Resiliency

In between anatomy exams, I found time to watch African-American Lives, a PBS series that tracks the unknown ancestors of several famous African-Americans, including Dr. Mae Jemison, the first woman of color to go into space.

I’ve always dreamed of being an astronaut. After some investigation, I found an article of hers in the New York Times that discusses her experience as a black female in a white-male-dominated engineering program:

“Majoring in engineering, I would have maybe one of two or three African-American students in my classes. Some professors would just pretend I wasn't there. I would ask a question and a professor would act as if it was just so dumb, the dumbest question he had ever heard. Then, when a white guy would ask the same question, the professor would say, ''That's a very astute observation.''

These challenges are not uncommon among black students in higher education – even today. I, a black student, experienced similar issues in my science courses – seeing other students avoid partnering with me during projects, being talked down to by professors, hearing surprise/disbelief when I do well or understand a difficult concept. I know Dr. Jameson had it worse, and it inspires me to see her succeed despite those challenges.

musings on anatomy

Anatomy has petrified me for years. However, as the semester progresses, appreciation replaces apprehension. I’m starting to love anatomy. Initially, the idea of memorizing minute details and foreign Latin-based words filled me with dismay. However, once I get past the plethora of those foreign words, everything becomes conceptually clear.

I make the subject easier for myself by relating it to my two interests: reading maps and learning languages.

The human body is a map chronicling a landscape paved with arteries, routed with nerves, and bordered by muscles. That must be why Dr. Frank Netter publishes an atlas of Human Anatomy instead of a book. The intricate curves of the brachial plexus (that exists in your arm pit) transforms into the twisting asphalt of I-75, I-94, and I-96 in Downtown Detroit; only a native (like me) can navigate that mess.

Though I hate memorization, paradoxically, I happen to love learning languages (as evidenced by my former post), which involves a lot of memorization. Juxtaposing anatomy to the French, Hebrew, or Russian I’ve studied makes memorizing the complex of nerves, roots, veins more bearable.

Today, I took a shower after anatomy lab to wash off the formaldehyde. In the mirror, I traced my latissimus dorsi to the intertubercular sulcus of my humerus (arm). The nearby outline of my pectoralis major revealed the position of my serratus anterior. Looking closely, found my cephalic vein appeared by my deltoid followed it down my arm. A month ago, all these were mere “body parts;” now, they develop meaning as I learn more about myself.

We’ll see how much I love anatomy after our first exam next week.

10,000

…the number of words one learns in their first year of medical school – from aortic aneurysm to zygapophyseal joint. That’s a lot of memorization!

In lecture, we learn the terminologies of anatomists, physiologists, biochemists, cell biologists, and geneticists. In our problem-based learning (PBL) sessions, we gain a command of Latin and Greek-based medical jargon – neoplasia versus hyperplasia; dysuria versus hyperuria; not to mention BUN, CBC, EENT, etc.

Juxtaposing this to learning a new language: we are immersed within the “culture,” learn what words “mean,” memorize, make flash cards, adopt a medical syntax for the new words, etc. Quite the concept, eh?

This adds to challenges of another personal goal: learning Russian. I have my reasons for doing so. Sometimes I get frustrated with my slow progress. (Я гаворю по русский не оцен хорошо!) I use Rosetta Stone and Pimsleur (both of which work well and I will comment on their effectiveness in future posts), and though I enjoy learning Russian, it is quite different from the French and Hebrew I’ve studied previously.

I must be patient. Learning two languages at the same time is difficult.

Poem.

Class started on Monday. I returned from my trip on Tuesday. Now, I play catch up, during which I still intend to post stories and thoughts from our 11-day cross-country trip.

This thought comes from the New Orleans' riverfront. We encountered the city after a long drive in Texas, so we decided to stop and explore the Vieux Carré. Though we had seen the Mississippi river twice before during our trip, they were always from the confines of our car. That day marked my first acquaintance with the grand river, which made me think of a beloved Langston Hughes poem:

The Negro Speaks of Rivers

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.



