It's What's Under the Tweed

So Jerry and I are driving yesterday and somehow we got on the conversation about our 'stripper names'--you know, where you take your first pet's name and your mothers maiden name.

"Mine is decent, it's Fancy Taylor."

"Yeah, that is pretty good."

"I dated a guy once whose stripper name would have been, Waggles Moorehead...you can't really top that one."

"What about mine? It's Huxley Morse."

"Huxley Morse? I think that is the worst stripper name I've ever heard...it doesn't conjure anything sexy...sounds more like a Masterpiece Theater stripper name, or a stripper who wears tweed..."

"Yeah, but it's what's UNDER the tweed that counts baby."

There are some statements that a girl just can't argue with. There are also some statements that are so bizarre and hilarious one just has to write them down.

Geographically Challenged

Many of you who know me can attest to the fact that there are times when I am geographically challenged. I blame this on my mother, of course. Mostly for not breast feeding me long enough (4 months) but also because she is very spacially/geographically challenged....no, geographically 'retarded' is a better word for it.

Today I added to "Revealing my Intellectual Achilles" list when I arrived at the gym. The woman who works the desk is very pleasant and we usually have a little banter before I head inside. Today she said to me, "Oh! what did you get up to today in this gorgeous sunshine?"

"Oh, my friend and I took her dog out to some lake and just had a nice picnic while the doggy played in the water...it was a beautiful spot!" I replied.

"Which lake did you go to?"

"You know, the one down the road that has the kayak rental place on it...not much of a beach but a few campsites..."

"Umm...that is the ocean, not a lake...this is an island remember??"

"Heh...right...island" as I think to myself--THAT is why the water level changed so much in the time we were there!!

She was very polite and proceeded to listed a bunch of lakes that are, in fact, in the area...

Yup. Another one to add to the list.

Washington DC, not in Washington...check.

Don't have to drive through downtown to get to Whistler from Vancouver...check.

When the water level of a 'lake' goes down dramatically in a few hours and you are on an island--you are probably staring at the ocean not a lake...check.

Day Off

I'm not going to lie. This past week and a half I've felt just a teansy bit lonely. It's been a while since I've gone on a travel contract and I've kind of forgotten what it is like.

My life has consisted of work and working out. Both of these are good things but neither take away from the loneliness that creeps in around the edges. Everyone I work with (with the exception of a couple social dropouts) has been very welcoming and warm. But people have their own lives and they are busy going 32 directions in them. I have pretty much 2 directions right now...across the street to work or down the street to the gym. Travel nurses like myself come and go, I probably wouldn't go out of my way to ask an agency nurse over to dinner or out for a walk with my dog either.

I've been lucky to have great roommates here at the hospital supplied housing, but we're all working long and/or opposite shifts and rarely see each other. I don't know, it's a weird life.

I just feel like I am always one little step out of sync with the world around me...from going back to school last year during pre req hell, to working casually in Whistler, to agency work, volunteer trip, now here...Not having any real roots makes no place home and no sanctuary I can really sink into. I am quite looking forward to staying put for a little while once I get to Ireland, carving out a little space for myself in the world. Don't get me wrong, I am happy! Life is good! I mean, really....who can complain when they get to watch bald eagles circling above as they eat their breakfast?

(View this morning at breakfast...sorry about the window reflection...)

Who Walk Among Us

I was tired this morning when my alarm went off at 0445h. I had to drive to the city to catch a 0750h flight and therefore didn't want to leave the house later than 0515h.

I hit the 'dismiss' option instead of 'snooze' on my phone and fell back asleep. I awoke just after five and raced around the house gathering up the last of my belongings, showering, and grabbing some toast for the road. Ugh! I realized I needed gas as well. Of course, when I am running late...

Zoomed into the quiet station and put 15$ in only to find I had locked my keys in my car.

Aghghg! Remembered my hatchback was unlocked. Sigh, ok, I can handle looking like an idiot to the gas station attendant for a few minutes vs missing my flight. Finally I got on the road, but I was pretty frazzled.

Going to a new contract always makes me a bit edgy...What will the staff be like? What is the housing going to be like? Is my roomie going to be a psycho-chain-smoking-television-blaring-messy-chews-with-mouth-open-racist? Will there be internet? Will there be soymilk in town? Will there be a gym in town?

So when I arrived at the airport I was not in the mood for the baggage lady to tell me my bag was 3 kilos overweight. I fought the urge to make a sarcastic remark about all of us probably being 3 kilos overweight. So there I was, the girl who has to open her suitcase for all to see, randomly pulling hefty objects out and stuffing them into a plastic bag (classy). Thankfully I didn't send a shower of tampons into the air or accidentally fling a pair of underwear at a baggage handler.

I was cursing Air Canada and the woman who kept calling me "ma'am".

Oh how I hate flying Air Canada.

And I hate all the little invasions of my personal space when I fly.

Take off my shoes? Undo my belt? Open my top button? Take out my toiletries bag? Really? Is this all really necessary? Sigh. Remember the good old days when you could fly with a leatherman on your belt and have toothpaste in your carry-on?

I was muttering to myself about my severe dislike for all-things-air-travel as the dude in front of me in the security line was completely faffing with this ridiculously large bouquet of flowers.

Finally got to the gate and sat down for a few minutes before having to board.

My flight arrived on the island and we then waited for about 45 minutes for a shuttle to take us across the inlet on a ferry to the town. Yawwnnnnnnnn. Sleepy. Hungry. Cranky.

A taxi stopped to give me a ride to the hospital. The driver was a middle aged Vietnamese man, very pleasant and upbeat, waving and smiling at people as we drove through town. He laughed when I asked him if he knew where I was staying,

"25 years in a 4 mile radius town you know where everything is!"

Right. Good point.

So I asked him how he had ended up here of all random places in the country to be, it didn't seem like a place that would jump out at someone immigrating to Canada.

He said, "have you heard of the boat people?"

I scanned my thoughts wondering if admitting that would seem racist, I had assumed that term was only used in a derogatory sense.

"Ummm yeah...you mean people that escaped Vietnam and came on boats to North America?"

"Yes, that was me and my sister. I was 16, she was 14. Our boat ran out of gas in international waters and it took 7 days for a US coast guard to find us, there were 49 of us on the boat. They brought us to their ship and people were given the choice of moving to Canada or US. I chose Canada and was sent here, neither my sister or I spoke a word of English. I started out washing dishes in a restaurant, getting the waitresses to teach me English. Now I have the good life."

I asked him if anyone died on his voyage. He told me that they had been 2 days without food and water when they were rescued, that two children had almost died but ended up surviving. I told him he should write a book about his life, his bravery, his story. He said, "no, that journey brings up too many sad memories". And that was that, he popped the trunk and was soon on his way.

I've thought about our conversation all afternoon. Here was this man who survived a very dangerous voyage to a completely unknown land. When he arrived he had no money, no education, and couldn't speak the language.

And here was I. Cranky at having to suffer the inconveniences of air travel. I wasn't leaving my family behind on a dangerous journey where I'd arrive and not know how I'd get food in my belly or a roof over my head.

I am glad this man held a mirror up to my irritations of the day. I am glad I got to see how my day of travel compares to some of the travels that have been endured by the people around me. How truly fortunate I am in my comfortable life. People who will never whisper a word of it to me, stories I will never know. I like being reminded that sometimes I should stop to consider what chain of events have brought us each to the place we're at. That perhaps I could never know in a thousand lifetimes the experiences of others. And how thankful I should be that my 'humiliations' only include locking my keys in the car and having to take off my shoes to show a hole in my sock.

Babes having Babies

Ok so I have been majorly wrapped up in all this silly drama about finances etc. which has kept me from reporting that two of my dear friends have just had babies!

