I sat at my desk, mindlessly researching the possible health benefits of taking antioxidants through natural foods versus dietary supplements. (If you’re interested in the conclusion, be warned you won’t find my paper in any reputable journal. Or any journal, for that matter.) I looked to the lower right corner of my laptop monitor and literally counted down the seconds of my life.
Some argue that birthdays really don’t have a whole lot of meaning. Others go further to decry the celebration of a birthday – after all, it’s the annual reminder that Death is always hovering over your shoulder. As the South Park gang astutely observes, “The minute we’re born we start dying; we die a little more every day.”
You know what? Until my heart starts to skip, until my eyes start to deceive my perception, until my liver has turned into foie gras, I’m going to celebrate every single birthday like it’s my last. (And based on the amount of drinking I did that night and the three nights following, it probably will be.)
The beginning of my birthday began like any other day this past year. I woke up, dragged my lazy butt to the library, and spent the first half of my birthday in DML, finishing a paper that nobody cared about. I turned in 11 pages and 2 lines to fulfill the requirement of “12 pages.” (Loopholes make the cash flow, son.) I’m also not entirely sure whether or not I met the bar of “contributing original thought” into any part of that paper. Considering that the professor guaranteed an A on the thesis, though, I’m not too worried.
My week-long commitment to self-destruction actually began the Thursday prior, right after we finished our final exam of the year. After proudly day-drinking for hours on the courtyard of the School of Medicine, the usual suspects and I hit up the Land Where Hepatocytes Go To Die, Adams Morgan. Three pitchers of sweet tea vodka lemonade and way too many free shots later, my buddy MJ reminded me of the food challenge that I had previously suggested: the Adams Morgan Grand Slam. This calorie-laden behemoth consists of hitting up all four Adams Morgan late-night eateries in one go: a shawarma wrap from The Shawarma Spot, a falafel pita from Amsterdam Falafel (which, by the way, is the best falafel I’ve had, this coast or that), an empanada from Julia’s, and a jumbo slice pizza from any of the way too many jumbo slice joints on the same block. (Really, AdMo? THREE jumbo slice joints in one BLOCK?) Sorry kids, but I am sad to report that I was only able to eat the falafel pita and 3/4 of the pizza slice. Call me whatever names you want, but if you saw the size of this slice, you’d be proud to have even finished that much too.
The following evening took us to BlackFinn, where the gracious host BHan invited damn near the entire class. Boozing, dancing, and Backstreet Boys-singing ensued yada yada yada. Long story short, the following morning, I awoke on Norty’s futon with a receipt for way too much food from Ben’s Chili Bowl in my pocket and a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop for over half an hour. Flashbacks of Dr. Shad’s coagulation cascade lectures came rushing back. “Holy crap. What if my liver stopped making coagulation factors? Am I just going to bleed out here?”
…all in the weekend before my birthday proper.
Which brings us back to the pointless paper. After scraping the bottom of the barrel for arguments and space-fillers (Take notes, kids: 1.1 inch margins, two spaces between sentences, unnecessary empty line between all paragraphs, 14 point periods), I hit “submit” ASAP and called up MJ.
“Hey. So it’s my birthday…”
“I know. Come to Rosslyn. I have an awesome present for you.”
As soon as I heard that, I knew it couldn't be good. A picture says a thousand words:
Yep. That’s a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, topped by a McChicken, topped by a Filet-O-Fish. This is a classic example of how you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet. Just because a website promotes this monstrosity, christened the “Land, Sea & Air Burger,” as a good idea, doesn’t mean it is. You hear that, kids? McDonald’s is bad for you. I am now 7 pounds heavier since that day. End PSA.
In a very sweet birthday card (accompanied by an amazing birthday gift), my dear friend KCe asked me a question that I had to sit and think about for a while:
“What have you done with your life?”
Think about that one for a moment. When your kids are on your lap, what can you point to and say, “This thing has changed because I did something about it?" Heck, let’s make the job easier and focus on just the past year. How have you contributed to your community in the past year? How have your actions changed the world, be it big or small?
This picture summarizes my contribution:
Minus a couple textbooks, that stack is every single page of notes I’ve taken this year. My legacy: I murdered two rainforests.
I have a clearer picture for my future, but it’s also much muddier. I’m not attending medical school this fall, that much is sure. I’m frantically looking for work so I can stay in the area. If I can’t find anything, I’ll have to go back back to Cali Cali, back in with Tiger Mother, back to familiarity and another year of stagnancy.
Like many of you, I’m not sure where my immediate future will take me. But I’m reassured by all I’ve learned this year. I now have a pretty good idea of how the human body works, and a preview of what can go wrong with it. I discovered that I have the skills to write professionally. I’ve established a new family away from a city that I used to think was the be-all and end-all. I have finally lived over 50 miles away from my mother’s house. I have experienced true East Coast Snobbery (and it is obnoxious).
More importantly, however, I’ve learned a lot about myself. I rediscovered my passion for medicine. I know that my incredible alcohol tolerance should be illegal. I realized that, wouldn’t ya know it, if I sit down and study, I can actually do well in school. I rekindled my love for all things culinary.
But above the cultural and personal growth, the single most important thing I’ve learned this year is this:
Batman and Wonder Woman get their checkups at Georgetown University Hospital. (Photo H/T Chengy)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment