My Adventure Through Medicine Part 1: In the Beginning

The other day, I was reminded about how much I actually do love the field of medicine. Some days, it feels working in medicine isn't worth it. It can be overwhelming, sometimes your patients are the scum of the Earth, and minor mistakes can be devastating. Bad days in medicine can really have a wearing and lasting effect on you. But as I said, I had a gleeful reminder of why I'm in the right place.

Someone had recently made the unfortunate mistake of asking how I got to this point. I warned them, it was a long and boring story that stretches mainly over the last 7 years but has been a highlight throughout my life. But the person insisted I tell the story anyway. I didn't hold up my end of the bargain and chose not to tell the story. To tell a real detailed story of my previous inspiration and jobs through medicine, someone would have to read it. My monotonous voice kills storytelling, plus so many memories get washed away when you wing it on the spot. Nonetheless, this forced me to REALLY think back on how I got here. What brought me to this point and what has pushed me further. It was something I hadn't really put too much thought into recently.

So here it is, my series of adventures through medicine for those who care to know.



My mom and dad have always worked in a hospital. Their interest in medicine was probably the main reason I even became interested. My dad had always had an interest since he was young. He started working as a CNA when he graduated high school at a nursing home in Idaho Falls. He eventually met my mom there who was also a CNA at the time. My mom was also drawn to the prospects of medicine. They both seemed to share a love for caring for others and the challenges that came with it. My dad wanted to be a doctor and my mom wanted to be a nurse or a radiology tech.

Then I came along..................That put a small hold on their dreams. We moved to Utah where my dad got a job at LDS Hospital back when it was a level one trauma center. My mom got a job at Cottonwood Hospital in radiology.  My dad worked everywhere during his long tenure there. He worked as an artline tech, an anesthesia monitoring tech, blood gas tech and a CNA. He worked mostly graveyards during the week. I didn't get to see him much as a kid. When I did see him, he would always be eager to tell me about all the cool stuff he had seen. I would hear stories about traumas, procedures, crazy patients and types of doctors. I was just a kid so the stories weren't very graphic. If I had questions about something medical, he had no problem answering them. In fact, he practically always answered them with a lot of enthusiasm. The more I heard about these stories, the more I loved it. I wanted more. My mom would always try to make trips up to my dads work for a visit. I loved going every time. I loved the feel and smell of the hospital. The way everyone walked around with meaning and importance. The vibe where it felt like something big and important was happening. I remember these exact feelings. My mom would also take me to her work in radiology. She would show me all the cool pictures of X-rays, MRI's and CT scans. I fell in love with the notion of taking pictures of the inside of the body. I loved the technology and how futuristic it seemed.

When I was in kindergarten, my parents bought me a book about the body for kids. I must have went through those pages a million times. It was my favorite book for a lot of years.  Smaller events in my life pushed me along the medical path. In first grade I did a report on the heart. My dad was more than enthusiastic to help with this. He borrowed a bunch of equipment from the hospital to help my report be ridiculously accurate for just a first grade presentation. I had an old telemetry monitor at my disposal to show what an ECG looked like, an old doppler, and an awesome model of the heart.

 I found a different picture a while ago of me actually doing the presentation. But I couldn't find it again so I could post it.

For a while, I was disinterested in medicine. I loved it when a kids shows on PBS would do segments about the body and health. I loved it when I learned about that stuff in class for science. But it was rare and not very often. I had ambitions to become a pilot for a while, or even join the military. I was playing basketball a lot and felt that an NBA all star career was for me. (I didn't realize I was too white to be in the NBA) My child mind was not really thinking of the consequences of those outcomes.

When I was about 13, I went to a health science fair that LDS Hospital did every few years. My dad had mentioned it to me about it casually. I really wanted to go when I heard about it. My dad, always eager to spark my interest in medicine, pulled me and my friend out of school the next day so I could go to it. It was an amazing experience that really opened my eyes to the subject again. We could go through an OR suite. Look at airway and dialysis equipment. Carve our names with an argon laser on popsicle stick. I held a human brain, an eye ball, and heart all in the same day. They had breast implants that we could touch. (After touching/fondling the various sizes of silicone breast implants, I had coyly turned to my friend who was with me and said "I just made it to 3rd base." My dad tried to pretend my comment wasn't funny and attempted to scold me for it. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it)

Even though I was extremely interested in medicine, I didn't want to act too interested. My dad really wanted me to do something medical. However, I was at a passively rebellious phase and decided that I was never going to do anything medical. Despite this, my mom had gotten me a job when I was 14 at the eye office she worked at. I only cleaned the place every Sunday when no one was there for 60 dollars a month. My dad had hoped that being exposed to the medical instruments and eye models would make me interested again. This actually worked but I never admitted it to my parents. Instead, I saved the $60 a month I earned for almost a year and bought a drum set. This led me to start a band with my good friends for almost 5 years. But that's a WAY different story.

