Things I don't know how to fix

I was interested, though not shocked to read about this recent study published in JAMA which found that Blacks and Latinos are much less likely to be prescribed heavy pain meds in the ER. This is no slouch sample, either, they looked at 150,000 visits and found that only 23 percent of blacks and 24 percent of Latinos received opioids compared to 31 percent of whites.

Ok, not shocked, I'll repeat, but totally appalled. This is what sucks about modern racism. It's not your local neo-nazi making a scene, it's everyone either subconsciously or quietly treating people differently based on race. No, wait, that's making it nice, it's not treating people differently, it's treating people of color worse. The discrepancies found by this study are huge even for complaints such as kidney stones and long bone fractures.

Now, I understand that most ERs contend with a certain amount of drug seeking behavior in patients and that it's something to be wary of. I can only assume that there's a Doctor race auto-pilot that says Black=drugs. Here's the kicker: Blacks are actually the least likely group to suffer from opiate addiction.

All the while I'm reading about this and making this post, in some other tab an episode of House, MD is playing. And he makes asinine racist jokes all the time. The jokes seem to carry the assumption that he's a stand in for society when he makes them. But hell, half the show's success rests on the dark humor of House being a jerk to people. What's the impact of what he says on the viewing public? When House jokes about race, is he reinforcing stereotypes and helping us bright-eyed doctor hopefuls (who can still watch these shows only because we don't know a dern thing about doctoring yet, I'm told) become people who will only continue the problem? Or is it so deep down already that maybe he can bring it to the surface? Maybe, but I'm guessing that reports out of JAMA might do a better job of that. On the other hand, despite the numerous medical blogs I read, I picked this story up first while glancing through the news and the only blog I saw mention it was Pam's House Blend. Not exactly a medical blog, so who's paying attention?

So, I'm gonna be a doctor

It's true, dear reader, I have been accepted to medical school. The secretary, who made it feel as though she was one of my friends' moms by the end of my interview day, gave me a call last week as I was heading to my Grum's house for the holidays. Just like that, one day I was obsessively checking my email in hope of some kind of sign and the next it was decided, written. Needless to say I made quite a scene as soon as we hung up. I had pulled into a crowded gas station parking lot to take the call, so at least twenty pairs of confused eyes took in my party-of-one in the drivers seat as I whooped and banged on my Subaru's ceiling. I almost want to get a tattoo in celebration.

Apologies for not sharing the news sooner, but, you know, what with holidays and my former non-committed blogger status, it didn't dribble out until now.

I'm feeling now, however, that I should turn sober and introspective. Here, let me consider the weight of my chosen career and all of the implications therein. I should... but maybe I'll save that post for the first day of actual medical school. Which I can say. Because I got in. So I'm going. Which is, uh, mad cool. It's funny how I'm not really nervous about all the work and pressure and how hard the actual school->residency->practice part will be. Mostly because that's on me, I can handle that, but man does it suck to have faceless admissions boards holding your future in their hands. I'd like to thank them, for giving it back. Actually, I almost sent them a card with my deposit check that said something along the lines of "Holy Crap, I'm So Excited!" but it wouldn't fit into the envelope.

Caucus, THIS

A couple of weeks after I turned four, my grandfather sent me a letter. I don't now remember the first time I read it, but I do remember finding it again a few years later. The letter is written on Dukakis/Bentsen Stationary, and dated Election Day, November 1988. Grampa's jagged scrawl filled the page with dark black ink.

Dear Granddaughter,
At the top of this page are the names of two good people who were just not elected to the offices of President and Vice President of the United States. As good Democrats, they advocated for strong education, affordable healthcare and programs to help the poor. Unfortunately, George Bush and Dan Quayle with their promise of no new taxes were able to sway the election. What this means is less healthcare, less education, and lots of people without jobs. I am writing to you because it is extremely important that as you grow up you pay close attention to the views of politicians and cast votes for those that care more about people than money. I hope you talk this over with your parents.
Love, Grampa
P.S. Kelley and Stephanie [two sheep I had named a year before] have not had their lambs yet, if it happens I will send you pictures.

While my mother assures me I was much more interested in the sheep at the time, I can't remember ever not caring about the political process. Though I frequently mixed up the words "liberal" and "conservative" and was unable to match them correctly with "left wing" and "right wing," I have always known where I stood when it came to Republicans and Democrats. I will never forget, and neither will my best friend from grade school, the conversation we had as eight-year-olds in which I demanded she choose a party loyalty. Her answer being not so satisfactory, I demanded, "You mean you would have voted for NIXON?! Don't you know that he resigned?!"

Keep your comments about brainwashing to yourselves.

Anyway, now I feel like some kind of politics junkie. I cover my local podunk journal, New York Times, BBC websites, a smattering of blogs and all of my car radio pre-sets are for the regional public radio station. Firefox's tabbed browsing is really a killer because as a member of the multi-tasking generation, I get twitchy if I don't have all of these sites open at once. Which brings me to the primaries.

I just got home from watching the coverage at Turtle's house (CNN, MSNBC for commercial breaks, peaks at Faux News for kicks) and I'm having trouble feeling any emotion at all. Well, ok, I'm pretty psyched about Huckabee because there's no way in heckles he can win, but if he does, I'm moving because then we really are a fallen nation beyond hope. But over on the democratic side, I never got around to really picking. It's like when my uncle finally put that inground pool, he agonized over what to choose for surrounding patio surfacing. Too much research lead him to an impasse because he was so thoroughly versed in the drawbacks of all of his options. The Hillary/Edwards/Obama trifecta is sort of the same deal. Heck, I like all of them better than the front runners last time around, but the excessive reading and comparing has left me in a funk. A few days ago I said I was rooting for Obama, but then felt as guilty as the time I lost my stuffed bunny "bunny" under my bed a didn't notice for days because Snowy the bear was my favorite. So I kind of like Edwards, but then I feel guilty for not wanting to be dedicated to breaking the white male stranglehold on the presidency. And gosh, that Hillary Clinton is trying so hard. It just kills my inner Nice Minnesota Girl to root against her.

