constant change.

And once again the slate is wiped clean. I am done with surgery and walking in the shoes of a pediatrician for the next two months. It's all new. No one knows me, expects me to do great things, act like I am here to learn. It is earning that respect by working my butt off all over again, and it will be for the rest of my life, I guess.

It will be for the rest of my (academic) career at least.

The life of a medical student and resident is literally that of constant change. Just when you learn how one attending likes his notes written and presented. boom. you switch. Try not to get to comfortable because the rug is about to be pulled out from underneath you once again. (Dang, and I had just really learned how to use the staple gun properly, too....)

I think that is something so special and unique about medicine. Everyone is constantly learning, evolving. New drugs come out, new protocols, even new diseases. You've got to be able to think on your toes and adapt. You can never get lazy and complacent because that could be someone's life, or at least their comfort, that you hold in your hands.

I both kind of love and it absolutely hate it. Because really it's only a rare moment here and now when you actually feel like you know what the heck is going on and you are doing something 100% correct (without having to ask a nurse...or a patient, in my case, to help you operate a child's crib.) Most of the time we are on the receiving end of "are you lost?" comments and I'm sure even more sideways glares from people who actually DO know what they are doing, because they have done it every day of their adult lives (just try and remember that sometimes, please?)

But today at least, and more importantly, I was on the receiving end of a toddler's smile. And while I may have tried my hardest on that discharge note only to fail miserably at guessing which antibiotic to send that baby home on (in the end, it turn's out, none),  I didn't have to try and see the wonder in all that was happening around me. I mean, sick, but smiling kids, pretty much make the world seem all okay. If they can do it, I can handle a little change now and then. (Because, really I've done it before, and I think we've established that I did mostly okay.)

Nobody said it was going to be easy. (Really they just said to run while I had the chance.) But I could not imagine myself anywhere else but in this crazy whirlwind I am about to call life for the next 5-7 years. (Yep that's right boys, start lining up now... scrubs and 4 hours of sleep and no free time is attractive to other people right??!)

Peace out girl scouts.
Liv

But I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"
I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without you" love
Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn't make sense to anybody else
Who cares if you're all I think about,
I've searched the world and I know now,
It ain't right if you ain't lost your mind
Yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy
You with me baby? Let's be crazy

and hope does not disappoint.

So I had been wondering when I would come face to face with life's next big decision. Life's next big challenge. The next line to check off life's ever important to-do list. And well... it seems I have stumbled, er more like crashed head first, into it.

What do I want the rest of my life to be?

Am I to follow a passion 'til it drives me to a life of crazy hours and solitary nights? Or do I settle in a different direction and spend that left over time cultivating a life outside of medicine? What is my passion, really? And whatever it is, will it last? Will it fulfill? Will I look back with regret either way??

Y'all know I have always been one to jump into life's next big thing head first. I am a do-er. Follow my heart, think later. And well, that hasn't always treated me kindly. But I have a big, big heart and I fall hard, fast, and I don't think I'll ever be able to change that. But, I am starting to take a little more time before I fully let go of the ledge, leaving the past for the future. Lately, I tied a rope to a tree in hopes of a slower descent.

Still it's hard to give up that free-fall. That feeling of flying. But, it has saved me a couple of bruises by trading in that hard, cold splat of my usual landing for a much softer touch down.

And on that note, I am completely, head-over-heels, and indescribably in LOVE.

With surgery.

Now I know what you must be thinking. "Is it for real this time, Olivia? I mean you've had so many flings before. Give it some time to really get to KNOW each other. Maybe you are just lusting after the energy, the excitement, the intensity, the rush." And yeah, well, I probably am. And maybe I'll feel this way about every. single. other. rotation. And really that would be a blessing, because then maybe I wouldn't have to face this dilemma and I could just happily match into something where I am home by 5pm and can go to my future daughter's dance recitals.

But then again. Maybe I won't.

What if nothing else makes me feel like medicine is where I belong? What if nothing else makes me smile in the middle of the night when I get to scrub in (and mostly just watch) a four hour vascular surgery? What if I belong here, and I miss it terribly when I have to leave?

Is it really time to put on my big-girl panties and make big-girl life decisions? Already?

In the past when I hit similar road-blocks, I have found so much solace in the words of St. Paul. His lost and found story. The real-ness in his words. He always finds a way to untangle the mess that is my confusion. And thank God I have been hearing his words these past couple of Sundays. See today's second reading:

Brothers and sisters:
Therefore, since we have been justified by faith,
we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,
through whom we have gained access by faith
to this grace in which we stand,
and we boast in hope of the glory of God.
Not only that, but we even boast of our afflictions,
knowing that affliction produces endurance,
and endurance, proven character,
and proven character, hope,
and hope does not disappoint,
because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts
through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. [Romans 5:1-5]

And I guess the point is that everything we go through and everything that lies ahead is all connected. All the struggle influences all the success. All the confusion becomes the steadiness. We flow from one high to another and in between we fall down and we get back up. We move forward and we hope that it really is forward where we are moving. I used to pray that God would show me where He wanted me to end up. What should be my life? But then, really recently, I realized that He is trying to show me every day...by filling my big, big heart with passion. By testing my strength. By giving me the choice between the easy and the hard way. And always pulling me through when I inevitably choose the hard way.

I mean, really do I EVER listen to ANYONE when they try to tell me straight-up what I should do?? Usually that sends me sprinting in the complete opposite direction, or defensively trying to argue another point of view, just to be contrary. This "gentle nudge" approach really is the way to go with me anyway. So I guess I'll stop freaking out now and stop waiting for divine intervention and just take it all for what it's worth. I will keep an open mind and let myself be nudged. And let my heart fill up, but try not to let go just yet. To keep my rope tied and my heart just on the edge of bursting.

So maybe I will be surgeon when I grow up. Maybe. But maybe I'll have a steamy affair with Ob/Gyn. Or maybe internal medicine will take me by surprise. All I know is that, this time anyway, I won't let the free-fall trick me into falling flat on my face. This time next year I will gracefully let go of that rope, knowing that wherever I land, I will be in good hands and I will be living the life I was meant to live. Happy, and full of purpose. Passionate and probably exhausted. But mostly just MINE.

Liv

Now we live our own lives
But in the night when my spirits drifting
And I come up from the deep end dive
I see the eyes of my unborn children
And I’m filled with the love I will give them
Cause it’s the love I was given
It’s the love we were given
It’s the love I will give them
To teach them

So they learn to dance
So they learn to dance
You can learn to dance
In this world you can learn to dance when there’s no tomorrow
[Andrew McMahon/Learn to Dance]

long hair, don't care.

I'm alive
And I don't need a witness
To know that I survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
Yeah, I just need light
I need light in the dark
As I search for the resolution
I need light in the dark
As I search for the resolution- Jacks Mannequin: Resolution


So I'm done with boards. I'm done done done doneeeee. And it feels like nothing. and everything. but mostly nothing. but anyway, I am so glad it's behind me and I can spend a week with some great friends trying not to think about medicine for a little while and just enjoy the sunshine.

I just wanted to say thank you to Bristol. Thank you thank you thank youuu. I had the most amazingly wonderful time while I was home. And it really did feel like home, and not just some place I was stopping through for a couple of days. It really did feel like the place where I came from and the place where I belong, even if only for a short while. The support from family and friends meant more to me than I can express in words. Much more. It made studying actually enjoyable, well, as enjoyable as it could possibly be. And it made me smile much more than I would've just holed up in my study closet in Memphis. That is for sure. And that makes me happy. So, again, thank you Bristol, for everything. 

I've been saying "thank you" a whole lot recently. And I hope that's not too mushy, or too "feel good" or too whatever. Honestly, I've been saying thank you for a whole year. And in case you were wondering, yes, it has been almost a whole year. Two weeks from my one-year-out-mark. I never thought I'd be here, let alone so well adjusted and happy and being so dang cheesy. 

I've had so many different strategies for trying to deal with it all. At first, I really thought I could just push it way down and never think of it again. And I tried that for a while, and it was fun and I did a lot of "trying to be normal." But then I did a lot of thinking about it, and comparing everything to it.  The pendulum was swinging the other way and I was "trying to put everything in perspective." And, well, that was just as unfulfilling and awful and impossible.

