H.M.

As posted by The Scrivener, Patient H.M. (Wiki link) died on Tuesday. For those in the medical world, or for anyone who has taken a neuroscience class in the last 50 years, this man is legendary; the professors talk about him with as much awe and fascination as the students. Today, upon reading his obituary in the New York Times, I felt the same overwhelming feeling of WOW-there's-so-much-we-don't-know as I did three years ago when I read his case for the first time.

As scientists, we have to be grateful for and excited by cases like this. It's not as if someone would do this to themselves on purpose, so when it happens accidentally, it is a unique opportunity for study. In H.M.'s case, we study the murky subjects of learning, memory, and experience. As the article says, after the procedure which ended his seizures but took away his past memories and his ability to form new ones, "each time he met a friend, each time he ate a meal, each time he walked in the woods, it was as if for the first time." Again, as scientists, this is astonishing. But as a fellow human being, I am staggered by the implications.

Imagine feeling the desire to learn to, say, make chocolate chip muffins. H.M.'s specific procedure and its resulting memory loss would cause you to learn to make the muffins, then find later that you know how to make muffins, but do not remember learning to do so. In addition, you can draw an exact and correct diagram of your kitchen and kitchen tools, but have no memory of purchasing or putting away your home or tools. Also, you do not remember that you have had a life chaning procedure that ruined your ability to make memories, so you have no understanding of your situation, however your intellect is not diminished in the slightest. Can you imagine what life would be life? I can't.

And what of H.M.'s relationships? Popular culture has evoked this sentiment in films (to use the term loosely) such as 50 First Dates and Memento, where the protagonists have poor short-term memory which wreaks havoc on their lives. But those films and their short-sighted plotlines are poor comparisons to the 55 years H.M. lived with his condition.

I, like so many others, have learned and benefited from H.M.'s life and struggles. While I am grateful to him for his willingness to share his body and brain with science, I am happy for him that he has moved on. I hope that wherever he is now, he is making many happy memories.

Just Keep Singing

(For those of you just joining us, a detail of my past is important to this story: Before I was in medicine, I was an opera singer who frequented choirs for money. I know, I'm not proud of it, but I did what I had to do to get by.)

Tonight, I braved the big, bad world without Colin and went to a college choir concert with my girl A. I haven't been to a choir concert in awhile and I was, to be honest, a little worried that I wouldn't enjoy it because I was busy being all critical and expert-y. I'm not proud of that, as I generally hate snobs of any sort, but it's hard to be non-judgmental when that's what I used to DO. Anyway, it wasn't really an issue because the choirs were good enough that my brain formed a few passing opinions without my permission and then I could tell it to shut up and enjoy. And it did.

However, one moment during the night made me wish that I had superpowers and could stop the whole thing. There was a smaller group of singers that performed some "jazzier" pieces, like pop and patriotic war songs. Among this small group, there was one girl who was featured. A graduating senior with a great voice and decent stage presence, she was given a big solo - she sang the whole song while the group sang "ooh" and "doo-wop" behind her. Can you see where this is going? This is like one of those FailBlog videos where the skateboarder is humming along and you know he's going to wipe out but you can't look away. So the girl is singing a popular song from the 1990's, one everyone knows (well, probably not Patrick). She's doing great and everyone's is happy. Here comes the key change - ooh, ouch. She totally, TOTALLY misses it. Now she and the choir are singing in different keys. YIKES.

For my ears, this was catastrophic. I groaned, thinking that it was obvious to everyone, but my friend leaned over and said, "What? Is something bad?" Anyway, the poor girl, the graduating senior given this song as a tribute to her great voice, completely lost it. Like, sobbing. Center stage with a spotlight on her. Holy cow - AWKWARD.

I wanted so much to freeze time, run up to her and tell her about the time I was in college and singing the lead in the opera. I had this well known, really exposed aria and (you can see this one coming too) right at the high note where there was no hiding my voice cracked. CRACKED LIKE A MIDDLE SCHOOL BOY. Oh, the humiliation. Luckily, I kept it together and finished the aria. Then I went backstage and had a meltdown. I remember hyperventilating to my friend that I'd forgotten how to sing. I chose to do this as his cue music was starting. He calmed me down while singing his opening bit from backstage, poor thing. Anyway, I wanted to tell her this story, tell her that life will continue and to take a breath and keep singing.