I'm going to bed. We'll let those crazies up in New Hampshire decide.

Whatever Made Me Think?

New Year's resolutions have never gone well for me. Never. Except last year. Every year's thought of "I'll write a letter every month" "I'll call an old friend every week" and the absurd "I'll make huge biceps!!" failed miserably. But last year "no buying new things" and "no soda" went remarkably well. So well that I forgot that my keeping of New Year's resolutions is really about 4%. In any case. It is January Second, 2008. And I have already messed up this year. Because I didn't post in my blog yesterday. Alas.

New Year's Resolutions, or Why I'm a Bad Blogger

This post could also have started with a question: what's worse than working thirteen hours on a Friday? Returning to work at 7:30 AM on Saturday, or why I'm a bad blogger.

Maybe bad is pushing it, but it was a couple of weeks ago now when my darlin pulled up the front page of this humble pot of blogular slooge, pulled her cursor to the date of my last post and gave me the look that also means "it's your turn to empty the dishwasher and you didn't and you don't plan to either and that really makes me cross."

It's not that I suck at writing, I'm ok. It's more that thing where I want it to be good all the time so I sort of choke when I'm not ready to spew greatness at you. Then, when I do post it's more because the non-posting guilt has built to an unbearable level. This also makes me forget what great thing I thought of to post about two days earlier and the result is a post like the one you are now reading.

All this brings me to my New Year's Resoultion. In 2008, I will post every single day. I think I will get better at expressing myself if I do it all of the time. I think that I will process half-processed ideas better if I make myself write about these gayenvironmentmedschool things.

But the really great part about this resolution is that I can still procrastinate posting for twenty-five more days! What freedom that will be.

This feels like a good resolution because it is weighty, but also do-able. In that way, it is similar to this year's resolution, although decidedly less beneficial for the world in general. This year I vowed to not purchase newly made items and dragged my darlin along for the ride. And I'm almost there! Nothing new! We made exceptions for the gray area of food and anything directly related to health. I am now a serious garage-sale pro. I am a knower of all things Salvation Army (aka Pier 2) ((Wednesday is half off!!)).

Anyway, as impact-lite as last year's resolution was, out the window it goes for this jaunt into the blogosphere. Also going is last year's no-soda resolution. I think I'm replacing it with no soda except for root beer in a bottle and anything in a mixed drink.

When I saw out the window concerning last year's resolution, I don't really mean that. What I really mean is that I've learned its lessons and made it a part of my life now. I'm just never going to buy something new when I can get it quality used. It's so obvious when in this consumer culture, my neighbors, or rather those folks who live several neighborhoods over, throw away everything I need. Also less plastic, more glass!

And Here's What I Did Last Weekend

I have mountains of data and piles of backlogged water samples. Thusly, I'll direct my fine readers (All Three of You!) to treehugger for a summary, of how I spent my weekend. The me-specifics you'll miss are: I drove a van of 12 college students six hours to get there. The charming conversation I shared with my shotgun freshdude, who already has some pretty serious hippie cred, filled me up with hope for the future. I felt darn old and kept wanting to tell him how "full of promise" he was. Weird. Weird. Weird.

Also what you won't find out is that I spent Saturday night with my dearest friend from cough, prep school, cough, and got to test some of the lovliest of Dupont circle area drinking establishments. I was delighted to find that her apartment still sports some artifacts from her boarding school dorm room and we got all caught up on life's happenings.

Klutzes Need Not Apply

This is what should top the job description for my replacement when they post it in the spring.

I am accident prone. It's not pretty, it's not horrible, it's just true. If I were one to cry over spilled milk, well, let's just say that I'd be pretty dehydrated most of the time. Anyway, being a Very Serious Water Ecologist like me involves fine motor skills sometimes and also a large amount of expensive glassware. Yes, it's true that I've broken the occasional volumetric flask or seperatory funnel. Yes I've broken the frequent test tube. But today just really took the cake. I broke the bulb on my sonde's pH probe. I was cleaning it gently with a q-tip. Everything about today seemed great, perfect fall weather, crunchy leaves, delicious english muffin at breakfast and then my new q-tip probe cleaning technique was working so well! It deschutzified like nothing else. Until the probe shattered and then it didn't really matter, did it. All of the big-kid type scientists who have been doing this for a while have been sympathetic. My boss just blatantly made fun of me for being uber klutzy, but still. This does suck. Not in a small way because half of the other probes on the instrument rely on the pH reading for their readings. I took out the broken one and capped its port. It still thinks that it can measure pH, but the readings are insane. It said 2 sitting in sink water and then I grabbed its housing and the reading jumped to, uh, 37. For those not pH saavy, the scale only goes to 14. I don't know how much it costs, but the entire instrument, which I just rendered almost useless until we can get it replaced, costs $9000.

SIGH. And tonight I am planning to clean our room and the bathroom. Maybe we can watch Heros and eat ice cream. Probably I'll just be in that kind of mood that makes me start analyzing the show and I'll totally ruin it for myself. Oi, I'm quite the Eyore right now.