I prefer to believe that when my brother and I were born, our parents passed on to each of us qualities that split a complete personality into two.
My brother became the extrovert, extremely comfortable in social situations and able to mingle almost any person he ever came across.
On the other hand, I turned into an introvert, who enjoys spending more time thinking and exploring the innards of my mind than to waste my breath on banal conversation.
He received physical strength, excelling in athletics. By excel, I mean beating me at every sport we played together, even when I got onto the tennis team in high school.
My strengths lay in academics and the arts- I certainly drew better than him, and I played the piano with some skill before I quit in high school.
His concern in life now is slightly superficial in that he wants to generate as much income as he possibly can through his degrees earned.
My concern is to find fulfillment in the profession I choose to pursue. I want meaning. I want to make a contribution that permanently affects humanity. I want more than simplicity.
In these differences, I wonder if it makes happiness more easily attainable for my brother. He is in a relationship. I could care less to be in one now, or ever.
----- I fell asleep here. NO CLUE what I wrote about last night. -----
6.27.2011
6.26.2011
Susie Q
ER volunteering last Wednesday.
I was bound to leave again towards the end of my shift, when I walked into a room to ask this old African American woman if she needed anything, as the call light had been ringing without anybody answering it.
She was starving during her stay, which had been over 4 hours now, so I ran into the pantry to grab some apple juice and graham crackers for her.
Like any other patient that's geen given attention by someone in the ED, she was appreciative, asking for another refill of the apple juice before starting up a conversation.
She was waiting to be discharged from having bled out of her arm that night. Her doctors were currently treating her for dialysis, but I'm not sure what connection I can draw between that and the arm bleeding. It turns out that in the previous year, she had been admitted for these severe blisters. The primary care physician decided to send her to a dermatologist instead of a podiatrist, and the dermatologist just told her to soak her feet in warm water for the blisters to subside.
That wasn't the case, and when she was sent in again to the hospital, they had discovered gangrene in her foot. Then, the doctor advised amputation before she lost any more of her leg. There were times during the conversation where I could sense her becoming emotional, although the expression on her face confused me. It appeared as a mix between crying and laughing; it was confusing to read which emotion she was expressing in those moments.
It became quite obvious after a while that these symptoms were a result of diabetes. Which type, I'm not sure, although her diet alluded to the second. Her favorite restaurant in the city was King Lee's, where she would order with her husband a combination of either Shrimp Chow Mein, Pork Fried Rice, or Fried Chicken Wings. One can get a sense that continuing this diet into her old age most likely contributed to her disease and recurrent ER visits.
I didn't want her prolonging on the topic of her illness, so I shifted the conversation to her family. She has four granddaughters, all of whom live in Dayton, Ohio, all of whom are at least in their teenage years, some graduating from college and having moved on to New York to pursue a career in fashion. Although she always offers to fly out there, or to fly them over here. the mother doesn't allow the granddaughters to visit, mainly because of their grandmother's condition, being confined to a wheelchair. Yet again, this topic seemed to bring about more of that peculiar laughing/crying face, so I wanted to change the subject again.
This time I asked about her previous work. She was a banker in the city for 30 years- 10 of them were spent in the domestic department, the last 20 in international. This led to her reminiscing about one of her coworkers, a Japanese man married to a Chinese woman, that always took their group out for dim sum in some of the best places in Chinatown. She was a fan of dim sum, which pleased me, but she could never find any decent dim sum establishment without her coworker. She had wanted to catch up with some of these coworkers from her days of employment. However, whenever she called or met the spouse/significant other of the coworker, they would inform her that the person had passed away the year before. She was constantly reminded of her old age, what with all her friends dying around her. She was sorrowful once more.
Looking back on this experience, I don't think I should have kept probing her with question that brought up such terrible memories. The paramedics eventually came to transport her home. I picked up her dress from the chair so that she could change into it. Her purse, I had picked up earlier in the night because she wanted to order 3 units of chicken wings from King Lee's, after having a debate with her husband on the phone about what to eat when she got back from the ER. Sadly, she ended up taking off her gown in front of me. Yet ANOTHER senior moment involving me seeing geriatric naughty bits. I swear, I get more nudity from this hospital than from the television shows I watch online.