Powerful, eh? I highly recommend listening to Hughes read the poem himself here. He also describes what led him to write 'The Negro Speaks of Rivers.'


OK. back to anatomy. More on that subject later.

Rêve

Our road trip continues. We encounter Las Vegas. If it were a book, it would be a combination of a sci-fi and a fantasy novel. I’ve visited the city last December and experienced the renowned “Strip” (Las Vegas Boulevard) for a second time.



I love the city – not because I like to gamble or shop, but because I like to observe. Next time you visit, notice how each resort, restaurant, store tries to lure you into their depths. Posters of show girls, comedians, even Donnie and Marie cover whole buildings. Pedestrian bridges, thought for safe travel down the strip, merely guide you directly into the next casino or mall. One casino had an escalator into the building without an escalator leading out. Some hotels offer free parking (!!!), yet after parking they take you through the casino to access the street – more temptations to gamble. Hey, you get what you pay for.

Once you’re inside one of the casinos (its unavoidable), look up. The ceiling always looks miraculous with mirrors, fancy gold trim, chandeliers, etc. In Paris, they paint fluffy, bright, French clouds that stay bright for 24 hours. You can gamble your money away at 4am and still think it’s 4pm if you wanted to. Look closely and you’ll see vents that supply oxygen to keep the gamblers energized.

This, my friends, is pure genius. Viva Las Vegas! On with the trip!

Transamerica

In my study of US history, I considered the periods between the Civil War (1860’s) and the turn of twentieth century quite boring. People lived. Died. Stuff happened. That’s it. However, one event stands out in my mind.



In 1869, Irish and Chinese immigrants completed the transcontinental railroad, sparking the end of the western frontier – a once unthinkable accomplishment. Before this railroad existed, only horses, ponies, and oxen had the capabilities to go from the Mississippi to the Pacific.

Did you want mail delivered to San Francisco from St. Louis? Take it on the pony express. Want to move to Oregon to start a farm? Get some oxen for your covered wagon and be prepared to climb mountains, ford streams, and risk starvation and disease to get to your destination.

The transcontinental railroad signified a historical shift not only in how Americans travel, but also how we view the mysteries of The West.

As we trek I-80 from Michigan to San Francisco in the comfort of our Pontiac Vibe, I think how different things are now – only 140 years later. Now, we can trek the Rockies on a paved, national highway system at 75 miles per hour with ease. You can also swim in an indoor pool, watch HBO, eat McDonalds, and see the latest movie if you wish. Times have changed – no cholera or hay fever, no buffalo (because we killed them all), and no threats of “Indian attack” – we gave the Native Americans too many other problems to deal with.

Interestingly, the route of the original transcontinental railroad closely matches that of Interstate 80.

As I type this sentence on my macbook, we spend our first moments in Wyoming together - at 70 miles an hour. How rugged.

I will keep you posted for more news.

MD/8

...so I completed my first semester of medical school and can consider myself to be .125MD or one-eighth of an MD – that means if you come to me with eight diseases, I can only treat one of them. As I emerge from my medical cave into society, people often ask me the "how did it go?" question, which always catches me off guard. (“err… ok, I guess?” “It’s over.” “I didn’t die from studying too hard.”). Frankly, the semester went by in a blur. It flew from August to December, and I barely remember what happened in between.

For winter break, I emerged from my medical cave and we are on our way in a car from Michigan to the West Coast and back to New York to start the next semester. After my emergence, people also approach me for medical advice. Sometimes I can answer the question; sometimes I can’t (maybe I can only answer one-eighth of the questions I am asked?).

It’s a new experience that I think every professional student encounters. My friends in law school are experiencing the same types of almost-rhetorical questions. Though I sometimes feel overwhelmed with the required knowledge base to answer those questions, I appreciate the trust my friends and family place in me to listen to and address their concerns. It consistently reminds me how much I need to learn and of my changing position in society. Get ready, WolverineDoc.

Now, WolverineDoc must experience the wonders of the American West via car.