Sometimes You Win, Sometimes You Lose

*Warning: Sarcasm and Whining ahead*
(but sprinkled with optimism)

I’ve got some good news and some bad news. I found out yesterday that I passed the clinical exam that I took in Philly 12 weeks ago!! Yeah, it took them long enough to let me know! I was all but convinced that I had failed, but anyways, moving on to the bad news:(.

Today was the first day of our short orientation at our hospital before our start date of Sunday, July 1st. Umm, what about church?! Church, what church?! Yeah, that’s not happening. Anyways, that’s NOT why I have bad news. It turns out that the call schedule has been totally revamped since I’ve rotated and interviewed at Methodist. Instead of the split call method of day call and night call which makes each intern have night call once every 10 days, now it’s only night calls, Q5! (Q5=every five days) That means we have a 30-hour shift from 8pm to 2pm (the next day) every 5 days. For example, my month of July schedule shows that I’m on call (30-hour shift) SIX times with 4 days off. The reason for the change is that this is the more traditional internal medicine call schedule and previously the interns were too swamped on their shorter calls so now the work is more spread out over a longer call. Hmm, during my interview, the speech was “we really work hard while we’re at the hospital, but we have more time off compared to other programs.” Now I'm hearing, “there’s too much work to be done, so we are doubling your night calls, which is the normal IM schedule at most programs anyways.”

Yes, I should not be such a complainer . . . but I will anyways because I want to vent. Both M (my good friend/co-intern) both lamented over the fact that one of the major reasons we chose this hospital was because of its nice call schedule. (I was in my 'all-about-work-life- balance' phase). To have that changed on us on the first day of our orientation is just, well, upsetting and disappointing!! When you are married and have a home, it’s ever so important to maximize your time with your loved one, and it frankly makes me angry to think that it's taken away. But you know what hubby said at the news? “Oh, that’s good news; you’re getting longer and better training.” No, I didn’t physically harm him, but I did flash a very dirty look while thinking, ha ha, that means more scooping Kitty’s litterbox for you while I’m spending my nights at the hospital!

Okay, *deep breath*, I'm done. I still love the hospital, it was good to be back there, like good memories rushing back to my head. I met some of the other interns, a nice bunch, I think. In the end, it’s all about sacrifices and dedication, and I’m ready. I just had to vent a little, you see.

One more piece of good news because I want to end this on a good note. I’ve been meaning to write about Blacky, the lovable stray I took care of months ago. Joyce, the amazing cat rescue lady, found him a forever home! Actually, I’ve known for weeks now but just haven’t written about it. I received an e-mail from Blacky’s new owners and they just love him to death. Joyce finally surmised that Blacky was a victim of animal abuse because of his scars. Also, his new owners continue to call him by my last name, but he’ll always be Blacky to me. The story just warms my heart everytime I think about it. Blacky was headed to euthanasia but by God's lucky timing, he went to Joyce, his guardian angel, instead. Yeah, in this life, you really do win sometimes, and lose sometimes and I think I’ve own more than I’ve lost.

A Game of Deceit

This game is a well received passtime that many cat owners know. We chanced upon it recently: the game of the cat chasing a laser pointer light. I bought a laser light alignment thingie for hanging wall pictures and it has since doubled as Kitty’s favorite toy. She loves to chase that red light anywhere, up the wall and furniture, zig zags across the carpet. Her speed and prey instincts really come through. It’s good exercise for an indoor cat as she dashes, jumps, and pounces. As a bonus, we often participate in the game with squeals of laughter.

Lately, however, my overthinking mind has made it not so funny. I observe my cat as she goes after the red light with such seriousness, her large unblinking eyes, her erect ears, and her anxious tail swiping side to side as her body crouches ready to make a move. I don’t know what she thinks, but she certainly seems to give it her all in both mental concentration and physical prowess as she tries to take hold and take down that red light. But she doesn’t know that it’s not a tangible thing and it’s game she’s lost from the beginning. Is she frustrated and confused that the object of her chase is always elusive and intangible? Is it us humans having a good time at her expense? Am I being deceitful to my cat?