Unfortunately, I do not possess the ability to stop time, so I could not run up and tell her this story, nor could I give her the time to get herself together. So she continued to melt down onstage in front of everyone as her choir "doo-wop"ed behind her. I felt awful for the girl, but those experiences are a chance for huge growth for a performer. She won't break down next time, the first time is the most traumatic one. On the other hand, ARGH. I am so glad that I don't perform anymore. Who has the nerves to handle experiences like that?

On a brighter note, the choir sang one of my favorite pieces of music of all time as a surprise to a former conductor. It wasn't on the program, so when they started "Lift Thine Eyes", the women's trio from Mendelssohn's Elijah, I got all tingly and happy. That's what music should be about, not me proving to myself that I was once as good or better than those girls.

Start 'Em Young

I walked into the hospital this morning just ahead of a girl and her mom. The girl was maybe eight years old and was clearly enamored with The City that is Lex Vegas. She was awed by all the cars and tall buildings and kept pointing things out to her mother in an Eastern KY drawl that is not reproducible by those not from there. What really got her, though, was the helicopter.

The helipad is on the roof of the hospital (as opposed to in the cafeteria, I suppose) and is nine stories up from street level. It's a rather narrow part of the hospital, however, so people on the street can watch the helicopter take off and land. On this particular morning, the helicopter was on the landing pad with the engine on, but not moving.

This was particularly confusing for the girl. As we waited to cross the street, she watched and waited for it to move. She became increasing bothered when it did not move and insisted that it get to the point already and fly away. The light turned, we crossed the street, and as we got closer to it, she shouted the following to the helicopter pilot, nine stories up, in her Southern accent:

"IF YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE, TURN OFF YOUR ENGINE! SAVE THE EARTH!"

I turned around and gave her a high five. Then I high fived her mom.

On Death's Door

My computer is on the fritz. This is very unfortunate. I really need my computer. I live by my computer. Trying to figure out what to do is like trying to diagnose your own mother - you just have too much history together and are too involved to look at things objectively.

My computer's touchpad button no longer works reliably. It either sticks or doesn't respond. Now tapping on the touchpad is unreliable. It has started crashing from time to time. MACS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT. Websites don't load. Opening two or more programs causes it to freeze up. I have upgraded it as much as I can, but it doesn't seem to be enough. The poor thing is only three years old! It's not time yet!

Oh, Readers, I need some input on this one. What am I going to do?

*sobs*

Alien Among You

Just now, in the main campus cafeteria...

KATIE
(Sitting alone at a rather large table, eating and studying.)

UNDERGRAD #1
We could sit with that girl. (Indicates Katie.) She has room at her table.

UNDERGRAD #2
No, look. She's older. She's wearing wedding rings. I don't want to sit with her.

Apparently, I look old enough to also be deaf. At least she didn't see the elastic waistband.

Moving On Up

Every day as I walk into school, I pass several houses rented out to college students. They are typical college kid houses, once lovely, single family homes chopped up into several apartments. Close to campus, ghastly overpriced. In the last few weeks, several of them have gone up for rent. One is even vacant, allowing me to go up on the porch and peek inside.

Let me set one thing straight first, and that is that I love my house. Patrick and I have owned and lived in our house for almost three years and it's perfect. That does not stop me from wanting to pack everything up and move, sadly.

The problem is that I was on my own for a little too long, which required moving at least once a year, sometimes several. Especially when I was singing, as you singers out there can confirm, I was all over the place. That was one of the things that I hated about the business - that I didn't have a place to call home.

Now that I do, I have such an itch to keep on a-movin'. I haven't lived in the same place for more than a year since I was in high school, which was TEN years ago. (I am old.) It is simply ingrained in me to pack light and keep moving. Except, now I have a house and a house-full of stuff and a whole army of pets. And I feel so weighed down.

