a perfectionist attitude combined with school not being exactly the easiest thing in the world causes me to stress. What if I fail the test? What if my classmates think I'm stupid? What if, some day down the road, a patient finds me ignorant, and I'm unable to help them because I forgot a step in the coagulation cascade? My friend Andrew, a first year surgery resident, talked as the guest speaker at our second Christian Medical-Dental Assoc. meeting about how he felt he could easily have studied 1/4 as hard as he did and still do just as wel as he did otherwise. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely studying a 1/4th of what I should be. If I get in a good four hours of studying, I'll feel guilty for not getting in six, and so on.
Another thing that starts to bother me when school gets busy is the unfortunate need to be far more mindful of my time. While most of my friends are still up and enjoying company, I have the incredibly difficult task of pulling myself away from that setting and going to bed. While others are going out to a movie, I have to stay in and study. With four weeks left in the block, I've told a couple of friends that I'll slowly become more and more scarce, until tests are completed. It's difficult sometimes trying to convey to people who don't share the same time responsibility what my life is like in that sense; many people I know are of a college age or of a far less strenuous time schedule, and simply can't aways relate to having to schedule in advance time to hang out. Ah well.
My pastor's surprise birthday was today, and was a total surprise. His actual birthday is in nine days, and so it was an awesome thing to have a huge crowd of people together to bless him. There's also several people I'm getting to know as friends here at the start of this new school year who seem like really awesome people, from a second North Dakotan to a world traveler to someone who may have finally found acceptance in a community of friends, and I'm really excited about seeing them around and continuing to enjoy getting to know them.
I was asked today by my friend Davey if school has started to be stressful yet. I find it unfortunate that I usually feel stressed in general about school. Having a perfectionist attitude combined with school not being exactly the easiest thing in the world causes me to stress. What if I fail the test? What if my classmates think I'm stupid? What if, some day down the road, a patient finds me ignorant, and I'm unable to help them because I forgot a step in the coagulation cascade? My friend Andrew, a first year surgery resident, talked as the guest speaker at our second Christian Medical-Dental Assoc. meeting about how he felt he could easily have studied 1/4 as hard as he did and still do just as wel as he did otherwise. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely studying a 1/4th of what I should be. If I get in a good four hours of studying, I'll feel guilty for not getting in six, and so on.
Another thing that starts to bother me when school gets busy is the unfortunate need to be far more mindful of my time. While most of my friends are still up and enjoying company, I have the incredibly difficult task of pulling myself away from that setting and going to bed. While others are going out to a movie, I have to stay in and study. With four weeks left in the block, I've told a couple of friends that I'll slowly become more and more scarce, until tests are completed. It's difficult sometimes trying to convey to people who don't share the same time responsibility what my life is like in that sense; many people I know are of a college age or of a far less strenuous time schedule, and simply can't aways relate to having to schedule in advance time to hang out. Ah well.
My pastor's surprise birthday was today, and was a total surprise. His actual birthday is in nine days, and so it was an awesome thing to have a huge crowd of people together to bless him. There's also several people I'm getting to know as friends here at the start of this new school year who seem like really awesome people, from a second North Dakotan to a world traveler to someone who may have finally found acceptance in a community of friends, and I'm really excited about seeing them around and continuing to enjoy getting to know them.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Circumstance, Coincidence
Lately, I've been thinking about Tyler. His desk chair and his electric razor are two things of his that I kept (many people who knew him took items that belonged to him, to put them to use instead of going to trash and to remember him by). Sitting in what was once his chair, I can "visit" with him, in a sense. I know others who knew him are doing the same when they look at pictures, or what they kept of his.
"You are the salt of the earth. Buf if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.
You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."
--- Jesus, Matthew 5:13-16
This was the foundation for my friend Jack's message at our first Christian Medical-Dental Assoc. medical student group meeting. It was a talk he was giving titled "How to influence Mizzou for Christ," and it was so incredibly moving to be blessed by an hour of talk on what this passage means. The whole time through, I felt like I was being given something Tyler wanted me to have.
Now, I'm cautiously mystical when it comes to circumstance, coincidence, and the like. I'm not sure if people in heaven have any sort of awareness of earthly affairs. My intuition and all my reading in the Bible lead me to say no; the worries of this world and its affairs do not reach those already gone to God. However, I won't discount the possibility that they get the chance to pray before God's throne for us. Or at the very least, God is remembering us for them, and being certain to remind us of those we love who are now with him.
Thanks, Tyler, and thank you, Father.
"You are the salt of the earth. Buf if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.
You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."
--- Jesus, Matthew 5:13-16
This was the foundation for my friend Jack's message at our first Christian Medical-Dental Assoc. medical student group meeting. It was a talk he was giving titled "How to influence Mizzou for Christ," and it was so incredibly moving to be blessed by an hour of talk on what this passage means. The whole time through, I felt like I was being given something Tyler wanted me to have.
Now, I'm cautiously mystical when it comes to circumstance, coincidence, and the like. I'm not sure if people in heaven have any sort of awareness of earthly affairs. My intuition and all my reading in the Bible lead me to say no; the worries of this world and its affairs do not reach those already gone to God. However, I won't discount the possibility that they get the chance to pray before God's throne for us. Or at the very least, God is remembering us for them, and being certain to remind us of those we love who are now with him.
Thanks, Tyler, and thank you, Father.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
School, Shaving, Serpentine Belts, and Sex
It's been all about the S the last few days.
On Saturday (ironic, it starts with an 'S' day), my battery in my Jeep completely died a sudden death. There was a plastic sleeve attached to the battery that contained the purchase receipt. Purchased in 2002, well that explains it. It took about 10 - 15 phone calls to actually find someone available to take me to O'Reily's (I was trying to work out in concentric circles from my house), but I finally got a new battery. The guy testing the old one simply said, "Yup, it's dead," with a total resignation telling me that there was no hope in rejuvenating it. New battery, check. Now I'm mobile again...