But then I realized, not on my own mind you, but realized just the same, that it's okay to not be normal AND to not compare everything that I do to having cancer or to not having cancer. I can just be a "regular" person who went through this hell and is now living. Just living, like anyone else. Just experiencing everything and smiling and hurting just like anyone else. And stressing about boards and bickering with my sister (lovingly) and dishing about a date. 

I realized it's been a year. And so much has happened in a year. And NONE of it has anything to do with having cancer. And that feels damn good. More than good. I finished my second year of medical school on a high note and took the first step of my medical boards. I lost ten pounds. I had the most wonderful times going out (and staying in) with friends. I worked on my relationship with my parents. I learned how to love those crazy puppies again. I let go of all the bitterness. I forgave. I thanked. I loved. 

At the risk of sounding super lame (which probably isn't that much of a stretch) I went to see Andrew McMahon in concert in Nashville on Wednesday night, alone, because I am that cool. (Also he played me Konstantine and I can die happy now.) But really, it made me realize how far I'd come and how much I've changed. I am more brave now. I take more chances. I don't let anyone, or anything, get in the way of my life. I would've never been able to do that in the past... but here I am, and nothing scares me anymore. (Well almost nothing, that plane to Florida was sooooo terrifyingly bumpy, so there is that.)

So here's the point: it has been (almost) a year. And it has been long enough that I look like a normal, cancer-free 24 year-old-girl. I have short precious normal girly hair. Life is happening all around me. And I am living, just like anyone else. Except not just like anyone else. This is my life. I survived and I am thankful. And more than that, I am brave.


See y'all on the other side of one-year. 
Liv

a study on gratefulness.

Remember when I used to say I studied all the time. Well that was before this. That was before USMLE Step 1. I take the first part of the "medical boards" on April 16th. That's ten days away... holy (something) that's terrifying, and exciting, and numbing. But the point of this post is not to dwell on that, because, well honestly, I dwell on that probably too much already, and I think about it and I worry about it and I study study study, zone out, study, fall asleep reading flash cards, wake up, coffee, repeat. Ev-er-y-freak-ing-day. So no more mention of this dang test. Probably. (Ha, just kidding, that's impossible)

The point of this post is gratefulness in a big way. The point of this post is that I have spent so many nights of my life up studying and sacrificing and working my butt off to get where I am today. To be able to say that I am taking that test (see, already mentioned it again) in ten days. And it hasn't just been the normal kind of struggle, but the kind of struggle that makes me proud to be here and makes me smile (mostly, sometimes it's still too soon). The kind of struggle that makes my happy to be working so hard, every day, towards this goal.

I laugh as I think about this debate I have with this guy in my class sometimes when we mosey out to the bars after a test. "I love it," I say, "all of it, the studying and the awful late nights and the stress, I wouldn't change any of it" And he says, "Oh my god it's awful... the studying and the books and the sitting, get me to the hospitals now.... I am so tired of reading." And this conversation literally never goes anywhere, just me smiling and shaking my head and him rolling his eyes. Then we probably cheers and the evening goes on, the conversation lost amongst so many other others as we blend with the night.

Man, what I wouldn't give for a night like that right about now. Just a bunch of medical students, good friends, celebrating the end of another testing block, tired as all heck, getting all our complaints out, and all of our good times in before it all comes back around again. It's hard for me to be this solitary. Cabin fever is sinking in bad and I am itching for a good time. I mean I don't think I've worn real pants for more than 5 hours since I've been home. (But let's be honest, that's not much of a change). Sigh. Ten more days.

But I am grateful. I am content. I am busy, too busy for lots of the other things that could, and definitely would, make me smile. Like sunshine, and a morning dedicated to nothing by a latte and a friend. But as I push forward past these last couple of weeks into the next ten days, I am happy. Stressed and bored and jittery and happy. And definitely grateful.

Grateful that my life has lead me right here. Grateful that with every tug in some direction or another, that I always ended up back here.

It feels like where I am supposed to be.