I have felt this way for the last two springs, and this one, clearly, is no different. Maybe this can be an annual post.

Hm. Look at me, planning for the future. Since when do I do that?

Who am I and where did my free-spirit go?

March Apathy

I am a total hypocrite this year. I haven't followed sports of any sort since I was in high school
and lived with my sports-oriented family. Especially after I started dating Patrick, who is from a music background, sports dropped off of my radar. Even so, I know about March Madness, even if I'm not following it. And I love to poke fun at the people who don't follow sports any time during the year except for in the month of March.

Well, this year, I am one of those people. See, my Cards are in the tournament and are doing really well. I don't really know the players (except for David Padgett, who is my make-believe boyfriend) and certainly don't know any of the other teams, but Patrick has been watching all year and is now subjecting me to it. And I can't help it. I'm totally into it.

Whatever. GO CARDS!! Elite Eight Saturday night! I'm totally painting myself red and assigning all of the animals letters for cheers. As you can see in the picture, Myra is ALWAYS ready for March.

Geek, Exposed

This is something that I don't share with too many people because of the social repercussions that usually follow, but I trust you, Internet, to love me anyway.

I am a Sci-Fi geek.

Specifically, a space geek. I think it comes from my parents, who loved Star Trek and Star Wars and exposed me and my sisters to many, many hours of it when I was young and impressionable. I never thought it was a bad thing, as it built up my vocabulary, introduced me to complex and abstract concepts, and allowed my imagination a playground. Growing up, I had life-size posters of the cast members on my wall, next to pictures of planets and the moon. Most girls had New Kids on the Block posters, but I had the solar system. When Patrick and I were getting to know each other, I was appalled to learn that he didn't even know the names of the planets. I nearly dumped him on the spot.

Not too many people are keen to my special brand of Geek, but I have a stack of the Next Generation episodes on DVD, as well as the movies, and the Star Wars original trilogy. Among many other examples of Geek, I went to Space Camp, read Sci-Fi novels on any topic, and glued myself to the TV when the Sci-Fi Channel came out.

Things mellowed out a little when I went into music. There isn't room for science nerds in music, so I supressed the Geek and fit in nicely. However, upon entering a scientific field, it seeped back in and has only gotten worse in the last few years.

Among the things that take me away from studying are these two newly discovered gems:

1. The new Google Earth. Not only can you look at any point on Earth and see what's there, but you can also look up to the sky from any point on Earth and see the stars, constellations, and whatnot. SO FREAKING COOL.

2. The Original Star Trek series, in its entirety, on cbs.com. Holy cow. I'm nearly done with season 1 and I love it.

Life is hard when you have to pick between these two fascinating and awesome time-eaters and studying.

Okay, I've spilled. What are you secret Geek obsessions?

Yay Mother Nature!

I'm dedicating this post to Spring, which arrived today while I was in my exam.

Yesterday and this morning were rainy and cold, days that you want to stay inside and (I guess) study. I had a cumulative exam at 1pm today that I was pretty nervous about, especially with yesterday's little distraction, so I wasn't paying too much attention to the weather.

Then, when I emerged from the cave in which we take our exams....

IT WAS SPRING!!!!!

Thanks, Mother Nature! You're the best!

I celebrated by visiting a bookstore and an office supply store, possibly my two favorite places in the world. Now, the canines and I are going out to see if we can find our way to the park. Hope it's warming up where you are and you can get outside and replenish your Vitamin D stores!

I am a Super Hero

Today, I saved a life. A real, actual life.

Okay, fine. The life that I "saved" may never have been in imminent danger and, yes, fine, this life belongs to a dog. But that's "belongs" in the present tense, thank you! And it's a very cute and sweet 1 year old dog with a long life ahead of it!

I was home today studying when my next door neighbor (yes, Old Cat's part-time owner. Oh, Irony, you're so clever.) came over and frantically banged on my door. Our across-the-street neighbor's two dogs had escaped and were freely running back and forth between our houses and their yard. If we lived in a nice quiet neighborhood, this might not be the end of the world. But we live on a FIVE LANE THOROUGHFARE where cars absolutely fly and, by the way, it's pouring down rain. Add to the mix that each dog weighs approximately 80 pounds, which means that one dog weighs more than my and Neighbor Guy's three dogs put together. Looking good.