Fast forward to where I'm headed west on Stadium. A loud thunk followed by an instantaneous loss of power steering control, coupled with a drop in battery voltage from 14 V to barely 10 V, and a slowly rising engine thermometer told me something was wrong with the Jeep. I drove to HyVee's parking lot, popped the hood, and to my horror see my shredded serpentine belt wrapped around the fan axle and held tight. This explained everything; the thunk I heard while driving was the serpentine belt coming loose and falling into the fan blades, pulling the belt off the power steering pump (causing a loss of power steering), the alternator (causing the sudden drop in engine voltage). The freezing up of the fan and lack of water pump circulation triggered the slow and steady rise of engine temperature well beyond what an engine should run (had I thought of it at the time, I could have helped ease the engine temp by turning on my heater full blast to dissipate the heat). After Adam helped me replace the serpentine belt, he noticed that the water pump pulley had bad bearings, and so today we towed it to a garage, explained the problem, and asked for a check-up and estimate.
Year two started today, and it'll be fun and challenging. This year is all pathology; the study of the mechanisms of disease. We had a lecture on cellular response to injury, which covered hypoxia, necrosis, apoptosis, and some other fun stuff. We also had two lectures on patient care; one was diagnostic approach to cough and dyspnea (difficulty breathing) and chest radiology (with lots of chest x-ray cases). Fun!
I'm starting to use Tyler's old electric razor. I have been having lots of thoughts on the whole "keep something to remember him by" philosophy. At times I've felt guilty for benefiting through a friend's death, at others happy to help redeem stuff that may otherwise find it's way to the dumpster. There's still several other things sitting around that belonged to Tyler, although most of his stuff is gone. There are a few books that he read portions of, or had plans to read, that his parents left behind. One of them I'll likely read. Some days I look at the remaining stuff that belonged to him thinking he'll still be coming back to pick it up; I'm just borrowing some things, really. At least, without those remnants, it'd be far harder to remember the year we three just finished living together and the life he lived here.
As for the sex, I found this article in the news today. Just a little food for thought. Maybe some of you I know work around teenagers will find it an interesting topic.
On Saturday (ironic, it starts with an 'S' day), my battery in my Jeep completely died a sudden death. There was a plastic sleeve attached to the battery that contained the purchase receipt. Purchased in 2002, well that explains it. It took about 10 - 15 phone calls to actually find someone available to take me to O'Reily's (I was trying to work out in concentric circles from my house), but I finally got a new battery. The guy testing the old one simply said, "Yup, it's dead," with a total resignation telling me that there was no hope in rejuvenating it. New battery, check. Now I'm mobile again...
Fast forward to where I'm headed west on Stadium. A loud thunk followed by an instantaneous loss of power steering control, coupled with a drop in battery voltage from 14 V to barely 10 V, and a slowly rising engine thermometer told me something was wrong with the Jeep. I drove to HyVee's parking lot, popped the hood, and to my horror see my shredded serpentine belt wrapped around the fan axle and held tight. This explained everything; the thunk I heard while driving was the serpentine belt coming loose and falling into the fan blades, pulling the belt off the power steering pump (causing a loss of power steering), the alternator (causing the sudden drop in engine voltage). The freezing up of the fan and lack of water pump circulation triggered the slow and steady rise of engine temperature well beyond what an engine should run (had I thought of it at the time, I could have helped ease the engine temp by turning on my heater full blast to dissipate the heat). After Adam helped me replace the serpentine belt, he noticed that the water pump pulley had bad bearings, and so today we towed it to a garage, explained the problem, and asked for a check-up and estimate.
Year two started today, and it'll be fun and challenging. This year is all pathology; the study of the mechanisms of disease. We had a lecture on cellular response to injury, which covered hypoxia, necrosis, apoptosis, and some other fun stuff. We also had two lectures on patient care; one was diagnostic approach to cough and dyspnea (difficulty breathing) and chest radiology (with lots of chest x-ray cases). Fun!
I'm starting to use Tyler's old electric razor. I have been having lots of thoughts on the whole "keep something to remember him by" philosophy. At times I've felt guilty for benefiting through a friend's death, at others happy to help redeem stuff that may otherwise find it's way to the dumpster. There's still several other things sitting around that belonged to Tyler, although most of his stuff is gone. There are a few books that he read portions of, or had plans to read, that his parents left behind. One of them I'll likely read. Some days I look at the remaining stuff that belonged to him thinking he'll still be coming back to pick it up; I'm just borrowing some things, really. At least, without those remnants, it'd be far harder to remember the year we three just finished living together and the life he lived here.
As for the sex, I found this article in the news today. Just a little food for thought. Maybe some of you I know work around teenagers will find it an interesting topic.
A glorious mess
Originally Aug, 3rd
In the last week and a half, I think that I have been asked "How are you doing/feeling?" more times than I can ever recall in such a short period. I had talked with someone about how reflexive it is for me to simply say 'pretty good' and push off the question. The truth is, I have not been good, and I don't know how to answer that question. The truth is, I want to talk about how I am doing, but often don't see so simple and common a greeting as a gateway to really opening up about how I feel. The truth is, I have probably still withheld a lot of feelings and problems I have dealt with in the last twelve days than most people are even aware of, and not because I don't want to share them. I haven't shared everything that has been going on because I don't know how to share it. I don't know if I should share it. I don't know how honest I can be about how I feel.
I love my church community. I can't stand my church community. I'm so lucky to have the friends I do have. People suck, and it is too much pain and frustration to have to deal with all of you in the world. Stop the planet, I'm getting off. God help me, and give me a heart of love.