I’m not going to stop playing the game with Kitty as long as she’ll have it, but I just have these unanswered questions. . .

Home Sweet Home

I just got back from my parents’ place this evening. I spent a few wonderful days at my parents’ home doing what I usually do when I’m home: eat and eat, watch Animal Planet on their big screen TV, laze around on their cushy leather sofa, visit Laurel, take walks with my mom, and all in all, relax. But it is sure nice to be back at my home, too even though we are sans the big TV with cable and wooded neighborhood. I’ve missed Kitty and hubby.

With an overabundant garden and their health consciousness, my parents are practically vegetarians. Have you ever eaten a meal where you chew and chew until your teeth and jaw gets tired but your stomach is not quite yet filled? That’s how I feel when I eat with my parents. Don’t get me wrong, I love their veggie diet! I ate leek dumplings, cucumber salad, raw tomatoes ripe from the vine, stir-fried squashes, and etc. all courtesy of their garden.

Also, thanks to mom, my collection of dress pants has all been shortened to the right length. My in-between leg lengths get me everytime. The petite size pants are usually just a tad too short for heels and the regular size too long. So I have to buy the regular ones and get them deftly shortened by mom or I wear the petite ones and risk being uncool looking.

My other highlight was having brunch with my dear friend Laurel, just the two of us. I don’t remember the last time I spent time with Laurel without a baby or two at her hip. Yes, she has two of the cutest boys in the world, Benji and Zac, but it is nice to have her all to myself, too.

My parents dropped me off half-way in Oklahoma where Paul picked me up. Yeah, it’s weird how I’m 27 years old and my parents and husband doesn’t agree to let me drive a 5-hour trip alone. Somehow I have a reputation of being an “unsafe driver” with them and I’ve never even given them a reason to think that way! I’ve never had a major accident and only a few minors ones that were never my fault. Okay, I had a well-deserved speeding ticket once but my Dad doesn’t even have wind of that. If anything, I’m a safer driver now after that defensive driving course I was forced to take. Anyways, I suppose when family get used to one way of looking at you, their viewpoint don’t easily change.

Hubby has been very productive while I was gone. He installed a working fire alarm, bought a carbon minoxide alarm, back-uped our trip pictures on a CD and even bought me a taser gun! These are all things I’d never think of. Yes, I know how to buy window curtins just the right color and length and I match up wall hangings together very nicely, but a carbon minoxide alarm would never enter my mind. This is why God made men and women and I’m grateful. What I’m most proud of is that he’s been dutifully scooping Kitty’s litterbox everynight which is usually my job and my job alone. This is no small fate for a man who can gag at the thought of something gross.

Back home, hubby and I ate at my new favorite Asian restaurant tonight, Bistro’s in Richardson. Yep, you bet I filled my newly cleansed gut with trans fatty fried food, yum!

Computer Clutz

My procrastinating nature reached its zenith with our laptop.

For months, an omnious warning sign comes up the screen everytime I turn the laptop on and its battery won't charge so running on plug-in power only. Since I'm the free and stay-at-home one for the last few months, I was charged with the task of getting it fixed. So months have gone by, I still hadn't done anything about it. "Call Dell", "Fix computer", etc. have had regular appearances on my to-do lists. My days would start with good intentions, but alas, something always come up or I pull-out the good old excuse, "I'll do it tomorrow." Today, I woke up and realized I couldn't live with myself any longer until this problem gets fixed.

