Just another collection of pictures from my past week in Xela:
More to come.
Until then,
K
Just another collection of pictures from my past week in Xela:
More to come.
Until then,
K
Two weeks down, two weeks to go in Xela, so I guess it’s about time that I talk about my school here!
I chose this school relatively arbitrarily off of a list of programs my medical school already supported, and I’m so, so glad I did. My school, Pop Wuj, has been fantastic and exactly what I needed to learn medicine and Spanish simultaneously.
My afternoons are jam-packed with Spanish. Each day from 2-6 PM, I receive one-on-one language tutoring, which is fantastic, because my learning is tailored to my specific needs. Typically, we spend an hour on grammar, an hour on medical vocabulary, and the remaining time either reading Spanish stories aloud or conversing. I’m probably a really difficult student, because I tend to be pretty shy at baseline, so when you add in the constant struggle of a foreign language, I’m not super talkative. Regardless, I’ve been learning a ton and I can barely imagine where my Spanish will be in two more weeks!
My mornings, however, are way more fun. On Mondays and Thursdays, we have medical lectures on tropical disease, nutrition, or other common problems in Guatemala, while the other mornings are dedicated to clinic.
On Tuesdays and Fridays, we run clinic at our school. It’s a free clinic, and patients line up even before 7 AM to secure an appointment with the doctors. The clinic is set up and runs similarly to those in the US, but operates on donated medicines from an American NGO, so when the medicines run out, it’s time for Plan B. Students are responsible for triage (taking vital signs and getting a basic history) and consults (the actual patient visit) with the help of two Guatemalan physicians who are actually around the same age as me! I have to apologize for not having pictures of the school clinic yet… it’s a busy place!
This Wednesday, I traveled to mobile clinic in “Alaska.” Okay, so obviously, I didn’t really hop on a microbus to Alaska (would I even be there yet?), but that is the nickname of a small community called Xeabaj that was forced to rebuild its entire community after a hurricane several years ago:
Again, the poverty was palpable; we traveled down bumpy, dusty, motion-sickness-inducing roads to the middle of nowhere and held our clinic in a one-room concrete building:
Here, we’re limited in medications (we were forced to prescribe an antibiotic that doesn’t cover skin bacteria super well for an abscess!) and privacy (lacking the ability to perform a pelvic exam, we had to treat a woman for both urinary tract infection and vaginitis). Working at a safety net hospital in the US sometimes feels like working with few resources, but this experience has been an incredible reminder that much can be accomplished with even less!
Having completed my first week here, including a full day of simply wandering around the streets of Xela, I figure it’s time to share a glimpse of my life here (minus school, which I’ll talk more about later this week after I’ve had my first clinic). So, without further ado, here’s Xela in pictures!
Tomorrow will be my first actual clinic here, now that we’ve had several days of teaching on Mayan medicine and tropical diseases. More on that soon!
Until then,
K
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to join my school on one of its social missions: to build safe stoves for the families of rural Guatemala. In many homes, families are cooking over open fires, which is problematic for a multitude of reasons. There’s the obvious fire hazard, along with the threat of respiratory disease due to smoke inhalation, and also the less obvious fact that an open fire doesn’t allow control of the heat, so much of it is lost, requiring more wood or other fuel to cook the same amount of food.
My school channels much of its tuition into buying the supplies for these stoves, and the students volunteer to provide the labor once per week.
The day began with my first chicken bus ride!
Basically, a chicken bus is a school bus clad in colorful designs or cartoon characters jam-packed with native Guatemalans in local dress. I was kind of bummed because the one that we took was unfortunately just plain yellow, but I have to admit I never thought I’d be riding a school bus again!
As the bus headed farther and farther outside of the city, the change in socioeconomic status was visible. The scenery transformed from colorful storefronts and houses to dilapidated sheds without doors in fields of dust:
Our group of four arrived at a small little home barely larger than my bedroom in the US, which was home to a couple and their three sons, ranging in age from 1-6 years old. There were stacks of concrete bricks, sand, and concrete mix waiting for us, but we almost immediately ran into a problem: the family did not have a water source in their home.
Upon venturing across the neighborhood a few times to refill buckets of water at a neighbor’s house, we got to work: soaking the bricks so they would adhere to the cement. Mixing cement. Stacking the bricks in a precisely measured and leveled rectangle.
And my favorite job: chopping apart concrete bricks with a machete.
In the end, we’d made this:
There’s no doubt that the extreme poverty of this family was striking, but what stood out even more is their generosity. While six year olds in America have no qualms asking for a laundry list of items for Christmas, the six year old in this house divided his single cookie into five parts: one for himself and each of four volunteers.
Why is it that people with nothing share so willingly, while people with everything hold on tight?
Yesterday, I was awake for 20 hours straight, a feat reminiscent of my surgery rotation. But at least this time, there was no pre-rounding, no vitals to be recorded, and no scrubbing into operations.
This time, I was waking up at 2:30 AM for this:
Even though it was cloudy (apparently normally, it’s also really foggy), there was something incredible about sitting at the top of a Mayan temple watching the sky change colors over the trees, with a chorus of colorful birds and howler monkeys around you. (Howler monkeys are unbelievably loud!!)
And thus began our trip to Tikal, an impressive Mayan ruin situated in northern Guatemala. If the above scene seems vaguely familiar, it’s because a similar shot is featured in Star Wars Episode IV… awesome!
These sprawling ruins are the remains of what was once the capital of a booming Mayan civilization, and features six very large temples among a collection of causeways, plazas, and the acropolis. Three restored temples may be climbed, while most other structures are closed to the public, although, shhh!: our guide let us step into one of the palaces, where we were greeted by bats!