Neighbor Guy and I manage to pen the two dogs on my deck until we can assess the situation. I dole out the bones while he looks at their fence and bangs on their door. No one is home, but he's found the escape hatch and can fix it. So we take the dogs, one at a time, back to their yard and put them safely inside. We breathe a sigh of relief, give each other a high five, and then scream like little girls when the feistier of the two finds Door #2 and darts out into the street.

And is hit by a car.

She is hit in the head first, then pivoted around so her hip hit and shattered the hubcap. She stands up, wobbles a bit, and takes off running. Neighbor Guy stays to talk to the driver and I go running after the pup. Luckily, she doesn't go too far and hides under a bush in her neighbor's yard. I am trying to stay smart about this and not just run up to her and cry, because I know that dogs in shock (especially if they've had a head injury) will act weird and can be aggressive. So I creep up and be all sweet to her and she does well. I decide to take her to the vet, even though she's not bleeding or acting too strange, and she's only limping a little, but I would never be able to sleep again if I didn't make sure she was okay.

So I scribble a note for the owners, hoping that they don't sue me for abducting their dog,
and we're off to the vet. Turns out she's totally fine. She'll probably be a little sore for a few days, but no real damage. That dog is a TANK. The owners call while I'm at the vet and are soon there, crying and hugging their dog. Looks like I won't be sued after all. Instead, I think I'll be awarded THE KEY TO THE CITY.

All in all, I am actually really proud of the way I handled myself in this situation. A year ago, I would have been reduced to sobs and not been capable of making decisions. But I felt an odd calm throughout the whole thing, a sense that, if I could just keep my head on and think, it would all be okay. This is one of those stories that I will tell when I am 300 years old and say, "I knew then that I could handle anything that came my way. That was an important lesson for me, one that I cling to even to this day!" And my great-great-grandchildren will moan that they've heard this one a hundred times and that the old lady's gone batty.

I probably won't tell them that I came straight home and blogged about it, though. That does sort of lower the SuperHero Factor just a little bit.

Snooze

I swore that I was going to post more over spring break, but...

I just don't have anything to write about!

To give you a brief update, all I've done is sleep, eat, doze, watch Charmed (my favorite awesomely bad show - have I told you about it? I must some time.), and play with the dogs. This being a mostly medically based blog, I feel bad posting about how I took the dogs on a walk and then we came home and had popcorn while I checked my email and we finished off the afternoon with a nap in the sun.

Anyway, that's what I've been doing.

Tomorrow I go shadow an OB/GYN in town. That should be fun and interesting and hopefully provide some good blogging material. Until then, I hope you are all out there living your lives to the fullest. l

Toys Falling from the Sky

While it wasn't exactly the blizzard that we'd hoped for, we got about 6 inches of snow last night. This meant that Patrick and I were happily snowed in for most of the day and that it was the Best Day Ever for the pups.

I called my friend John this morning to cancel plans to get together for breakfast and he answered the phone with, "KATIE!!! IT'S CHRISTMAS!!! AND SPRING BREAK!!! TOGETHER!!!"



Can you see the snow all over her? Myra especially LOVES the snow. She rolls around in it and tries to bury herself in it. I think it's because she has so much fur and it's the only time she can cool off. Sally, on the other hand, just runs and runs. Like so.



We spent hours outside today running and chasing and eating lots and lots of snow. We took a walk around the neighborhood and saw other people snowed in and playing outside. We all took a nap later in the afternoon, just to seal the deal that it was a lazy, snowed in afternoon.



We managed to dig ourselves out later in the day to make a run to the market and to Target (is it possible to leave the house and not go to Target? I've tried it and I think the answer is no.) so we're shoveled out enough to get to John's for brunch in the morning. This will go down in my personal history book as one of my Best Days Ever.

List Insufficiency

I make long, long, long lists of things that I need to do. I do this all the time, everywhere. In class, on the bus, walking down the hall. On my notes, on my hand, on my jeans (I'm trying to break that habit). I make very neat little lists that are well-organized by task and due date, have little check boxes next to each item, with each item lined up neatly.