All the other paths I could have taken. All the other "nos" or "yeses" I could've said. But, I wouldn't want it any other way. I mean, I could be half way around the world teaching English or something, putting that French degree to use. Walking down the street with a pain-au-chocolat in hand (dang, that actually sounds amazing right about now.) Or living back in Bristol (like I am doing now to study) and married with two kids. I could come home every night and kiss their foreheads and pick up toys and cuddle up next to some man while we fall asleep watching the RedSox game (also sounds kind of nice.) But that wasn't my path. It's not where I was meant to go. All of my twists and turns lead me here instead, just like they were supposed to. I try so hard to keep my faith in something bigger, something that guides our actions and our lives. This is one of those things that keeps me holding tight to that faith.

Fate is alive and well.

But fate isn't a blind faith. It's definitely the kind of faith that requires more than just prayers and hopes, it requires hard work and dedication and passion. Sacrifices and gratefulness. All of these things that lead to me smiling like an idiot reading a microbiology chart. Doing flashcards with my dad for fun. Quizzing my neighbor on Pharmacology while I'm visiting on my "study break." Being so proud of my uWorld "highest score" and wanting to out-do it everyday.

I can do this. I can do ten more days. Because it's not just ten more days.... it is a lifetime of studying and sacrificing. It is being that 45 year old soccer mom and never having a tan. It is working til I'm dead tired and saying no to countless night of non-med-school-friends begging me to join them out for a beer. It is more than the life I have chosen at this point, it is the life that fate has chosen for me.

Cheers to that.
Liv

You know you can't keep lettin' it get you down
And you can't keep draggin' that dead weight around.
If there ain't all that much to lug around,
Better run like hell when you hit the ground.

...

Let it go, this too shall pass

This Too Shall Pass- OK GO

exposure therapy.

The most notable parts of our lives are usually the surprises... the unplanned nights out... the chance encounters... the letter you thought you'd never get.... or the diagnosis... the good news and bad. This is where we find meaning and purpose in our lives. This is where we say "aha! everything happens for a reason!" and we smile at serendipity. 

But what about the other 98% of our lives? Honestly back then, that 98% was getting pretty hard to handle and I had yearned for distractions. Successfully collecting a few, for a while... But now my life is back on track and I don't really stray from the norm too much these days...

Except sometimes, every once in a while, I actually notice the constant. I notice the same old hallways and study rooms. It reminds me that our lives are like big "exposure therapy" projects. Something will always be there to remind me of my past no matter how much I've moved forward. Recently, it was a bone marrow drive and watching the first years learn about neoplasm and immunology. It was a flashback to February 2012: when I first thought that I'd had just about enough of that chemo business.  I had reached out for help for the first time, not realizing what a dang mess it would turn into and not knowing that it was exactly what I needed to pull myself out the other side. 

I went back and read those year-old emails and journal entries, in the spirit of exposure therapy, and realized something... well a couple of somethings. First of all, I never thought I'd be here. (Here being healthy.) It just seemed so ridiculously far away. And while it was far, it IS here now, and I have the long (5) inches of hair to prove it! 

Reading the words I wrote one year ago, I also saw myself through a new perspective. I was able to see that girl who was terrified and unsure yet strong and determined. I was able to admit that I was so fragile, so embarrassingly fragile, a word I would have never wanted to describe me, and one that hopefully never will again. But I didn't break and I made it and I think I'm getting much stronger. My perspective has normalized. I can finally (lovingly) roll my eyes at that small girl who cried her self to sleep at night... thank goodness. 

I often wonder when I will be able to define myself in other ways. Not just that cancer way. Not wonder all te time if I can or cannot drop some funny cancer jokes or bring it up during those late-night "deep" bar conversations. And I guess that was the realization: I will never not be that girl who went through all this mess. It will always be a part of me no matter how normal life becomes around me. And as such, I will inevitably stumble upon reminder after reminder for (probably) the rest of my life. Eventually, they wont be daily reminders or even monthly reminders. And that will be great. But, I guess I might as well just give into the power of exposure therapy now and just go with it.... 

Bring it on world. Paper the walls with posters of his face and make me review cancer drugs. Oh wait, you already had that on the schedule. perfect. <3

Liv

Well I met an old man dying on a train.
No more destination, no more pain.
Well he said one thing, before I graduate"Never let your fear decide your fate."

