A real man

** I read some interesting quotes in Dear Abby.

A real man would stand by his wife for better and for worse. (9/4/08)

Guilt can work miracles. (9/5/08)

** I may go to my very first Gator football game tomorrow. It starts at 8pm and will be broadcasted live on national TV. I am not at all interested in the sport but I don’t want to graduate from this university without seeing a single game. I frankly don’t think that I will enjoy the game. Another concern is that I have to break the fast at 7:45pm, at the stadium. We are not allowed to bring any water or food with us and I am not too keen on buying cheap food like hotdogs or turkey legs for an expensive price, that too after a fourteen hour long fast :O

** For the first time I bought a gator shirt for myself, in anticipation of going to tomorrow’s game.

** Mo is down with a cold. I love Mo. He’s the number one reason I don’t want to go too far away for residency.

Are you unloved…

… if your own Mama hangs up on you to attend to her friend’s phonecall? :O

Residency

I am working on my list of potential residency programs. My criteria are the following, in this order:

(1) Being less than 3 hours of flight away from my family

(2) Being as close to C as I can

(3) Being surrounded by Middle Eastern or desi restaurants. Half of the time I have spent working on this application, I have been on zabihah.com to find out how abundant halal restaurants are in any city!

(4) Program ranking

I am going crazy sitting in front of the computer. On one hand, I really want to get out of this teeny weeny town and spread my wings. On the other hand, it is so risky to move to an unknown place. What I risk the most is loneliness. I remember how afraid I was of being alone when I moved to this town over three years ago. I still am.

Pakistan Day Celebration

A few months ago, when I was at the newborn nursery, Dr. I, the Pakistani pediatric surgeon, with whom I had worked for two weeks on my surgery clerkship, came by to see a patient with his team. Before he left, he signaled me to talk to him in private. When I did, he told me that he was going to organize a Pakistan Day Celebration on August 30th, wanted me to come, wear something green (the color of the Pakistani flag) and invite any other Pakistani people from the College of Medicine. Before I went home that day, I met C at the hospital cafeteria. Eating a chocolate chip cookie, I told him about the Pakistan Day Celebration. “Can I come?” C asked. “Yes, sure!” I said casually.

According to the program, cricket was to begin at 11am, variety show at 5:30pm, dinner at 7:30pm, and live music at 8:30pm. Because desi gatherings make me anxious, I was not keen on staying too long.

“Will it look rude if I go around 7:30, just in time for dinner?”

Mom said, “No, that is okay, at least you are going!”

Based on our previous experiences at Pakistani events, Haiqa said, “If you go at 7:30, no one will think that you showed up just for the dinner, because you will be two hours early for dinner.”

I picked up C at 7:15pm. He was wearing a green & black checkered shirt. I was surprised that he had remembered Dr. I’s instructions that I had told him over two months ago! I handed him the directions and he helped me find the place. When we reached our destination at 7:50, C said, “I am getting nervous, let’s do the breathing exercises!” These are the Dr. Andrew Weil’s recommended stress-relieving exercises that C has seen me perform when I am upset. So, we did the breathing exercises. “Meher! I am afraid of causing you any embarrassment. Are there any rules that I should know?” C inquired. I thought for a second. “Do not shake a woman’s hand unless she offers you her hand first! Don’t touch any woman at all!” As we got out of the car, I saw a group of men. “Oh my God! Do you think this is a male female segregated gathering?” I asked. “Oh, they are just saying their prayers.” C said, “That’s nothing to be worried about. When I went to I’s (his Egyptian classmate) baby shower, all the men said their prayers and I just stood aside.”

We went inside to find neatly arranged tables & chairs & many desi people wearing colorful traditional clothes. I saw Dr. I. We also saw the university’s chess club (C is a member) faculty adviser, Dr. H. “So, both of you are from Pakistan?” Dr. H asked. “No,” C said. “Meher is from Pakistan.”