So very much of the past week has revolved around Tyler in some form or another, and that is beautiful. But, I want so badly to move past such a narrow focus and know what is going on in a broader sense in people's lives. I want to ask the questions 'What are you learning in all of this?', 'What do you want people to remember in your death?', 'How is this affecting your view and opinion of community, and the church?', 'How is this shaping your thoughts about people?', 'Has this made it easier or harder to love people?', 'Does this make you love God more, and do you appreciate yourself?', 'What do you see needing to be done in community, that may be possible in the wake of this tragedy?'
I want to answer these questions myself, and I want to hear others answers as well. I want to talk about them with my most familiar friends, but I also want to talk about them with the people who I don't talk to very much in our church, or the people who are difficult to get to have a conversation with. I want to know people listen when I scream; I don't want to use feedback as a mask for a sense of entitlement to recognition or having a friendship with everyone. I want to have clarity, organization to thoughts. I want out of this rut; I don't want to leave this mess and become comfortable.
I want to know love, and peace. Rest. I want to know what I am supposed to feel/think/say/do/etc.
In the last week and a half, I think that I have been asked "How are you doing/feeling?" more times than I can ever recall in such a short period. I had talked with someone about how reflexive it is for me to simply say 'pretty good' and push off the question. The truth is, I have not been good, and I don't know how to answer that question. The truth is, I want to talk about how I am doing, but often don't see so simple and common a greeting as a gateway to really opening up about how I feel. The truth is, I have probably still withheld a lot of feelings and problems I have dealt with in the last twelve days than most people are even aware of, and not because I don't want to share them. I haven't shared everything that has been going on because I don't know how to share it. I don't know if I should share it. I don't know how honest I can be about how I feel.
I love my church community. I can't stand my church community. I'm so lucky to have the friends I do have. People suck, and it is too much pain and frustration to have to deal with all of you in the world. Stop the planet, I'm getting off. God help me, and give me a heart of love.
So very much of the past week has revolved around Tyler in some form or another, and that is beautiful. But, I want so badly to move past such a narrow focus and know what is going on in a broader sense in people's lives. I want to ask the questions 'What are you learning in all of this?', 'What do you want people to remember in your death?', 'How is this affecting your view and opinion of community, and the church?', 'How is this shaping your thoughts about people?', 'Has this made it easier or harder to love people?', 'Does this make you love God more, and do you appreciate yourself?', 'What do you see needing to be done in community, that may be possible in the wake of this tragedy?'
I want to answer these questions myself, and I want to hear others answers as well. I want to talk about them with my most familiar friends, but I also want to talk about them with the people who I don't talk to very much in our church, or the people who are difficult to get to have a conversation with. I want to know people listen when I scream; I don't want to use feedback as a mask for a sense of entitlement to recognition or having a friendship with everyone. I want to have clarity, organization to thoughts. I want out of this rut; I don't want to leave this mess and become comfortable.
I want to know love, and peace. Rest. I want to know what I am supposed to feel/think/say/do/etc.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Glorification for him, Sanctification for us
Sometime Friday, July 21, 2006
"Hey James, it's your mother"
"Hey mom."
"Your dad was told by work he has to go to Conneticutt on Sunday for two weeks on business...come down this evening so you can go golfing and boating all tomorrow instead."
6:00 p.m. Friday, July 21, 2006
"Alright Tyler, I think I'm headed out. I'll be home Monday sometime."
"Alright, see ya bro, have a good weekend."
12:32 p.m., Saturday, July 22, 2006
"Hey James, this is John Drage....call me back."
I had been out golfing that morning with my dad and younger brother. On the way home my phone rang at least once, but I decided not to pull it from my pocket since I was driving and I thought it was likely someone from
"Hey James, how are you?"
"I'm doing good, John. How are you doing?"
"I'm doing ok. Actually, I'm not doing great. This morning...
I sat there not listening for a moment, left in shock. I repeated it silently with my lips;
"This is turning into a very bad year, John (referring to Pam Miller's death earlier in the year, when John also called me to share the news)."
"I know..."
I went and told my mom the news, who started to cry and hugged me, thankful that I hadn't left on Saturday as I had originally planned, in case I would have decided to drive with
He owes me fifty bucks! The jerk! I thought, and chuckled slighly.
After a while to let things set in my head, my family and I hit the road and went to the lake to go boating for a while. I rode with my mom, who occasionally asked questions about the accident. I didn't really feel like talking, and I didn't really know much of anything at that point either. I was a little snappy, and told my mom to stop asking questions.
I left my phone at home while I went boating, knowing that people would likely start to call me, and I didn't feel like fielding lots of calls at that point. I returned a few when I got home.
Overnight, July 22 - 23, 2006
You're alive! I am thinking this to myself, and I can't remember if
Later on Sunday I leave for
My heart spoke up:
10:00 p.m. Sunday, July 23, 2006
"Hey
"Hey James. It's good to feel you......"
------------------------------------
"Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" - Job 2:10
I don't pretend to not be angry in all this. No, I am not questioning God's goodness. I still believe Him to be good. I still believe Him to be sovreign (the many surrounding circumstances and what-if's that I have put together force me to abandon any doubt about that). What I am angry with God about is this: why did a young man so full of potential and who still had plenty of work to finish before becoming as Christ-like as he ever could have to die? And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose - Romans 8:28. But is this really the best way to do good through
God works for the good of those...plural. God is trying to work good in my life...
People in the last few days have been calling me, emailing me, trying to sympathize. What am I supposed to even say? One day I'm doing alright. I laugh, share a story about
Well, despite owing me fifty bucks, he did finally clean all the dishes, and the counter and stovetops. At least he finally got something right, hehe. I call us settled.
I can't decide: do I want to be left alone, or do I want to be with people. What people do I want to be with? They don't seem to understand that I have a story to tell about who
I'm angry with
9:30 p.m., Thursday, July 20, 2006
"Hey
"No....I think I'm going to stay here..."