By the time I got to high school, I was 99% focused on my band. I didn't want anything to do with medicine.....kind of. I took 2 health classes my sophomore year. I loved them. I excelled at them. In my free time I would read the news about health science so I could learn more about it. Amongst my friends, I was always known to know the most about health stuff. People would ask me health questions all the time. If I didn't know the answer, I would find ways to get the answer. I found that I enjoyed solving those types of problems and helping people. I don't want to make this sound as though I was some sort of genius. Most of the questions I answered were simple and stupid.

I started to show interest in medicine a little more. But mostly privately to my dad. My dad encouraged me to get an entry level job at a hospital to get my foot in the door. I didn't think it was possible to get a job at  hospital so young.

Johnny Walker, MD?

I had a dream again. I was a doctor walking the halls of a seemingly never-ending hallway. The fluorescent lighting was nearly blinding as I passed unfamiliar faces. My white lab coat lightly drifted in the air as I kept pace. (I never really found wearing the white coat appealing, but I guess it was the only way my dream could let me know I was a doctor.....or a mad scientist. It wasn't terribly specific but the surrounding details made it seem as though I was a doctor)

Next thing I knew, I was shocking a patient with the old school paddles in a code. (I have yet to see those actually used) Finally, some familiar faces from work were surrounding me. The patient came back to life like they do in the TV shows. I walked out of the room and casually strode in to another patients room to sew a toe back on to a patient. It was like a movie without words. I was stern and silent. Nobody seemed to want to talk. (Maybe I was an asshole doctor)

Despite the oddities, it felt so natural. It felt as though, this is the way I've always done things. The power. The knowledge. As if nothing else ever mattered. Do you ever suddenly realize you're in a dream? It doesn't happen often, but this was one of those times. Usually when you realize it, it doesn't last much longer. It happened to me. I realized it was nothing more than a dream.

But why did it have to be just a dream? Why can't I make that a reality? That's the first question I asked myself when I had awoke. I looked around for a moment to gather my surroundings. My room suddenly felt confining. Why couldn't I be a doctor anyway? My personal hang-ups? Pride? Ethic? Why am I so incapable of being a doctor if all that's holding me back is me?

It feels like lately, I've been getting cosmic [coincidental] signs to be a doctor. In reality, I'm likely just eating the power of suggestion since the subject has been on my mind so often lately. Everyone has seemed to bring it up. My dad, who has been a huge proponent of me being a doctor from day one brought it up yesterday. I suddenly felt like I could do it. For real this time.

I have a million reasons to want to be a doctor. Yet I'm still afraid of failure as it feels impending rather than just optional. My ego's desires can't put away the thought of "John Walker, MD" or "Dr. Walker." My soft side can't put away the thoughts of doing good for the grateful and ungrateful alike. My intellectual side can't turn away from the challenge it presents with competition and stimulation. Yet my entire self cowers at the remote prospect of failure and that trying again would only lead to more hurt.

As each day passes, I feel like this is something more I want to do...........again. And yet, as each day passes, I feel like I might be wasting my time again.

Overdue Update

So I had a bit of a hiatus from this blog. I didn't write the entire month of July. I was in fact busy. So for those who were itching to see what's going on in my life and didn't get their fix, sorry. (I don't think there is actually anyone who cared that much, but play along anyway)

July was a crazy month. I won't go into insane details but I'll summarize it for you.

Two of my best friends left that month. My best friend Jeff went off to Chicago to attend med school and my other friend Kevin went off to Washington to attend law school. I miss them already. I was supposed to go to Chicago with Jeff on a sweet road trip across country. I was in the middle of writing a blog about it, but it pissed me off too much so I scrapped it. I'm sure most people have already heard the story, and those who haven't have probably figured out the trip didn't happen anyway. The car broke down in Denver, and we had to fly back 12 hours later (long story short). I worked a lot to try to keep my income up. I lost a ton of weight too. I lost 25 lbs collectively by the end of July. (That's combining the months of June and July, so don't worry, I don't have an eating disorder.) I worked out a lot and have gotten in the best shape I've been in since high school. The last time I weighed that much was 2 years ago when I lost weight with Brennon. Now I'm below that weight. So currently, I'm the lightest I've been since I was 19. I'm not too far off from my actual weight that I was when I graduated high school. I have really gotten into my health and fitness. My body feels great. I feel more confident about myself. I feel less blue most days. I just overall feel great.

