This is Chandra, the Transplant fellow, getting whatever sleep he can on a short flight to an organ procurement.

Transplant has thus far been a whirlwind. On my first day, we did an AV graft, then a liver, a pancreas, and a kidney, back-to-back-to-back-to-back, while I squeezed in an appendectomy because I was also on call for general surgery. Since then, we've had four more kidneys and two liver procurements that weren't viable. I have no idea what day of the week it is.

I got a letter in the mail informing me that I was officially being offered one of the positions in Northwestern's Vascular surgery research program. So I guess things are set for the next two years. And then ... retirement! Or not. But all this won't start until the summer. And I have miles to go before I sleep.

I'm back home for a few days during my week off from work to see the folks. Now that my sister is off living her married life, the house feels a little empty. There's still plenty of things packed away, though - bits and pieces here and there of things I'd long since forgotten.



My parents have little in the way of entertainment. The cable TV doesn't work particularly well and there's no internet, so I've been rummaging through the piles to see if I can find anything interesting.

In a green box in the corner of my room was a barely-used stationery set. I'd bought it during my sophomore year of college to write to a friend of mine at a different school. We knew of each other from high school, but didn't become friends until I visited her with another buddy during one of my breaks. She was working at a Japanese restaurant on campus, so she ended up buying us a huge plateful of sushi, then we went over to her apartment and helped blow up an inflatable Bears chair that someone had given her. I think I really liked her. We ended up exchanging a few letters, but just sort of lost touch after that. I don't know where she is now, and, I know, I know, I could join Facebook and write on her wall and all that, but that was over a decade ago, and I think that's where it should stay.



I've been trying to use my time to study, but it's hard to be efficient when, for once, all I have is time. I've been spending some time at the Barnes by Myung's house. It's not particularly busy, there are available wall outlets, and there's a cute barista at the cafe. That last part is probably more detrimental to my focus than anything, but it's cold outside, the days are short, and I am okay with it.



Time, won't you slow your pace, just a bit? You're leaving me behind.

Myung loves Peanuts. I think one of the reasons may be because Charlie Brown suffers so much indignity and yet finds hope in the end. Well, he decided that it was time to stop playing Wham! and start looking for the bright side. So he went and bought himself a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.



He was so happy about it. It was a reminder of the lessons of the Christmas spirit against rampant commercialism.

But the thing is, it wasn't. The tree was made of plastic, which, of course it wasn't in the TV special. And it was stamped at the base with the Peanuts logo - a mockery of the idea behind the original. The final insult came when I saw this at the local Walgreens.



Where have you gone, Charlie Brown? A blogger turns his lonely eyes to you.

It's not unusual for me to be up at this hour. Sometimes it's because I'm on call at the hospital, and sometimes it's because I have to round early in the morning. Today it's because I just finished playing basketball. Yes, just now.

Since finishing work yesterday and starting my one week of vacation/cram-for-the-ABSITE, I've gotten in about an hour or so of studying and probably close to five hours of basketball. Great start to the week. Unlikely as it is, we found enough guys tonight to start playing basketball at around midnight. Everyone either had a work schedule that started later in the day or didn't have a work schedule at all. It's probably not a good idea to keep this up, if only for the purpose of not seriously injuring myself.

I just turned thirty-three. I'm not sure when I'm supposed to grow up.

After three-and-a-half months at the VA, I'm starting to lose it. Not that I'm necessarily looking forward to Transplant, but I could really use a change of scenery.

Befitting the real arrival of winter with its combination of bitter cold and first snowfall, I have decided that I'm going to keep growing out my Asian fro. Well, at least for another week or until it starts annoying me. It'll be like my playoff beard, except on my head, and there's no playoff. So, not like a playoff beard at all.

But it's disheveled hair! And, like the fat pony, that's good enough.

Some random pictures from the past few weeks:

Waiting for Sara:


Myung hates birds except when they're angry:


Giddy up:


Where Myung is supposed to sleep:


Where Myung actually sleeps:


I should take more pictures.

It's late and I need to sleep, but I wanted to put a few swirling thoughts down.

Today was Greg's funeral and burial. It was both heartfelt and heartbreaking. He was so obviously loved by so many, but it wasn't enough to save him from himself. And as I poured my share of dirt over his coffin, I could only think, "Oh, Greg."

Myung told me two unrelated-but-related things: first, his talk did not go well, and second, Anson moved out. It seems like we're either searching without finding or losing what we'd found.

At the funeral, they read the twenty-third Psalm. I couldn't help but think about the last line, and how goodness and mercy are so often only clearly seen like shining beacons against a background of the darkest night.

Oh, God, come and light my way.

I left work early today and told the intern to call me if anything came up. So when he called later in the afternoon, I figured it was a new consult or maybe an update on one of our patients.

Me: What's up?

He: When the vascular intern signed out to me, he told me that the vascular fellow died today.

Me: What?

He: Greg, the fellow, he felt sick this morning, so he went home and he died.

I don't know the details, but apparently that's basically what happened. I worked with him for about a week and half last month at the end of my VA vascular rotation after he took over for CJ. He was a good guy - smart, hard-working. I remember CJ telling me that Greg had lost two of his grandparents in the past year (and I'd heard he lost a third right after I rotated off the service) so he was obviously going through a lot in his personal life, but it seemed like he would get through it and be ok.

It's all so fleeting. And we invest so much. Only a mist, Lord willing. Only a mist.

Dear Anonymous,

You may have noticed that I don't typically reply to visitors' comments. Or maybe you'll never come back, and this will just be a stir in the water of two ships passing in the night. In any case, a lot of that has to do with the fact that I think of this blog as a logue not of dia, but mono. However, I don't think it would be fair to make you cry and not offer a brief acknowledgment, or maybe just some unsolicited advice.

I don't know your reasons for wanting to become a doctor. Maybe your parents pushed you in that direction, or maybe, I hope, it was something a little closer to your heart. Don't forget it, though, because you'll have many sleepless nights - some by choice, some not - and it's easy to lose sight of the big picture. And it won't matter, really, if you don't get into the medical school that you want, or if you don't match at your top residency choice, or - and here it is - or if you don't get into medical school at all. At the risk of sounding like some high school yearbook quote, following your heart may not always lead you where you expected to go, but you'll end up where you hoped to be.

I guess it's easy for me to say, since I'm already in the thick of it, but I hope you believe me. I must confess, I'm a bit skeptical, since I find most premed undergrad students to be annoyingly achievement-oriented and not very receptive to advice like this. But like I said, I wanted to make amends for wetting your eyes.

I hope that you will have a restful night. And tell your grandmother that doctors make terrible husbands.

Sincerely,
Chase

I worked over a hundred hours last week. Ugh.

Last Friday I drove up to Charlie and Lori's place for Friday night community group. I was tired from a long week, but I didn't realize how tired I was until I started nodding off during the sharing time. By the time we finished, I was laying on the cold basement floor, sliding into sleep's embrace. And as sad as that was, it was only one of several times during my residency that I've fallen asleep on a floor somewhere due to pure exhaustion. Sad.

A few weeks ago I mentioned to my mom that I'm going to take time off to do research for the next couple of years. Her response? "You need to get married." So actually I could have said anything and gotten the same response.

One of the benefits of doing research is that it should afford me a little more free time. So, yes, maybe I can get married, but to be honest I think I would settle for dreaming cushioned dreams.

Seek ye first the kingdom of God...

She said that she was a different person now than she was back then. She said she wanted to be happy.

He said that he couldn't give that up, not even if it meant this.

And I don't know - can't remotely imagine - what it must feel like to go through this. There aren't sides to take, teams to support, just an overwhelming feeling of sadness. I just say a prayer - for healing, for peace, for the kids.

My dear, wherever you are tonight, I hope you are well. I hope you communed with our God today and were refreshed for the coming week. I hope you are giving your best in all things. I hope you are living to glorify God and I hope you are enjoying Him yesterday, today, and forever. I hope to see you soon.

Allelu, Alleluia.

The next time I mention anything about trusting God with my future, remind me that it never makes it any easier. Still, it doesn't leave much room for doubt.

Mr. D came to the VA last week with a cold left foot. Over the weekend, we tried having interventional radiology attempt thrombolysis with minimal success. This morning, with his foot still cold and no distal doppler signals heard, we decided to take him to the OR. It was a fairly long case, and I was post-call, so it seemed even longer. But when we injected contrast down his new bypass graft and I saw his foot light up like a Christmas tree with blood flow, it was a beautiful sight.

