The Results of an Overloaded Brain

Before reading this post, look at the above map and find the UPI building. Find it? OK; please continue:

Last week there was a Presidential Scholars reception on the medical campus. It gave a chance for those of us at the medical school who received scholarships to meet the donors who made the scholarship possible and express our gratitude for them. I felt it was important for me to do that, as the scholarship I received was what made it possible for me to attend medical school at UC Denver:

When I interviewed at the school last fall, I fell in love with the school and the sunshine. At the Denver Airport, after the interview, I called Sundy and told her, "I really love it here. It's too bad it would never work out." The out-of-state tuition at UC Denver is one of the highest in the country, and I didn't think I could justify its cost when I could get in-state tuition at OHSU, the Oregon medical school. The acceptance to UC Denver came two weeks later. Sun and I were both excited about actually having a medical school acceptance after 4 years of trying, but we were still holding out for OHSU. However, a few weeks later, I received word of a UC Denver scholarship that would make tuition significantly less expensive, even compared to the in-state rates at OHSU. We had felt good about Denver all along; the scholarship was the final piece that fell into place and made our move here possible.

So, I greatly appreciated the scholarship and wanted to express that appreciation. I made plans to attend the reception, and since it was on campus, I decided to stay at school after classes and then just walk to the reception a few minutes before it started. I had received the address where the reception would be taking place in an earlier email, so I figured I could look up the address sometime during the day.

Then the day of the reception, I got reminder email. The email did not have an address, but it did say that the reception would be held in the UPI building, and referred me to the attached map to find it. I found the building on the lower right corner of the map (is that where you found it, too?) and mapped out my walk to the building. That evening, I started walking there with what I thought was plenty of time to arrive.

What I found, though, was a building under construction. I walked around it and thought that there was no way the reception could be held there. So I walked back to the education buildings (where I could get WiFi) and checked the email again. Sure enough, the building under construction was what was marked as the UPI building. I walked to the building again, now about 20 minutes late, and walked around. I found an opening in the construction fence and walked in. The building door adjacent to the fence opening was also open, so I walked in.

I spent the next 20 minutes wandering around a half-constructed, deserted building. On one floor there was a large room full of cubicles, but completely void of any person from whom to ask directions. Another floor had several rooms that could have qualified as reception halls, but the doors were all locked, and I could hear no one on the other side of them. It felt surreal, like I was part of a Twilight Zone episode, or of the Parable of the Ten Virgins - because I had not adequately prepared, I had to return to obtain the WiFi oil of knowledge and thus arrived too late, after the festivities had begun and the doors had been locked. Finally, I gave up.

I called and left semi-coherent messages for the organizer of the reception and the dean of student affairs so they would know that I hadn't just blown off the reception (I was just lost and really confused). I once again made the trek to the education buildings to write an email to the dean and more fully explain the situation. When opening up my email, I found a previous email from the dean that gave the address of the event: 13199 E Montview Blvd, on the other side of campus.

Yes, I had misread the map. The UPI building is actually the University Physicians, Inc. building, up in the top middle of the map. If I had written down the address earlier or checked the address before I left, I would have known. Whoops.

Apparently I was the only student who made the mistake. I arrived at the reception an hour late, and hastily (and sheepishly) explained the situation to the dean, who was attending the event. I could just feel everyone's eyes boring into me: "This is the type of student that received our scholarship money?" Also, I missed out on all the food.

I blame my confusion on the ambiguity of the email that was sent on the day of the event (which did not list the address or the full name of the building), but my ultimate excuse is the Human Body course I am in. The flood of information I am trying to absorb has overwhelmed the part of my brain I need to think clearly.

Medical School - First Week

Though we had a week of orientation prior, classes at the UC Denver School of Medicine officially started last week. So far, things are going all right (though we'll see if I still feel that way in three weeks after the first exam). The curriculum is arranged in blocks; for these first 9 weeks we will be covering anatomy, and after that physiology, pharmacology, and biochemistry in the alliterative "Molecules to Medicine" course.

