Bed Day

I haven't blogged in such a long time that I thought I might just give it up.  But then I discovered that I was saying more things on Facebook than I ordinarily like to say on Facebook.  So here I am.

The winter quarter of 2013 opened in a maelstrom of uncertainty, anxiety and a obligation.  But today was Bed Day.

I slept in bed until 930am, I changed the bed sheets, I napped in bed until H.K. returned from his weekend trip.  When H.K. returned we caught up and watched an episode of West Wing in bed, then I worked in bed while H.K. took his own nap.  Now I am blogging in bed and watching TV.  

It has been a solid, positive day.

y'give me feeeeva

Music for a special occasion, when your immune system actually decides to get involved.  It's been over 2 years since my last full-fledged fever.

things i need to work on

I have an unfortunate tendency to let people walk all over me.  Sometimes because it is not worth my time [read: energy expenditure] to argue, sometimes because I am -- despite my best efforts -- afraid of appearing the "bitchy woman".

I am not a fan of when people try to one-up me constantly, especially when I have worlds more knowledge of the subject at hand than they do.  This is not easy to avoid in any profession where men feel that they must appear the wisest and most knowledgeable.  I test the waters on occasion when the opportunity arises.  For instance, in lab the other day the topic vaccination came up and I mentioned the fascinating tidbit that Edward Jenner had created the first smallpox vaccination in 1796, which I knew because I had recently read the book Pox: An American History by Michael Willrich.  My labmate responded, "oh yeah, absolutely" as if this was a very obvious fact of which he was obviously aware (which was not even remotely the case).

I am particularly not a fan of the general response to my willingness to ask people about their perspective or experience being interpreted as weakness or stupidity.  For instance, when I observe that a  colleague uses a different technique than I practice, I inquire as to the reasoning behind it.  I am typically met with a verbose pontification explaining what is trying to be achieved and why their method is best.  Thereafter, I typically share the method that I use and express interest in both methods working equally well (although, not to toot my own horn, but often it turns out that the way I do things is more appropriate).

An occasion arose this past week on Friday when I attended a lecture on the Jewish perspective on stem cell research.  The talk was fascinating and I went home that evening and did some research on as many religious perspectives on stem cell research policy that I could find (note: there are surprisingly few books on this subject out there!).  During the talk, the lecturer mentioned that in the 19th century doctors only received 1-2 years of schooling.  A renowned professor in the audience then quipped, "of course: one year for blood-letting, and one for leeches."  Needless to say, having read several books on the evolution of medicine in the 19th century, I cringed.  I wanted so badly to raise my hand an mention that this was actually because at the time, the surgeons and dentists did many years of both apprenticing and schooling, and performed 90% of all medical procedures as the doctors themselves disliked physical involvement, believing that it separated them from God and made them "dirty".  Of course, as meagerly as I would have phrased such a correction, I said nothing as I did not want to appear the "bitchy know-it-all woman".

Clearly, there are some things I need to work on.  Clearly, if the men around me have no filters for sharing whatever is on their minds -- be it correct or not -- I should not feel shame in doing so either -- particularly when I am correct.  Clearly, I need to remove the sign from my forehead that says, "please, walk all over me and try to one-up everything I say."  Clearly, I need to accept that I probably do not come off as bitchy or know-it-all in the slightest, and be more assertive and exert my presence and my contributions to the environment around me.  Clearly, I need to start being more bitchy.

inner peace

I left work early today.  It was one of several instances lately when I have thrown up my hands before the ten-hour mark.  And I began to feel that inner grumble that mobilizes behind a shield of guilt in preparation for the battle against your will to take care of yourself amid the insanity.

Not only did I leave "early", I bailed on a last minute evening venture to see family up north.  Instead, I made myself some soup (oh yeah, also have been working through a cold lately in prolonged immuno-compromised fashion) and watched a stupid movie.