The long and winding road looks like it may soon become even longer and more winding, but, oh, the views along the way!

All of my previous experiences with vascular surgery were neutral at best, but I'm actually kind of enjoying my time here at the VA. Part of it definitely is due to CJ, the fellow on the service, who happens to be Korean-American, and seems to have taken a big brother-ish liking to me, but I'm starting to enjoy the instant-gratification-vs-instant-horror aspect of the specialty, as well. So, blood vessel surgeon? Definitely maybe.

This week I've also had a little time to play basketball again after a long hiatus. How long? I honestly couldn't remember the last time I played. Maybe sometime last year? Anyway, it was good to get some exercise, and I'm sure my achy body will forgive me later.

One of the recent Bethel newcomers, Benji, played both times and I got a chance to talk to him a little bit while driving him home. He's a Michigan transplant, still looking for work in the big city, and at 23, just a baby. He's big, goofy, impulsive, and a generally nice kid. It's a little weird to think that he's the same age as some of the youth group kids I used to teach. And within five minutes of meeting me, he offered to set me up with a noonah he knows from Michigan. At that point, he only knew that I was a doctor and that I drove a Lexus. So like I said, goofy and impulsive.

But the warmth and carefree flings of summer are passing now. Fall cometh to Chicago, so it's time to hunker down. Come and hunker with me.

For the first few days after coming back from vacation, I would come home from work and walk into my empty condo, and it felt strange. I had gotten used to being alone for so long that after spending two weeks coming "home" to human interaction, being alone felt, you know, lonely. And then I got used to it again.

When Myung and I had dinner with Karin last week, she tried to encourage us by saying that she thought we were "catches" because we were employed and weren't weird. I'm not sure I agree with the not-weird part, but I guess I'm just glad the bar is so low.

Then Myung sent this mass email out a couple of days ago:

I'm over at my parents' house watching Kanye West concert on their cable. During the commercial, there was some animal rescue video of pictures of abused animals with their names and how they were neglected. One of the cats in the video, named [Chase], had this description: Never loved and will die alone.

Let's make a rescue video with [Chase]. Same description.

My response:

This email makes me feel abused.

It's good to be back.

I used to have dreams of Korea when I was younger - of shigol and the river we had to cross and the hill directly behind the house, of Seoul and the school nearby and playing on the streets - and the half-remembered and half-formed places in these dreams were completed by my imagination until I didn't know how much of it was real and how much only existed in my mind. After all these years, even what was real then now only exists in my head, so this time I took pictures of everything I saw, that I would never forget my waking dream.

This morning I walked by a man with a fruit cart on the street. He had all different kinds of fruit and I only got a passing glimpse of a bunch of bananas as I hurried past. And my mind slammed on the brakes.

Do you remember in the movie Ratatouille when Anton Ego tastes the titular cuisine? How he was instantly taken back to a different moment in time? When I was growing up in Korea, our family wasn't particularly well off (not that we're rich or anything now) and Korea wasn't the same as it is now. Bananas and other fruits were relatively expensive. So when I was a little boy walking around with my parents, and I saw bananas, not knowing any better, I asked for one. Of course they couldn't afford it, and to this day my dad will mention how much it hurt him that he couldn't buy that banana for me. And all of this came flying back to me in a split second.

This sort of thing has been happening a lot here. Memories that I thought I'd lost find themselves and give me a tug. And suddenly I'm more whole than I was expecting to be.

Save my mom, everyone on her side of the family is here in Korea. She has three sisters and two brothers. My mom is the oldest and my cousins refer to her as 미국 이모, or American aunt. It's strange. I have vague recollections of my aunts and uncles, and only two of my ten cousins were born when I was here last. Each of my aunts looks like a sequentially younger and slightly different version of my mom, and they all have her easy laugh. I'm still having trouble keeping all the cousins straight, but they all seem like good kids.

I was warned by other people that have visited Korea that I would probably end up spending a lot more time with family than I planned, and that's exactly what's been happening. I don't mind much though. Family is good, and my family is good people.

As Countdown to the Motherland continues, I spent part of the day Saturday at the annual Chicago K Fest. It was hot and semi-crowded, but I got to eat some street food and watched Edmund and PDan wrestle in the sand pit. With their shirts off. In front of both of their respective youth group kids. It was a little inappropriate. Here's the fantastic video.