As soon as I started, I knew why I had dreaded so long to do this. I logged onto http://www.dell.com/, and attempted to chat with a technical support geek (sorry, person). I got stumped by the first question: "What is your operating system? Windows Vista or others?" I don't know. . .then the conversation went on to about power AC adapters. hmm, what's that, I wondered?? It was a terribly feeling, not knowing what the heck is going on. Finally, I talked to a nice fellow in India who told me the power AC adapter needs to be replaced and since the laptop is still under warranty, I should get one in the mail in the next two days. Oh, thank God, it was easy as a phone call. And now I know the power AC adapter is just the black plug-in cord that connects my laptop to the wall. Why didn't they just say so??!

"Wisdom" from the Web

Here are some memorable quotes I found on the internet. My corresponding numbered responses are at the end.

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1. “Worse. The way we used to train physicians is that you worked all the time. You were on call all the time. Medicine was holy work—a calling. It was a privilege and an honor—you should sacrifice everything. Everything else came second. It didn’t matter if you didn’t eat during the day, it didn’t matter if you didn’t sleep. Now, the thinking is, if people don’t sleep they make mistakes, and if they make mistakes it’s bad for the hospital. So residents are being taught medicine as a career choice as opposed to a profession, a calling. They’re being taught as shift workers, which I think is a huge problem. When that clock hits a certain time, they have to leave the hospital.”
--An anonymous physician’s answer to the question: Is doctor training better or worse than it used to be?

2. “Absolutely. Patients get these gowns that hardly cover half the body. And the chairs are not comfortable. At the sickest point in their life, they’re sharing a bathroom with strangers.”
--Another anonymous physician’s answer to the question: People complain that hospitals are dehumanizing. True?

3. “I single-handedly destroyed an ecosystem that year.”
--an intern speaking of the amount of paper he used during internship.

4. "When you don't know something, didn't check it, or forgot -- admit it. Never, ever, ever, ever say it was "normal" or "fine". This is the cardinal sin during internship. If you do this and are caught (and trust me, you will be caught somewhere along the line), your trust/reliability will be blown and it is very difficult to get it back. High school, college, and medical school are all about hiding what you don't know. Internship is all about showing those you are working with what you don't know so they can teach you. This is very difficult since you are out of practice. "
-A physician's advice for the intern

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My responses, numbered for above:

1. I don't agree with this physician at all. Why would anyone think a stressed out physician who's getting a divorce and on the verge of a drinking problem would make a better physician? That's not a stereotype but rather an accurate description of WAY too many docs. I plan to be a doctor who (*shock*) sleeps and eats reasonably well, and yes, I actually plan to follow the very recommendations I give my patients, namely, eat healthy, exercise regularly, and decrease stress. Okay, maybe I won't be a super housekeeper and might even become a recluse in the social scene, but I plan to take care of myself during residency, dammit! And I won't feel guilty about it!

2. and 3. These two quotes are uncannily true and funny.

4. *Nodding* in agreement. Amen to that advice.

Let's Talk Shop

Last night, I drove to UPS and fetched my shoes. They are clogs, really, Dansko brand. Many medical students and other medical professions swear by them for their comfort during those long hospital shifts. I like them because they go with scrubs during call nights but they also go with regular professional pants on the days I need to wear clinical attire without the bother of uncomfortable heels. I bought two pairs, black and a reddish-brown color. They are normally $120/pair but I found a super deal at www.clogscentral.com for $98/pair plus free gift and free shipping. So far, I've been trying them on around the apartment. They are a little higher heeled than I thought "comfy" shoes would be, but hey, any boost to my height is appreciated. Hubby thought they were funny-looking, yes, they do have a bit of clownishness to them, but they are all the rave in the hospitals.

Another bit of shopping news, I went to the first day of Victoria Secret's Semi-Annual Sale yesterday. I was just 30 minutes short of being the first customers to pick at the circular troughs of bras and panties. By the nature of staying home, I can be in the know of such things as semi-annual sales, etc. Usually, I chance up VS's semi-annual sale towards the middle and end when all the good stuff is gone. But actually, I didn't end up spending hundreds of dollars at VS like I feared. Ha, their real "secret" is that their bras aren't always better, in my opinion. I have a Hanes bra equally comfy and much more reasonably priced. Also, the panties there are on sale for $3.99 to $7.50 per one?! Umm, no thanks, I'll buy mine bulk at Target. I just can't imagine spending $4 per panty?! Okay, okay, that's just me and maybe one day I'll promote myself to VS panty status, but right now I'm happy with who I am. I did buy four nice bras at VS, though.