C & I saw down at a table. An announcement was made that dinner was being served only to the kids right now, and that adults will go to the buffet table after the children. However, many adults also started eating. Music was being played. Out of the blue, some teenagers started shouting, “Pakistan! Zindabad!” (long live Pakistan). C said, “Boo!” I turned my head and glared at C, who made up for his hooting by shouting “Pakistan Zindabad” for the next thirty seconds or so! Then, a girl shouted, “Nara e Takbeer! Allah o Akbar!” This time, both C & I uncomfortably looked at each other. A man came on the stage for the “acknowledgments” and we found that the event was hosted by the local Pakistani physicians but the local Indian/Hindu Cultural Center had made a huge contribution! I picked up some free Pakistani flag pins. I put one on myself and gave the other to C.

The dinner was delicious. There was rice, chicken curries, chicken kababs, spinach & potatoes, roasted fish, naan, mint chutnee, yogurt raita and salad. After C and I sat down with our plates, the live music performance began. I sang on top of my lungs, “jeevay, jeevay, jeevay Pakistan, ” “sohni dharti Allah rakhay,” “hai jazba junoon to himmat na haar,” “ye tera Pakistan hai ye mera Pakistan hai,” “dil dil Pakistan,” “ko-ko-koreena!” In the mean while, we enjoyed the delicious food. I had gotten up only once, but C got up multiple times to get more food, and every time he brought me back something, a glass of water, sawaiyyaan, desert… Once he even got up to try to get me a Pakistani flag!

With the live music performance, some of the university’s Pakistani Student Association members were dancing around the stage. C pulled me there while I whispered, “C, leave my hand! Don’t touch any woman in public!” C and I joined the crowd. When the song masti was played, the crowd got on the stage. The men called C on the stage and as he got up there, he called me. I refused. He asked others to ask me to join. Finally I came up, and danced a little bit, then got down. C remained on the stage and danced away!! He danced so well with the group of young Pakistani men & women! Later, C told me, “I thought I might as well dance as much as I want, after all, I am never going to see these people again!”

All in all, it was a wonderful evening. C & I decided to take our picture with his camera in the timer mode. We held our striking poses and full scale smiles for 15 seconds and when the camera didn’t click, we ran toward it to fix the problem. Just as we reached it, we heard a click and saw a flash.

Kya lutf anjuman ka?

I browsed my old blog and was surprised to see that I used to be a good writer. From issues and stories, this has sunk to the level of “what I did today” type of diary. I think it’s the stress of medical school. After dealing with sickness, deaths, suicides, drugs and cancers, who wants to write about anything seriously? What could possibly be more serious than the people and diseases I see everyday?

I searched for lollywood again today on youtube and came across this song. I thought Anjuman’s super woman costume and act was hilarious, until I saw Sultan Rahi’s baby pink kurta.

Eras(e) the stress

So stressed out.

** I logged into ERAS (electronic residency application system) for the first time today. The application is looong. I became giddy just looking at it!

** I have been dreading the medicine sub-I that starts the week after next week. My first choice was family medicine sub-I but all spots were taken and I had to settle for medicine. I have horrible memories of my medicine clerkship — it was the first clerkship of the “hard” semester, it was the time I fell sick, it was the time C left, and it was the time I had to take the medicine shelf exam twice! Yikes! Just thinking about medicine give me the PTSD. I just checked my e-mail & someone is looking to switch his spot for family medicine sub-I the week after next week. I immediately responded to him. Allah Mian, please gimme his family med spot and make my life easier!

Turning the tables

When I was a little girl, both Mom & Daddy emphasized the importance of learning tables. “You should at least know the tables from one to twenty on the tips of your fingers,” they said. I remember so many times during my childhood that I would memorize tables and forget them. When we visited Pakistan, even Uncle A stressed their importance. Sometimes Daddy would quiz me out of the blue, “eighteen threes are? [that means eighteen times three is?]” he would ask. “Fifty-four,” I would blurt out. He would quiz me until I got one wrong and then he would stop and tell me to work harder. This all was many, many years ago, probably in elementary or middle school.

Yesterday, this skill came in very handy. C & I went to Chutnees for dinner. The food was so-so, some of the dishes we ordered were delicious and others were average or below average. The waitress was confused and had to run to the chef to answer our little questions such as, “Does the palak chicken tikka have a lot of spinach or is it mainly chicken?” At the end, we decided to tip her 15%. C & I were in disagreement about the amount, so I took out a pen from my purse and wrote on the bill: x times 15… and solved it. We split the bill and I went to the restroom. When I returned, C exclaimed, “You are amazing!!” He was looking at the receipt with my calculation on it, scratching his head. “How did you figure it out so quickly?” I smiled proudly, “Because I know the table of 15!”

