I’m way overdue for a blog post on what I’ve been doing with AmeriCorps since I started my job in September. I can’t cover it all in one post, but I’ll start with this.
General overview—I’m working as an AmeriCorps volunteer with the Institute for Family Health in New York City. I am doing case management for four different health care sites in Manhattan which see mainly homeless patients. As a case manager for our patients, my role is to eliminate barriers to care. Basically this means I enroll people in Medicaid, deal with insurance problems, help patients get access to free or cheap drugs and help them with applying for different public assistance programs the city offers.
I really like my job. Day to day I’m dealing with patients one on one which I love doing. There are some moments when things are slow that I find myself without anything to do but those moments are more than offset by the amount of time I spend with my patients. I also really like that I’m working at the intersection of social work and medicine—it’s an area I find fascinating and the experiences I’ve had so far will certainly stick with me and hopefully make me a better doctor.
When I was at my interview at UMD I was talking with a fourth year student who was going to residency interviews for vascular surgery. When I asked him why he was interested in surgery he gave me a bunch of reasons but one really struck me. He said that as he was doing his general medicine rotation in med school, he felt like he was doing more social work than medicine—he didn’t like that he had to worry about how a patient was going to get his meds or where the patient would go after being discharged. In surgery you don’t worry about that. And that is part of the reason why I don’t want to do surgery. I am interested in and want to be part of the whole care of the patient. You can’t make someone better if that person doesn’t have access to food and shelter and treatment. I love being part of a team that has a doctor, a social worker, and a case manager—we care for the whole patient and looking at medicine from the non medical side of it has really made me aware of just how important it is for physicians to pay attention to the aspects of a patient’s care which go beyond diagnosis and prescription.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Monday, December 29, 2008
UMD Says Yes!
It’s been a long time since my last post. I’m blaming Christmas. But now that I’m back at work and seem to have reentered the “real world,” it’s back to blogging.
The most important development since my last post is that I got in to med school at the University of Maryland. This is pretty much huge. The acceptance letter was delivered to my parents’ house and I got a text, while standing on the platform waiting for the 1 train, which said, “Maryland says yes, call your mother.” I started jumping up and down and squealing excitedly on the platform. I’m sure a few hundred New Yorkers now think I’m crazy. But whatever. I’m going to medical school.
This all seems slightly surreal. I’ve been working on applying to medical school since I took the MCATs back in April of 2007 and I feel like I’ve been filling out applications ever since. I’m still waiting to hear from a bunch of places but getting into Maryland takes a lot of the pressure off and even if I don’t get in anywhere else, I’m going to be in medical school this time next year.
I’m not sure the reality of this has exactly set in. In applying to medical school, you are constantly writing essays about and explaining to people why you definitely want to be a doctor. There isn’t really much time for thinking about how insanely difficult it’s going to be. Now that I’ve been accepted I’m sure there are going to be a few moments when I wonder if I’m really going to be able to do this. If I’m really cut out for medical school. If I really have what it takes to be a doctor. That is so something I would do, I tend to have zero faith in myself. But they accepted me, and at the moment I’m still totally loving this high of having gotten exactly what I wanted after such a long and insanely difficult process. I’m honestly proud of myself and so happy that I’ve gotten this far. Medical school will undoubtedly be the most difficult thing I’ve done so far, but I’m really looking forward to it.
The most important development since my last post is that I got in to med school at the University of Maryland. This is pretty much huge. The acceptance letter was delivered to my parents’ house and I got a text, while standing on the platform waiting for the 1 train, which said, “Maryland says yes, call your mother.” I started jumping up and down and squealing excitedly on the platform. I’m sure a few hundred New Yorkers now think I’m crazy. But whatever. I’m going to medical school.
This all seems slightly surreal. I’ve been working on applying to medical school since I took the MCATs back in April of 2007 and I feel like I’ve been filling out applications ever since. I’m still waiting to hear from a bunch of places but getting into Maryland takes a lot of the pressure off and even if I don’t get in anywhere else, I’m going to be in medical school this time next year.