Curls and Pearls

This is one of those stories that is funny after it happened but not while it was happening. I was out most of the day, and asked hubby to stay home and be on the lookout for a UPS package for me. I had ordered two pairs of shoes online and was eagerly awiting their arrival today. This afternoon, after a day-ful of errands, I was driving home and got a call from hubby. He anxiously informed me that a "incompetent" UPS delivery guy had failed to knock and simply posted the delivery note on our door. Aggg, I thought to myself, you were home all day and you managed to miss my package??

"Hmm, let me get this straight: a UPS guy that doesn't knock. . .you mean, he just wanted to come back tomorrow and try again? Or maybe, he loved my shoes so much, he decided to keep them? Or maybe, his knocking fingers are injured?!" I said back to hubby.

"Yeah, I think there's a consipiracy. It's about job security, this way the UPS people keep busy and won't lose their jobs." said my hubby.

Okay, I have to say I laughed about it later, but man, I wished I have my shoes!

Another "disagreement" we have is over Oprah: I adore her, and hubby doesn't. But that's one disagreement we can live with. But seriously, she's great, it's not that I watch her regularly. . .yeah, seem to always be somewhere else between 4-5pm. But she was on today while I did the laundry and I noticed her hair. I soooo love her hair! All those luscious curls! Yeah, yeah, it's probably a wig or extensions, but its beautiful so hooray to the power of fake! I, myself, was not given natural curls, so thanks much to Charles Nestle, the inventor of the perm.

Oprah in curls.

My own puny curls. The stylist in Taiwan had purposely left the top part unpermed to look natural and she thined my hair prior to perming, too to avoid the puffiness. But one day, I shall have a full-head of rich curls that will parallel that of Shirley Temple and Oprah!
(This pic taken by hubby for the intern roster at Methodist)

Lastly, notice how both Oprah and I wore pearls. In my opinion, every girl should own a string of pearls, such a pretty, feminine, and timeless accesory they are. They don't have to be real, mine are not, but Oprah's probably is. She's Oprah, after all.

The Big Day

The Big Day is coming. Preparations for it have been ongoing for many many weeks, years, really. After all, life will not be the same again and she needed to prepare herself mentally and physically. There were many many shopping trips buying loads of new clothes. “We all have to wear something.” she consoled herself at the money that’s spent. She readied her home in numerous ways, buying a new dark curtin instead of the sheer ones they had. This promotes restful sleep, she reasoned. She even stocked up on items like toilet paper and detergent, just in case they run out and she can’t steal a moment away to buy them.

She thought of the new responsibility that’s dawning upon her. She’s stepping into a new role, one that she’s never been in before, all the preparation in the world aren’t quite enough, but a role that she has to be ready for anyways. She thinks of all the sleepless nights that come with being a caretaker. There is still so much to learn, everyday will be something new and different. Those thoughts are equally exciting and scary to her right now.

Recently, she got together with a couple of friends in her same shoes. They had gone to classes together, swapped advices, and partied together in the days before the Big Day. This night, they shared pictures of their big overseas trips with each other over fruit tart dessert. Mel and Omar had gone to Europe for three weeks, while she and her husband had gone to Asia during that same time. There were many happy memories and funny stories that accompanied the pictures. “Ahh,” they all signed afterwards. They all knew it would be many many years until they would have that much time to take trips like that again. They talked and reminiced to almost midnight, knowing that there’s nothing to do the next day except for sleeping in. But those days are to be over soon.