Then I was convinced to attend the last Connect meeting ever, mostly by the lure of free food. Though it lasted way past my bedtime, I still enjoyed it. Recently it seems God has been reminding me a little bit about living closer to Him, specifically about trusting Him with my future. Before I decided to pursue medicine, I took a long road trip to New York to think about it. This time I have a long flight to Korea. Eh, maybe I'll be better off sleeping.

A week from now I will be somewhere over the sea, going back from whence I came. I'm pretty excited, and a bit nervous. My Korean still sounds pretty good after twenty-two years, but it only sounds pretty good for about twenty-two seconds, after which I run out of words that I know. Korean variety show clips, don't fail me now.

I had a rare day off today, and ended up eating dinner with Myung and Anna. Myung bought Anna a drink to celebrate her recent entry into adulthood, and I had a diet Coke to save my liver before Maria drowns it in soju. Anna is going to India in two days for a quarter studying abroad. She was excited about eating with her hand, tea times, and Bollywood.

Later I picked up a bag from Will that I'll be taking to Maria. He is leaving for China this weekend until maybe forever. He was excited about seeing what God's will had in store.

I've never been to China or India, and my last memories of Korea are in black and white, but from what I've been able to piece together from random things, Will will be riding a bicycle, Anna will be dancing to a cheesy song, and I will be wearing some tight pants. I think I'm the big winner there, and I think my new Korean bride will agree.

This was a good weekend for reexamining priorities. Dan came to visit for a conference and we got a chance to eat and walk and talk. It's been seven - seven! - years since our trip to East Timor, and we took a little time to look back on how far we'd come and look ahead toward the great unknown.

He's taking time off in the middle of his residency for an MPH and research. He's likely looking at a pediatric surgery fellowship in the future. As for international work, it's still his goal, but he's less sure what shape it will take.

We talked a lot about the difficulty of committing to overseas medicine, especially as we get older and family considerations are being, you know, considered.

Dan: Who would want to give up everything to help people they don't even know?

And the question hung in the night air, right next to the answer that neither of us had the strength to say.

Today, the El Salvador mission team was back at church and Anson spoke about seeking the Kingdom of God before ourselves. And I thought about what that meant for me.

I've started to have people ask me in earnest about my plans for after residency, and I've responded that I don't have the slightest idea right now. Whatever I decide, I should begin to make preparations towards the end of this year. It's just that, when I looked up at the night sky yesterday, there were clouds everywhere with nary a star to be seen.

"Play songs by Kah-rah," I said.

After the slightest hesitation, a Nichole Nordeman song began playing. Eat up Martha, indeed.

I then decided to give it what it wanted.

"Play songs by Kara," I said.

And the sweet sounds of Honey filled the air.

So far third year has been a little more stressful than I prefer. It's true that I get to spend most of my time in the OR nowadays, but I still don't get to do as much as I'd like. Hopefully that will change as the year goes on. I also have more responsibility than before, including keeping the interns from killing all our patients. A quick word of advice: try to avoid teaching hospitals in July.

Providing a welcomed distraction has been the arrival of my new iPhone, antenna brouhaha and all. I ordered a case when I ordered the phone, so it went on right away. The case also came with a screen protector, which I tried and failed to put on correctly. I decided that if I get a scratch, well, that's life. Things get used, things get old, things get lived, and they show it. My Yah-Tah car now has a few minor scratches and bumps, and it feels more lived in. My condo has a bunch of clutter, and I find it more comfortable. My face has a few more wrinkles, and it looks more, well, ok, I just look old. But you get the point.

Hopefully, my iPhone and I will grow old together (for two years). And when I ask it to play songs by Kara, it will smile at me, touch my hand gently, and say, "It's Kah-rah, dear. It's Kah-rah."

For all the long days and all the sleepless nights when it seemed the river - and love - flowed upstream.



It seems silly to look back now, doesn't it, when it was so clearly meant to be?



I pray that you will fall in love with each other for the rest of your lives. Congratulations, Noonah.

And goodnight to the old lady whispering "hush"

The sunburn has settled into a subtle tan now, but for the first two weeks after returning from my vacation I was leaving little pieces of myself everywhere I went. Every time I changed into or out of my scrubs at the hospital, there would be a little cloud of dead skin floating down all around me. Hopefully, I didn't lose anything that I would miss.