I’m not sure the reality of this has exactly set in. In applying to medical school, you are constantly writing essays about and explaining to people why you definitely want to be a doctor. There isn’t really much time for thinking about how insanely difficult it’s going to be. Now that I’ve been accepted I’m sure there are going to be a few moments when I wonder if I’m really going to be able to do this. If I’m really cut out for medical school. If I really have what it takes to be a doctor. That is so something I would do, I tend to have zero faith in myself. But they accepted me, and at the moment I’m still totally loving this high of having gotten exactly what I wanted after such a long and insanely difficult process. I’m honestly proud of myself and so happy that I’ve gotten this far. Medical school will undoubtedly be the most difficult thing I’ve done so far, but I’m really looking forward to it.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Alone But Not Lonely
To continue my thoughts from a snowy Saturday night...
Walking in the snow the other night, I decided (with some healthy encouragement from Frederick via cell phone) that I'd stop in the Hollywood Diner at 16th and 6th and get myself a chocolate milkshake. On the one hand this seemed like an awesome idea (chocolate milkshakes + watching the snow from inside a diner= wonderful). On the other hand, I was a bit hesitant about sitting in a diner alone drinking a milkshake. Eventually sitting inside, thoroughly enjoying my shake, this idea of being alone began to play around in my mind.
The first thing that I realized is that I shouldn't have hesitated at the thought of sitting alone in a diner. My initial reaction was that sitting alone in a diner seemed lonely but in thinking about, I'm not sure why I jumped to "lonely" first. I have always enjoyed doing things alone. Whether it is a trip to a museum, wandering through a foreign city, having a quiet cup of coffee in a cafe, or spending an afternoon reading on a park bench, these kinds of activities are always enjoyable for me. They never make me feel lonely and on the contrary, being on my own and doing something I enjoy is rather freeing. I suppose though that there is ultimately a difference between my typical alone activities and sitting in a diner by myself. Reading is not a group activity, cafes are full of people sitting alone, looking at art (or Bodies!) often ends up being a solitary activity even if you're with someone at an exhibit, and in foreign cities, you're a tourist so being alone at any point in the day doesn't seem unusual. But diners are full of people eating and hanging out together and the abstract concept of sitting in a booth alone, when looked at logically, seems lonely. But it wasn't at all. I had a lovely time. And whatever was initially holding me back, I'm over it.
The other thing that I started thinking about between sips of my chocolate shake was: am I even really alone? I mean, this is New York City, millions of people live here. Even at 11pm in the snow, the streets are still full of cars, people are walking by the window and there are people sitting in the diner. The diner is open 24 hours and I'd bet that there is never an hour that goes by without customers. Also, sitting on the table next to my book and milkshake is my cell phone. Just sitting there it means that really I'm only a few button clicks away from pretty much everyone I care about. So how alone can I really be alone. And honestly, if I've had any overarching feelings about living in New York City, one of them has been that it is almost impossible to be totally alone here. Everywhere you go, at whatever time, there are always other people. And if anything, this has bothered me a bit because I really do need alone time sometimes.
On the flip side of this is the question: aren't we ultimately always alone? This has the potential to be a rather depressing question but one which I felt watching people walking by outside. Millions of people live in this city and I know a tiny tiny tiny fraction of them. And even of those people that I'm really good friends with, when it comes right down to it, I am still separate from them. Physically separate from those who don't live here and separate from everyone ultimately because I'm me and they're them (maybe mind altering substances can eliminate this barrier...I am he as you are he as you are me...coo coo cachoo...?). Each of us has a self that is totally separate from everyone else's self and ultimately it is impossible to really know someone. We are all the product of unique situations and circumstances and words often totally fail in their attempts to communicate ourselves to other people. This is why true empathy is never really possible. You can only know your self and even that is sometimes complicated.
