The Good Life

I listen (and give!) to BBC Africa on National Public Radio, where I am instantly transported to my little blue room with orange curtains in Uganda and to life’s realities. Scores of immigrants are fleeing violence and starvation in Mali, The Central African Republic, Eritrea, and, more recently, Libya and Syria only to drown in the Mediterranean or die in the Sahara. Those who do arrive on an immigrant refuge island face dismal prospects for work. Many of those interviewed spoke of reaching for the “good life.” What is a “good life?”
Recently, I had coffee with a co-worker who, like me, is a late 20-something college graduate. We enjoy our work, but she expressed frustration with her income, something I understand. Over that coffee, she also showed me her book of paintings and sketches and invited me to read some of her writing. I invited her to read mine. I then asked if we could make the meeting regular--- she replied that we could make it official. The B.S. Writers’ Group was born. Fortunately, she has begun writers’ groups before, so she knows what she is getting into. I am excited about the ride.

Last week, I went camping in a state park (and swimming in the freezing water), celebrated Diwali with friends, had a great meeting with the ladies’ group at my church, went the new writer’s club meeting, and saw both sets of my grandparents. Work has been going well, as I am forming deeper relationships with the children I work with. Yes, I am waiting to know if and where I will be accepted to medical school. Yes, I am haunted by my own inadequacies and yes, I do not measure up to society’s definition of a successful professional. From my Peace Corps life, however, I know that, in the end, it was not the quality of living conditions or job status that determined a volunteer’s success. It was personal growth and community connection. I am living the “good life.” I have meaningful work, financial and physical health, and I am challenged to spiritual and emotional growth. I am part of a family, a community of faith, a neighborhood, an artistic group, and a cross- cultural family.
I hope that, for the scores of immigrants fleeing violence, each may reach not only a place of safety and work opportunity. I hope that each can once again become part of a community and have opportunities for emotional and spiritual growth and healing.

Glide?

My cousin and I pulled up to the thrift store early on Labor Day morning, to find a buzzing parking lot. After we found a space, we entered a store where shopping carts were jammed side to side in the isles, the women's clothing section was too congested to enter, and we finally camped out in the china section. Yes, this was the 50% off day at the Sioux Falls thrift store, Y's buys, and everyone was there. I selected the scrubs I wanted (bright, cartoon or solid, none of the faded geometrical patterns) and had to try them on over my clothes in the china isle. Four scrub tops for $5.88.... not bad!
I then rushed home to prepare a meal for my mother's visiting parents after which I left for a celebration at my father's parents house, where my grandparents, brother and sister in law, mom, and nephew were all in attendance.
My MCAT test, medical school applications, and premedical classes are done. I don't know what my MCAT scores are or where I will be accepted, but it takes a year to complete the admission process. This year is euphemistically termed the "Glide Year." As I wondered what to do with this year, I pondered what it's purpose was.... to make a lot of money? to feel like a professional for once? to live at a state park and write? to go to another country? to work on Arabic skills? To try to reduce my ecological footprint?
I realized that this was neither my last year of life nor a time to disconnect from my dream of medicine. I talked to my boss at the children's hospital about going full time and was given the option of working with the same children consistently. Furthermore, an organic chemistry professor who was particularly challenging and bright offered a medicinal and biochemistry course this fall semester.
During this "in-between" year, I am doing meaningful work based on a long term relationships with medically fragile children. It is humbling, as I realize my inadequacies and room for improvement and as my job status is not particularly prestigious. The real practice of medicine will be ultimately humbling. I also, however, find myself in ecstasy after a particularly long evening or after helping a child to accomplish a therapy goal. I am privileged to provide direct care to children I have grown to deeply care about. I will continue to learn and grow in my knowledge of medicinal science. During this year, I will continue to deepen relationships with my family members and provide assistance when and where I can. I will also continue writing and will be spurred on by secondary application essays. Finally, I will try to be humble and conservative in my use of our planet's limited resources.
Ultimately, I cannot worry about whether I have a good enough MCAT score or where I will be accepted to medical school if I am busy with life and if I love where I am right now. What if, what if, what if? To each one there is an answer, and, ultimately, I do not have one bad outcome possible.