“What day do you have to go to the hospital?” She asked of her friend.

“On Monday. I can’t believe how early I’ll have to wake up from now on.” Mel said.
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So, what is the Big Day? While it’s NOT the arrival of a new baby, the first day as a medical resident in many ways is similar to becoming a new mother. The tremenduous responsibility, the sacrifices, big and small, sleepless nights, fatigue, lack of personal time, and all the new knowledge. Yes, motherhood and resident-hood are both overwhelming. No, I’m not saying that having a child and having a new job is the same thing, but just very similar in their demands. I draw this comparison because of the many female friends around me that are new mothers or soon-to-bes. There are even a small minority of students I know that are welcoming BOTH new roles of being new parents and new physicians at the same time. As much as I want kids and moan at my delayed motherhood, I don’t envy those colleagues. One day I shall have both, kids and career, but now it would be almost impossible to me.

One of the couples in our Bible study group just announced they are nine-weeks pregnant. Their happy news is only overshadowed by the fact that she’s having hyperemesis gravidarum. She’s overcome with nausea and vomiting all day-long. I feel bad for her that she can’t enjoy her pregnancy right now, but only see and feel the dark side of things. With the announcement of K & J’s pregnancy, Paul and I are now the only childless couple in the group. Yes, there are the questions, “so when’s your turn?” I feel a little miffed at having to explain to them time and again that we can’t really have a baby while I’m in residency. I will soon be the only working woman in the group as the only other working mom is quitting her job. I suppose I feel a little jealous, not at the pregnancy but at the fact how everyone rushes in to give her advices and share their experiences. We talked for hours about how much coffee per day is allowed during pregnancy, why eating pineapple is contraindicated is Chinese medicine, how long it takes to lose the baby weight afterwards, how to combat morning sickness, etc. Well, I wish the ladies would come to my aid and tell me how I can keep my home clean while working all week or easy recipes I can manange on a weeknight or how to maintain my marriage while under stress at work. I suppose I felt rather alone last night at Bible study.

Apparently, I am practicing what is known as “delayed motherhood.” I didn’t know there’s a name to it, certainly didn’t plan on it, but here I am, one of those women in modern times choosing “delaying motherhood.” I don’t like to be labeled, but I can’t argue its appropriateness. Sometimes, I think of all the girlfriends of mine that are stay-at-home pregnant women and moms. It seems I’ve strayed so far compared to them. My body reminds me of my ticking clock each month as I lose more eggs, eggs that I’ll never get back, eggs that mark my decreasing fertility. I feel a little sad and anxious. Then, I spend time with my fellow female doctor friends, and realize I’m not alone. I called Malini this past week, and we talked about buying new scrubs and comfortable shoes for the hospital, our upcoming ACLS (advanced cardiac life support) training, etc. I’m so grateful she’s with me at residency. While I don’t have Chrisitian mentors in the medical field, but I do have some really good medical friends to share and vent.

Everything will be okay. There’s a time and season for everything under the sun, the Bible says, and my time is not yet here for motherhood. Meanwhile, I have my own Big Day to prepare for. There are no congratulatory hugs or baby showers, but it’s no less signifcant and life-changing for me.

Insomniac Thoughts

As I watched (with my newly minted LASIKed eyes) my bedside clock beams out “4:41am”, I knew I had drank some seriously strong coffee this evening. I simply can’t fall asleep! The coffee was in an effort to sound my approval for the latest study showing that coffee drinkers have less cancer. You know how when you can’t fall sleep, every physical discomfort is magnified ten-fold? My head turned and tossed and all but protested to the cumbersome goggle I have to wear in bed post-LASIK. My body heat was all but unbearable because the customary ceiling fan had to be turned off also due to post-LASIK instructions (my eyes will dry out, said the doc). Funny, hubby had Starbucks Espresso and a can of COKE, but he seems to be unperturbed in his slumber! My caffeine-driven insomnia would have been perfect for one of those on-call nights I’ll be doing in the soon future. “The ER has another new admit at 4am? No problem!” I would be energized, feeling chirper, ready to go . . .if only I was on call tonight.