And of all things, she started barking out orders to me! Even the paramedics were laughing at feeling sorry for me. "Jason, hand me my blanket." "Jason, where are you? Get me some more ice, will ya?" Sheesh! We said our goodbyes- I said, "See you later," to which she replied, "But not too soon!"
I was bound to leave again towards the end of my shift, when I walked into a room to ask this old African American woman if she needed anything, as the call light had been ringing without anybody answering it.
She was starving during her stay, which had been over 4 hours now, so I ran into the pantry to grab some apple juice and graham crackers for her.
Like any other patient that's geen given attention by someone in the ED, she was appreciative, asking for another refill of the apple juice before starting up a conversation.
She was waiting to be discharged from having bled out of her arm that night. Her doctors were currently treating her for dialysis, but I'm not sure what connection I can draw between that and the arm bleeding. It turns out that in the previous year, she had been admitted for these severe blisters. The primary care physician decided to send her to a dermatologist instead of a podiatrist, and the dermatologist just told her to soak her feet in warm water for the blisters to subside.
That wasn't the case, and when she was sent in again to the hospital, they had discovered gangrene in her foot. Then, the doctor advised amputation before she lost any more of her leg. There were times during the conversation where I could sense her becoming emotional, although the expression on her face confused me. It appeared as a mix between crying and laughing; it was confusing to read which emotion she was expressing in those moments.
It became quite obvious after a while that these symptoms were a result of diabetes. Which type, I'm not sure, although her diet alluded to the second. Her favorite restaurant in the city was King Lee's, where she would order with her husband a combination of either Shrimp Chow Mein, Pork Fried Rice, or Fried Chicken Wings. One can get a sense that continuing this diet into her old age most likely contributed to her disease and recurrent ER visits.
I didn't want her prolonging on the topic of her illness, so I shifted the conversation to her family. She has four granddaughters, all of whom live in Dayton, Ohio, all of whom are at least in their teenage years, some graduating from college and having moved on to New York to pursue a career in fashion. Although she always offers to fly out there, or to fly them over here. the mother doesn't allow the granddaughters to visit, mainly because of their grandmother's condition, being confined to a wheelchair. Yet again, this topic seemed to bring about more of that peculiar laughing/crying face, so I wanted to change the subject again.
This time I asked about her previous work. She was a banker in the city for 30 years- 10 of them were spent in the domestic department, the last 20 in international. This led to her reminiscing about one of her coworkers, a Japanese man married to a Chinese woman, that always took their group out for dim sum in some of the best places in Chinatown. She was a fan of dim sum, which pleased me, but she could never find any decent dim sum establishment without her coworker. She had wanted to catch up with some of these coworkers from her days of employment. However, whenever she called or met the spouse/significant other of the coworker, they would inform her that the person had passed away the year before. She was constantly reminded of her old age, what with all her friends dying around her. She was sorrowful once more.
Looking back on this experience, I don't think I should have kept probing her with question that brought up such terrible memories. The paramedics eventually came to transport her home. I picked up her dress from the chair so that she could change into it. Her purse, I had picked up earlier in the night because she wanted to order 3 units of chicken wings from King Lee's, after having a debate with her husband on the phone about what to eat when she got back from the ER. Sadly, she ended up taking off her gown in front of me. Yet ANOTHER senior moment involving me seeing geriatric naughty bits. I swear, I get more nudity from this hospital than from the television shows I watch online.
And of all things, she started barking out orders to me! Even the paramedics were laughing at feeling sorry for me. "Jason, hand me my blanket." "Jason, where are you? Get me some more ice, will ya?" Sheesh! We said our goodbyes- I said, "See you later," to which she replied, "But not too soon!"
6.16.2011
Joan Paul
The ED tonight wasn't so exciting until the end. There was one child who had a seizure and fell to the floor, with several nurses then occluding the doorway to his room. This brought to mind my epilepsy project. I went through my head trying to find out what type of seizure he had, if this would be classified as epilepsy, etc. The doctor had decided on a spinal tap with the child, although he would have to be restrained so that the procedure could be performed smoothly without complications.
Later on...
A nurse had asked me for a favor. She wanted me to take care of this patient's husband, who had a mild case of Alzheimer's, at least that's what I thought she told me.
He walked very slowly with us to Radiology, where the nurse and PCT wanted me to sit with him and his wife's purse in order for her to get her x-rays done. Because of his Alzheimer's, I sat there to have a conversation with him, while reminding him every once in a while where his wife is.