All this time I have been impressed by C because he knows the structures of the 20 amino acids on top of his head, still remembers calculus, and likes to solve math puzzles for fun. And for the first time, alhamduLillah, the tables were turned!!! Wohoo!

The only way

Cleaning my table of receipts and other pieces of paper, I found this quotation scribbled on an old to-do list:

The only way out of pain is to get through the pain. Feel the feelings so you can let them go.

I am not sure where I got this from, but it was probably from the Oprah magazine.

You know you don’t have a life…

… when you are so bored on your day off that you decide to go to work. Besides, the two patients on the child unit may be lonely and wanting my company.

Besides, I cannot live comfortably at home because I am expecting the maintenance people to show up any minute to repair my bathtub drain. I have scrubbed clean the toilet bowl and the bathroom sink so they are not disgusted and/or distracted. I can’t even take a relaxing shower because (1) I want the bathtub to be dry & available for the maintenance guys, and (2) I know that within two minutes of shower, the water level rises to my ankles. If I take a full shower of ten minutes, it may just do what the tropical storm hasn’t done: flood.

Goal for the rest of the year

I am naturally an anxious person. Now that I am thinking about residency, leaving my current apartment, possibly (I hope not) leaving C, and moving to perhaps a different state, my anxiety levels have reached a peak. Dr. N, who is my adviser and one of the attendings at the hospital, told me that there is only one thing I need to work on to get a good residency — my body language. It is true that I often get anxious when I am forced to make small talk with strangers. I am someone who prefers to be with my close family and friends, or read a book. I remember when I was applying to med school, I once told Dr. D about my lack of social skills, “I am not a party girl!” He replied, “That doesn’t mean you can’t become one!”

There have been many times in the last year when I have been confident and warm, but usually I remain distant. Now that I have an extra day off (I hope I don’t have to go to work tomorrow, but I haven’t heard anything from the attending yet), I am reading on the internet about body language. I know that I get anxious in strange surroundings, with strange people, in strange places. So, here I declare my goal for the rest of the year: control my body language and not let my anxieties show on the surface. If I start practicing it now, I may get good at it by the time the interviews start in December. And I am going to start by reading the body language entry in Wikipedia.

Update: The Wikipedia entry was not as good as I though. This is a better one. The “belly language” made me smile: “Most of us, particularly as we get older, fall victim to excessive consumption of food and drink, resulting in a convex belly. Fortunately, we do have muscles in our abdomen and we use these to pull in the belly walls so, for at least whilst we are walking past that desirable other person, we look good.”

Another day

Today was a good day. I went to work at 8:30. The child psych unit had only two patients and I had asked for permission to go to another unit to keep me busy. As soon as I entered, P, the third year medical student, gave me a message from Dr. W, that I could go to the adult psych unit if I wanted to. Fourth year is so much better then the third because I don’t have to worry about impressing anyone (except for the three people who are going to write me a letter of recommendation — two of them have told me that they are impressed already & I don’t need to do anything else for them. I am still looking for a third person) and I can control my own learning — I can do whatever I want, go wherever I want.

I also sat in for five court hearings about appointing health proxies for patients who were mentally too ill to make their own medical decisions and for involuntary placement. I had been in one “telephonic” court hearing last year. This was my first real court proceedings in person. I had heard that each hearing takes no longer than five minutes. Today, each took fifteen to twenty minutes because the patients were actually talking, crying, getting angry, and defending themselves. One said that he arranged Donald Trump’s and his wife’s marriage. Sitting behind him, I kept a straight face, but I wanted to ask, “Which wife? Can you arrange my marriage too?”

The university will be closed tomorrow because of the tropical storm. I will probably have to go to work, as the hospital is still open!

Nowadays I have an extreme urge to buy a pair of shoes. I spilled ice cream on one pair that I like to wear for everyday outings, but I cannot find what I want. I have been to several shoe stores and been disappointed. Today, I went clothes shopping. I found a very nice green shirt and was about to buy it but I gave up in the end, as I realized that I am only trying to satisfy my desire for shoes by buying a shirt — well, that’s not going to work. I did go to Publix though to eat crunchy pita chips with spicy hummus in this rainy weather.