I've also been shopping for a new car. I've been looking at Jeep Wranglers a little more seriously now. I've test drove a few and have enjoyed it. My Nissan Sentra is an awesome car. I have had no problems with it. But I felt it was time for a change to something new. I want something that can handle relatively anything. Weather, dirt roads, mountains, climbing steep hills. A car that can do it all. Yes, the gas mileage sucks a little. But I will feel better driving in the winter. I hate winter. I hate snow. I hate driving in the snow. I hate being cold. So really, this is a better choice without getting a truck. I don't need a truck since I won't use all of it's useful utilities. But a little bit of engine muscle never hurt anyone (except for mother nature, the ozone, and all living life. No big deal). I have been doing battle with salesmen for over a month now. I've been putting my "not putting up with shit" skills to the test. I learned how to shop for cars from the best. My dad and grandpa are legendary car shoppers. They are like stone when it comes to getting what they want. I have done my best to do so myself. I'm hoping I can get the car I want for the price I want with a little diplomacy and hard bargaining. (On a side note, I have crazy theories that my family is Jewish somewhere down the line. We love to really save money where it counts and will fight for it relentlessly, if not brutally.)

School starts in a couple of weeks. Bleh. Can't say I'm really looking forward to that, but what do you do? It's gotta be done. I have to attend a family reunion for my mom's side of the family in New Mexico Labor Day weekend. I have mixed feelings about that trip. I won't get into that though. It should be fun for the most part. I want to plan a vacation to Chicago to make up for the terrible misadventure that happened in July. I don't think I'll get so lucky since money will be tight this fall, as it always is when school starts. I got a new job at Park City ER as a PRN gig to supplement my income. I can just add it to the list of hospitals I've worked at. Sweet. I think it will be a good job. It seems friendly, the hospital is nice and they see real patients most of the time. Seems like a winning combination to me. Additionally, I'm somewhat worried about the full time job I have at LDSH. The hospital is showing signs of going under. They are having a meeting tomorrow about how they can cut tech hours. I worry that my job will be up on the chopping block soon if things don't improve. It's a shame too. I really like the hospital I work at. Awesome people, good hours, familiarity. It's pretty sweet. But if they are going to cut my hours and increase my shifts, that will certainly cause problems for me. We will see. Perhaps I'm just paranoid. Or I'm just realistic. Reality blows sometimes (profound statement right?)

Well, there you have it. The update to my seemingly insipid lifestyle. It's a pretty good life, but it's hard to sugarcoat it so people will find it interesting to read. Even my vocabulary can't save the boringness of my blog. But that's ok. It's nice to just write anyway. It's one of my outlets sometimes. (of course it's an outlet! If you haven't read blogs about me bitchin' about everything in my life to blow off steam, then consider yourself lucky.)

Any case, life is good. Summer is great. My health has improved. I need a vacation. That is the full summary of this blog in case you just scrolled down to the bottom hoping for a summary so you didn't have to read the whole thing.

Word.

The Drug I Can't Put Down

If you read the title hoping to read a juicy blog about a secret addiction to crack and heroin, you needn't read any longer. As that is not the case. Sorry :(

I should really start tagging blogs like this one as "whining about which path to take with my medical career." I guarantee over half of my blogs that I've written the past 2 years would show up.

This drug I speak of, the addiction I hold dear, is the seemingly impossible dream of being a doctor. Last week, a doctor I work with brought it up. They happened to bring up me going pre-med again. Truthfully, I hadn't thought of it in close to year. I had a harsh realization about my work ethic with school and my handicaps getting to certain points in life. I gave up the pre-med game and accepted that nursing was the route I would need to go realistically. There is nothing wrong with nursing by the way. Nursing rocks! But I really wanted to go to med school first. Anyway, having realized my failures and faults with pre-med, I switched to nursing and didn't look back. It hurt too much to look back at my wounded pride and failure. However, ever since that doctor I work with brought it up, my mind has been saturated with the thought of wanting to be a doctor again. It seems wherever I turn, something reminds me of this buried desire. TV even seems to be giving me cosmic [coincidental] signs about it. I've been watching a lot of "Trauma Life in the ER" on the Discovery Health Channel. What a wonderful show. Nurses and friends have brought it up a lot lately too over the past month. Every time I go to work now I seem to focus more on what the doctor is doing. I look at the doctors with envy wondering "Can I do it?"