Every 5 minutes- as I stared at my watch- the worried husband asked where his wife was. I wasn't sure if this was because of the Alzheimer's, or his impatience with the duration of the procedure. We must have been sitting for over 15 minutes, and I had inadvertently kept asking him questions about his past. After each question, the thought, "Dope!" kept springing up in my head. I asked him if he were a professor in economics, where he lived in the city, where he was originally from. I probably should have put some effort into thinking about how my questions would sound before they came out of my mouth.
Anyway, I tried to distract him with the signs on the wall, telling him repeatedly that his wife was in the room behind us- not the one in front, not the one to the side nor the one down the hall. She was behind us, and we were not allowed to walk into the room, else they might have to retake the x-rays, which would then prolong their stay in the hospital. His hands were shaky, ears full of hair, skin littered with liver spots. He reminded me of that judge in Ally McBeal, the one who liked good dental hygiene for those that watched the show. Halfway through the wait he wanted to stand up and walk around, except he only made one or two paces before his wife came out from the room.
A smile brimmed on his face, and his wife was very eager to talk to me about him. She let me know that he used to be a professor of political science at UC Davis. However, his past was much more interesting. I walked her back to the urgent care room as she was explaining how they met. She worked in foreign exchange, with regards to Eastern Europe, and he happened to show up at a convention. Although they were vastly different in age, they somehow ended up together in the end. Born in Czechoslovakia, he had moved to the states. Playing tennis, and learning English on the side, he was able to obtain an athletic scholarship that sent him to Tufts. The war broke out, and proud of being in America, wanting to serve his country, he joined the army, halting his education. He had a stint in the war with the OSS, the agency leading up to what is now the CIA. After serving our country, he attended Harvard, where he was able to obtain his degree in political science. He was in California, she in New York. However unlikely it was to her that she would date this fellow, she eventually married him, for better or worse.
I was very surprised at how much information patients are willing to divulge about their past and how freely they answered my probing questions. She had come in because of a fall, having had cataracts surgery the week before. The feeling of dizziness and headaches compounded with blurred vision may have resulted in this accident. She revealed that it was usually her husband who was the reason for their hospital visits. By the way, she appreciated the speed at which doctors took care of her during this stay tonight. She had only been in the ED for 2 hours, and when I left, she was merely waiting for the results from the CAT scan.
Her husband's health history is somewhat tragic. I had asked her how mild his Alzheimer's was, and she said not very. 5 years ago, the doctors diagnosed him with having moderate AD. In addition, he had lymphoma and was catheterized for some time. The catheter filled with blood or something, and they spent 6 hours in the ED before any doctor had attended to them (this conversation was introduced when she was comparing the expediency of this visit to previous ones). She then said that he also has congestive heart failure and doesn't drink enough fluids, which could explain his kidney problems. Reflecting on this, it's quite hard to remember everything that happened; the amount that went on in their lives... I could not remember all that information in the brief time that I spent talking with them. One thing I noticed, though, was how the wife kept apologizing to the husband, saying it was her fault that they were staying in the hospital, and that hopefully it won't take too much longer. She attempted to offer him her cranberry juice, but he wouldn't drink it because it was hers. She responded by saying that she's okay with him taking a sip of her drink. I could imagine how difficult it must be to care for someone with AD- the husband constantly gets agitated, according to the wife.
The wife also asked me what I was doing down there. I told her a little about my past in Texas, where I went to college, that I was volunteering in the ED, moved to SF to take classes and find work. I mentioned to her about my work in adult neural stem cell research, explaining to her one of my projects concerning epilepsy. She seemed very interested, which I hoped she would be. I tried to simplify my research as much as possible, telling her that epilepsy is caused by dysfunction in the brain. A certain region of the brain loses neurons, a result of cell death. My project involves isolating and purifying adult neural stem cells- I emphasized adult, since she asked whether I used embryonic stem cells or otherwise. I told her that even throughout adulthood, stem cells persist in all tissues. So I continued, saying that in most epilepsy surgeries, the neurosurgeons take out a piece of their brain. Not ALL of their brain, but a portion of their brain- the piece that generates the seizures, which is discovered by electrically mapping the brain before surgery is performed. I kept explaining to her that they tried to remove as little as possible, so that other brain functions are not compromised. Once this tissue is removed, if the patient consents, I am then allowed to take this tissue and try to culture the progenitor cells. I also provided simple details about neural stem cells, that stem cells are theoretically able to generate all cell types in the brain. After growing up these stem cells, I would then attempt to drive these cells down a certain lineage. That is, I would try to turn them into a specific cell type, the type that is lost in the temporal lobe of the brain, in order to replace the neurons that have degenerated or died off.