Forced Discernment

I glanced through a guide to medical school admissions at the library today. "Medical school is not for the faint of heart" echoes through such publications. Popular citations of the low acceptance rates of most schools-- often at 5%-- is accompanied by lengthy browbeating and ridiculously exaggerated deadlines-- "You should take the MCAT in April, you should devote a month to your personal essay"...... etc.
The pre- medical community itself is a bit prone to hyper- perfectionism and considerable anxiety, which is completely understandable and sometimes echoed in yours truly.
BUT is that what this experience is all about? To weed out the "weak" and thus exacerbate the already budding arrogance of those who do "make it"? Do you really want your doctor to be so full of his/her self that listening to others or taking correction from others is lost?
I attend St. Joseph's Cathedral, and in the lobby hangs a poster with pictures of all the semanarians. The caption above reads "Pray that these men discern their calling." Pray that they score well enough to make it through? No. Pray that they not make any mistakes so they'll be accepted? No. Pray that they'll do everything so early that they'll get a head start on the competition? Again no. Pray that they'll know whether they are supposed to be priests or not, for goodness sake!
The premedical process is a rigorous process of forced discernment. I believe that the difficulty is designed to help people decide what they really feel called to do. It is a process that requires regular, consistent learning and work. A bit of healthy fear and the humility of constant confrontation with personal inadequacies are usually thrown in for good measure.
So if you read this blog, pray for a pre- anything person you know. Pray for yourself and pray for me. Not that we'll "get in" but that we'll know where we are supposed to go. If we know where we are supposed to be, we can get there.

A Community Accomplishment

Last semester, the end of this return to undergrad, I took Physics II, Organic Chemistry II, and Calculus. On my first day in Calculus, I knew I was in over my head and told the professor that my previous math class had been interrupted----- by watching the second tower fall on 9/11. This was not entirely true; my pre- calculus class in high school was actually in 2003, only ten years ago. In my 28 student Calculus class, I was one of four students to not have taken Calculus previously. I was the only one of those four who had not taken pre- calculus last semester.
In both Calculus and Organic Chemistry, I had extremely hard working professors who demanded excellence from their students and had the class averages to show that students were being challenged. In physics, I had the same professor as last semester, but more difficult material, a very rigorous pace, and I witnessed class averages significantly lower than last semester.

BUT I had a great team mate in Calculus--- another nontraditional student willing to work 3 to 4 hours every day on incredibly frustrating online homework problems and very thorough test reviews. I had a great study partner in organic chemistry, a motivated pre- pharmacy sophmore with a knack for both cooking and chemistry, so that our study days were amply sustained. In physics, my lab partners and I met the weekend of finals to fill all the classroom chalkboards with our most difficult diagrams and theories.

Throughout this year, furthermore, I have received incredible support from my housemates, who are always there when I feel a bit beaten down. The Purpose Driven Ladies' Group members at St. Michael's parish have both supported my decisions and really cared about me as a person. Finally, my incredible mentoring relationship with a friend, Tej, has been a great lift in times of difficulty.

There is no wonder why my Grandpa, the rural physician with a 50 yr. long practice, is one of the most community centered people I know.... nor why my housemate Dr. Jim is incredibly involved in his community. It is the secret of success, it is why my grades have remained stellar and I am ready for step 2: MCAT prep!

God sets the lonely in families....(Ps. 68:6)

The psalmist did not say that God set the lonely in Manhattan apartments or that God gave them cats, or even that He promised a "one true love" yadda yadda yadda, as our culture did. My brother, his wife, and my nephew are moving to Cedar Rapids, Iowa! Yes, this is 300 miles away, but it is much closer than Georgia, where they had been. Moreover, they will be much nearer our grandparents and a few cousins.
As I prepare to apply for medical schools and see possibilities both near and far, I am drawn to remain near my family (grandparents, cousins, second cousins, brother, sister in law, nephew). Connecting to extended family members in South Dakota and feeling as though I belong somewhere has been even more meaningful than preparation for medical school. The question "Do you want to have a family?" is a complete fallacy. I was born into a family with many extended relatives. Happily, I have no choice but to realize I am part of one.

Biking on Ice

During this aptly named winter semester, a growing love of biking and a declining level of trust in my little car's abilities have led to a new skill, biking on ice. The first time I tried, three falls brought me to the end of the block, pretty bad if you consider that I live on the corner. Before the ice began to melt, however, I was ten miles strong. As I finish up my classes and apply for medical school in the summer, I find that I am biking on ice to the finish and the following rules apply:
1. Make sure you are comfortable. Good gloves and hat are not optional.
2. Before hitting ice, find your center of balance.
3. On ice,whatever you do, do not lose that center of balance
4. Do not change direction or try to accelerate on the ice.
5. Do not stop or slow down on the ice.
6. In short,do not do anything sudden on the ice.
7. Know that the ice will eventually melt, even in South Dakota.

Despite confusing pieces of advice and despite my own unjustified uncertainties, now is not the time to lose my center of balance or swerve.

My Third- World Budget

18 pounds of Texas oranges... 7.99
Brought some to a friend from Nepal,
she asked me to stay for lunch.
She asked me to take her to her aunt's house
We went and I gave this aunt some oranges,
Aunt insisted to give me two avocados and some pomegranate
I came home and brought some oranges to my housemate,
she invited me to dinner... lasagna
Next day, I made guacamole with the avocados,
invited my housemates to dinner.. fajitas!
They enjoyed; we laughed,
Then they invited me over the next two days;
pot roast, then chili
4 days of food (not counting all the oranges I ate)
...7.99

This is the magic I learned in a place where money does not account for wealth,
this is the apothecary's stone.
This is my budget;
give
and receive.