"Alright. Hey, you should read this little editorial in your issue of National Geographic. I read it the other day at breakfast. It starts off with some environmentalism-global-warming stuff, but the conclusion is pretty cool."
"Alright, I will, just leave it open for me and I'll do it tonight."
When I got home at midnight, Thursday night (July 20th).
The article I told him to read had concluded by talking about the need for our hyper-individualistic society to turn towards community. "We need community,"
“I’ve got it!” is something you could commonly hear
I was warning him about becoming pragmatic Thursday night. “Don’t get so focused on how to do something for Christ that you forget who He is to you and what He means to you. You have to know the answer to why Jesus Christ is so important and central to your life, otherwise your plans will burn you out.”
“I’m thinking about the church plant,” he said to me.
“
“No, the next one,” he said (note: our church hasn’t even begun to think of where the next church will be planted). “I’ve asked
Evening. Monday, July 24, 2006.
“I’m thinking that with these new equippers, they need mentors that can help them learn how to use their gifting. Maybe Hoops can mentor lightgivers…”
“Maybe we can try to revolve some discussions over what John preached about. Y’know, something like, ‘On Saturday John was talking about this. What did you think about what he said?’”
All of it was in his notes, still sitting here on the coffee table. I’ll probably give them to John.
2:15 a.m., Friday, July 21, 2006.
I just finished having at least a two hour talk with
Father, I pray that you would help
Then sleeping.
6:00 p.m. Friday, July 21, 2006
"Alright Tyler, I think I'm headed out. I'll be home Monday sometime."
"Alright, see ya bro, have a good weekend."
“You too. See you later, man.”
“See you later”
“Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.” - Morgan Freeman, The Shawshank Redemption
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Summer Daze
I'm in a halt with research lately, since there are no more subjects I can currently gather data on. Why is that bad? Because I start class in the second week of August, and because I'm not even halfway to finished with this research project. Why can't my research move forward? It's because the billing department's wonderful worker who's been helping us has not been able to find subjects using the search method she is employing. Also, she's a tad slow in getting work done and to us in a timely manner.
In other news, my grandparents came to visit on Friday of last week. I love my grandparents with a passion. Age has definately awarded them wisdom. It has also awarded them humor. The highlights:
In other news, my grandparents came to visit on Friday of last week. I love my grandparents with a passion. Age has definately awarded them wisdom. It has also awarded them humor. The highlights:
- Grandma: "Want to go in that Lakota place and get some coffee?" Grandpa: "We can't go in there, we're not carrying laptops!"
- "Those fancy coffeeshops don't have senior coffee. I can get one for $.50 at McDonald's" - Grandpa
- "My hair's not doing what I want it to do. It's the shampoo's fault" - Grandma
- "You used to be a really good parallel parker." Grandma, to Grandpa
- "Hon, I want some ice cream." - Grandma
- "Don't ever put others up to standards you set. At least, don't tell them you do, haha." - Grandma
Monday, July 03, 2006
Created
Here we are. The very first works of James: artist, future doctor, gardener, superman (maybe that last part is an exaggeration).
Monday, June 26, 2006
Creating
I've had a $25 gift card to Wal-Mart just lying around for over a year now, so I decided to use it today. I had earlier had the idea to possibly buy a canvas and some paint, and paint my own abstract or contemporary-ish art to hang in my room or somewhere around the house, to add some color. I figured it would be cheaper than buying something, and nicer than a poster. Well, I went to Michael's first, and their painting supply is high-dollar. Disappointing.
I later found some 16"x20" canvases at Wal-Mart, as well as some cheap acryllic paint. I bought primary colors and black and white in big $1.67 tubes, more than enough for the canvases (maybe I can make more art later). I also bought a candle, and a wooden box in the craft area that I thought looked nice for a dresser organizer (I put my keys, watch, cufflinks, etc., in it to take away clutter).
It feels good to be able to beautify a living space, even a temporary one. Having a creative flow at times, be it art, furniture aranging, writing, singing, dancing, or anything (I'm also honing a green thumb with some peach trees I put in pots out back) helps produce a worshipful heart. It helps me to appreciate the creative flow that was used to bring to existance all the somethings I am now working into an aesthetic form from nothing; the beautiful colors of art, the wonderous music of Bach, the slow eloquence of a plant blossoming, were all truly original ideas. We are simply working it all into what it was intended for: beauty.
I later found some 16"x20" canvases at Wal-Mart, as well as some cheap acryllic paint. I bought primary colors and black and white in big $1.67 tubes, more than enough for the canvases (maybe I can make more art later). I also bought a candle, and a wooden box in the craft area that I thought looked nice for a dresser organizer (I put my keys, watch, cufflinks, etc., in it to take away clutter).
It feels good to be able to beautify a living space, even a temporary one. Having a creative flow at times, be it art, furniture aranging, writing, singing, dancing, or anything (I'm also honing a green thumb with some peach trees I put in pots out back) helps produce a worshipful heart. It helps me to appreciate the creative flow that was used to bring to existance all the somethings I am now working into an aesthetic form from nothing; the beautiful colors of art, the wonderous music of Bach, the slow eloquence of a plant blossoming, were all truly original ideas. We are simply working it all into what it was intended for: beauty.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Evangelism gone wrong, Evangelism rectified
I've been reading the book The Provocative Church lately, and must say I give it two hands up and an amen. Reading this book will jump in the face of everything you thought evangelism was.
Once not long ago (as in, beginning with my entrance into college and up until just recently) I felt very guilty regarding evangelism. The book hit this to a T when it sums up that most Christians feel that evangelism is something that ought to be done, but they don't readily do because they don't know how, they don't feel good at doing it, or they don't want to subject friends to a church that they themselves are bored and unfulfilled with.