But I don't think that all of this is that bad. Even without the possibility of empathy, sympathy is amazingly powerful. And friendship really does go a long way in eliminating that feeling of total alone-ness. We can talk to each other and be with one another and there is the possibility in the world to not feel lonely even when accepting that we're separate. And really, the idea that we can never totally know someone is a good thing. Life would be so much less interesting if we had everyone already figured out.
So. The chocolate milkshake experience has cemented some things for me which I think I already knew. Even in New York City, and even when there are other people around, I can be alone. And I really do like being by myself sometimes. And finally, I am not lonely. I think that part of the reason that I imagined that sitting alone in a diner would be lonely was because I think that it should be. Logically that makes sense. Just like it makes sense that I'd be lonely living in a city where I know hardly anyone and where I'm far away from a lot of my friends. And because it makes sense to be lonely, being lonely would be comfortable because it would seem normal. Everything says I should be lonely but the truth is, I'm not. Yes I miss my friends, yes I miss my family, yes I wish I had more friends here. But just because I'm alone a lot, doesn't mean I'm lonely.
Walking in the snow the other night, I decided (with some healthy encouragement from Frederick via cell phone) that I'd stop in the Hollywood Diner at 16th and 6th and get myself a chocolate milkshake. On the one hand this seemed like an awesome idea (chocolate milkshakes + watching the snow from inside a diner= wonderful). On the other hand, I was a bit hesitant about sitting in a diner alone drinking a milkshake. Eventually sitting inside, thoroughly enjoying my shake, this idea of being alone began to play around in my mind.
The first thing that I realized is that I shouldn't have hesitated at the thought of sitting alone in a diner. My initial reaction was that sitting alone in a diner seemed lonely but in thinking about, I'm not sure why I jumped to "lonely" first. I have always enjoyed doing things alone. Whether it is a trip to a museum, wandering through a foreign city, having a quiet cup of coffee in a cafe, or spending an afternoon reading on a park bench, these kinds of activities are always enjoyable for me. They never make me feel lonely and on the contrary, being on my own and doing something I enjoy is rather freeing. I suppose though that there is ultimately a difference between my typical alone activities and sitting in a diner by myself. Reading is not a group activity, cafes are full of people sitting alone, looking at art (or Bodies!) often ends up being a solitary activity even if you're with someone at an exhibit, and in foreign cities, you're a tourist so being alone at any point in the day doesn't seem unusual. But diners are full of people eating and hanging out together and the abstract concept of sitting in a booth alone, when looked at logically, seems lonely. But it wasn't at all. I had a lovely time. And whatever was initially holding me back, I'm over it.
The other thing that I started thinking about between sips of my chocolate shake was: am I even really alone? I mean, this is New York City, millions of people live here. Even at 11pm in the snow, the streets are still full of cars, people are walking by the window and there are people sitting in the diner. The diner is open 24 hours and I'd bet that there is never an hour that goes by without customers. Also, sitting on the table next to my book and milkshake is my cell phone. Just sitting there it means that really I'm only a few button clicks away from pretty much everyone I care about. So how alone can I really be alone. And honestly, if I've had any overarching feelings about living in New York City, one of them has been that it is almost impossible to be totally alone here. Everywhere you go, at whatever time, there are always other people. And if anything, this has bothered me a bit because I really do need alone time sometimes.
On the flip side of this is the question: aren't we ultimately always alone? This has the potential to be a rather depressing question but one which I felt watching people walking by outside. Millions of people live in this city and I know a tiny tiny tiny fraction of them. And even of those people that I'm really good friends with, when it comes right down to it, I am still separate from them. Physically separate from those who don't live here and separate from everyone ultimately because I'm me and they're them (maybe mind altering substances can eliminate this barrier...I am he as you are he as you are me...coo coo cachoo...?). Each of us has a self that is totally separate from everyone else's self and ultimately it is impossible to really know someone. We are all the product of unique situations and circumstances and words often totally fail in their attempts to communicate ourselves to other people. This is why true empathy is never really possible. You can only know your self and even that is sometimes complicated.