Now I am zee going to drink hot milk while I read the last Mughal. AlhamduLillah, life is good!

~

I passed step 2! AlhamduLillah.

I was sent home early by the resident today to “celebrate.” How am I to celebrate when the family is away, the handful number of friends I have are studying for step 2, and it is dark & rainy outside? I think my celebration will be staying at home, reading the last Mughal with some hot tea or popcorn. Either that, or a miracle could happen and C could ask me to go to Chutnees on a week night.

Haiqa & Mo have been off work & school respectively for two days because of the “boomerang” storm. I miss being with them. I am very anxious about residency. I don’t know where I want to go. If I decide to stay in this state, the only program I am interested in is UX, where I am currently a student. However, this may be my only chance to spread my wings and explore. But I know I am going to get homesick.

Just another weekend

I am sick. Nothing fancy, just sinus pressure, headache, myalgias, stuffy nose — simple things that make me even more depressed than usual.

I woke up yesterday morning with an uncomfortable feeling in my throat but it went away within an hour. I worked till about 4pm, saw C for a few minutes, went to my apartment, packed, and reached home at 7:30 to see the family. When I was two minutes away from home, C called. I talked to him while parked in the driveway and then said goodbye to avoid appearing suspicious. However, there was no one to have a suspicion on me, as I discovered that the house was empty! The whole family had gone on a shopping spree!

Mom had made two of my favorite dishes for dinner: haleem and garlic chicken. She had used “Shan Masala” for the haleem and it tasted very average. The Haleem that Mom makes with her own spices is ten times tastier. Mom & I came up with a conspiracy theory that the local Indian Market is carrying “jaali maal.” Mom added some of her own spice to the haleem and it became delicious but hotter than Mom’s usual. I had begun feeling the full blown symptoms of the common cold, so I went to bed, only to be woken after an hour. I went to the kitchen and poured myself some haleem. It was delicious and hot, which was good because my nose started watering, relieving some of the sinus pressure. I could not breath with my nose. To my horror, Haiqa told me that I snored the rest of the night :|

This morning, we went to Panera’s for breakfast. It was good. Mom & Haiqa got croissants and chai latte, Mo got bagels, and I apple pastry. Then, Mo went for a haircut, Haiqa to order her contact lenses from Dr. Hanky’s (that’s not his real name, but that’s what the family really calls him!) office, and later we went grocery shopping at Publix.

When we came home, we got a phone message from Aunty A, saying that she & Uncle M would be in town later in the day and wanted to stop by at 3pm to deliver some of the gifts a certain relative had sent for us when they all met up at the big family reunion in Canada a couple of months ago. We hurriedly cleaned the drawing & dining areas & the bathroom. Later, Mom got called to work at 3. Haiqa & I were going to go to the mall, so Mom called up Aunty A asking her to leave the gifts at the doorstep. Mo & I helped Mom move some furniture so she could “steam clean” the carpet. Her goal is to steam clean all the carpet in the house.

Haiqa & I went to the mall. I found a shirt that I really liked, but it had threads coming out in some places so I didn’t buy it. Haiqa found a shirt she really liked at another store, but she didn’t buy it as she recently got a number of nice clothes. So, the trip was really futile. It was cut short by the Tires Plus person calling Haiqa on her cell phone, “Are you still shopping? Your car is ready for pick-up!”

So, we picked up Haiqa’s car and went home. I ate garlic chicken. Haiqa went to the pharmacy to pick up Mom’s medication. Mom had left for work. I heard someone at the doorstep so I went out and saw Uncle M & Aunty A. It was nice to see them. Uncle M told me to get myself a pet dog after I get a job. I told him that I was seriously considering adopting a child if I didn’t get married in a few years. Aunty A said, “Those days are gone when there used to be an age limit to get married. I have friends who were single for the longest time and got married to the right person in their thirties and forties!”

“You should talk to cousin R,” said Uncle M.

“When I was growing up in Kuwait, I never knew R or other cousins, so we never bonded,” I explained.

Aunty A replied, “It’s never to late to start!”

“Uncle, I am a misfit!”

“Bete, I am a misfit too. I didn’t know anyone in this country when I came here!”

“But Uncle, you found Aunty A who made you fit, who pulled you into the center!”

