Animated shorts

This post doesn't actually contain any animation. Unless, of course, you draw it yourself as you read.

Little Park

I thought that maybe I shouldn't post this because it happened over a week ago. It's not current. But then I remembered, this isn't the fucking newspaper. Who cares?

I was walking through Greenwich Village (or Soho, or something around there) when I ran into this tiny park on a corner. In fact, it was so small, I'm not even sure you could call it a park. It was more like a park-like space. I probably couldn't find it again if you paid me because, first, I didn't make note of the cross streets, and, second, I was a little drunk. I had the day off after a night of OB anesthesia call so I went to check out this bar.

I believe in drinking before 5pm when you have the day off. Just because you can.

Christine, I went to Ulysses. You're right - great Guinness. The Ear Inn - also great Guinness. Check it out next time you're in town.

Anyway, I was strolling about in the middle of my day off, a little tipsy, when I stumbled (not literally, not that tipsy) onto this...







I'm not sure what else to say about that, except that Blogger sucks all the color out of already inadequate pictures. Which is to say, it was one thousand times better in person.

We're About 9

The next day, I went to Union Square in the morning (remember the veggie pictures?) and then Madison Square Park in the afternoon. Turns out, there are free concerts in Madison Square Park on Saturday afternoons. I saw this group play a few songs...



And, I've been singing Miscreant Men for over a week.

I don't wanna kiss you.
I don't wanna hug you.
I don't wanna hold your hand.
I don't wanna take you back to my apartment.
I don't wanna lay you down in my bed.
I don't wanna tell you stories,
about what we'll do in the morning.
I don't wanna cuddle you tight,
all night...

Friday

As I was leaving work, walking through the endoscopy recovery room, a patient arrested. One minute, talking. The next, not. I was the first to respond, and, looking back on it, my response was okay...not perfect, but okay. Did I panic? Did I ever. But, I kept most of that on the inside and did what needed to be done. In spite of our efforts, the patient died. I left with arms sore from chest compressions and feelings mixed. I don't want bad things to happen, but I want to be there when they do.

Such is the job and my stage of training I suppose.

The Met and the MoMA

This weekend, it rained. So, I went to the museums.

Ahh...the museums. I know nothing - nothing - about art. But, I like it anyway. Well, most of it. European decorative art (furniture and the like)...I couldn't care less about that shit. But the rest of it, I like.

The MoMA has a fabulous Van Gogh exhibit right now. 'Fabulous' is such a lame word to describe Van Gogh, but it's all I've got. (It was only an English minor.) Starry Night looked just like that limited edition Starry Night poster that hung in your dorm room. Except, well, much starrier.

Today

It was a good day. Three routine cases, but three good intubations, first with the Macintosh, and then with the Miller. The Macintosh is the blade you see people use when they intubate on TV. It's wider and generally easier to use. The Miller is the blade most anesthesiologists actually prefer. It takes a bit more skill to manipulate, but you can also intubate much more difficult airways with it.

What's that I hear? Oh, that's you snoring. Yeah, sorry about that. Moving on...

To bed. I'm moving on to bed. It's that time.

Door handle

I'll say more tomorrow.
(Not about this, though. This is just a door handle.)

When you find yourself with a Philistine

If you're standing in front of this, and your boyfriend pulls your arm and says, "Come on...you've been here long enough," dump him.

If you accidentally married him, file for divorce.

If, in a moment of weakness, you had a kid with the guy, sue for full custody. Explain to the judge what happened today at the Met...she'll give you the child.

And quit shopping on eharmony.

The local paper's op-ed

Gail Collins wrote:

A simple trip to Mississippi turned into a saga featuring many, many rapidly changing story lines:

* Cancel the debate!

* Maybe cancel the debate!

* No debate unless Congress passes a financial rescue bill!

* No debate unless Congress has a plan to pass a financial rescue bill.

* Oh, what the heck...

One thing we now know for sure. Electing John McCain would be God’s gift to the profession of journalism. A story a minute.

Imagine what would happen if a new beetle infested the Iowa corn crop during the first year of a McCain administration. On Monday, we spray. On Tuesday, we firebomb. On Wednesday, the president marches barefoot through the prairie in a show of support for Iowa farmers. On Thursday, the White House reveals that Wiley Flum, a postal worker from Willimantic, Conn., has been named the new beetle eradication czar. McCain says that Flum had shown “the instincts of a maverick reformer” in personally buying a box of roach motels and scattering them around the post office locker room. “I can’t wait to introduce Wiley to those beetles in Iowa,” the president adds.

On Friday, McCain announces he’s canceling the weekend until Congress makes the beetles go away.

Barack Obama would just round up a whole roomful of experts and come up with a plan. Yawn.

Debate

You want the job?
Well then, come to the fucking interview.

DEBATE.

I'll be watching from a bar in Soho.

My mother, the tour guide

"Oh, T! You know where you should go eat?"

"Where?"

"There's this little Mexican place on 9th."

"Okay. Where on 9th?"

"Oh...uh...well, it's sort of near..."