Another tale-tell sign of insomnia is when your mind can’t be shut off, there are thoughts racing through my head like horses on a race track. I was thinking about the wrong things I said during Bible study tonight (I can be such a loud blabber mouth) and my future in medicine. I was also thinking that if I ever have another blog, maybe a private and personal as in my-eyes-only blog, I would name it “Journey to Heaven.” Isn’t that what life is all about to a Christian, our journey to heaven, the much awaited eventual destination? Once I heard a person say that our short life on earth is just a preparation for eternity. I don’t know if I totally accept that statement, but it is how I would like to think of and live my life. The people I meet, the ones I befriend, the man I marry, the strangers I encounter, the children I raise, the patients I treat, the family I love. . .they are all part of this journey that leads me back home, to God. Through the laughter, the tears, the frowns, the smiles, and the anger, the sadness, the jealousy, the joy. . .through the weddings, the funerals, the graduations, the birthdays, the quarrels, the vacations, the rainstorms. . .all the emotions and occasions of life are all slow, small, and sure steps to that one eventuality we will all face one day, death and standing before God.

I had some lofty thoughts of finding a new church family close to our new home. Not just a “church”, which sounds like any other place of establishment I frequent, like a hair salon or grocery store. No, a “church family” implies that I would get plugged in, as they say, I would know people who calls me during the week and hugs me on Sundays. I would volunteer in an area of ministry and have prayer partners. But reality is not so lofty. Actually, I would be working six days a weeks, and my day off not always Sunday but different every week, and I’ll be on call every fifth day. So, if I find a church, but don’t show my face, I’m guessing the “family” part of “church family” won’t really happen. Should I even find a church? Should I just focus my time on the Christian friends I have in my current small-group family-based Bible study?

If I was to be more honest and think deeper, which I apparently have plenty of time to do now, the truth is that once residency gets started, my schedule gets rolling and regimented, likely I won’t even be pondering these questions of church searching and spirtual journeying. I just won’t have the time, I know myself under stress.

I think about my life in medicine, and the specialty of internal medicine I am now bound to. The great arena that is internal medicine, sometimes referred to simply as “medicine.” It’s so encompassing, unlimited by organ systems and disease types. Except for obstetrics and gynecology and pediatric conditions, internal medicine covers everything else that might plague the human body. I don’t think I can just ignore the medical aspect of the female reproductive system and kids from now on, because as a female and mother-to-be, these topics are inherent to who I am. Professionally, however, I won’t be bothered with gyn and peds, so to speak. “Professional,” that’s what I am now. Before, I have been a professional student for many many years, but now I’m just a professional. Yes, I am looking forwarding to being a doctor. With gratitude and excitement, to be sure, but I’m not facing the future with full embrace, but with tender reservations. My heart is at home, but I’ve given myself to a profession.

I read through my resident contract for the first time today, it’s still a little unreal to me, to be paid for what I do. Me?! I’m 27 years old, and I’ve never been paid for anything I do except part-time minimum wage jobs. Well, technically, it’s a stipend, as the contract calls it, but it’s more money than I’ve ever seen attached to my name. I’ll be the bread earner for our small family of two no less since hubby will be quitting his job and reverting to full-time student status next week. I worry, just a healthy amount, about our finances. We’ll make do, after all, we have no plans of buying new cars or planning another wedding in the near future like we did the last couple of years. This is just temporary, my being the sole money maker. I am glad that hubby is pursuing his dreams. We bought a study desk for him in the spare bedroom, which can now be legally called a study room and I see things coming together for him.

So, how can I be a sojourner to heaven in light of all this? Do I continue to be a distracted sojourner? Will my prayers be just fleeting thoughts while on the road to and from work? Will my Chrisitiany be just a label to my identity? Will God be that distant figure in my head?