In the end, I think she understood, because she was very amazed with the project, and I told her that this therapy had implications in restoring cells lost in a variety of neurodegenerative disorders. She hopes that people are doing the same for Alzheimer's disease. She said that it was a nice pleasure talking to me, she thanked me for taking care of her husband while she was preoccupied, and she hoped that we would see each other again. I shook her hand, then I unexpectedly held the husband's hand before shaking it with two, saying it was a pleasure to meet him, and that I hope he has a good night. The wife responded with something like, "Such a nice boy." I was slightly embarrassed, but this interaction made my night.
My narrative sounds a little busy, but I tried to fill in as much information as I could remember from 4 hours ago. I am nearing a food coma from the spaghetti and bing cherries I had for dinner after volunteering. My eyes are also drying out, so I think I will call it a night.
Clare and Nants are now in town. Yay?
Later on...
A nurse had asked me for a favor. She wanted me to take care of this patient's husband, who had a mild case of Alzheimer's, at least that's what I thought she told me.
He walked very slowly with us to Radiology, where the nurse and PCT wanted me to sit with him and his wife's purse in order for her to get her x-rays done. Because of his Alzheimer's, I sat there to have a conversation with him, while reminding him every once in a while where his wife is.
Every 5 minutes- as I stared at my watch- the worried husband asked where his wife was. I wasn't sure if this was because of the Alzheimer's, or his impatience with the duration of the procedure. We must have been sitting for over 15 minutes, and I had inadvertently kept asking him questions about his past. After each question, the thought, "Dope!" kept springing up in my head. I asked him if he were a professor in economics, where he lived in the city, where he was originally from. I probably should have put some effort into thinking about how my questions would sound before they came out of my mouth.
Anyway, I tried to distract him with the signs on the wall, telling him repeatedly that his wife was in the room behind us- not the one in front, not the one to the side nor the one down the hall. She was behind us, and we were not allowed to walk into the room, else they might have to retake the x-rays, which would then prolong their stay in the hospital. His hands were shaky, ears full of hair, skin littered with liver spots. He reminded me of that judge in Ally McBeal, the one who liked good dental hygiene for those that watched the show. Halfway through the wait he wanted to stand up and walk around, except he only made one or two paces before his wife came out from the room.
A smile brimmed on his face, and his wife was very eager to talk to me about him. She let me know that he used to be a professor of political science at UC Davis. However, his past was much more interesting. I walked her back to the urgent care room as she was explaining how they met. She worked in foreign exchange, with regards to Eastern Europe, and he happened to show up at a convention. Although they were vastly different in age, they somehow ended up together in the end. Born in Czechoslovakia, he had moved to the states. Playing tennis, and learning English on the side, he was able to obtain an athletic scholarship that sent him to Tufts. The war broke out, and proud of being in America, wanting to serve his country, he joined the army, halting his education. He had a stint in the war with the OSS, the agency leading up to what is now the CIA. After serving our country, he attended Harvard, where he was able to obtain his degree in political science. He was in California, she in New York. However unlikely it was to her that she would date this fellow, she eventually married him, for better or worse.
I was very surprised at how much information patients are willing to divulge about their past and how freely they answered my probing questions. She had come in because of a fall, having had cataracts surgery the week before. The feeling of dizziness and headaches compounded with blurred vision may have resulted in this accident. She revealed that it was usually her husband who was the reason for their hospital visits. By the way, she appreciated the speed at which doctors took care of her during this stay tonight. She had only been in the ED for 2 hours, and when I left, she was merely waiting for the results from the CAT scan.