Lately I've been spending a lot of time online looking for a new phone. My old Blackberry is on its last legs and I've narrowed my search to the final two: Sprint's Evo 4G and AT&T's iPhone 4. While not exactly the same, the two phones are pretty comparable in terms of features, cost, and whatever else. At this point, it really is a philosophical difference.

The Evo is based on Google's Android operating system, which is meant to be an open environment, giving consumers more freedom to do what they will as they wish. The iPhone - and Apple, in general - is famously closed and tightly controlled. So it seems obvious that I should go with the Evo, since freedom and openness and such are good things in life. Unfortunately, in life, things get a little more complicated. Because of the very openness that makes me want to support it, Android is more fragmented, less polished, heavily depended on users to work around the problems that inevitably arise. Meanwhile, because the iPhone is so closed, everything works as it was intended, somewhat limited though it may be. So while it should only be a philosophical choice, as always, I have to think about having to live with it. And I'm undecided.

This week may be somewhat hectic. My second year of residency is coming to a close as my sister's wedding preparations are coming to a head. And when I called my dad tonight to wish him a happy Father's Day, he mentioned that my grandmother was back in the hospital and that she may be starting to slip away. And there's a million other things that I wanted to write about - to remember - but I don't have the time now. I'll try to write more when I get a chance, and hope that I won't miss anything that I might lose.

It's different out here. I always seem to forget that. I walked out of the hotel to bright sunshine and the lightest cool breeze, and I remembered that the weather forecast doesn't really matter.

I drove to the nearest In-N-Out Burger for lunch, then strolled over to the beach. There wasn't much of a crowd: a handful of beach volleyball players, a few joggers, and the occasional beachcomber. I laid out, read a bit of my paperback book, and counted the rare wispy cloud like it was floating over a fence, as the grains of sand lazily meandered down the hourglass.

Dr. Strangelove or:

During my rotations at County earlier this year I heard some of the Rush residents refer to the third-year on-call pager as "The Bomb," presumably because it was always going off. We don't have anything that cute in my program, as our pages (and our pain) generally tend to be more evenly spread out. Even so, during my intern year, I had many, many times when I wanted to toss my pager and its infernal beeping into the abyss.

This year, I've learned to take a deep breath and to take, well, it. Of course, it helps that I don't usually get bombarded by all the ridiculous intern-level pages. Still, I hope that my patience is slowly building in my professional life, even as it seems to get ever shorter in all other aspects.

I think part of it is due to living alone, and doing whatever I want whenever I want. Combine that with getting older and not having to answer to a significant other, and you have the recipe for selfish-er-shest.

Myung just had his two new roommates move in, and it's been a bit of a shock to his system. Myung, by nature and nurture, likes things tidy and clean. Apparently at least one of his roommates doesn't mind leaving things a bit unkempt.

Myung: There are boxes everywhere.

Me: Boxes of what?

He: I don't know. And there are half-empty water bottles on the table. I don't know if I should throw them out since I don't know if he's done with them.

Me: This is going to bother you.

He: Boxes...

Meanwhile, I've been setting up my last vacation week of the year. Parker and a buddy of his wants to see two large black men beat the living crap out of each other, so I figured I'd tag along for my first visit to Sin City. And while I'm out west, I thought I'd spend a few days on the beaches of southern California. But now I'm looking at the weather forecast for the last week of May and it doesn't seem like it's going to be warm enough for the beach. Oh, LA, you never fail to lift me up/bring me down.

Trauma ended with a buzz. My last day on Trauma started with an ICU patient going into asystole, followed by multiple failed attempts at intubation by every method you can imagine, and then my first cricothyroidotomy (alas, unlike on TV, I did not use a straw or the tubing of a pen). Most of the rest of the day was spent running around different ORs. Then the last memorable Trauma page of my second year: male circular saw to neck. It looked pretty much like what you would expect. Not only did he survive, Mr. Pez dispenser (as one nurse called him in typical medical gallows humor) looked better in the morning than I did as I finished another Trauma go-around.

Now I'm left with a couple of months of general surgery to finish off the year. The hours should be pretty long, but at least I'll get a day off here and there. I'll miss the wear and tear of the nightly South Side gun-and-knife show like, well, another hole in my head.

