Callous Callosotomy

Off the wagon...and my high horse

As always, there's good news and bad news. Good news: my "choice" paid off big time, and I killed my anatomy test. Seriously. Demolished. Relative to my class, best score I've ever had in med school.

Bad news: it didn't make me nearly as happy as it should have. First of all, I've come down with the Crud and it's nigh on 2.5 weeks now and I'm still coughing and sleeping 9 hours a night. Second, it was the first time anybody--in this case my faculty advisor--ever actually asked me "Why didn't you get 100%?" I'm almost certain that was a tongue-in-cheek comment. Almost. And then there was my dad, who was every bit as proud as I wanted to make him, but who didn't say "Y'know, it'd be okay to have a life and take care of yourself too." And mom's comeback: "You don't always have to be at the very top of your class to distinguish yourself...just, you know, the top 15%." Having surgeons (yes, plural) for parents can be wonderful, and I know they'd love me just as much if I'd wanted to be a starving artist in TriBeCa...but I've inherited their pathology, and I'm suddenly starting to feel pressure I've never noticed from them before. No doubt I'm projecting, but there you go.

And worst of all, that miracle switch I was so proud of a few weeks ago--the one that had me up at 0500 working out 6 days a week--has been switched back off due to the URI and other general malaise. But I'm not sure if I now have the energy to switch it on again. I can feel myself slipping into the dark fog of numb exhaustion. It feels like crap and like I don't have the energy to fix it. I maybe proved that wrong earlier this fall, but one wonders if that big push didn't have something to do with this bug that's put me back squarely on my ass. Sigh. I'm considering doing a research year out just to put my life back together before my clinical rotations. Thoughts?

In the meantime, it's bed time. Yes, at 9:35. No, I didn't accomplish squat with my afternoon/evening; especially nothing like the 50 pages of anatomy reading that needs doing, or the 4 weeks' worth of histology that needs memorizing. And the cycle of feeling awful and worthless continues. Awesome.

Choices

As my mother quite rightly pointed out to me yesterday, choosing to push for excellence rather than merely getting the job done is just that: a choice. Now, in the pursuit of medicine, and given my personality and background, it's maybe less of a choice for me than the average person off the street, but I accept that I've chosen a path, and that I've made active decisions about how I want to achieve those goals.

...and then I have the second or third encounter this month (who knows--they're so numerous now I'm losing count) that goes something like: "Hi CC, you sound like an amazing person that I'd really click with...but I've [choose one: started seeing someone else exclusively; gone back to my unloving ex; decided to join a religious cult and become celibate; realized I'm mentally unstable and incapable of meaningful interaction with the opposite sex...or maybe just you]. Best of luck to you." So, I'm that girl. Again. Looking back on the most recent episode, it's really not possible to correlate my unholy devotion to thoracic anatomy with the disappearance of yet another romantic impossibility, but I can't help but wonder whether I'm lying uncomfortably in a bed I've made.

Rationally, I know that underachieving or dumbing down will never get me in the long run where I want to be even in the unlikely event that it improved my short-term situation.

Irrationally, I return to my childish notion that this just isn't fair, and when will the karmic tide shift? When will it be my turn?? Do I have to give up my semi-occasional academic and corporate victories (such as today's better-than-expected anatomy exam result)?

Here's hoping the answer's no. Otherwise, it's going to be a damn long and lonely road as far as the eye can see going forward...pretty much just as it's been for the last 10 years too, come to think of it. Awesome.

So what's left to choose?

Anatomy...

...in addition to a nice upper respiratory infection, owns my life. Friday night "plans with friends" now involves the cadaver lab and our structures list. I don't remember the last time I was so happy to see Nyquil. I'm going to make a good-faith effort to get through a chapter in High Yield (because let's be honest: I can't open up baby Moore in good faith), but who wants to take bets on how long I last? Definitely brushing my teeth *before* settling in with a book this time...

And after Monday's exam, perhaps I'll get around to writing those posts on Wikipedia and my squeaky Danskos I've been saving. I can practically hear you waiting with baited breath.