Kill your heroes: AWOLNATION

binge and purge.

Fat Tuesday: a day we gorge ourselves on all the things we are about to "give up."It really is an insane concept. Just one more cookie, another round bartender, etc etc. Come Wednesday morning you are hungover, but resolute, right? Today's that day you turn your life around... well until you forget and definitely only for forty days. It's just something you do every year, for your waistline or for Jesus...

Lately, I've been doing a lot of thinking about what I can do to simplify my life. And most importantly  how I can find happiness in that simplicity. I trimmed all the excess and as you read in that last post, tried to find beauty in the mundane, the everyday. And I made some changes.

And they are really just the biggest things.

I stopped stress-eating taco bell. I made yoga a priority. I studied, more (and better) than I thought was possible. I picked up my old journal. I listened more and (tried to) talk less. I slept. I crossed things off my long "to-do eventually" list. It's became this crazy, and to my surprise, wonderful feed-forward cycle.

I feel more like myself than I have in years. I feel happy and healthy. I am proud of myself for taking control of my own life. I had no help from the premise of "new year's resolutions" and/or Catholic guilt. (The fact that I didn't blog about it for a whole month is also definitely a big deal, you guys.) I woke up one day and I decided to let go. To let go in order to move forward.

I am really liking this new trajectory. (And how my pants fit again.)

And while it is so nice that I am losing some of that post-cancer weight I accumulated (probably from a little too much post-cancer celebrating) and it's awesome to smile at a test grade, what's more important is what happened when I threw out all that baggage I was trapped under. Because when I let go of everything I didn't need, I got my life back. And I gained purpose. 

Now, clearly I am not saying that all of you should give up bread and take up daily meditation in it's place. (And please, pleaseee don't take the title of this post seriously!) But, find what's been weighing you down and give that up for lent. Take this time to be honest with yourself. Maybe it's a relationship, or maybe it's a grudge. Maybe it's gossip or negativity. Maybe it's unnecessary worry. Maybe it is bread and being a lazy butt. (And if it's all of the above, then even better).

Wouldn't it be great if change finally had a chance at some staying power. If in forty days you had forgotten all about this "trial period" and you, well, changed. You had found purpose, and you liked it. You had more time to think about the things that really mattered and do more of the things that really mattered. Because you gave up all the stuff that just didn't.

What if we all traded something bad for something better?

Think about it.
Liv

Elation- Isbells
What is this?
It's kind of like...
All my body starts to shiver
Worries will no longer have
Oh, I've never felt like this before
Got to let it go
I'll shout it out
I will sing it from the heart.

This is right, this is good
Expressions of elation
A state of mind of which I'll try
To re-echo from the start
Come on! Shut it out
And release it from the heart...
Oo-hoo-oo-oo

medical school:

Talk on Indolence- Avett Brothers

Well I’ve been lockin' myself up in my house for sometime now
Readin' and writin' and readin' and thinkin' 
and searching for reasons and missing the seasons.
The Autumn, the Spring, the Summer, the snow. 
The record will stop and the record will go. 
Latches latched the windows down, 
the dog coming in and the dog going out. 
Up with caffeine and down with a shot. 
Constantly worried about what I’ve got. 
Distracting my work but I can’t make a stop 
and my confidence on and my confidence off. 
And I sink to the bottom and rise to the top 
and I think to myself that I do this a lot. 
World outside just goes it goes it goes it goes it goes it goes...
and witness it all from the blinds of my window.
THREE, FOUR

I'm a little nervous 'bout what you'll think
When you see me in my swimming trunks
And last night in New York I got raging drunk
Remember one time I got raging drunk with you 

Now, I can recall a time when we made the city
Streets our playground, kissing in the fountains
Filled with cigarettes and bottles
Sped through Italian city streets of cobblestone

Because we had to
Because I loved you
Because the damned alcohol
Beacuse what ever at all

Now I've grown to aware of my mortality
To let go and forget about dying
Long enough to drop the hammer down
And let the indolence go wild and flying through
Because we had to