Hmm...

Scientists know how to have fun too...dancing tonight (with plenty of EtOH) to pop music from the 90s. It's like being in a college frat dance party, complete with DJ, lights out, and big plastic cups with cheap beer. Lovely.

Whole Wheat Strawberry Yogurt Muffins

I'm on a mission to savor the last bits of summer. As such, for our study break, I whipped up a batch of these guys (er, or gals, or muffins - why am I anthropomorphizing?).  They were deliciously moist and wholesome.  And don't tell me you don't love the heart shapes.



Whole Wheat Strawberry Yogurt Muffins
Yields 12 muffins
adapted from http://alidaskitchen.blogspot.com/2011/06/strawberry-yogurt-muffins.html

1.5 cups white whole wheat flour
1/2 cup white granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup nonfat plain yogurt
1/4 cup oil
2 teaspoons vanilla
1.5 cups strawberries, chopped

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line or grease 12 muffin cups.
2. In large bowel, whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
3. In another bowel, combine eggs, yogurt, oil, and vanilla until blended. Add to flour mixture and gently mix until combined. Avoid overmixing.  Gently fold in strawberries.
4. Divide batter evenly among muffin cups. Bake 20 minutes or until toothpick inserted in muffin comes out clean. Serve with even more strawberries.

Heart shaped muffins. It's a silicone baking dish.

My poor attempt at food photography. With an smartphone camera. At least I tried.

This little fellow...

...made my day a little brighter!

The power of gratitute

My resident fellow send us the following article. I am grateful for so many things, including her. What are you grateful for?

THE POWER OF GRATITUDE

[THIRD Edition]

Boston Globe - Boston, Mass.

Author:	ELISSA ELY
Date:	Mar 28, 2003

ELISSA ELY is a psychiatrist.

MANY YEARS AGO, IN THE STAFF ROOM OF A HOSPITAL WHERE ALL CASES WERE CONFIDENTIAL YET ALL CONVERSATIONS WERE EASILY OVERHEARD, I LISTENED IN ON HALF A CONVERSATION. A psychiatric resident was on the phone. I knew little about him except that like all of us in training, he labored for the proper neutral expression considered an indication of therapeutic expertise. We all tried to look neutral back then; the staff room was full of level brows, no movements that might register on a Richter scale, and, in my five years there, not one fist pumped in the air.
The resident was known for taking on tough cases, angry and injurious patients whom others were pleased to pass on. His patients were regularly on the tops of bridges or else suing him. He was busier with their difficulties than the rest of us, and a certain admiration followed him for his durable accomplishments.
Durability took its toll. When he wasn't looking neutral, the doctor looked harried and slightly untidy; socks slid down, and his shirts came untucked from the weight of other lives on his shoulders. Though he never raised his voice, no one would have blamed him. We would have welcomed a little steam from his ears. It would have done him good.

On this morning, he was standing in the staff room with the phone receiver on his shoulder, holding one chart under his arm and leafing through another on the table. He had apparently just dialed the operator.

"Maintenance Department," he said, and while he waited he initialed a lab report. His voice had no time for chitchat. There was a bite of lunch on his tie.

"Hello, Maintenance? Is this the supervisor? This is Dr. X. I'm in Office 106. It's about the man who cleaned there last night."

My radar rose, and my admiration for his durable accomplishments began to sink. This phone call could have only one purpose. No matter how busy someone is, there is always time for dissatisfaction. He was calling to complain. He was going to report some imperfection left by the man who had cleaned Office 106 last night. I didn't want to hear it - though, of course, I continued to listen.

"I don't know the guy's name," he said. "But it looked like hell in there before, and it looks fabulous now. I wanted to pass on to you that he did a great job. Could you thank him for me?"
I would have tucked that lovely man's shirt in for him that second if I could have done it without breaking professional code. Giving thanks used to be standard - all human models came equipped with the capacity. Now it seems not to be a regular feature anymore; giving thanks has become heated front seats in luxury sedans.

Let us be clear.

Appreciation still exists, but it is mostly on a grander, more formal, full-screen scale - sky-high monuments and heroic testimonial dinners meant to knock us off our feet. Complaint is also easy to find these days (the very act of complaining is often confused with accomplishment). What is missing are the less spectacular thanks.

We're lessened by the loss of these little thanks, though we're mostly so busy that I wonder if anyone misses them. We're lessened because somehow a piece of eternity is put into place every time one is given - that is, thanks last forever. The janitor in Office 106, I'll put good money on it, will carry that moment with him into the next life. All of us who eavesdropped on the conversation will, too.
I once heard a senior psychiatrist say he had spent the entire hour of a session analyzing, as if in a chess match, whether or not to pass a tissue to a weeping patient. In the end, he didn't. He said it would have been too revealing. But this was the opposite. In a moment of unsolicited and slightly effortful gratitude, someone, by chance also a psychiatrist, exposed his disheveled and dear heart - and I, for one, would have trusted him with my soul after that. I have remembered his shirt long after I have forgotten his name. But it is never too late for gratitude.