Of course I've considered my other options in medicine, such as nursing (ER, Critical Care, Life Flight) or physician assistant. I feel my personality and ambition is well suited for those fields. But I often feel like that deep inside, I may not be happy with the outcome. Would I be happy with doing less than I wanted? The appealing thing about being a doctor is the vast amount of knowledge I would have. Being in control. Making real decisions. Doing real procedures. I love those aspects so much. It's honestly ridiculous how appealing that is to me.

But then reality checks in. My school ethic is crappy at best. My motivation is frail and fickle. I feel too old to do this now when I feel like I should have done it right the first time a long time ago. My chances of success are low. I'm tired of the position I'm in now and want to move on. etc, etc, etc. So much comes to mind when being confronted with these painful facts. And yet, I keep coming back to the same conclusion: Just do it! As if it were that easy. Logically speaking, it would seem like the right thing to do. It's where my passion and heart feel like that's where I need to be/should be. So many times have I left the pre-med game, then come back, faced failure only to return for more punishment. Why am I so pathetic? All the wishing in the world couldn't make me a doctor. Only the workload can. I'm stuck in career limbo. Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? What do I want to do?

The people I respect and trust the most believe I can. But they are my friends, and it is a friend's job to believe in you, after all. I feel like I let down the people who believe I can do this. In the end, it doesn't matter what they think anyway. In the end, it comes down to me getting off my ass and finally doing it right. I worry if my ambition is misguided or if my friend's judgment is clouded by their need to help a friend out.

But no matter what, I keep coming back to the pre-med discussion like a heroin addict going to their 80th rehab visit. It's seriously that powerful. It has a lure that I cannot deny. It would be absurd for me to say, that this isn't what I want, and I can't do the job. I know I can do the job. But getting there is the hard part. It's hard for a good reason obviously. There is a lot of wishy-washy imbeciles out there who should never be doctors in any universe. You have to weed out the idiots somehow. Yet, I am one of those idiots who has been weeded out repeatedly. I keep coming back like herpes, or MRSA, or the flu. I'm that relentless. The weed that can't be killed or burned out.

If it's so hard to let go because it's so damn appealing, why can't I just buckle up and do it right?

The Men My Child-Self Wanted Me To Be When I "Grew Up"

My mom has been looking through old pictures of family for the upcoming family reunion in New Mexico. She has found many memories I have long forgot about. The ones that struck me the most were the ones of when I was in elementary school. Every grade seemed to have an assignment about what we wanted to be when we grew up. Most kids are never sure on what they want to be. It was funny to see the things that I wanted to be. By today's standards, I would never be able to do half the jobs I wanted.

Here is a sampling of a few of the jobs I wanted as a kid.

An Olympic Gymnast
This notion is so absurd that I laughed when I saw that on the paper. I was obsessed with Star Wars as a kid and wanted to do all the cool flips that Luke Skywalker could. I was jealous. Me being a gymnast now is insane. I'm so clumsy I would likely have accidentally killed myself in the first week of gymnastics class. Plus the whole flexibility thing. Yeah........

A Police Officer
I have nothing but the greatest respect for the men and women in law enforcement. They do a tough job for the greater good of our population and are still seen as "the bad guy" by most people. However, I could never do their job. I don't have the mettle to kick that kind of ass. I'm probably one of the least intimidating people out there. I'm short and fairly young looking. Criminals would have a hard time resisting the urge to kick my ass just for fun.

A Cartoon Writer
This meant I would have to learn how to draw. When I was six, I thought I was excellent at drawing. When I was 8, I realized I sucked at it. I had a desire to learn how to draw. I was jealous of my friends who could draw really well at a young age. They knew how to make something look kind of 3D. I could barely master the concept of the stick figure. This all stemmed from my great love for cartoons. It wasn't until high school where I briefly considered becoming a cartoon writer in a different sense: writing scripts and story lines. That dream quickly died.