One of the great things about medical school is that of focus. Because courses are taught in blocks and we students (the vast majority of us, at least - last week I spoke to a fellow student, a pharmacist, who is picking up shifts at a pharmacy on weekends) are not working, all of our energy can go into the current courses. That said, the sheer volume of material is almost overwhelming at times. These 9 weeks in anatomy comprise the entirety of anatomy we will receive over our medical training, and thus over the time we are learning everything - bony landmarks, muscles, blood vessels, nerves, ligaments, joints, fascias, ect., ect., ect. - that we will need to know as future physicians and surgeons.

The last anatomy class I had was my first semester of college - exactly 10 years ago. I took the class early to get it out of the way, but right now I regret the choice. Though terms are familiar - acromion, subscapularis, vagus - I usually don't remember to what they refer. Give me a few weeks, though, and I will (I hope).

The class structure is irregular right now. I've been told that later on in the year, the schedule is 4 hours of classes in the morning and 1-2 afternoons of classes. But right now we usually have classes in both the morning and the afternoon, usually instruction in the morning and anatomy lab or clinical skills (where we learn how to perform a physical exam) in the afternoons.

I am grateful for Sundays - time to step back and think about something other than medical school. I'm also grateful for Sundys - at least the one I'm married to. She cooks, cleans, drops me off, picks me up, makes flashcards, studies with me, and puts up with my moodiness. Only 17 of the 157 students in my class claim to be married - I feel sorry for the 140. I don't think I could make it without Sundy's support.

Tomorrow it is back to the books and cadaver lab (my first dissection is on Tuesday). Wish me luck!

Burlington

Burlington, Colorado is a town of 4,000 people 11 miles west of the Kansas/Colorado border. Right on I-70, many a traveler knows the place due to frequent blizzards during the winter months. Burlington offers safety from the storms of the plains. 

Burlington is also home to "the jewel of America," a fully restored, hand carved and painted carousel from 1906, which was originally purchased by a theme park in Denver but later bought by the Kit Carson County for about $2,000 when carousels started coming with horses that ride up and down.

I've just filled you in on why some might know Burlington. I know Burlington because of the Billingtons. My grandparents lived in Burlington, CO, for my entire childhood. This little farm town is like the Wonder Years of my memories. When we got to Denver, Tyler suggested we drive the 2 hours and change to get to this place that brings a smile to my face on mention. As we traveled across the flat lands, Tyler asked if he really had to ride the carousel. I was outraged he'd even think of not going.

It didn't take a lot of convincing once we arrived. The charm of the county fair grounds, the well-kept lawns, the 25 cent fair, and the historical museum describing the mysterious and complex history of the carousel's arrival and upkeep won Tyler's heart.

My heart was set on riding the hippocampus, the mermaid-tailed horse. I intentionally waited to get in line for the ride after a crowd of a dozen left so that I could be the first person on.

Here I am with the said hippocampus:

  

You'll notice that there are no pictures of me riding the hippocampus :(. Because the animals are all original with original paint, the rule is that once you pick your animal, you stay on it and cannot get on any others. If my plan to be the first person on would have worked, you would have seen that dreamy picture of me atop my childhood mare. But alas, a less than delightful child crept up in front of me as the gate up, handed his wooden token to the lady in charge, and ran straight to my beloved saying, "I'm going to ride this one!" Curses!

Tyler convinced me that my life was not over and I could still ride and have a good time. Nostalgia really does bring out the child in me :). We picked a family of giraffes instead. Tyler rode the papa:

 I rode the Mama:

And someday. . . that baby giraffe will have a rider, too.

Just down the country rode from the fair grounds is the Burlington LDS chapel, a tiny building filled with too many beautiful memories to enumerate. Summer mowings, winter craft bazaars, Sunday meals, testimonies rich in love. 