Surviving medical training

Greg Bratton, a recently graduated family medicine resident, writes the blog "Insights on Residency" and shared his top 10 list of how to make it through medical training intact.

 I've copied his list below:

10. In college, major in something other than pre-med. You will learn enough science in medical school. Choose something like art, philosophy, or dance. It will expand your mind, and you will become well rounded and able to communicate with patients on a “natural” level.

9. Remember that, ultimately, you are a person first and a doctor second. Patients will relate to you. They will trust in your treatment plans and adhere to your recommendations. Find time to decompress. Take weekends off. Schedule date nights. Get involved with charities. Go fishing. Do something to keep in touch with who you are as a person. Don’t let medicine define you. You were John Doe before medical school, be John Doe after.
8. Date. Get married. Have children. Some say that it is too much to handle with studying, it is too expensive, or it is “just not the right time.” I disagree. I think it makes you better. Plus, no matter how hard of a day you’ve had or how grueling your week is, when you get home, someone is there to take your mind off of it. As a buddy of mine said after having his first son, “there are no more bad days.”
7. Read gossip magazines. After hours of memorizing Robbins Pathology or Grey’s Anatomy, you’ll need something to purge your brain. And what is better than keeping tabs on Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, and all the other train wrecks in Hollywood?!?! In addition, it will help you understand the many psychiatric problems you will one day be diagnosing and treating.
6. While at dinner, no matter how many of your classmates or fellow residents are present, DO NOT TALK ABOUT MEDICINE!! It always happens — you go out for a relaxing evening and inevitably start talking about work. Don’t do it! It is not fair to the non-medical professionals listening. Instead, talk about sports, weather, or the latest happenings in US! Magazine (another reason #7 is so important).
5. Periodically, wear normal clothes. I think we all will agree that one of the benefits to working in a hospital is the that you can wear scrubs every day. But remember, scrubs are forgiving; they won’t let you know that you’re not tying the drawstring as tight as you used to. Whether you weigh 150 lbs or 180 lbs, you are still going to wear the same size scrubs. Put on your jeans — they will tell you the truth about your circumference.
4. Exercise. Endorphins are good. Plus it will counteract the late night Cheetos, pizza, and soda consumed while being on-call or studying. And before you say it, there is always time! Just find it.
3. Call home. Talk to your mom and dad, brother and sister, hometown friends. Just because you’re “in medical school” does not mean you get to stop being their son, sibling, or friend. They are your support. Use them, lean on them, involve them. And remember, you are where you are because of them.
2. Keep an open mind while doing 3rd-year rotations. Even if you think you know what you want to do, don’t force yourself to like it. Enter each rotation with an open mind. Go with your gut. I wanted to do orthopedics but found myself “tolerating” the OR, not loving it. Yet, I loved taking care of families, seeing the same patient routinely, and developing relationships with patients. So I chose Family Medicine. Had you told me during my 1st or 2nd year of medical school that I would end up doing primary care, I would have laughed at you. But I love it and can’t imagine doing anything else.
1. Take a deep breath and relax occasionally. Don’t be like me and wait until you receive your diploma to re-center yourself. Do it daily. Know that although the journey is long, it doesn’t have to be rushed. Enjoy the moment. Enjoy the challenge. Realize that you, too, are on your way to achieving your dreams.

It's so very relevant and serves as a reminder that first, we are people, then doctors. Easier said than done, especially the part about making time for yourself and others. I think the only point I disagree with is that it's okay, no it's necessary, to talk about medicine with your friends! I did this throughout third year and it was a lifesaver. In fact, at our school, it's mandated - we had weekly hourly small-group sessions with our fellow third years led by faculty members who did not grade us. Each week we'd tell the group how we were doing and usually, at least one of us would bring up something we were struggling with or found really difficult. These sessions became a safe place to share how we were feeling and coping, to reflect, and to find validation through others' experiences. Medicine can be so alienating, and it helped being surrounded by others who you knew could understand what you really going through. One of the guys in my third year cohort commented just the other day that it was like "we walked through fire together" and really bonded as a consequence.

P.S. I'm wearing scrubs right now.  And I'm not even on clinical rotations any more. I think I just failed tip #5. :)

Autumn

It's officially arrived.  Which means winter is just around in the corner. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the last bits of daytime light like my soul depends on it. I really wished I lived in LA or something.