But I don't think that all of this is that bad. Even without the possibility of empathy, sympathy is amazingly powerful. And friendship really does go a long way in eliminating that feeling of total alone-ness. We can talk to each other and be with one another and there is the possibility in the world to not feel lonely even when accepting that we're separate. And really, the idea that we can never totally know someone is a good thing. Life would be so much less interesting if we had everyone already figured out.
So. The chocolate milkshake experience has cemented some things for me which I think I already knew. Even in New York City, and even when there are other people around, I can be alone. And I really do like being by myself sometimes. And finally, I am not lonely. I think that part of the reason that I imagined that sitting alone in a diner would be lonely was because I think that it should be. Logically that makes sense. Just like it makes sense that I'd be lonely living in a city where I know hardly anyone and where I'm far away from a lot of my friends. And because it makes sense to be lonely, being lonely would be comfortable because it would seem normal. Everything says I should be lonely but the truth is, I'm not. Yes I miss my friends, yes I miss my family, yes I wish I had more friends here. But just because I'm alone a lot, doesn't mean I'm lonely.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Walking in the snow on 6th Ave...
I love winter. Anyone who knows me is entirely aware of this fact already, but it deserves repeating. It might be shocking but even I sometimes forget this, especially in moments when it is freezing and windy and I'm walking outside and wearing the wrong clothes. But then it snows and I remember that winter is definitely my favorite season. No other season has the ability to, in an instant, positively change my outlook on the world and put me in a better mood. I can't really explain it but standing outside in the snow has the effect of making me totally happy. I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that when it's snowing I tend to think about the fact that it is snowing and thus forget about anything that might have been bothering me. People are always saying that we need to live in the moment--something which is much more difficult than this simple sounding phrase would suggest. But for me, when I'm walking in the snow, living in the moment is all I can seem to do. Everything becomes about the physical--I'm cold and getting wet but loving the way that the world looks in a totally literal way. Everything besides the fact that it's snowing seems to vanish and it is this moment, this shift that I love. Snow is beautiful and even in New York it makes everything (myself included) somehow more peaceful.
Writing this post reminded me that I had written a poem about snow a couple of years ago. Re-reading it, I realize it reflects a lot of the things I just wrote. I'm adding it here, with a few minor changes:
There is something in the silence of snow
That sticks to streetlight shadows lingering in orchid candy dusk
That as soon as it’s touched
Drips through cold kissed outstretched hands
And whispers as it fades away
Into sequined mist that dances on glistening streets
That swirls into curls of coffee cup steam
And melts off of eyelashes etching icicle tears,
And drowns all the trainwrecks and pinpricks and scars
Dissolving the world with champagne bubble pops
Until there is nothing in the silence of snow.
Writing this post reminded me that I had written a poem about snow a couple of years ago. Re-reading it, I realize it reflects a lot of the things I just wrote. I'm adding it here, with a few minor changes:
There is something in the silence of snow
That sticks to streetlight shadows lingering in orchid candy dusk
That as soon as it’s touched
Drips through cold kissed outstretched hands
And whispers as it fades away
Into sequined mist that dances on glistening streets
That swirls into curls of coffee cup steam
And melts off of eyelashes etching icicle tears,
And drowns all the trainwrecks and pinpricks and scars
Dissolving the world with champagne bubble pops
Until there is nothing in the silence of snow.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Med School Interview #1 (hopefully the first of many)
Being interviewed by a psychiatrist is odd.
I spent Monday at the University of Maryland Medical School in Baltimore for my "interview." I put it in quotes because at Maryland, like many other schools, the hugely sought after "med school interview" actually consists of a day of activities at the medical school. On Monday, I, along with the 12 other applicants being interviewed that day went to a presentation on financial aid (read: "medical school is insanely expensive, cheap loans are hard to get, sucks to be you"), we heard from the Dean of Admissions and had lunch with current first year students. We went on a tour of the medical school campus and hospital (which included a trip to the anatomy lab (cadavers) (!) ) and then each had two interviews.
My first interview was with a psychiatrist who is the head of the Community Psychiatry department and I think it went pretty well. It was rather straight forward--she asked questions and I answered them and there was really only one question (what is the most challenging situation you've had to deal with in the last four years?) that I didn't have a great answer for. But I didn't walk away feeling super about our talk--and I'm blaming this not on me, but on her being a psychiatrist. Psychiatrists are not supposed to show judgement when talking with their patients, they are supposed to listen, prod, and allow their patients to make discoveries on their own. While this might be perfect for someone trying to figure out why it is that they really hate their father, it makes for an odd interviewer-interviewee relationship. I'm used to being able to make some connection to the person who is interviewing me and in this case, although she was listening to me, I could never really tell if she was interested in what I was saying. It's not that she seemed disinterested, she was just pretty much blank. Not that I was expecting a hug and cheers of encouragement and reassurance that I'd be accepted after my interview, but I think I'm pretty awesome and it would have felt better if she had let on that she agreed.
My second interview was with a second year student and it was fantastic. We connected on a lot of things, not the least of which being that she had taken a bunch of English classes at College Park. Maybe it is because she isn't a hardened doctor interviewer yet, but she made me feel like she was actually interested in and impressed by what I was saying. We talked for a full hour and I left feeling really good about myself.
Who really knows what any of this means though. It's actually impossible to tell and I guess I won't really know until I find out if I've been accepted or not. Overall the day was great and has reignited my excitement (which was slightly dampened by filling out so many applications) about medical school. ... !!!
I spent Monday at the University of Maryland Medical School in Baltimore for my "interview." I put it in quotes because at Maryland, like many other schools, the hugely sought after "med school interview" actually consists of a day of activities at the medical school. On Monday, I, along with the 12 other applicants being interviewed that day went to a presentation on financial aid (read: "medical school is insanely expensive, cheap loans are hard to get, sucks to be you"), we heard from the Dean of Admissions and had lunch with current first year students. We went on a tour of the medical school campus and hospital (which included a trip to the anatomy lab (cadavers) (!) ) and then each had two interviews.
My first interview was with a psychiatrist who is the head of the Community Psychiatry department and I think it went pretty well. It was rather straight forward--she asked questions and I answered them and there was really only one question (what is the most challenging situation you've had to deal with in the last four years?) that I didn't have a great answer for. But I didn't walk away feeling super about our talk--and I'm blaming this not on me, but on her being a psychiatrist. Psychiatrists are not supposed to show judgement when talking with their patients, they are supposed to listen, prod, and allow their patients to make discoveries on their own. While this might be perfect for someone trying to figure out why it is that they really hate their father, it makes for an odd interviewer-interviewee relationship. I'm used to being able to make some connection to the person who is interviewing me and in this case, although she was listening to me, I could never really tell if she was interested in what I was saying. It's not that she seemed disinterested, she was just pretty much blank. Not that I was expecting a hug and cheers of encouragement and reassurance that I'd be accepted after my interview, but I think I'm pretty awesome and it would have felt better if she had let on that she agreed.
My second interview was with a second year student and it was fantastic. We connected on a lot of things, not the least of which being that she had taken a bunch of English classes at College Park. Maybe it is because she isn't a hardened doctor interviewer yet, but she made me feel like she was actually interested in and impressed by what I was saying. We talked for a full hour and I left feeling really good about myself.
Who really knows what any of this means though. It's actually impossible to tell and I guess I won't really know until I find out if I've been accepted or not. Overall the day was great and has reignited my excitement (which was slightly dampened by filling out so many applications) about medical school. ... !!!
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