AMG and Ryan had little Nicholas on the 14th of April (thank you for that easy to remember date!) Word on the street is he's moved out of the squeaking/sleeping phase and has found his lungs. To think, when I met that girl she was husbandless and childless...my how things change in a short amount of time! What always amazes me is my friends' abilities to transition so casually into these brilliant parents who have wonderful children. I am sure my babies would be these wild feral creatures, walking around with a little stick on their shoulder, handkerchief of belongings secured to one end--just like their mother. Tobin seems to be taking the big brother role like a champ as well, which is great. It was really nice to get to spend some time with the Gill's on the days leading up to and after the arrival of the initially nameless one.

AnnaB and Luc...and baby Max. Where to start?? I think it is best to read the ordeal they've been through in their own words. They've set up a great blog documenting Max's birth story.
In a nutshell, I am sure it has been the most incredible emotional roller coaster of their lives, only now settling down to normalized concerns like diaper-changing technique and when Max gets to have his next bath. Again I am in awe of my friends and their capacity to be strong and supportive to each other in such a time of crisis. Anna and Luc are so rock solid it is unbelievable. Max is adorable, not to mention the biggest, healthiest baby I have ever seen in a NICU. It was so nice to get to spend a wee bit of time with them yesterday as they regaled to me their past week and a half of upheavals and triumphs. As I heard about the meconium, the chest tube, and Anna's complications, my heart went out to them--but also the medical staff as well.

When births go badly in rural settings it is nothing short of terrifying for the staff involved. I can speak with a tiny bit of experience on that one. I am happy to hear that Anna and Luc have nothing but very positive things to say about the care they received all along the way.

And so, it must be said that it is wonderful to see babies brought into the world, arriving into the arms of such loving, intelligent, funny, caring, worldy, talented parents. I am so happy for them and proud of what amazing people I get to call--friends.

Cap in Hand

So I really have no idea how I am going to put myself through medical school.

I have just gotten the big "sorry we can't help you" from another couple of agencies which I was hoping would give me some funding for school...

I can't get return of service agreements with the northern territories because I am not a northern territory resident (even though the majority of my work in the last 4 years has been in Nunavut and the NWT I don't have a mailing address North of 60 and therefore, don't qualify).

Can't get return of service funding in my province of residence because--guess what? You have to be attending a Canadian school for that.

No funding from the Canadian forces for same reason as above.

Hmmm...well...lets see...is there a massive demand for doctors in rural settings in Canada?

Yes.

Is there a massive demand for doctors in the disadvantaged populations groups?

Yes.

Is there a massive demand for doctors in the Canadian Forces right now?

Yes.

Is anyone able to think outside the box in terms of providing funding to Canadians who are studying abroad and would like to return and work in these settings?

Nope.

My line of credit is going to fall about $40 000 dollars short to cover my tuition costs (yeah, that is right, just the tuition...never mind the books, cost of living, travel home).

I don't have a spouse that can support me or some random property in the Baja I can sell.

Really feeling like I am at a loss right now. In more ways than one.

Believe me I've considered diamond running and selling a few of my eggs (as I have no plans for them)...any other suggestions would be welcome.

Nothing Is Sacred

I couldn't help it...John sent me this email today and it is by far the funniest thing I've received as a result of my recent acceptance to medical school.

I had to post it.

Sorry John.

Nothing is sacred...(The funniest part is I almost look like I almost have a smile on my face or like I am humming "hum de hum de hum...I love ironing my man's shirts for him....hum de hum"!) Here is the email:

yeah baby!!!

'bout friggin time eh?

finally an admissions crew with a head on their shoulders...well done! (you should get your SAS qualifications while you're at it)

Ireland is sooo much cooler than some island in the baking sun.

but don't get ahead of yourself...'cuz you'll always have people to remind you who.....you REALLY are!!!! (see incriminating photo below...)

...you missed a wrinkle....

Goodbye Beautiful Friend

My apologies for all the double postings lately. Seems lately the theme in my life is living and dying--and the gray area that exists within those definitions. It is not a theme I want to run from, it is memories, experiences, and perspectives I am trying to learn from.