I had a chance to play basketball with some church guys last week. It was fun to run around like a kid again. And though I haven't been a kid in a long, long time, the next day I felt surprisingly OK. Myung, on the other hand, said he had to leave work early because he was so tired. The sadness of getting old lies in accepting small concessions.

During one of my calls last week, Erin, one of the ER residents on the Trauma team, got a voicemail from the husband of her best college friend. It was a short message that said she had had a stroke and was hospitalized. The couple had long had trouble with miscarriages before having their first child. Now, trying for their second, and as a complication of yet another miscarriage, she had developed a severe bleeding disorder. In the throes of her illness, she had managed to ask for Erin, her doctor best friend, who would help her.

Between calls Erin drove up to Michigan to see her friend. She said it was strange to see her friend in the ICU, surrounded by the old, sick and dying, with her toenails still painted pink. With no hope for any meaningful recovery, the family decided to withdraw care and let her pass away peacefully.

The Trauma service has its own share of patients on the edge. Stanford was one that was in the ICU even before my rotation started. Multiple gun shot wounds, injured organs all over the place, and most days, taking care of him was like treating a tangle of wires and tubes and bowel. A couple of days ago, I walked into his room, and he was sitting up, watching a DVD that his brother had brought him to celebrate his 24th birthday earlier in the week, and giving me a thumbs up. He was like a new man.

It never ceases to amaze me when patients recover from such devastating injuries. And I suppose it never really surprises me when patients succumb to them. We are such fragile things, bent by the wind, tossed by the waves, and yet, always dreaming of tomorrow as invincible youth.

Bethel doesn't have many members, but a lot of us have been there forever. I've known Charlie since way back when we were in high school, but we've never been particularly close. Unless we're playing basketball or hanging out at church events, our paths rarely cross.

In spite of that, I really enjoy hearing about his life. A few years ago during a Good Friday service he shared about his family life growing up. In the middle of it, he mentioned a conversation that he had had with his mom. He said that she told him, "I'm lonely." And that struck me in such a raw way because it seemed so anti-Korean-parent to be so honest and vulnerable and human.

Last week I made a cameo appearance at Friday community group and heard Charlie talk about his sister. He said years ago he came home one night to find his mom yelling at his sister. She had just found out that she was pregnant. She was 18.

She'd asked him for a ride to a friend's house and Charlie drove her there in silence. Her words as she got out of the car: "Thanks, Charlie."

To everyone's surprise, she ended up having and keeping the baby, Emmanuel. Charlie said that in the end baby Emmanuel ended up bringing the family closer together.

To be honest, I'm not sure I even knew Charlie had a sister. But he does have a sister, and she does have a son, and he is with Charlie's family, and they are His.

Ah! Trauma, again! If I don't go to sleep, will tomorrow not come?

I was sick during my entire stay-cation and it got worse as the week went on. On Sunday night, I thought I was going to die. I was shivering from chills, sweated through my shirt, and dry heaved over the toilet. I kind of wished I had somebody with whom to share my misery, or at least listen to me whine, but I would have settled for a hand to hold my hair back while I was trying to retch. And my first day back at work, I was on call. I love my life.

Now I have to go back to Trauma. Ah!

Last week I had two browser tabs open with round-trip tickets ready to be booked for Korea or LA. I was thisclose to clicking, but ended up closing both tabs instead. It's gonna be a week of vegging at home.

Jon and Bekah visited last week, and Sarah tagged along when they came to see Myung. Sarah's finishing up her senior year of college and looking into finding a job, but she hadn't changed a bit, still the little kid. Of course, the little kid was now engaged and talking about her wedding plans. What in the world. Myung told her to come to church, and she said that she would try. I didn't see her on Sunday.

I did see a lot of food, though. After church, we had a buffet brunch for Ravee's birthday. And for dinner, we had Lou Malnati's for James and Jane's farewell. I was telling Charlie how I had gained something like fifteen pounds in the past two years, and Artie said, "You do seem beefier." Thanks. I don't own a scale, so I don't keep track of how much I weigh, and now I don't particularly want to, either.

So is it ok for me to start losing track of my age, too? When I saw my dad a few weeks ago, he said, "It's about time for you to get married." And instead of laughing it off like I usually do, I just said yes. Time keeps flying by, and I feel just as immature as I've ever felt.