The problem with this system is that THINGS NEVER SEEM TO GET DONE.

Take this week, for instance. Monday's list was seven items long, with a few things for Tuesday. Only three of the items on Monday's list got checked off, so they got moved to Tuesday's list, which has now grown to nine items. I've only managed to cross off four things from that list, maybe one more tonight, so the rest will get pushed to Wednesday, already seven items long and looking to add another five. Of course, as I finish things, I remember other things that need to be done, so that even though Tuesday started out with only nine items, it has already grown to fourteen.

This system is not working. I am a master listmaker, but if it doesn't help tasks to actually be completed, then all my years of training and practice has been for nothing. Any tips? How do you guys get done what needs to be done?

Such Devoted Sisters

Sorry for the radio silence. This time, though, it's not the same old tap dance that I've given you before about studying and exams and yada yada.

That was only PART of what I was doing.

Two of my sisters came to visit me this weekend! Hip Hip HOORAY!!! This was their only weekend off until 2035, or something, so they came to visit me! And it was all their own idea! They are TEENAGERS and they decided that, for their one weekend off, they would come to visit their old, boring, biggest sister. I was so excited that I almost died before they even got here. But that would not have been an efficient use of time and I am all about efficiency these days.

Unfortunately, I had an exam this morning, so I had to limit my visit. They are such good sports and drove all the way here for a short overnight visit. We had so much fun, though! I had originally intended for them to write a "guest writer" entry here, but we were having so much fun that I couldn't possibly let them away from my direct attention.

Anyway, a return to normal blogging tomorrow, when I will tell you all about how I am sick of med school and am ready to take Michelle's advice and go fold jeans at the Gap. For now, however, I require a shower and sleep.

TV Inauguration

While I was attempting to study last night, Patrick made me an offer I couldn't refuse. We broke in the new TV with an HD screening of The Big Lebowski, one of the most brilliant films (Shrink, that was for you!) ever made.

We followed that by watching our favorite bits of Le Nozze di Figaro, a video recording of a long ago Met recording.

Though pharm was totally neglected in favor of spending time with my handsome but kinda unpredictable hubster. I paid for it today by spending a much great amount of quality time with my notes at the library all day and night (to be continued tomorrow), but I'm trying to live a more balanced life and, you know, see my house and family sometimes.

It's a good plan, anyway.

TV Debate Update

Well, I lost.

Truthfully, we kinda compromised, but, really, I lost.

Last night, we discussed that it would be good to give the TV to Patrick's mom. We talked about re-working our current TV/computer room with a bigger computer screen that could double as a movie watching screen and a TV if we were ever so moved.

Rather like the dining room table, I thought that this topic was one to be discussed again before any action would take place. Patrick, however, thought otherwise and so bought a TV that doubles as a computer monitor from Craig's List today. We picked it up on the way home from work.

I'm going to have to be more clear about when we're finished discussing things and when we're just taking a 24 hour break in the conversation. I'm afraid that he's going to sell the house next after my off-hand comment that we should sell everything and move to Italy.

Ciao, belli.

Recourse

I'm reeling today from the psychic response to yesterday's letter to the snowplow drivers. Whereas yesterday, I could drive on the street to get to a sidewalk on which I was nearly crushed, today, I am convinced that the snowplow drivers shoved all their snow INTO MY DRIVEWAY. And now I am stuck. Stuck at home, stuck in an inch and a half of snow.

The problem is that my driveway is nothing but a hill. A steep one, at that. so there is no way to get any momentum to fling yourself over the hill. You just have to go slow and steady and be really, really patient. Today, none of those strategies paid off, and I am stuck at the bottom. The snow around my car is splayed with orange Tire Gel that didn't provide instant traction (Damn you, Big Lots) and there are all these little ditches that I made for myself while I was attempting to free myself from the clutches of the driveway.

*I admit, that last part was a little dramatic. But it was REALLY FRUSTRATING, okay?!

Living in the south this long has really impaired my snow skills, me thinks.

