Although, these days I'm not bringing much anywhere. The hellish year of fast paced hospital rotations and back to back exams has ended and I've moved up in the world to new type of hell: unemployment. This, however, yields significantly less entertaining stories, although it does leave more time for baking, and I had perfected a few bread recipes.
How did I end up here may you ask? I will tell. When I last wrote, I was finishing my maternity rotation and moving on to psych on a locked ward. After finishing my psych education, I did acute physical rehabilitation in a delightful mansion on a hill filled with 70-something year olds wheeling around after strokes. It was fun and adorable. By then, it was May and I began my summer internship in medical oncology, which was a fun 250 hours of priming IV tubing and memorizing horrific lab values. I was so busy I barely baked. And then.... it was over. My school declared me as an able bodied care taker and unleashed me out into the world, pending my passing grade on the board examination. If you are worried that I just skated over about 6 months worth of recipes and undoubtedly entertaining hospital follies, don't worry. I plan on elaborating in later posts.
In October, I sat for my boards. I showed up wearing plaid and keds, twitching like a nervous wreck and tossing my large amount of hair in my face like a hood. I didn't just look anxious; I was scratching myself like a crack addict desperate for a fix. After supplying the nessecary paperwork, I was brought into the testing room to be briefed on the use of the computers and format of the test. I was informed of my right to a bathroom break every two and a half hours. I was horrified. I said "No I'd rather just test until I'm finished. I won't be requiring any breaks." The exam proctor gently said "Are you sure? The test is 6 hours long...." My already obvious agitation got worse as I said "Really... uh... well I have somewhere to be in a little bit."
By then, it was obvious everyone in the testing center thought I was a total mess. As I took my exam, I continued to nervously scratch my scalp and bit my nails. 45 minutes and a number of questions about TURP procedures later, I raised my hand and told the proctor I was finished. She clearly thought I had failed and said "oh, well, it's okay you can always take it again.
I didn't fail. I OWNED that exam. I was an exam slayer that afternoon. I bent that exam to my will and destroyed in so completely it wasn't even a fair fight. Julie: 1. Boards: 0.
However, now the count is a little different. Now it is Julie: 0 Real Life: 10 million, because despite having crushed the boards with intelligence-created fire and brimstone, I can't find a job. I haven't done any patient care since my medical oncology internship, except for the occasional volunteer shift at free clinics and the temp work I did for public health vaccinating school kids against H1N1. My life has taken on a dramatic change since the fast paced sprint that was last year. Now, it is the monotonous, crushingly depressing life of the unemployed. I wake up at noon. I cry into my oversized coffee cup for an hour, dripping tears into the lukewarm liquid, while wearing my fucking bathrobe. I internet surf.Then I apply for jobs over and over, anxious scratching my scalp and twisting my hair like I'm back taking that fucking exam.
I, obviously, still go to school, but my schedule now consists of mammoth-sized chunks of class for like 12 hours and more days off. In my advanced health assessment I still get to wear a white coat and act like I have a purpose in life. But the rest of my time is free. Before, I slept during these intervals, but I'm trying a healthier, more active use of my time. So lately, I've been having bake sales.
Next month I'm going on a trip to the Dominican Republic with a bunch of other students. My job has been to raise funds by baking delicious cookies and cupcakes to sell for profit. Sweets and a push up bra can work miracles, so I've created a fairly lucrative business that is making me question my career choices. Should I really be an NP, or would to be better to open a corner bakery? I recently baked AWESOME sugar cookies for Valentine's Day that just plain weren't amazing, but lend themselves really well to being jazzed up:
Butter Sugar Cookies
1 cup butter, room temperature
1 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 egg yolk
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 egg yolk
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. salt
2 1/2 cups bleached all-purpose flour
I cut them in to heart shapes, dripped them into chocolate I melted in a double boiler, and then sprinkled chopped almonds on them. They looked to cute for people to pass them up and I raked in the cash for my mission trip. These cookies are a good all purpose cookie that can be dressed up for a number of occasions!
So anyway, that is the current state of things. I'm sorry I have been so absent for so long, but now I am ready to start and bake anew. I can replay some of the more ridiculous hospital stories from the last 6 months, including the schizophrenic who told me i was pretty, and the patient who got run over by a wheel chair. I can also explain some of the more serious events, like my experiences helping my terminal patients and how important i learned it was to hold a hand. Plus, all that stupid stuff I did, like catching mumps, shoot myself in the thumb with epi, and being the only student to report an adverse event when I got exposed to H1N1. In the meantime I will continue to apply for jobs like mad, maybe study some pharmacokinetics and play EverQuest. I may be down, but not out.