A couple of days ago, Myung, Artie, and I took Che to the Niles North parking lot and handed over the wheel. She is just learning to drive and we circled that parking lot like Conan circling Bieber. She parked and parked and parked some more, avoiding my toes and a Slurpee cup. Afterwards, we celebrated by taking her to Portillo's, where she could eat and dry off her sweat-soaked fleece. I'm usually not a sentimental person, but little Che's growing up.

I'm definitely not a touchy-feely person, either, but for whatever reason, I always make an exception for Bekah. Whenever I say goodbye, I hug her as tightly as I can, holding on until the heartbeat fades slowly into the past.

I'm out of control.

Parker came into town to visit for the weekend and we met up to talk, like we usually do. He still has girl issues - not problems, exactly, more like probabilities - while I have, well, I suppose I have issues in general.

He was telling me that he was thinking about applying to PhD programs because it might give him better opportunities, not just in the job market, but as a Christian, as well. It's good. Maybe he can find some inspiration and peace.

It may be a combination of winter doldrums, post-ABSITE ennui, and the unbearable lightness of being me, but I feel particularly uninspired nowadays. So what do I do to fill the time?

Kara Bakery.

So since I've been listening to KPop nonstop, I've also been watching all the music videos on YouTube. Clickety click from there, and I've been watching all these Korean shows. My new favorite band is opening a bakery in reality show style and I am all over it.

One unforeseen benefit is that my Korean seems to be improving slightly, possibly only in my head. However, that's enough for me to start tossing random Korean words around. I kept interjecting Korean into my conversations with Myung on Sunday and he was not amused.

Myung: Stop!

Me: What? Hangookmal em-beuh-rae-ees haeyahdae. (There was a lot of romanization of words I didn't know)

He: It's weird to hear you say it. You sound like a 20-year-old girl.

Understandable, considering my frame of reference, but I still threatened him that I would start tweeting exclusively in Korean. As Che would say, haters gonna hate.

I told Sharon about it, considering she sort of started this whole thing, and apparently I should not have. She found it alternately funny and creepy, in an age-inappropriate kind of way. It seemed a lot less embarrassing in private.

Still, she was supportive of me em-beuh-rae-ees-ing my culture and even suggested that I fly off to Korea during my vacation week later this month. That may be pushing it, but I did appreciate her messaging me a picture of Nicole earlier today. The changpee-ness of a guilty pleasure? This is mine.

I went grocery shopping tonight and got stuck with a cart with stiff front wheels. It kept veering off to wherever it wanted to go, and we fought until I dropped it off in the parking lot cart holder.

And then I had dinner with Anna. So, you know, more of the same.

Well, usually, anyway. Tonight I was too sick to argue, and settled for a civilized conversation.

Anna: I saw Pastor Hoon at New Community a few weeks ago. I was his favorite Sunday School student.

Me: No, you weren't.

She: Yeah, I was. My name's Anna and his wife's name is Anna, so he used to say that all the Annas were pretty. And I spoke Korean well, too.

Me: Uh huh.

She: So I went and said hi. And he was like, "Uh..." His wife had to remind him that I went to Bethel.

Me: Hahaha.

She: And then Esther Kim saw him, and he was like, "Hey, Esther!"

She seemed to be doing well, finally settling down into her own. Time tends to do that, I guess. So when she asked me what to do about something, saying that she might actually listen to me for once, I didn't say anything. No more pushing, it's time to let go.

A few nights ago I had a dream. And when I awoke, even the ghost of the dream left me with feelings of affection and loss that I couldn't shake all day. After all this time, it may be that I never did leave it completely behind.

I finished up my Weiss rotation yesterday and am back at County for one last time. I've been told that this will be a light rotation, so I'm happy about that. Unfortunately I'm coming down with a cold, so I'm not happy about that. I'm going to take some Nyquil and go to sleep.

Please let the sinus congestion and emotional scars wait until the morning.

Last month Sharon gave me a flash drive with some songs on it. There were some recent praise songs, presumably so that I wouldn't be so lost on the rare occasions that I help with the church band, but more importantly she loaded it with popular Korean songs. The last Korean band that I can recall is when one of my college roommates put up a poster of H.O.T. in our dorm room. And yet, I've been listening to these songs nonstop.