I have always wished to evangelize, but have always had the principle hindrance in feeling that it does no good to talk about God to someone who isn't really curious. And, to that end, I've simply strove for Christian progress (see Justification, Sanctification, Reconciliation, in a previous entry). This book holds that just such an approach, on a church wide level, is the cornerstone of evangelism. If the whole chuch should be living a life different to the world around it, and preach a message of how to practically go about loving others, living in peace, and caring for people and the world around you, people will ask why. When you tell them why, tell them about Jesus. Having already gained their attention, they will be far more likely to listen.
Some might say that there's people out there who just don't seem like they would notice, or care. Well, and I indite (sp?) myself on this as well, I guess we just haven't shown them something different yet.
The other day over ice cream I was telling an old high school friend what I do with my friends for fun, and also telling her that all of these friends for the most part are from my church. She was interested, excited that we had so much fun and were so communally close without having to get completely drunk. Pretty soon, I'm going to make sure she (as well as anyone else she cares to bring) gets to see this kind of community. I'm not going out of the way to share the gospel with her. She's asked a little before, and I've answered a little, so I know she is to some degree interested. Hopefully, she'll be more intrigued, and gradually (by observing it) get to see the truth of the gospel through life lived by a church.
Once not long ago (as in, beginning with my entrance into college and up until just recently) I felt very guilty regarding evangelism. The book hit this to a T when it sums up that most Christians feel that evangelism is something that ought to be done, but they don't readily do because they don't know how, they don't feel good at doing it, or they don't want to subject friends to a church that they themselves are bored and unfulfilled with.
I have always wished to evangelize, but have always had the principle hindrance in feeling that it does no good to talk about God to someone who isn't really curious. And, to that end, I've simply strove for Christian progress (see Justification, Sanctification, Reconciliation, in a previous entry). This book holds that just such an approach, on a church wide level, is the cornerstone of evangelism. If the whole chuch should be living a life different to the world around it, and preach a message of how to practically go about loving others, living in peace, and caring for people and the world around you, people will ask why. When you tell them why, tell them about Jesus. Having already gained their attention, they will be far more likely to listen.
Some might say that there's people out there who just don't seem like they would notice, or care. Well, and I indite (sp?) myself on this as well, I guess we just haven't shown them something different yet.
The other day over ice cream I was telling an old high school friend what I do with my friends for fun, and also telling her that all of these friends for the most part are from my church. She was interested, excited that we had so much fun and were so communally close without having to get completely drunk. Pretty soon, I'm going to make sure she (as well as anyone else she cares to bring) gets to see this kind of community. I'm not going out of the way to share the gospel with her. She's asked a little before, and I've answered a little, so I know she is to some degree interested. Hopefully, she'll be more intrigued, and gradually (by observing it) get to see the truth of the gospel through life lived by a church.
The Da Vinci Code and Art in the Park
I went to see The Da Vinci Code last night with Thane. He wanted to see it after reading the book, to see how the movie compares. I wanted to see what the hubbub was all about without reading the book. Boy, was a silly little story.
I believe it's been out a couple weeks now, and it is probably going to be pulled from theaters real soon; the Forum showing we went to had five people watching it, including Thane and me. Thane says that the movie isn't completely like the book, and that it fails to embellish certain very important parts that in the book were elaborated to no end.
Afterwards, we both drove back to my place and Thane came in for a while. We had been discussing the movie, and religion, and other things. Eventually we started talking about faith and apologetics and evidence of the truth of Christianity. Thane was telling me about what the book Case for Faith is like, and his intentions to read Case for Christ later on. He made an exceptional point in an exceptionally simple way though, when he said that he doesn't want his faith to be a "proof". He considers himself a poor evangelist, in the sense that he isn't a walk up to strangers share your faith and answer every question kind. He was making the point that any book for or against Christianity has an author's bias, and of course they will prove themselves right. If you base all of your faith off of logical arguments and evidence, Thane said, you miss the whole point of faith, which is a matter of your heart. So simple and profound, he told me how he thinks so much Christian evidence literature merely makes the issue complex, when in his heart it is far more simple of an understanding. Incredible.
Earlier in the day yesterday I went to Art in the Park with Kelly Coffey and Dan Cotter. Out of all the things I looked at with the potential of buying, I bought an Art in the Park can koozie and can of lemonade. There's my souvenier.
I believe it's been out a couple weeks now, and it is probably going to be pulled from theaters real soon; the Forum showing we went to had five people watching it, including Thane and me. Thane says that the movie isn't completely like the book, and that it fails to embellish certain very important parts that in the book were elaborated to no end.
Afterwards, we both drove back to my place and Thane came in for a while. We had been discussing the movie, and religion, and other things. Eventually we started talking about faith and apologetics and evidence of the truth of Christianity. Thane was telling me about what the book Case for Faith is like, and his intentions to read Case for Christ later on. He made an exceptional point in an exceptionally simple way though, when he said that he doesn't want his faith to be a "proof". He considers himself a poor evangelist, in the sense that he isn't a walk up to strangers share your faith and answer every question kind. He was making the point that any book for or against Christianity has an author's bias, and of course they will prove themselves right. If you base all of your faith off of logical arguments and evidence, Thane said, you miss the whole point of faith, which is a matter of your heart. So simple and profound, he told me how he thinks so much Christian evidence literature merely makes the issue complex, when in his heart it is far more simple of an understanding. Incredible.
Earlier in the day yesterday I went to Art in the Park with Kelly Coffey and Dan Cotter. Out of all the things I looked at with the potential of buying, I bought an Art in the Park can koozie and can of lemonade. There's my souvenier.
Misconceptions, stereotypes, misrepresentation
"There are two great lies I've heard:
The day you eat of the fruit of that tree, you will not surely die
And that Jesus Christ was a white middle-class Republican
And if you wanna be saved you have to learn to be like Him" - Derek Webb, A King and a Kingdom
Lately Tyler and I have had lots of discussions on the subjects mentioned in the title of this post. To use a second quote from Derek Webb (I know, two in one post!), "A lot of the songs on Christian radio are just outright misrepresentations of the character of God." I want to move that beyond radio and music, however. I think that it is far too easy to fall into the trap of putting God in a box, as they say; for someone to write a book that gives a suddenly new "insight" into who God is and what He's about. It's also a problem to assume to have correctly interpreted the Bible, which has for centuries been hotly debated as to what it means or instructs in many instances.