After a long morning of exploring the ruins, we were grateful for a relaxing evening in beautiful Flores, a charming island town just an hour away from the ruins. How freaking cute is it?!
Tonight, I take off for Guatemala City and will catch a morning bus up to Xela, where I’ll make my home for the next four weeks. I’m so excited to meet my host family, visit the medical clinic I’ll be working in, and start really learning Spanish!
Until then,
K
It’s Medical Monday again, so obviously that means I come out of the woodwork to introduce myself. This is me:
Okay, so that’s not always me. It’s me when I’m in the midst of my second week of night shift for my pediatric subinternship. If that’s not an excuse for an extended absence, I’m not sure what is. At this point, even coffee gets me to about here:
And of course, I’m also working on my residency applications right now, which makes me look something like this, even on a good day:
But even among the hustle and bustle, I’ve been hoarding ideas for future blog posts. Like about the time that an elderly veteran in ophthalmology clinic decided to read my palm. Or about how I finally managed to write a personal statement after months of procrastination. Or about my patient who disappeared off the floor at 1 AM. Or about narrowing down which residency I want to pursue (!).
Really, I’m going to write about all of that. Someday.
But right now, all I can think about is sleep.
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It’s the first anniversary of Medical Mondays, and I am so grateful for the efforts of Emma and Jane over the past year. It’s been so much fun to connect with other medical student/medical wives/medical professionals in the blogosphere. The posts shared each week remind me that I’m not alone in the hectic world of medicine, enlighten me on the various roles played by different staff in the medical system, and provide advice on everything from raising children as a physician to the latest in interview suit fashion. While I hop on into my bed, I highly recommend you hop on over to their blogs to meet the other fabulous participants of MM.
This morning, I attended an anesthesia resident lecture, led by one of the chief residents with input from a well-respected and extremely knowledgable attending.
And it’s a great educational opportunity and I’m grateful for the opportunity to work with this man… but I’ve spent the first few days of my surgical subspecialty trying to place why his voice sounds so familiar.
And then it hit me. He sounds exactly like:
And now I have to spend the remaining 1.5 weeks trying not to giggle at the image of Puss in Boots as an attending.
…life as a fourth year is SO hard.
During my first year of medical school, a textbook author named Barbara Fadem played a huge role in my education. An expert on behavioral health, Barbara guided us in how to address defense mechanisms, recognize substance abuse, and approach complex ethical issues.
For whatever reason, one particular line from her textbook has always stood out in my mind:
This concept has always made me chuckle at its seeming absurdity, because who in an urban environment even raises chickens, let alone thinks to package their eggs up for their doctor’s appointment?
But this week, my jaw dropped as I walked into a patient room.
Because there, on the counter, with “Mindy’s Farm” scribbled on top, was this:
“Mindy,” I began, giggling. “You have no idea how appropriate this gift is.”
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Also, I’m taking this opportunity to wish a very happy Father’s Day to the man who always read me countless stories and taught me to ride my bike and to drive, who still washes my car and changes my oil, answers my frantic 6 AM phone calls when my car door freezes shut, and supports me no matter what. Love you, Dad!
I interrupt my Internal Medicine Shelf exam / USMLE Step 2 studying to bring you a very important message:
…I just walked (okay, I’ll be honest, danced) out of the hospital for the LAST time as a third year.
And the next time I don my white coat and enter the hospital, I’ll be a fourth year.
…I can’t even believe it.
Excuse me while I take a moment to squeal:
I did it! I did it! I did it! It’s over! I’m no longer the low man on the totem pole! I’m a fourth year! I did it! So happy, so happy, SO FREAKING HAPPY.
Andddd back to work.
<3, K
As you may or may not know, tomorrow is one of the biggest days for medical students all across the country: Match Day.
The Match is a process by which graduating fourth year medical students are placed into open residency positions in what is hopefully a program of their choice. For those of you unfamiliar, here’s a quick summary:
To start, students select and apply to however many programs they deem necessary for them to find work in their chosen field. They’re invited to interview with these programs, and then following all interviews, students make a top ten or top twelve or top sixty gajillion list of programs in the order of their preference.
Meanwhile, all of the residency programs are doing essentially the same thing; they’re creating lists of interviewed applicants, ranked from most to least desirable.
And then, what I like to picture as a magical box with a hamster spinning on a wheel inside compares all of the lists from all of the students and all of the programs across the country and “matches” everyone to a future residency program.
The magical box-dwelling hamster will always choose on the side of the student if possible. For example, if your top ranked program has 30 open positions and you’re 32nd on their list (but you’re first on Program #3’s list!), you will still get to go to that program as long as at least two individuals higher on that list received placement elsewhere. If all 30 students ahead of you also listed said program first, then hopefully you’ll have better luck at Program #2. And if none of your programs want you, you’ll get a not-so-friendly email suggesting you try to scrounge up one of the leftover positions in the week leading up to Match, but let’s not talk about that…
And then, on Match Day, medical students across the nation gather together in champagne-filled parties to open essentially the most life-altering fortune cookies of their lives, and there’s lots of screaming and tears of joy (or sorrow) as everyone learns their fate together.
…this is an absurdly long post for two simple points:
1. My Match Day is precisely one year from today, and yet I still don’t know what I’m going to apply for. Holy nerves, Batman!
2. Good luck to all my fourth year classmates, fellow bloggers, and fellow medical students! I’ll be thinking good thoughts for you all tomorrow!
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PS: For those of you having the same “OH NO, HOW WILL I LIVE WITHOUT READING I’S AND O’S ON MY GOOGLE READER?!” fit that I am, never fear: you can still follow me on Bloglovin.