This week was the anniversary of my fathers death. Then, my first shift back at work ended up becoming a chaotic mix of emotions when a young woman arrested in front of me and we spent almost 2 hours resuscitating her.

And finally, I returned to Victoria just in time to say one last goodbye to Jody before she took her final breath.

Of course all of these events have shone light on my beliefs about mortality---as well as quality of life and death. I am sure all of this forced introspection will stir up a few postings soon. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the rain.

Props to Pops

This Friday marks the anniversary of my dad's death in 2002. For me this year will be a bit sadder than most. My dad would have been over the moon had he been alive to see me start medical school. Many of the folks on his side of the family never even completed high school let alone university.

I had a few random things in a bag I brought with me from storage when I last moved. And I mean random...plunger for French press, old camera, greeting cards, mesh bag, mail, incense... and as I sorted though--a photo of my dad and I on his ride-a-mower when I was about 4 emerged. This photo floated out of my stack of paperwork and landed on the table. I had completely forgotten about it-- most of my photos are in storage about 900kms away.

I stared at it for a while then tacked it up on my fridge. I realised that his death day is tomorrow and that he died not knowing I'd reach my goal of medical school. Hadn't pieced that reality together yet. After losing a parent it seems all victories become somewhat bittersweet because that tender spot inevitably gets reactivated with each triumph. Our parents are the only people in the world that genuinely care when we succeed or when we fail. Our accomplishments to them are uncomplicated in ways that cannot be with a spouse or friends.

Many people say to me "oh, your father knows what you are up to" but honestly, I don't know if I believe that. I think (if there is an afterlife) it will be so unimaginably wonderful that our souls will be preoccupied with much more important things than hanging around earth to see if our living offspring become doctors or not. I know my father was very proud of who I was even when I was just a punk-assed 22 year old. I think a part of my wishing he were around to see me off in May stems from my desire to show him "See dad! You and mom done good!" Giving me the chance to say thank you for eating my watery scrambled eggs, letting me put rollers in your hair, and tolerating the boyfriends who wore trench coats.

It all worked out in the end Dad.

Thank you.

I hope you're riding some cosmic wave or fishing off a plentiful dock with Cubby right now.

And Now...for Something Completely Different

It appears that 'ohtannin' has been getting more traffic than usual lately...weird. I'm not even putting tag lines like "large breasted women" or "AC Cobra" in any of my posts. (Woot! Let the raw data appear now!!!) Regardless, it appears that it is time for a life update on here as things are about to make a 180.

Last week I received 5 reject letters from the Canadian schools that I applied to--including Calgary. Initially I was really quite frustrated and sad by this. There was a lot of "what do they want then???" being yelled at the sky. Well, there were a few expletives in there also...but after the wave of cussing and tiny fist shaking, I realised this meant I was moving to the Caribbean. And that is not such a bad thing I suppose! It's 20 months on the island, then 72 weeks of clinical rotations, which can be divided in the UK/USA or USA--with the possibility of 12 weeks in Canada (yay!).

Evidently 2007-08 in Canada was the worst year for international medical graduate (IMG) residency rates in over 20 years (6%) which means that there is a fairly large chance that I will have to do my residency in the USA. This I am okay with, but it means that depending on my specialty of choice I could be away from Canada for the next 9 years. 9 YEARS!!!! That is starting to seem like a long time! That is me being gone "for my 30's". Is that crazy? That is a substantial amount of weddings, births, birthdays, pot lucks, swimming competitions, football games, first steps, and Settlers of Catan games that I am going to miss out on! :(

Well, I am on this track now and there is no way I am going to get off after all the sweat, tears, and cash I spilled to get to this point. When a goal is so far off you can barely see it, it is no wonder that the implications of attaining it are fuzzy--the realities are blurred until you get there.

And so, with 2.5 months left in Canada, it is going to be a scramble of stocking up on my favorite things (Yogi tea and Denman Island chocolate) and saying goodbye to friends and family. Oh and skiing. And working. And getting a temporary resident card and a new passport. And packing.