What strikes me as happening very often, is that instead of gaining insight or understanding on who God is or who Jesus was, people (myself included) will project a part of themselves, a part of someone else they know (a parent, grandparent, mentor, lover, etc.), or a character quality they want to see or be close with. This is not to say that it is always incorrect, but not always correct either. Or, something also concerning to me at times, is the practice of finding God's providence in every tiny detail, or the gleening of a deep lesson errantly (such as if a decision you make results in a poor outcome, and then interpreting it as what God wanted, instead of recognizing the consequences of your intitial poor decision). My concern with these is that if every event, if every little coincidence, if every tiny good turn of events is portrayed in a miraculous light, how much less miraculous will true miracles be? How much more disheartened will we be when things go poorly, if we are conditioned to walking on a holy cloud of blessings? Bare with me, I am not raining judgement down on those folks who lace every conversation with reference to Christ or God; those people are truly blessed with a worshipful heart. Forgive me for being more, shall I say, suspicious.
In a country with the president we have, with the televangelists we have, with people so eager to find God in activities or lifestyles that are more for their benefit than the proper representation of who God is, we need to be more discerning. It may be a matter of semantics at times, or it may be simply understanding what in your life is truly God's work, what is your own; what is God's divine hand in situations, and what is God's instruction for living working out through His people in day to day Christian brotherly and sisterly love.
This was originally a little more coherent, but turned into a bit of a vent, and a whole lot of an imploring for discernment. I would use specific examples, but wish to keep things as anonymous as possible.
Addendum:
This may be something that, as a man, I'm not able to fully understand, but I know that for a lot of women there is this adoration of Christ as the "perfect lover", in a sense. I've seen it walk a hazy line between a truly Biblical example of the church as the bride and Christ the bridegroom and then something altogether different; Christ as the model lover for the girl who has had broken or failed relationships, or difficulty in general. For men, it can happen with a different persona, usually father, sometimes brother, also best friend. I find this kind of....replacement....dangerous, because as I said, it can become a matter of what do we want God to be, as opposed to what God is.
The day you eat of the fruit of that tree, you will not surely die
And that Jesus Christ was a white middle-class Republican
And if you wanna be saved you have to learn to be like Him" - Derek Webb, A King and a Kingdom
Lately Tyler and I have had lots of discussions on the subjects mentioned in the title of this post. To use a second quote from Derek Webb (I know, two in one post!), "A lot of the songs on Christian radio are just outright misrepresentations of the character of God." I want to move that beyond radio and music, however. I think that it is far too easy to fall into the trap of putting God in a box, as they say; for someone to write a book that gives a suddenly new "insight" into who God is and what He's about. It's also a problem to assume to have correctly interpreted the Bible, which has for centuries been hotly debated as to what it means or instructs in many instances.
What strikes me as happening very often, is that instead of gaining insight or understanding on who God is or who Jesus was, people (myself included) will project a part of themselves, a part of someone else they know (a parent, grandparent, mentor, lover, etc.), or a character quality they want to see or be close with. This is not to say that it is always incorrect, but not always correct either. Or, something also concerning to me at times, is the practice of finding God's providence in every tiny detail, or the gleening of a deep lesson errantly (such as if a decision you make results in a poor outcome, and then interpreting it as what God wanted, instead of recognizing the consequences of your intitial poor decision). My concern with these is that if every event, if every little coincidence, if every tiny good turn of events is portrayed in a miraculous light, how much less miraculous will true miracles be? How much more disheartened will we be when things go poorly, if we are conditioned to walking on a holy cloud of blessings? Bare with me, I am not raining judgement down on those folks who lace every conversation with reference to Christ or God; those people are truly blessed with a worshipful heart. Forgive me for being more, shall I say, suspicious.
In a country with the president we have, with the televangelists we have, with people so eager to find God in activities or lifestyles that are more for their benefit than the proper representation of who God is, we need to be more discerning. It may be a matter of semantics at times, or it may be simply understanding what in your life is truly God's work, what is your own; what is God's divine hand in situations, and what is God's instruction for living working out through His people in day to day Christian brotherly and sisterly love.
This was originally a little more coherent, but turned into a bit of a vent, and a whole lot of an imploring for discernment. I would use specific examples, but wish to keep things as anonymous as possible.
Addendum:
(my reply to a friend's comment)
I agree with you on the part of praying for what to eat, what to wear, etc. Trivial matters in life do not, in my opinion require divine intervention. That is why God gave us a capacity for wisdom and intelligence! It is right to try to become so close with God that you can feel open with him as a friend, although I don't want such a closeness if it makes me fail to recognize his Kingship.This may be something that, as a man, I'm not able to fully understand, but I know that for a lot of women there is this adoration of Christ as the "perfect lover", in a sense. I've seen it walk a hazy line between a truly Biblical example of the church as the bride and Christ the bridegroom and then something altogether different; Christ as the model lover for the girl who has had broken or failed relationships, or difficulty in general. For men, it can happen with a different persona, usually father, sometimes brother, also best friend. I find this kind of....replacement....dangerous, because as I said, it can become a matter of what do we want God to be, as opposed to what God is.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Wedding wine
This past weekend I had the honor and privilege of being an usher in my friends' Joe Wallington and Liz Thorne's wedding. I was the usher on behalf of the bride, my longtime friend Liz, and was given the opportunity to take part in the wedding not merely as an attendee, but as a participant.