With things being shaky between C and I, that’s what I sometimes think. That C & I may not be a good match after all. As much as I am in love and as much as we have in common, we both are naturally anxious people. If I am worried, I can’t count on C to calm me down because he is twice as worried himself! And sometimes when C is down, I don’t even know what to do to make him laugh. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. We try to engage ourselves in activities that are more friendly than romantic. We don’t go out for dinner as often as we used to, but when we do, I try to get separate checks. Earlier, C paid for my meal most of the time, and I paid for his sometimes. Nowadays we jog (and sweat and smell) together but he does these little things that make me fall in love even more. If we stop by a water fountain during or after the jog, he always lets me drink first. He places himself between me and the cars on the road when we jog or walk. The last time we went on a jog, someone (from the veterinary college, I guess) let loose six or seven scary, ugly dogs. Okay, maybe just scary and ugly to me. I was frightened and I hid behind C, “C! Protect me!” “Don’t worry, just stay still!” What’s funny was, C was uncomfortable himself, and if I wasn’t as I scared as I was, he probably would have hidden himself behind me! Thank goodness for a random cyclist who saw two sweaty, scared people and distracted the dogs!

Oh well. I am going to bed now. I have a new goal. Muraqaba (meditation). I don’t ever remember Daddy telling me to pray, but whenever I used to tell him all my worries (about school & exams), he used to tell me to meditate. I have noticed that morning prayer & meditation really does calm down my nerves.

Youth

My best friend from Kuwait called me today.

O: You know how I feel about Pakistan, but I know you love that country, so I would like to wish you a Happy Independence day

I: Thank you, thank you! You know what? Earlier in the day I remembered that it is Shoaib Akhtar’s birthday today… (O bursts out in laughter) I searched him on google images and I couldn’t find a single picture of him that I like… either he has wrinkled too much in the sun and aged or I used to be blind.

O: No, Mary! It was the youth!

I: Whose? Mine or Shoaib Akhtar’s?

On a side note, C and I have been jogging together for two days in a row. That makes me feel healthy, but I have been out of fruit because I have been too lazy/busy to go grocery shopping, which makes me feel a little unhealthy. I am also craving ice cream too often. I have already had four servings of Marble Slab ice cream and one serving of Baskin Robins ice cream this year.

Gold, blue, white

The year was probably 1990. After the invasion of Kuwait, the family had moved to Lahore, Pakistan.

One day, Aunty M, Mom & I went to the Anarkali bazaar. I don’t remember what we shopped for that day, but I remember that Aunty M wanted to sell her “jhumkay” (earrings). They were gold with blue and white stones. Aunty M had a very refined taste. She had the best jewelry I had ever seen. She liked the traditional style but she also liked to move on with the times. The earrings were too old and old-fashioned for her. I remember that we stopped at a few jewelry shops. Finally, at one shop, an agreement was reached. I don’t remember the exact amount, it was either a thousand rupees or five thousand. As the shopkeeper was counting the money and Aunty M was getting ready to handover the earrings, Mom suddenly asked Aunty M, “What if I give you X rupees?” So, there at a jeweler’s in Anarkali bazaar, an exchange of cash & earrings took place between Mom & Aunty M.

Six or seven years ago, Mom was sorting out her gold jewelry. Some of it had been damaged as it was sown into our clothes during our escape from Kuwait. Mom tossed the damaged jewelry into a plastic container, saying that when the time comes, she would have it melted and transformed into newer pieces. As she put the gold, blue & white earrings into that container, I saw that they were still beautiful and, very much, in Aunty M’s taste. Mom confirmed that those were indeed the earrings she had bought from Aunty M. The nostalgic person that I am, hanging onto memories of people who I have loved and who have parted, I asked Mom for them & she gave them to me.

When I last saw Aunty M in 1996, my transformation into the full-time hijaabi girl had already begun. Aunty M was not happy with it. No one was. On December 14th, 1996, I got ready to attend Uncle S & Aunty S’s wedding anniversary. I wore a blue suit that Aunty M had gotten stitched for me a few days earlier, silver earrings that Aunty M had bought for me in 1993, and let my hair a little looser than usual. Aunty M told me that I looked better this way, a young fashionable girl that I should always look like.