And of course, Grandma and Papa Billington's house. The one I have most memories in, on Pomeroy Street:

 And the one where I lived for a summer. I survived a tornado in this house (in the bathtub with a mattress atop my sweet 5th grade head :):

We went to Pizza Hut for lunch (Burlington never was known for its cuisine), drove past the middle and high school, and stopped by the pool, another spot full of summer memories. Sadly, the park across the street with the space ship is no longer. I guess it was a little old, but otherwise, the place is as I remember it, minus all the loved ones.

White Coat

August 10, 2012--a day to go down in history. Tyler was inducted into medical school with the University of Colorado's official White Coat Ceremony. I must admit, the last 4 years of pain-staking frustrations, work, and determination (mostly on Tyler's part but some on mine, too) made this day a sacred experience.

We (all the families of the 157 new students) sat in the heat of the Colorado morning sun as we heard from the Dean of the School of Medicine and numerous other impressive people who do impressive things, just waiting for the moment when our special student crossed the stage to be handed their first stethoscope and helped into the blessed, crisp and clean coat of medicine. 

Here is a picture of Tyler, eagerly handing his coat to the good doctor (he never was a fan of public attention):

 

 Here he is walking to sign the honor code in his new coat:

 It didn't all hit me until I got a view of him from the front, stethoscope hanging naturally around his neck, that he made it: he fought for it, and he is here. I am grateful for my sunglasses that hid my tears and that I could keep my sobs silent.

(He is so classy, he even thought to match his tie to the chairs).

I know this is just the beginning, but like the speaker who challenged the students to continue finding the joy in their journey, I believe in this doctor-to-be, in his capacity to show mix compassion with integrity. We'll have bumps and hard times for sure, but this moment was surreal, one that assures me that God hears prayers and rewards the efforts of those who don't give up.

P.S.-- This campus used to be an old Army base which housed the Fitzsimmons Hospital. That hospital is now the administration building. It was the only building I recognized, from about 25 years ago, when Lacey Jean was born. Here's to Lacey's birthplace! Good things happen in Aurora :).

A Barberian Moment

The climax of Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings may be one of the most sublimely beautiful in all string-instrument literature. Leading up to it, the slow, writhing theme ascends and descends through the orchestra, moving almost seamlessly through the cellos, violas, and violins, always reaching for some unknown apex but never quite attaining it. Then, after the instruments have slowly moved up in their range, they reach the highest limits of their register - the cellos at the end of their fingerboard, the first violins so high that performers have to count ledger lines to find their notes. They come to rest on the inverted tonic chord. That fortissimo floating minor chord moves to a Gb major chord, and the phrase terminates with an unusual cadence, a Cb chord with a clashing major seventh resolving to Fb major, while the orchestra maintains the elevated dynamics. That last chord is held for a long, fermata-ed 6 beats before it is released, and then the orchestra holds a momentary silence - a "grand pause."


There is something triumphantly transcendent about those few chords, with their high register and inverted voicing (meaning the main note of the chord is not the lowest note heard). After a tortuously slow rise, moving one step back for every two steps forward, the music reaches its destination, the sonorous summit.


But the climax is all too brief, and its terminal grand pause is followed several repetitions of its closing cadence, transposed, subdued, and lowered. It is almost as if the orchestra is tries, valiantly but futilely, to recreate that gloriously climactic moment before resigning itself to continuing on with the rest of the music.

For Sundy and me, this last week has been reminiscent of a Barberian climax, a time we have been able to spend together, with no pressing worries or cares. We have gone on multiple walks, visited Denver landmarks, eaten out, went on a road trip to eastern Colorado, and just sat and talk, enjoying each others' company. The time has been a blessing, a time for us to draw closer as a couple. That will end tonight, though, with a cadence of Sundy's homemade berry crumble and vanilla ice cream. Tomorrow we will move on to the next part of our lives' song - that of a medical student couple. Wish us luck.