Myung: Sharon listens to Korean music?

Me: She is fobby.

He: I thought she only listened to praise songs.

Me: She's fobbier than she has any good reason to be.

He: Yeah.

Me: I think she just likes it.

I've been watching the YouTube videos of all these bands, and I'm having some trouble telling them apart. Lots of legs and hair and outfits and "stripper dances," as Myung calls them. Catchy songs, though.

Other than that, life is pretty calm - just work and TV.

mariyasan: what are you up to?
chasekoo: nothing much...watching olympics
mariyasan: oh yes i should too... i saw it on tv in the dong store that i frequent.
mariyasan: my tv is not suitable for tv watching i'm just using it for video games
chasekoo: the what store?
mariyasan: the "dong" store... the neighborhood store...
chasekoo: hahaha
mariyasan: oh sorry we use the word... "dong" a lot in our staff

Sure. I think she just likes it.

After taking the ABSITE last year, I didn't open a book for about six months. This year was to be no different. Recently, I had the following conversation with the intern on my service.

Aisha: I force myself to read thirty minutes every day.

Me: Really? Wow.

She: I really want to be a good doctor. Don't you?

And that made me feel guilty, but not guilty enough to read every day. Instead I've been trying to work on other parts of my life, specifically the part where I don't have a girlfriend.

Mike set me up with a friend of his, and I put myself out there. We went out a couple of times, and it was nice to have a not-unpleasant date with a grownup. And the fact that I probably won't pursue it any further has more to do with personal preferences than any dating horror story.

So in the end I'm a bit more optimistic about what might be. Guilt can be brutally effective, but sometimes hope is all you need.

Earlier this week I took a sip of some Sprite Zero and felt a funny tingling in my mouth. Oh no.

I came home from work and started a oral contortionist routine involving a mirror and a flashlight. My mouth, gentle reader, was an absolute disaster. There were stains and spots and things that looked an awful lot like cavities everywhere. And my rarely used toothbrush looked at me, shook its disposable head, and looked away in disgust.

I freaked out.

I called my mom and asked if my old dentist took appointments on Saturdays. Then I brushed my teeth for, oh, ten minutes. And rinsed my mouth with Listerine. And I prayed like George Bailey back at the bridge, begging for a second chance.

On Saturday I drove to the suburbs so my dentist could fit me into the end of his schedule. He took a look, then took an X-ray.

He: You don't have any cavities.

Me: I ... really?

He: The X-ray shows that you have a badly impacted 3rd molar. You may need an oral surgeon to cut it out, and possibly remove the 2nd molar at the same time.

Me: So no cavities at all?

He: Uh...

Me: I'm never going to brush my teeth again.

Just kidding. So he said as long as it wasn't causing any real pain and wasn't infected, I might be able to leave it alone. And then he gave me a ten minute talk on cell biology and vitamins. In Korean.

So I'm going to consider this a lesson learned. I added oral hygiene to my list of New Year's resolutions and promised myself never to look that closely at my teeth ever again.

Andy, the intern on Colorectal, said that he was a big fan of Korean barbeque. He said we should go on a night when neither of us was on call. Sure, I said. And I'll bring some girls so that they can flip the meat, he said. Sure, I said.

So I was sitting at home today, having gotten the day off after Q2 call over NYE and the weekend, when I got a text from Andy that he'll come pick me up around 6. I went downstairs to meet him, and sure enough, he'd brought a girl with him in his car. Then we drove to Caribou Coffee and picked up her roommate. Great, right?

Somewhere along the way, I found out that the girls were actually that - girls. 22 and 23, if I remember correctly. One of them graduated from the same high school as I did, and kept asking if I knew this or that person. I kept saying that I was not likely to know anyone that they knew.

This past week I saw Avatar, Sherlock Holmes, and Up in the Air, which might be more than all of 2009 before. They were all good, but George Clooney's isolated frequent flyer hit home more than anything else. He did make it to his sister's wedding, which may be the best I can hope for, since any sort of attempt at human connection seems like a bit much for me.

I did make it through Korean barbeque in one piece, though, so maybe there's hope for me after all. This has to be considered progress from hanging out with youth group kids, right?

Baby steps, 2010. Baby steps.