Just a little housekeeping announcement:
Here in Y’s hometown, in a medical community he grew up in, we are comfortable enough to assume that nothing I say on this little blog will get him in trouble. In Minnesota however, we don’t know anyone. And not that I think I’m particularly controversial, but you know how curmudgeonly those doctor types can be. I don’t want anything I say to make anyone mad. (Curmudgeonly is obviously a compliment.)
So effective immediately, Y will be taking on a Wilson-like persona on this blog, meaning he will appear occasionally to offer wisdom, but never show his face. JTT will also be moving in next door.
They’ll never figure us out.
A few weeks ago I did something that still makes me cringe.
I had a job interview via video chat. (Above, I’m making my I hope this isn’t too awkward face/admiring the awesome thing I somehow managed to make my hair do.)
The first thing I was asked: Tell me a little about yourself.
The first thing I said — and this is the cringey part — Well, my husband is in medical school.
That was the first thing I said. About myself.
Anything would have been better than that, right? I sometimes call my dog Stinkerton McDoodleface.. I learned how to burp on command when I was 11. I eat a peanut butter and banana sandwich every day for lunch. My dream karaoke song is “Kiss From a Rose”. I have a birthmark on my knee and one directly behind it on the back of my knee, and when I was little I thought it had bled through.
We live in a city that feels smaller than it really is. The city is saturated with people in the medical field, and when anyone I meet hears that I’m married to a medical student, they want to know more. They want to know everything about him and usually nothing about me, except for the occasional Why aren’t you in med school?
I’ve gotten used to it. Apparently so used to it that I’ve decided to give in and just skip the small talk about myself and get right to the “good” stuff.
To be fair to myself, when I led with that tidbit about Y, I was trying to explain why I would be in Minneapolis in the first place. But the fact that I brought it up in that way is so telling, and a great reminder of why I’m excited for a change – a chance to go somewhere where medicine doesn’t suffocate me, where I can make friends who have absolutely nothing to do with medicine whatsoever.
My faux pas couldn’t have been that bad though, considering I got the job! It must have been the awesome thing I somehow managed to make my hair do.
This is my blog, and I reserve the right to be lazy.
Fourth year is known for being the most laid back year of medical school. Allow me to illustrate:
Q: What does the first, second, or third year medical student do when he realizes that the hair product he bought for his beard has an ugly label?
A: Trick question. The first, second, or third year medical student has no time for personal hygiene! The fact that he has no time to maintain his beard is ironic (in an Alanis Morisette kind of way, not in a literary kind of way), because he also has no time to prevent it from growing.
on the flip side..
Q. What does the fourth year medical student do when he realizes that the hair product he bought for his beard has an ugly label?
A: Easy! He uses his vast amounts of free time to design and print his own label!
Q: The first, second, or third year medical student’s father mentions that he’s had to use the “world’s smallest violin” cliche often at work. What does the student do in response?
A: What? He was supposed to be listening to someone tell a story? The only people the first, second, or third year medical student pays any attention to are his cadaver and Goljan.
and the fourth year?
Q: The fourth year medical student’s father mentions that he’s had to use the “world’s smallest violin” cliche often at work. What does the student do in response?
A: Easy! The student uses his aforementioned free time to create an exhibit for his father’s desk!
Anything else you’d like to know about the mysterious and crafty fourth year medical student?