Right when the army of inner grumble set to charge, my phone rang.  It was a call from a most dear of loved ones, with whom I had not spoken for the long long end of several months.  A medical student herself, she had called to ask for my neurobiological expertise [read: expertise is her word].  The conversation extended, as long-craved ones do, far beyond the initial subject culminating in "so I'll get you from the airport and we'll grab dinner before you give your lecture!"  But further, it ended in our both being reminded of who we are and how we once functioned when we were college roommates.  I don't think it unfair to say that I was far more in need of that reminder than she, and far more in debt to her presence in my life than she to mine.

Of late, I have underestimated myself to a greater degree than is standard.  I have fallen into the stereotypy of academia: feeling like I have to do everything in my power [and out of my power] to impress people at all times, and making absurd excuses to myself for why I cannot always be impressive, and do everything, and be excellent at everything, and be a brilliant scientist at every moment.  It's a very hard thing for me to admit that that is an unrealistic and unachievable expectation.  For I have somewhat of a Sherlock Homes complex [read: not the genius, the obsession], or what Francis Crick calls an inclination toward mad pursuit.  An obsession with making the puzzle fit and finding the right pieces and doing it all in a timely fashion [often inhuman] with minimal mishap and maximum impact.  And I get upset when I cannot accomplish this while also being a marathon runner and party thrower and regular soup kitchen volunteer.

This is because it seems, to me, that everyone around me is accomplishing all these things with perfect grace and professionalism.  In reality, I have very flawed vision and graciously give all these accomplishments to all people, when in reality they are divided among many.  My brain knows this, but my mind does not.  And mind wins over brain every single time.

My dearest, most remarkable and admirable friend who called this evening reminded me that I need to suppress the incessant need to impress people all the time in every aspect.  That I have already impressed them, and need to take care of myself now.  Advice that keeps her alive and  in balance these days.  And so I have quelled the inner grumble, and am at peace with my decision to bail on work and on social call to take care of myself.

SfN 2012

I love the Society for Neuroscience meeting.  I am beyond excited to explore new research and people and see New Orleans -- well, the French Quarter at least.

People act like traveling to this event is no big deal.  And to most, it isn't.  But organizing how I get to and from work each day and accomplish tasks and errands is as involved for me as traveling to this conference is for most people.  I am now what can be considered a seasoned veteran of the SfN extravaganza.  The meeting itself is dangling in front of me like an unimaginable treasure chest.  So on the eve of flight, I am Zening like a mofo [read: zoning on too many episodes of The Walking Dead with H.K. beside me].  Checking off the packing of forms, drugs, ER addresses and food supplements like a master, and doing everything in my power to avoid those panic attacks that have been cascading me into Crohn's episodes for the last 4 months.

This year I have 2 poster sessions, the first a requirement in light of my travel award.  And real, purposeful shmoozing.  I cannot wait.

This is the least healthy that I have ever been prior to travel like this.  And I'm so looking forward.  And so anxious.

in which i meet my Crohn mate

Y'all: today, the most exciting news surfaced.

Turns out, one of my most favoritest colleagues is a Crohn.

!!!!

I have never had an IRL friend who also has Crohn's!  With the exception of the most outstanding Kara, who I had the privilege to meet but once [thus far]!  But, y'all.  A new Crohn in my life?  In my lab??  Who I see on a daily basis?!

This is so epic, in fact, that when said colleague approached me today to have that serious and confident conversation, my first reaction was "no shit!" after which I proceeded to smile with glowing eyes as she explained her current condition.

Incidentally, I had just had that same serious and confident conversation with my BossMan after the episode from September 27th which knocked me out for 5 days.  He could not have been more concerned and considerate about the whole thing, by the way.  That's 2 BossMans in a row that have regarded me with respect and kindness even after learning my [additional] shortcoming.  Can I pick 'em, or can I pick 'em?!

grad school priorities #12

What I should have accomplished today:

Recovering from last week's trifecta of PCR, cloning and transfection failure.

What I did accomplish today:

Two free exquisite gourmet meals provided by my amazing building in honor of symposium day, and the purchase of ubernerd embroidered patches for my lab coat.  Met a fellow Crohn right in my own backyard!

OMGSUCCESS!