Jesus christ, two weeks? really?

September 19, 2010

I’m back… If this blog were a child I would be an absentee baby-daddy who “forgot” to put the check in the mail. Or, some corporate lawyer who loves his job more than his family and misses baseball games/piano recitals/bar mitzvahs… Either way, this blog is going to end up in therapy twenty years from now because it needs to work out abandonment issues. Sorry, blog. I hope you forgive me.

Speaking of forgiveness, yesterday was Yom Kippur. This is a great holiday. You eat two huge meals at either end.  And – I can’t believe I’m saying this – synagogue isn’t all that bad. Sing along, or zone out for a few minutes, and every once in a while there might be a a little wisdom passed along. When I was a kid, services were the ultimate torture. To give you an idea of my coping mechanisms, there are 1052 tiles on the ceiling of the basement chapel where youth service was held. Also, I am an expert at crossing my eyes, making shadow puppets, and irritating my little brother

This year’s Yom Kipper featured an enormous potluck at a friend’s house; thanks Anna and Nat for hosting. Also – overdue shout out to Anna who has a cool new blog. The other – incredible – dinner was at my friend Lisa’s. Somehow we ended up with a living room full of Israelis, including the cantor, who schooled us on marriage, travel, and how to sing your ass off.

As for med school (can’t forget that) – everyday I’ve had the following mental routine. I wake up feeling motivated. Get dressed, read my horoscope on the subway, and wonder at what point in my career I can wear jeans to work again. Get to the hospital, rush to my patients room, chat with her about how many times she peed last night, worry that I’m not sure what’s wrong with her; I have ten to fifteen minutes of self-doubt, then report to my residents for rounds. For the rest of the morning my mind bounces between thoughts in a pinball-like pattern:  1) “I’ve chosen the wrong profession” 2) “Focus – the attending is saying something important” 3) “How did my friend remember that? I don’t remember ever learning that last year…” 4) “OMG I’m turning into my dad” 5) “Why can’t I remember the diuretic drugs? I swear I knew them. Maybe I have a brain tumor… glioblastoma multiforme?”

At some point in the afternoon I convince myself (or some else convinces me) that it’s okay to not know everything, that this is all happening for a reason, and that I can learn from these experiences… Once I’ve talked myself off the ledge, I go home try to study, set out my stuff for tomorrow, and go to bed thinking the next day will be a clean slate. Lather rinse repeat.

So, that’s where we’re at. And again, I apologize for absence. It’ll never happen again, baby. I swear.

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