Morning: I went to a brunch titled Soul of Medicine. It was a pretty good event for physicians and medical students alike, all meeting and greeting, mingling and chowing. The food was good -- would have been even better hot, but as I went there late, I can only surmise with wistfulness. Some brave souls stood up before a crowd of 100 or more and begin telling their stories of doctor-patient interactions. One of the most moving of which was when a doctor shared about the time a group of patients banded together to try to save a failing hospital, testifying to the importance that this hospital and its doctors have played in their collective lives over the last 50 or so years. I listened and inwardly, I felt both gladdened and a bit saddened. The purpose of this brunch I suppose is to try and give cynical, tired doctors a morale boost and to give medical students space in which to grow their idealism again. Even amidst the chicken soup buffet, I found myself wondering, how will I manage to hold on to this idealistic, even naive desire to "help" others throughout my career, one that is sure to be full of ups and downs?
So my day started out pretty nicely overall and I left the brunch, if not exactly glowing with newfound idealism and skipping on clouds of noble dreams, I at least walked away satisfied that there are still doctors out there who really do care. I then spent an uneventful hour at the local Starbucks, unsuccessfully trying to cram in facts of spinal cord anatomy and the metabolism of glucose, two very diverse subjects, but all required and force-fed to your average med student.
I decided to take a break around this time and meandered to the local Borders bookstore to check out their goodies. It was also at this time that your not-so-intrepid heroine meets a potential serial killer. =(
So I was just moseying around when out of the blue, this middle-aged man with a metallic front tooth flashes his gnarly face in front of me and hisses, "Food and the body, they make a VERY NICE combination." To be honest, I was like, "WHAT????" I was too startled to even respond at first. My first intuitive gesture was to snap my head back like 2 feet to avoid any contact with this putrid specimen. I just stared at him in bewilderment, but to cover my confusion and because I'm Asian (when in doubt, smile politely - it's been inculcated into me) I just smiled politely and what I hope to be dismissively and walked away, like FAR away.
Later as I thought about this comment some more, I began to be more and more annoyed. This guy was insinuating that I have some sort of eating disorder, perhaps anorexia or bulemia, because he checked out my physique (probably simultaneously in a lurid and disapproving way) and decided that I was too skinny to be eating healthily. There was that little voice that rose up in me in protest whenever something injust has occurred and I smacked myself because I should have hissed right back at him, "Oh don't worry, I eat plenty, you dumbfuck" We all know it's wrong for a person to go to an obese person and tell them to eat less. It's insensitive and degrading. But what happens when it's the other way around? I've been singled out just because some shithead can't tell the difference between a healthy slender body from a clinically malnourished one. The asshole put a damper in my mood right then and there. But it got worse, or your N-S-I heroine just got more paranoid, I don't know which.
So anyway I went to the first floor to pay for my books, and lo! the schmuck was right behind me. I nonchalantly looked away but I was tense and braced for fight or flight. Flight - pretty easy, I'll just run to the nearest bookstore security guard and tell them to save me. Fight - I will be armed and prepared to scream at him if he comes near at me again to make some other invasive and inappropriate remark. Wasn't sure which, but I was set for either. But nothing dramatic happened. He seemed to be avoiding me too in his own right and not coming too close. I went to pay for my books and he did too. But then I noticed a curious thing. I told myself that I will not leave the bookstore before him. I would leave after him so that I have a good vantage point and not the other way around. This guy must have had some ideas of accosting me outside the bookstore, because he literally began to dawdle and wait around. He did everything he could to dawdle, he stared at some posters, he checked his watch, etc etc. Meanwhile I was standing a few feet from him, putting my books into my bag and pondering my next move. I smirked to myself and thought, "Oh NO you don't. I AM THE QUEEN OF DAWDLING. Let's see who can play this game longer." But on the other hand, I was caught between wondering if I'm just insane or he really is waiting for me to leave the bookstore too. So eventually the cat and mouse game came to a head and he left the bookstore, but he didn't LEAVE, he just stood outside the bookstore, biding his time. At this point, I decided that I wasn't going to leave the bookstore so I whipped out my cell phone and decided to call my parents. I thought, A, I could easily spend another 30-40 minutes on the phone talking to my mom if I have to or B, at the very least, I can tell my Mom what this evil creepy man looks like should it come to that.
So after about 10 minutes on the phone, I left the bookstore and he seemed to have disappeared to find his next victim and I went promptly to Five Guys and stuffed myself with a double cheeseburger topped with onions and mushroom. I thought I deserved it after the stressful ordeal I've just been through. And let me tell you, don't underestimate the power endorphins that can be released from the simple ingesting of saturated grease. Then I left Five Guys, if not deliriously happy, at least restored in my natural equilibrium and state of mind.
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