"If You Can Read This, SMILE"

I have never been a tomboy, never. I was never the girl that climbed trees, caught frogs, or played Nintendo with the boys. This brings up a question, why is that all the girl heroines in the books I read as a child were always portrayed as tomboys as if being a girl and a tomboy is the only natural combination to be? The typical girl heroine was tall and lanky who cared less about what she wore and was always getting in trouble because of her sense of adventure or competitiveness with the boys. That was not me, I was short, curvy and girly to a fault. I would have been completely happy to stay at home, play with my toy kitchen set or play house with my dolls. If I was a character in my childhood books, I would have been the nemesis, you know, the spoiled and snobby cousin of the main heroine. But I was not spoiled nor snobby, but the girly girl was never portrayed in an positive light in those books. But that’s all the age-appropriate reading material an Asian girl could get her hands on in Arkansas public libraries in the 90’s. My theory is that the authors of that generation were in the midst of the feminist movement and they wanted to encourage girls to consider themselves equal with the guys and to know that our options are not limited to the home only but include careers and everything else in the men’s world. So back to me, I remember crying when my mother cut my long hair to a short bob. I have early memories of myself drawing designs of girls dresses and playing the hair on my Barbie for hours. My father, while not feminist-minded, didn’t have a son as I’m his only child, discouraged those girly tendencies and directed me towards more intellectual pursuits. So alas, I grew up role-playing teacher and student and buried my head in books.

But a girl will always be a girl. . . I had my LASIK surgery today! I always wondered why I needed glasses in the first place as neither one of my parents wore them. I started wearing glasses in the sixth grade. Oh gosh I still shudder at the thought of those huge pink plastic framed thing that I picked out for myself at Pearl Vision. What was I thinking?! In high school, contact lenses came to save the day until they became too uncomfortable. Hubby took the plunge and had LASIK last June and it took me a year to finally decide on it. This past year, my glasses have become my constant accessory and how I’ve come to deplore them! Yes, I’m excited about not having to reach for my glasses every morning, and not perpetually sliding my glasses back on my non-existent nose bridge, but the most exciting part for me after LASIK is the new freedom to be more girly! In Asia, I don’t remember seeing a single fashionable girl with glasses and believe me, I people-watched a lot! I attest to the fact that there are no outfit in my closet that looks good with glasses. The very thought of wearing glasses discourages me from putting on make-up or wearing a stylish shirt. You might as well put a bag over my head. It’s as if someone stripped me of my femininity when I put those specs on. I know that might sound extreme, but that’s how I’ve felt. Is that vain? I know I’m already married, so it’s not about impressing others, it’s really about how I feel about myself. I think it’s every girl’s perogative to do whatever it takes within her means to make herself look good and thus feel good about herself. For me today, that was LASIK.

So, I was lying there on a comfy back-tilted operating chair and the words, “If you can read this, SMILE, ” previously unreadable by me, came into focus on the ceiling and I knew it was over! Yes, the results were that instantaneous. I wouldn’t say it’s not a bit frightening to have your eyes propped open by retractors and tape and smelling burned cornea no less, but overall, it was a nearly painless 10 minute experience. I felt a burning and gritty feeling for a few hours afterwards which required shut eyes and a nap, but apparently I’m over it because I’m now typing completely comfortably right now. Knowing me and my skin problems, I worry that I might have complications after LASIK, like keloids growing out of my eyes! Okay, that won’t happen I know, but epithelial regrowth can, on rare occasions, and can lead to blindness requiring corneal transplant and all that good Dr. House stuff. I did visit my dermatologist and another ophthalmologist just to make sure my skin conditions do not preclude me from LASIK. But in case I end up blind, hubby has promised to take care of me for the rest of my life, and with time, I think he’ll even get use to scooping Kitty’s litter box, so for that, I can smile.