Snowplows

An open letter to the Snowplow Operators of the world:

Dear Snowplow Operators,

Let me first state my appreciation for the job that you do. I realize that it cannot be fun to be dragged from your warm beds in the middle of the night in order to clear the roads for the poor saps of the world who do not have 4-wheel drive, like myself. I am really grateful that you clear off the streets so that I have the option of going to class, even if I do not take advantage of it. I thought of this today as I was trying to leave my house for a noon lecture and could barely escape the tiny hill of my driveway for all the slush and ice. I hope you all felt my warm feelings for you.

However, I revoked all of these warm feelings and, instead, sent bad, cold feelings to all of you about 20 minutes later while walking into school. I realize that, when plowing the snow and such off of the street, it must go somewhere. But does it really need to be plowed onto the sidewalk where hundreds of people walk? Does it really need to be plowed onto the sidewalk WHEN PEOPLE ARE STANDING RIGHT THERE? I know you saw me struggling to get through the slush and ice without falling and chose that very spot where I was walking to shove your collected street snow. As I've mentioned, I appreciate the fact that I can drive on the streets because of you. However, I did not anticipate the attempted murder by being buried in a sideways avalanche that came directly from your snowplow. Seriously, was that necessary? That was just mean. And right after I had sent you so many psychic thanks, too.

Luckily, I avoided death by sideways avalanche (this time) and was able to get to my noon meetings, which had been canceled due to the weather. Perhaps the speakers were not so lucky as me to avoid being crushed by oncoming snowplows. I just ask you to think about these things for the next Winter Storm. Your whole job exists to help others. Do no invalidate all the good that you do by murdering the very people that you get out of bed to help. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Have a heart, it's almost Valentine's Day,

Katie

TV Debate

My mother-in-law's TV has died and, because of her built-in TV stand thing in her house, she can't go out and get a new one, as she needs a specific size.

A size that we just happened to have.

I see this as an excellent opportunity to get rid of the TV and the accompanying super-ugly stand filled with junk. Patrick agrees, except that he thinks that we should replace it with a fancy flat screen HD one. I think that we shouldn't replace it. We never watch TV, don't even GET TV, and usually only watch movies on the computer. I see no reason to have a TV, especially a fancy one.

This has been a huge issue lately, a surprising one. Patrick can't give me a single good reason to get a new TV. Not even a bad reason, actually, except that it would look cool. It's funny how we can get so attached to something, even if we don't use it, that we can't even conceive of living without it. Patrick can't remember the last time he watched anything on TV, but he still can't think of not having one. I love the idea. I hope it grows on him.

Prom

Last night was the Caduceus Ball, better known as Med School Prom. People have been talking about it for weeks, planning it for months, and last night it finally arrived.

Last year, Prom was fun for me because I got to kind of pretend I was single. Patrick was on call that night, so I went with a bunch of girlfriends and danced all night. However, it was sad to come home to an empty house and I hoped that he would be able to go this year. The heavens heard my cry and answered my prayer.

In so many words, be careful what you wish for!

We decided that we would have a dinner party last night before the Prom. We invited over our two bestest couple friends and cooked up a veritable feast. Patrick and John did the cooking, and the rest of us did the preparing and chatting. We broke out the fancy china, were all dressed in formal wear, and had a FABulous time.

We also did what's commonly referred to as "pre-gaming", meaning we indulged in some of The Drink. (Sadly, I was not able to be a part of that, as I was designated driver for the evening.) The Drink always makes Patrick tired and a littel grumpy. However, at this point, everything was so fun and yummy and we were having a great time.

It was about 11pm by the time we LEFT our house to go to the prom. I was sleepy, but excited to see everyone all dressed up and happy. Patrick, on the other hand, was having none of it. "Do we have to go?", he whined all the way there. "We're not staying long, right?", he whined as we walked in. "I don't even know anybody.", he mumbles, as three people approach him to say hello.

We left about 12:30, after Patrick refused to dance, refused to have any more to drink or eat, and refused to talk to anyone.

I love him to bits, that grumpy husband of mine, but sometimes I think those single folk have it pretty good.