NBA Basketball Player
I think every boy who was involved with sports fantasized frequently about being on a professional team. My friend David and I played basketball non-stop till middle school's end. I wasn't great at basketball. But I was pretty good according to my coaches. I started on every team I played. But I failed to get on the middle school team and realized I was mediocre on the offense. I also realized how competitive I was. Not against other people but against myself. I'm the one who brought me down every time I messed up. I wasn't competitive against other people so much. But when people got cocky competitive against me, I hated the game. It frustrated me so badly. I soon came to hate sports because of those people. I was ok being hard on myself because I still enjoyed the game. But the second I started playing with cocky, shit talking douchebags, that's when I hated the game. It was no longer fun to play because of people like that.

A Pilot
The last half of elementary school, I was obsessed with flying a plane. I liked military stuff. I had dreams of joining the army or the air force flying sweet fighter jets. My dad was supportive of this notion but also knew I was terrible at math. He would tell me, "That's great you want to be a pilot, but remember it takes a lot of math. If you master math, you can be a pilot." After hearing that a few dozen times, I too realized my stunning handicap at math. My dreams of flying were shattered by my retardation of mathematics. A part of me thinks that maybe some day, way down the road, I can get my private pilot's license. A day when I'm done with school and successful. It's probably for the better that I'm not flying multi-million dollar jet liners with hundreds of people on board. Really.

Military Officer
I had considered the marines in early high school. I didn't care for school and did mediocre to poorly in my classes during those years. I cared about nothing. The notion of combat was appealing to me. The notion of being in charge of people was much more appealing. There was 3 times where I had almost signed up for the army, marines or navy. I didn't go through with it. I had this thing about dying.......Yeah. Didn't want to die. So I scrapped that idea.

Rock Star!
In high 9th grade I started to learn how to play the drums. I loved it. I soon formed my own band that lasted for 4 years. That was an amazing part of my life. School suffered as a result. We had a pretty good amount of success with the band. Like everyone else who forms a band, everyone almost immediately has grandiose dreams of being signed on a big label, going on tour, and meeting a ton of chicks. Sweet! The band broke up near the end of my senior year. My dreams were shattered but my spirit not yet broken. For two years I was a fill in temporary drummer for sever bands and worked at the music shop local. I had a brief ideal of being a music producer but realized how crazy that was and my low likelihood of success.

How I got to the point I am now, is a completely long and boring story. Maybe a different blog will be made about that. And I'm sure I've forgotten about many other careers I thought I could do. If I think of any, I will be sure to post them.

Soft Spot II

Other things I have a soft spot for.

1. VW Buses. It was my boyhood dream car and eventually owned one when I was 19. It was the coolest car I have owned to date. And perhaps the funnest (aside from fixing it every 5 days or less). I couldn't afford to keep it anymore. But every time I see one now, my nostalgic side tugs at me quite a bit. It makes me miss my old one and makes me yearn to own a similar one in the future. (Not likely)

2. Breakfast foods. Breakfast foods are great. They are always cheap, easy to make and freaking delicious! Having coffee or hot chocolate with pancakes or french toast is the best thing ever. It always reminds me of having breakfast with my grandpa and uncles every time I visited them in Idaho. I felt like I was one of the men in the group every time. Breakfast foods never fail to bring a smile to my face.

3. Musical instruments. Any time I see a musical instrument, I can't help but think what music has done for me and what it has done for others. My attention is always drawn to an instrument when I see one. I just concentrate to the shiny parts, the sound it makes, and I always wonder how long it took the person to get good at it.

4. A sunrise in the summer as I'm driving home from work. I love driving home to an awesome sunrise in the summer. I can roll down all the windows, enjoy the scenery of the sun peaking over the mountains, feel the warm wind in my hair. After a shitty night at work, everything can seem righted during that 20 minute drive.

5. Cartoons. I love cartoons more than most healthy adult males should. I can watch any cartoons for the most part. Generally, the cartoons I watch are more adult humored in nature, but I can easily spend time on Cartoon Network during the day or Nickelodeon and not be remotely bothered by it.

That's all I can think of. And I'm sure that's all you care to know about anyway. So win/win!

Soft Spot

So I decided I needed to post a more uplifting blog since yesterdays was nothing short of an insane tired rant. With that being said, On to a cheerier subject.

As I was driving around the other day, I started to think of things that I have a soft spot for. Not just things I like. But things I'm a complete and total sucker for. The soft spot things that make me happy and make me feel as though the world is a brighter place.

So here it is. My list of things I have a soft spot for.