In my second year of medical school, I had to attend the “Fungus Ball.” After at least six months of extensive search, I failed to find an American formal dress that would meet my standards of modesty. I finally wore a pink chooridaar pajama & kameez & dupatta. I wasn’t sure about which jewelry to wear so I showed a few pieces to my friends and they all agreed that Aunty M’s earrings were the most exquisite. At the fungus ball, for the first time I went hijaabless in the company of my classmates. Some people were astonished. Some people didn’t recognize me. Some kept staring at me the whole night. It was very uncomfortable. The next morning, I called home and cried to Mom & Haiqa over the phone: I don’t fit anywhere! Why didn’t you buy me something that would not make me stand out? I have been a foreigner all my life!

Yesterday, going through my old diaries, I found an eleven year old piece of paper on which I had described the first time I saw Aunty M in my dream after she had passed away. I opened my jewelry box to look at her earrings. They still looked stunning. I wondered why Aunty M had wanted to get rid of them eighteen years ago and why I still held on to them like they were my most prized possession. C and I went out for dinner last night. I wore the gold, blue and white earrings for the second time. Just like the Fungus Ball, everything was uncomfortable. Everything was ruined. Yet, I still hold on to those earrings, because at the end of the day, that is what I am left with. That bad things have happened whenever I have worn them does not matter because the very first memory I have of those earrings is priceless.

Quotes of the week

** “There is nothing left in my right brain and there’s nothing right in my left brain.” — C (quoting someone else)

** “Just do it!” — Haiqa

** “I was highly disturbed by the woman standing behind me at McDonalds. She was wearing tight bangles all the way from her wrist to her shoulder and her wig was off-center. I thought the most disturbing thing for me was seeing short fat people in this hospital who take the elevator to go just one floor up. But nothing is more disturbing than a woman’s off-center wig.” — Dr. N

** “Good morning, good looking!” — construction worker

** “You don’t need to work. You are a fourth year student. I am impressed you even show up. When I was a fourth year, I took a neuropsych elective for which I had to meet the attending once a week for one hour for two weeks. I missed one meeting because I had to participate in a tennis tournament. I lost.” — Dr. N

** “God only asks us to do our best. Then he will take over and finish the rest.” — read on psychiatry consult secretary’s calendar

Yuck!

I washed the toilet bowl and the bathroom sink. For some time I felt like a maid. Then, I started feeling good about the clean surroundings. Until I saw a baby lizard. This is the second time it has happened in this apartment. It was so high up, I could not do anything about it. I hope it dies on its own, because I hate killing lizards and discarding their dead corpse :|

Finding Noel

I read a light, feel-good novel finding Noel by Richard Paul Evans. It is all about how the fates of different people are intertwined with one another and how sometimes, when people are at their lowest point, good things start happening to them. The plot isn’t new or exciting, but it is a nice, mushy read.

Some excerpts:

** You seem like a really nice guy who just had a lot of bad things happen to him all at once. [now who cannot identify with this statement!]

** If I could take all the hopes of childhood,

The wishes and dreams I once knew,

I’d gather them all if I had the chance,

And trade them back for you.

** Remember, in the end what really matters is that you love. You’ll make mistakes every day, but somehow love just washes them away like a wave cleansing the beach, and each day you start anew.

** The universe is a trillion, trillion threads moving in seemingly unrelated directions. Yet when you look at them together, they create a remarkable tapestry.

** I have come to believe that there are moments too profound to be contained in time.

** I’ve come to know that our families are a canvas on which we paint our greatest hopes - imperfect and sloppy, for we are all amateurs at life, but if we do not focus too much on our mistakes, a miraculous picture emerges. And we learn that it’s not the beauty of the image that warrants our gratitude - it’s the chance to paint.

** Kids don’t come with owner’s manuals. You have to figure each of them out, and by the time you do, they’re gone.

** Like my father said, the things of greatest value are the things we fight for. And in the end, if we do it right, we value the stem far more than the blossom.

** When you’ve finally met the one person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

** Oftentimes the greatest hurts of our lives come from running from the smaller ones.

Darkness at the end of the tunnel

I am reading a book about the residency application process. It says:

Residents are paid so little that salary is seldom the central issue.

Humph!

Protected: Meher and the monks at the UN headquarters

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