I arrived in St. Joseph on this past Friday (May 26th), a day before the wedding. I didn't leave early enough to attend the rehearsal, assuming that as an usher, my duties were relatively straightforward. I had received an invitation to the rehearsal dinner, what I imagine was once termed the betrothal feast in a period not so long gone from the present. It was a spectacular event; the dinner was at an Italian restaurant in an older building in the slowly reforming downtown of St. Joseph. The rustic appearance of the restaurant, combined with the fantastic cousine, made me experience the event as something of a bygone age when weddings as multi-day events were the norm.
Washing down the fine cousine was fine wine, in abundance. I myself drank two generous glasses full. Wine, and alcohol in general, is no unknown customary drink for a celebration or a party, but I had a realization as to why this may be so this weekend. I had some apprehension in going to this wedding weekend, on the pretext that were were a great many people I did not know and those I did fit in far better with the crowd overall than I did. When I find myself in situations where I am an obvious stranger, I have a tendency to retreat into myself while conversation between people who know each other moves farther from my opportunity to join. Wine, on the other hand, drowned away my inhibitions and converted me into a joyous participant in conversation. Mind you I was not drunk, but I had enough to help me feel much more relaxed and uninhibited socially. It helped me to more easily celebrate the imminent union of my two friends Joe and Liz.
In the gospel of John, Jesus turns water into wine at a wedding. Now, I want to make it a point to re-emphasize self control in drinking, but want to tie in the context of my thoughts on the matter of alcohol and celebrations. In the time of Jesus, it was commonplace to drink wine, especially at celebrations such as weddings (as I did and as demonstrated in John 2). If we as Christians freely condone the drinking of coffee, the use of herbal supplements, the taking of antidepressants and other psychosomatic drugs for anything from anxiety to ADHD to schizophrenia, why then such a stigma on alcohol? Any of the above listed substances in excess is harmful, many to a greater extent than excess alcohol. Perhaps it is because of the effect alcohol has on us socially, the context in which it is used. It decreases inhibitions, and in this disinhibited state many people are more prone to act upon urges they would normally suppress. Of those urges that become acted out, the ones most remembered seem to be those that are most shocking, most carnal, most influenced by the selfish carnal instincts of our human nature. Possibly this is the reason why alcohol use has undergone such extreme moral scrutiny and censorship (anyone having paid attention during history class will hopefully remember the prohibition period of the early 20th century).
Again, I emphasize self-control. I do believe there is a point where alcohol use is misuse, in the case of getting so drunk you are unable to properly function. For others it may be a lesser intake than that. Still others (such as sober alcoholics) may have to avoid consumption altogether lest they spill over the precipice of control. When I drink, I practice a vigilance of the effect it is having and how my functioning is doing. I try to set a pre-determined limit on my drinking, usually two per evening, often with food, more if the evening goes beyond a meal and towards the span of four to five hours and food is provided to restrain the effect of undiluted alcohol.
After the reception, the family, friends, and other wedding goers returned to the hotel, and all the groomsmen and I who were of age went to the bar and restaurant to enjoy a few drinks and continue the celebration. We laughed, talked, enjoyed company, talked some more about our friends, and eventually paid a visit to a hotel room that had been cleared of beds to be used socially. There was alcohol and food in abundance, and a lot of people of all ages were present and in high spirits. I didn't see one person who was drinking fail to walk with control or exercise prudence over their actions. There were a few who probably had more than I would have allowed myself to drink, and a few comments that perhaps would have been withheld without alcohol (although they could have been far worse, and were mostly in humor of what the bride and groom likely would be enjoying between themselves later that evening), but overally the alcohol had just enough effect to invigorate the mood.
To the newlywed Wallingtons, and to all those who I will see wed very soon this year, I raise my glass and proudly give myself to the celebratory spirit.
I arrived in St. Joseph on this past Friday (May 26th), a day before the wedding. I didn't leave early enough to attend the rehearsal, assuming that as an usher, my duties were relatively straightforward. I had received an invitation to the rehearsal dinner, what I imagine was once termed the betrothal feast in a period not so long gone from the present. It was a spectacular event; the dinner was at an Italian restaurant in an older building in the slowly reforming downtown of St. Joseph. The rustic appearance of the restaurant, combined with the fantastic cousine, made me experience the event as something of a bygone age when weddings as multi-day events were the norm.
Washing down the fine cousine was fine wine, in abundance. I myself drank two generous glasses full. Wine, and alcohol in general, is no unknown customary drink for a celebration or a party, but I had a realization as to why this may be so this weekend. I had some apprehension in going to this wedding weekend, on the pretext that were were a great many people I did not know and those I did fit in far better with the crowd overall than I did. When I find myself in situations where I am an obvious stranger, I have a tendency to retreat into myself while conversation between people who know each other moves farther from my opportunity to join. Wine, on the other hand, drowned away my inhibitions and converted me into a joyous participant in conversation. Mind you I was not drunk, but I had enough to help me feel much more relaxed and uninhibited socially. It helped me to more easily celebrate the imminent union of my two friends Joe and Liz.
In the gospel of John, Jesus turns water into wine at a wedding. Now, I want to make it a point to re-emphasize self control in drinking, but want to tie in the context of my thoughts on the matter of alcohol and celebrations. In the time of Jesus, it was commonplace to drink wine, especially at celebrations such as weddings (as I did and as demonstrated in John 2). If we as Christians freely condone the drinking of coffee, the use of herbal supplements, the taking of antidepressants and other psychosomatic drugs for anything from anxiety to ADHD to schizophrenia, why then such a stigma on alcohol? Any of the above listed substances in excess is harmful, many to a greater extent than excess alcohol. Perhaps it is because of the effect alcohol has on us socially, the context in which it is used. It decreases inhibitions, and in this disinhibited state many people are more prone to act upon urges they would normally suppress. Of those urges that become acted out, the ones most remembered seem to be those that are most shocking, most carnal, most influenced by the selfish carnal instincts of our human nature. Possibly this is the reason why alcohol use has undergone such extreme moral scrutiny and censorship (anyone having paid attention during history class will hopefully remember the prohibition period of the early 20th century).