1. Lemonade stands ran by kids. I will always always always stop at a lemonade stand ran by kids. I remember when I was a kid selling lemonade on my lawn. It always brightened my day when someone really nice bought from you. It made my day better when someone paid a lot more than what the drink was worth. I have always stopped or gone out of my way if I saw one. I usually pay more for the drink every time.

2. Small towns. I don't know why, but I love the simplicity of small towns. I like how everyone knows each other. I like how much simpler life is there. I like the quaint conversations. If I have time and I'm someplace new (or a place I've been to before) I will stop in a small town and try to eat at a local diner.

3. Nice people. Now of course, everyone likes a nice person. But I like genuinely nice people. Striking up a conversation who is genuinely kind or thoughtful. It seems like that breed of people is dying out. Every time I meet a nice old person a chipper younger person, I feel as though the world is a better place. I try to be as nice as I can as a result. I will always go out of my, 110% to help nice people.

4. Cheeseburgers. I love cheeseburgers more than most obese people. It's my weakness as far as food goes. I love trying new burger places. Even old ones I've been to a lot, I always have a soft spot for them. Good food always makes me feel like things are going right. (Is it no wonder I'm a stress eater?)

5. Passionate people. I love meeting people who are passionate about what they do. The passionate teacher who tirelessly finds new ways to help. Even the passionate hobbyist. Someone who loves bike riding so much, it defines their life, or the guy who makes their own knives because they love it. Another rarity these days. Hardly anyone does something out of passion anymore. It all comes down to the money.


6. Long drives. I love driving around. Especially alone. It's nice to just drive around and enjoy the little things around you. Enjoying the scenery of your hometown.

7. Woodsy type areas. I love the forest. I love the wilderness. If I can ever help going to a place like that, I will do my best to stay there as long as possible. Everything seems at peace there. It's nice scenery. It's nice quiet time. It's nice everything!



For now, this is the most I can think of. I had a bigger list in my head. But sleep deprivation has since pried that from my memory and replaced it with retardation. Maybe more to come.

Shields Are Down

In advance, I apologize for this writing. It will be a whiny kind of lame one that most of you won't care to read anyway. But I need to vent.

It's been an interesting few weeks. A failed trip to Chicago. Two of my best friends going out of state for school. Me losing a ton of weight. A lot has happened. I haven't felt stressed. But then again, I've also been well rested.

When I lose sleep, I really lose grip of reality. All the crap that I keep under wraps by logically and rationally talk myself out of, suddenly gets to me 10x what it should. Everything bothers me. It feels like everyone is against me. I fail more often. I fail harder. It's as if my shields are down and I'm vulnerable to everything. What normally reflects off of me or gets absorbed by logic is suddenly a new wound or scar.

I'm bad at losing as it is. When I fail at something I'm good at, (whether it's a game, skill, or knowledge) it feels like missing the winning point of a game. The winning touchdown at the buzzer. The winning field goal at the end of the 4th quarter. The winning 3 point shot at the end of the game. And not just any games but the proverbial finals, the Superbowl, the World Cup. Every time I fail at something, it feels like that. Normally, I keep it all in my head and get my shit together. When I'm tired, all bet's are off. I'm an emotional wreck.

In general, it's been an emotional few weeks. I've heard encouraging, heart-felt words from close friends and even co-workers. The last time I hung out with Kevin alone before he left to law school was the first time I almost cried on a second's notice in years. He had said something to me that really struck home. Something personal. Something that meant the world to hear. Tears welled up in my eyes for a moment but I kept it together and held it back. I don't think he noticed, and I'm glad he didn't. I'm stronger than that. The other day I was talking with a doctor I work with about my career options. It was a great and informative talk about what routes I could go in medicine. It came up where they had asked, if I considered pre-med. I said yes but I had given that up. They said, "Well that's too bad. I've heard a lot of good things from other people about you. It sounds like you could be a great doctor from what I've heard." All I remember at that moment was how weak I felt. I wanted to hug them and say "thank you." Obviously that would be stunningly awkward for such a seemingly innocuous comment.

I thought I had buried the pre-med endeavor and accepted the death of my delusional ambition. But it's like the drug I can't put down. The concept is too appealing to me. I just wish I knew what to do with my life and what I was capable of doing school-wise. It seems to be too much sometimes.

This is such a random tangent. I feel as though everything is out of check. A good night's rest will bring me back to sanity and rationality. A long vacation would bring me back to life.