My edjumication

Devoted readers:

After carefully analysis of the subject group of one study participant ( SG) it has been concluded that individuals who devote brain cells to the pursuit of pediatric training will have a statistically significant deficit in their ability to perform any techno savvy procedures, namely figuring out how to use their own damn blog!

I have spent 6 months crying over the fact that no one loves my blog enough to comment, and then, suddenly, while trying to post something I found a button called "moderate comments" oops!!! It turns out I had about 20 comments that I didn't even know about! Oops!

so now for your perusal and enjoyment, my blog comes complete with COMMENTS!!!!

now could someone please tell me how to plug my i-pod into my toaster oven?

SG

even the stars refuse to shine

In the spirit of romance.... No not my own ( though I do have a date tommorow, wish me luck!!!)

Everyone grab your partner, I will grab a plant, this dance is for you...

***especially a certain newly-wed couple in Teaneck that rocks the house!

="http://www.blogupload.com/56503/collide619.WMA"

btw, this is KOL ISHA... but my singing might not exactly turn you on.....

enjoy!

SG rockstar/pediatricslavintern

I found my bashert at the DMV!

Ok,
you can stop doing the hora, no need to go out and buy neon green and magenta bridesmaid dresses ( yet, but be forewarned!) I didn't really meet my bashert at the DMV... unless you count Hector the air conditioner repair man, he really made my day, but the language barrier was too much- I meant to say THE ROOM was hot, and he thought I was propositioning him..
Alas, I digress.....

single people often try to understand the following: why me? why this task? what did I do wrong? why the H-ll am I single and that bleep bleep is married to that gogeous guy( not that I would think such things chas v'shalom) and many people spend their single days pining for their mate. As one married friend said, it's like running the NYC marathon and everyone else ahead is getting water, finished running, sitting down... and then people are telling you, just a little bit more, the finish line is just ahead... but you cant see it, all you think is, my feet, my poor feet, and "is there a 6th borough in NYC? how can I be running so long without6 a finish line?"

Last week, in Jamaica, NY, SG had an "aha"..... and I want to share- do I ever hold back?


I was post call, slept a good 12 minutes over the last 32 hours, but my bed was far far away from the DMV I was sweating in. I moved to NY, my registration had expired, but as a resident too busy to go grocery shopping- could that be why I had become pleasently zaftig over the last year?- I had no time to renew my registration for 6 months -and faced with jail or the DMV, the decision was tough, so I decided to just pick the one most challenging, most gruelling, most punative--

and there I was shivtsing in the DMV.

most people around me were conversing in languages that I didnt even know existed, the clerk even looked at me in surprise when I asked him a question in English. but somehow in my multicultutural understanding I could make out one common sentiment amongst my peers, "this really sucks!!!!" -ask me later and I'll tell you how to say that in Swahili.

I sat in a suprisingly comfortable blue vinly chair and thought "boy does it feel good to sit down!"- I noticed my pink I pod glaring out of my bag. I had just (legally) downloaded some new music and had not even had the chance to listen to it. Here was my respite! Come to think of it, as the clogs crashed off my feet to the ground, I was almost in a spa( did I mention it was as hot as a sauna in there?) I balled up my sweat jacket against the wall behind my head and in minutes slipped into blissful dreams.

Now you New Yorkers out there need not worry, before I snoozed I hid my wallet in my shirt, i might have been tired, but I aint stupid!

3 hours later I wake up to the deep voice of a man beside me,

"choney, I think it's your turn, baby!"

I was stuck in my dreams and at that moment wondered how I possibly could have made it all the way to the chuppah with this gorgeous tall dark and handsome man in uniform...
wait, I thought, in uniform? I was under the chuppah and he was wearing a tan shirt with his name on the pocket? I would never marry someone with such poor taste in clothes, this must be a dream...

and I awoke to,

What you homeless or something, lady?

yes, that is how I look post call, but...

miracle of miracles, it was my turn to see the desk clerk, my time had finally come, and I had blissfully enjoyed it!

Imagine that? something I dreaded so much, was the highlight of my sleep deprived day!

Instead of waiting, cursing under my breath - or out loud, hey no one speaks English! I took the time at hand and put it to use, I took care of my needs, enjoyed some awesome music, and dreamed of a tall dark and handsome man ( named hector).

and this, my readers, is the way to apporach being single!

Yes, it sucks ( in Akadian, Finnish and protugese!)
but that is just because we let it suck the life from us.

Don't let it!

Now, I am not suggesting that you just sleep through your single years- though 7.5 hours a night wouldn't hurt those bags...

but here is your chance!

Take care of yourself, your needs, Kick off those heavy shoes that hold you back, and find something to enjoy, to fill your days with sweet music.
and above all, don't stop dreaming! ( except, not about Hector, he's mine! hands off!)

Bhatslacha!
May Hashem send us or basherts by the end of this song.


SG

Brat mitzvah

It is always comforting to see true Torah values instilled in the bat mitzvah ceremony!
Happy Brat Mitzvah to you and all of the five towns.

No, really, I AM religious!

( Btw, his is not a picture of me as a child...)