Again, I emphasize self-control. I do believe there is a point where alcohol use is misuse, in the case of getting so drunk you are unable to properly function. For others it may be a lesser intake than that. Still others (such as sober alcoholics) may have to avoid consumption altogether lest they spill over the precipice of control. When I drink, I practice a vigilance of the effect it is having and how my functioning is doing. I try to set a pre-determined limit on my drinking, usually two per evening, often with food, more if the evening goes beyond a meal and towards the span of four to five hours and food is provided to restrain the effect of undiluted alcohol.
After the reception, the family, friends, and other wedding goers returned to the hotel, and all the groomsmen and I who were of age went to the bar and restaurant to enjoy a few drinks and continue the celebration. We laughed, talked, enjoyed company, talked some more about our friends, and eventually paid a visit to a hotel room that had been cleared of beds to be used socially. There was alcohol and food in abundance, and a lot of people of all ages were present and in high spirits. I didn't see one person who was drinking fail to walk with control or exercise prudence over their actions. There were a few who probably had more than I would have allowed myself to drink, and a few comments that perhaps would have been withheld without alcohol (although they could have been far worse, and were mostly in humor of what the bride and groom likely would be enjoying between themselves later that evening), but overally the alcohol had just enough effect to invigorate the mood.
To the newlywed Wallingtons, and to all those who I will see wed very soon this year, I raise my glass and proudly give myself to the celebratory spirit.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
A trip through Google images
I stole this from Scott's blog, who got it from someone else. I found it entertaining so I decided to repost it here.
Instructions: Use the picture you like best from the first (no clicking around for 44 pages) page of the search results on Google Image, and then answer the following questions.
1. The city and state of the town you grew up, no quotation marks.
Ah West Plains Missouri. Small town at it's finest.
2. The town where you currently reside.
Columbia, MO lies between St. Louis and Kansas City on I-70. It is the home of the University of Missouri Tigers, the famous Broadway Diner, open 11 p.m. to 11 a.m., and the recently released Quinn Snyder.
3. Your name, first and last, no quotation marks
You may think that I'm a Beatles fan for posting this. I like the Beatles, but really I post this because my dad was a sargeant in the army. That's right, Sargeant Peppers.
4. Your grandmother's name
Willa Ottersbach didn't turn anything up, so I went with Willa. It looks like Willa is a fearsome RPG game character, from what I found.
5. Your favorite food
This is what I call the feast of a king.
6. Your favorite drink
It does a body good. Strong teeth and bones.
7. Your favorite smell
The smell of the woods in the spring, with a crackling cedar campfire. The smell of the earth, especially after a rainstorm.
8. Your favorite song
I like to hum or sing hymns to myself. This is one I sing pretty dang often.
Instructions: Use the picture you like best from the first (no clicking around for 44 pages) page of the search results on Google Image, and then answer the following questions.
1. The city and state of the town you grew up, no quotation marks.
Ah West Plains Missouri. Small town at it's finest.
2. The town where you currently reside.
Columbia, MO lies between St. Louis and Kansas City on I-70. It is the home of the University of Missouri Tigers, the famous Broadway Diner, open 11 p.m. to 11 a.m., and the recently released Quinn Snyder.
3. Your name, first and last, no quotation marks
You may think that I'm a Beatles fan for posting this. I like the Beatles, but really I post this because my dad was a sargeant in the army. That's right, Sargeant Peppers.
4. Your grandmother's name
Willa Ottersbach didn't turn anything up, so I went with Willa. It looks like Willa is a fearsome RPG game character, from what I found.
5. Your favorite food
This is what I call the feast of a king.
6. Your favorite drink
It does a body good. Strong teeth and bones.
7. Your favorite smell
The smell of the woods in the spring, with a crackling cedar campfire. The smell of the earth, especially after a rainstorm.
8. Your favorite song
I like to hum or sing hymns to myself. This is one I sing pretty dang often.
Monday, April 10, 2006
I'm Getting Published!
SERUM MARKERS OF INFLAMMATION AND ENDOTHELIAL FUNCTION ARE ELEVATED BY HORMONAL CONTRACEPTIVE USE BUT NOT BY EXERCISE-ASSOCIATED MENSTRUAL DISORDERS IN PHYSICALLY ACTIVE YOUNG WOMEN
Hinton PS, Rector RS, Peppers JE, Imhoff RD, Hillman LS
Department of Nutritional Sciences, University of Missouri-Columbia, USA
You can index me in PubMed after June 2006.
Hinton PS, Rector RS, Peppers JE, Imhoff RD, Hillman LS
Department of Nutritional Sciences, University of Missouri-Columbia, USA
You can index me in PubMed after June 2006.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Studying 0 - Building stuff - 1
So I've been away for a while now. Last week was our spring break (yeah, we had a week off a couple of weeks ago too. Yeah, I went to Guatemala that week with a group of Christian medical students. Yeah, it was great), and I went home to see family for the first part of the week. Once back in Columbia however, I was living it up and not studying at all.
I had brought back my hunting rifle from home, so me and my friend Ben went out to Finger Lakes park to shoot. He had a stake target with spinning ping targets. It was made of ~ 1/2" steel plates. He pinged it several times with his Sig Sauer 9 mm. Unfortunately for Ben, my .308 can shoot right through 1/2" steel. Unfortunately I didn't know that before I shot a hole in his brand new target.
The rest of the week was spent going running, playing basketball, making amazing homemade pizza, and building a headboard. I built this with my friend Aaron's help. Now, I've got a sweet headboard where before was plain white wall. Quite an improvement if I say so myself. Unfortunately, I haven't started much studying since then.
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