Her husband's health history is somewhat tragic. I had asked her how mild his Alzheimer's was, and she said not very. 5 years ago, the doctors diagnosed him with having moderate AD. In addition, he had lymphoma and was catheterized for some time. The catheter filled with blood or something, and they spent 6 hours in the ED before any doctor had attended to them (this conversation was introduced when she was comparing the expediency of this visit to previous ones). She then said that he also has congestive heart failure and doesn't drink enough fluids, which could explain his kidney problems. Reflecting on this, it's quite hard to remember everything that happened; the amount that went on in their lives... I could not remember all that information in the brief time that I spent talking with them. One thing I noticed, though, was how the wife kept apologizing to the husband, saying it was her fault that they were staying in the hospital, and that hopefully it won't take too much longer. She attempted to offer him her cranberry juice, but he wouldn't drink it because it was hers. She responded by saying that she's okay with him taking a sip of her drink. I could imagine how difficult it must be to care for someone with AD- the husband constantly gets agitated, according to the wife.
The wife also asked me what I was doing down there. I told her a little about my past in Texas, where I went to college, that I was volunteering in the ED, moved to SF to take classes and find work. I mentioned to her about my work in adult neural stem cell research, explaining to her one of my projects concerning epilepsy. She seemed very interested, which I hoped she would be. I tried to simplify my research as much as possible, telling her that epilepsy is caused by dysfunction in the brain. A certain region of the brain loses neurons, a result of cell death. My project involves isolating and purifying adult neural stem cells- I emphasized adult, since she asked whether I used embryonic stem cells or otherwise. I told her that even throughout adulthood, stem cells persist in all tissues. So I continued, saying that in most epilepsy surgeries, the neurosurgeons take out a piece of their brain. Not ALL of their brain, but a portion of their brain- the piece that generates the seizures, which is discovered by electrically mapping the brain before surgery is performed. I kept explaining to her that they tried to remove as little as possible, so that other brain functions are not compromised. Once this tissue is removed, if the patient consents, I am then allowed to take this tissue and try to culture the progenitor cells. I also provided simple details about neural stem cells, that stem cells are theoretically able to generate all cell types in the brain. After growing up these stem cells, I would then attempt to drive these cells down a certain lineage. That is, I would try to turn them into a specific cell type, the type that is lost in the temporal lobe of the brain, in order to replace the neurons that have degenerated or died off.
In the end, I think she understood, because she was very amazed with the project, and I told her that this therapy had implications in restoring cells lost in a variety of neurodegenerative disorders. She hopes that people are doing the same for Alzheimer's disease. She said that it was a nice pleasure talking to me, she thanked me for taking care of her husband while she was preoccupied, and she hoped that we would see each other again. I shook her hand, then I unexpectedly held the husband's hand before shaking it with two, saying it was a pleasure to meet him, and that I hope he has a good night. The wife responded with something like, "Such a nice boy." I was slightly embarrassed, but this interaction made my night.
My narrative sounds a little busy, but I tried to fill in as much information as I could remember from 4 hours ago. I am nearing a food coma from the spaghetti and bing cherries I had for dinner after volunteering. My eyes are also drying out, so I think I will call it a night.
Clare and Nants are now in town. Yay?
6.03.2011
loom
Nants is in town! I wonder when she wants to hang out? There's actually quite a few movies that I've been yearning to watch: Bridesmaids, X-men: First Class, Kung Fu Panda 2, Midnight in Paris.
More about the wedding:
The flight there was quite nice. Low stress, if anything.
--- I can't remember where I was going with this post, so I'll just publish it for now. ---
More about the wedding:
The flight there was quite nice. Low stress, if anything.
--- I can't remember where I was going with this post, so I'll just publish it for now. ---
6.01.2011
chimi churri
The wedding...
THE WEDDING!
What else is there left to say?
It was a delight to see everyone from college.
30.
It's been a while since I've had a dream about Drab. Guess it was due time.
He was naked. I was naked. He was standing beside me, talking to me. I was terribly uncomfortable. Then I had to go to the bathroom to pee, and water started seeping up from the floor, rising ever so slowly until I woke up.
I bet I only dreamed about him because I spent so much time with him this weekend. Sigh...
THE WEDDING!
What else is there left to say?
It was a delight to see everyone from college.
30.
It's been a while since I've had a dream about Drab. Guess it was due time.
He was naked. I was naked. He was standing beside me, talking to me. I was terribly uncomfortable. Then I had to go to the bathroom to pee, and water started seeping up from the floor, rising ever so slowly until I woke up.
I bet I only dreamed about him because I spent so much time with him this weekend. Sigh...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)