This is something that has plagued me since starting my residency here in Jew York City (btw, props to www.jewyorkcity.blogspot.com) so I thought I'd vent it here on my blog:

YES!!!!! I AM RELIGIOUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, here is where the pent up anger starts from.
As you may have guessed, my nice shomer shabbos residency program's hospital is overrun with yids. I feel a special connection to these families and make an effort to reach out to them to make sure their needs are met, but this is where the trouble starts!
Today, I see a sheitel( I can spot on with my eyes closed in a 60 city block radius) so I say hello to this mom. she smiles and asks me where there are towels ( will I ever look the part of doctor so parents stop confusing me with the nurses/orderlies/secretaries?) I heard an Israeli accent so I answered her in Hebrew. She then asked, are you Jewish????
No, I am a catholic nun who learns Hebrew in the convent for fun!
argh!!!
Instead I answer, of course! to which she says, well how did you learn Hebrew?. I explain that I am an American who studied Hebrew from grades1-12 and learned in Israel for a year. Her mouth drops open, so you know about Judaism?
No, I've been learning Hebrew to become a Bahai priestess!
I then answer, I am dati ( relig) to which she politely smiles and nods, the way you might do for a patients in a psychiatry ward who says there are purple aliens in a closet waiting to get me.
I look at her and politely smile.

What gives?
Is it my Swedish supermodel good looks that are throwing off the masses? wink wink..

**************pause for laughter*********************


Or maybe it is my scrubs, which are really so racy they should start selling them at Victoria's Secret.

Well maybe it is, quite honestly..
I have noticed in Jew York more than any other Jewish community we segregate ourselves as Jews so carefully based on our tribal garments that one fashion misstep and you are excommunicated! ( little did I know Prada was Lubavitch and Gucci was Satmar, I had it completely wrong, do I need to do Teshuvah??)
When did we become so judgmental on outward appearances? What are we protecting ourselves from by being fashion clones and excluding all others?

Don't they know that in the words of Tsadekis Bette Middler:

From a distance we are instruments, marching in a common band.

From a distance you look like my friend,even though we are at war.

From a distance I just cannot comprehend what all this fighting is for.

Quite honestly, do you think the Goyish nurses on the unit know the difference? You order a Kosher lunch tray? You are Jewish! End of story!!!
why can't we see it that way?

I firmy believe that scrubs are worn for the purpose of work, unless you are hitting up the kishka a little too often, they are usually loose enough to not highlight the feminine form. This is tsniut. How we came to the belief that bullet proof tights and turtlenecks are necessary to be truly tsnius evades me! What next, gloves in the summer? have you seen my sexy cuticles?

Now if you'd excuse me, I need to hike up my scrub pants, I see a chasidish family approaching.

The wheels on this bus...

Do you ever feel the world is much smaller than you could possibly imagine? Maybe it is really just small enough for us all to be in reach
let me explain...

Today I was taking care of a frum boy, admitted for an asthma exacerbation (fancy word for attack too bad to be handled at home) this is routine here:
we give nebulized meds every 2 three or four hours, maybe a steroid, listen carefully to those lungs and dole out some good education to prevent future attacks.
This one was different,
this 13 year old boy was acting more like three!
The nurses in turn each complained to me that this boy cried at the smallest thing! Even getting breathing treatments which are annoying, but don't "hurt",would set the floodwaters drowning the nursing staff.
Weird, I thought, but filed this one away in the back of my head, there were things far more important to tackle today, a crying bar mitzvah boy was the last thing on my mind!

The end of the day was nearing ( though being that I am on call tonight, the day was only 16 hours short of completion!) and it was time to discharge my bar mitzvah bachur. I entered the room and gave my shpiel to the father. The boy, however, didn't once look at me, not even when I cracked my stupid asthma jokes ( tell you later, I promise you will regret you asked!) something seemed off...
I asked the dad to step out of the room and sat down to a shmooze
like sports?
NO
friends at school?
YEAH
like hospitals?
FLOODWATERS
hmm... I thought to myself,
The history and physical form filled in by my fellow residents yesterday said nothing of prior admissions, no past history, his physical exams had no appendix scars, no signs of overt long term illness....

I explored the wound a little:
So you ever been to a hospital as a patient? I mean just in and out quickly not overnight?
ugh... crying... YEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Hmm, the trusty H and P, failed again!!!!

when?
last June
where?
"..... Memorial hospital"
ER? I ask?
YES!
He starts to make eye contact, I am on to something...

did you have an accident?
( not such a lucky guess, this is the number one reason for ER visits in the summer)
YEAH!!!

and in moments we have connected by a twist of fate:

Last June before I was a resident, I was on my way to a shabbos dinner in my neighborhood when I stumbled upon an accident scene just two blocks from my house. A city bus had jumped the curb and struck a Jewish boy on his way home from shul. I saw the ambulance, but heard BH that he was OK and was taken to ----memorial Hospital for observation only.

this was that SAME boy in front of me!!!

I shared this with the boy, that I knew his story and was there with him, and I believe it helped him open up to me.
It turns out he has been haunted by the memories of the accident, even though his body was unscathed. We talked things through for a while ....

When I first came upon the scene last year I thought to myself, how horrible to witness such an event and how I felt so bad to not yet be able to jump in there and help. Who knew that as the wheels of the world turn, that I actually would!

There is a reason, and to everything a purpose.