"Nevermind, I'll Google it. What's it called?"

"I don't remember. Oh, but...you know that alley where David Letterman throws the football?"

"What?"

"You know, sometimes David Letterman goes outside during the show and throws a football."

"Um, okay."

"It's parallel to that alley. I'm not sure which direction it is from the alley, but parallel. Oh, and the place has the best margaritas."

"Let me get this straight: I'm supposed to look for a little Mexican restaurant, somewhere on 9th, parallel to an alley where I may or may not find David Letterman throwing a football."

"Yeah."

"Speaking of margaritas, are you drinking right now?"

Saturday afternoon in Union Square

On Saturdays in Union Square, there is a farmer's market.

This guy, the guy with the Great Danes, is the most patient man in New York City. All these people around him are New Yorkers, not tourists. He said, this happens every time I go out. He must have been asked 100 times, you don't live in Manhattan with those dogs, do you? He does, by the way. And then, did you have to train them to be this docile? No, they've never really expressed an interest in eating humans.


Dog weights, left to right: 135 lbs, 6.3 lbs, 195 lbs. The little dog's owner asked how much his dogs weighed. He asked her the same and then scratched the little guy's chin and said, oh, you are such a big boy. The little guy believed every word of it.



This dude was selling Rick's Picks. (Although, I'm pretty sure he's not Rick.) I bought a jar of hot pickled green beans, the Mean Beans, and had them last night with an India Pale Ale. I fell asleep at 10, but woke up again after 11 with impressive heartburn. That last post, the political one, was almost titled, Brought to you by pickled green beans and beer.

Not everyone was shopping. In fact, the park was full of people just chillaxin' (that word comes to you courtesy of my younger sister) in the sun.

For the undecided

In case you thought, I wonder where Terroni stands on the issues?

The War

Obama: There should be a timetable for the removal of U.S. troops.

More specifically, Senator Obama calls for: (1) a reduction in the number of U.S. troops; (2) a time frame for a phased withdrawal; (3) the Iraqi government to make progress on forming a political solution; (4) improved reconstruction efforts to restore basic services in Iraq; and (5) engaging the international community, particularly key neighboring states and Arab nations, to become more involved in Iraq.

Do you know what I like about this plan? It sounds like a plan. When this kind of thing is going on, I think it's good to have a plan.

McCain: U.S. forces need to stay in Iraq for as long as it takes for Iraqi forces to take over.

When might that be? Any ideas? Without a timetable for our withdrawal, what motivates them to take over?

McCain enjoys a lot of credibility on this issue because he is a war hero, but it's important to remember, not everyone who has seen war feels the same way as he does. My uncle was on the ground in the jungle of Vietnam while McCain was in prison. He feels very differently... We need to get our kids out of this damn war, he says. Loudly.


Health care

Obama: "The time has come for universal, affordable health care in America." He also voted to expand the S-CHIP program, a program is designed to subsidize health coverage for families that earn too much to qualify for Medicaid but not enough to afford private insurance.

This is a social justice issue. And, for me, this is a moral obligation, a spiritual issue... Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy. Health care is part of that.

McCain: Opposes universal health care. Voted against expanding the S-CHIP program.


Education

Obama: Increase Head Start funding, reward successful teachers, pay teachers more, modify certification and teacher preparation process to avoid unnecessary and expensive coursework to become a teacher. Fund and reform No Child Left Behind. Increase federal aid for college.

Okay. This is a start. We're talking about educating kids from preschool through college.

McCain: Believes state and local agencies, not the federal government, should be responsible for developing and enforcing academic standards. Supports charter schools and federally-financed school vouchers for students in failing schools; believes "choice and competition" are the future of education.

This will be the end of public education. Choice and competition--capitalism--will now be responsible for educating children? What about those areas where it's not profitable to educate kids--neighborhoods where the kids are poor? What happens to those kids in failing schools when there's not a great little charter school with a spot open for them?


Abortion

This is a heated issue. It takes more than a few lines on policy to explain my position here. First, let me say, I'm pro-life. If that's not clear by now, re-read what I just wrote here. That's called voting pro-life. Second, I agree with Bill Clinton, who said that abortion should be safe, legal, and rare.

Do I believe that fetuses are people? Yes.
Do I believe that abortion is killing a person? Yes.
Don't I think it's wrong to kill people? Yes.

Well then, what the hell?

I also believe that, in rare circumstances, there are fates worse than death, both for those who are aborted and for those who have abortions. I have seen a 12 year old girl give birth. I have seen couples terminate a pregnancy when the baby has a terribly painful condition that isn't compatible with life. I worked in labor and delivery for four years and saw that this is an incredibly complex issue.

I think that we need to quit voting on this issue and start talking about this issue. And by we, I don't mean all of us. People who think that taking the morning-after pill is the same as killing a toddler, and people who think that late-term abortion up until the moment of delivery is all hunky-dory...these people are all fucking nuts. You can't talk to these people.

But the rest of us, those of us who can admit that this is a complex and difficult issue, we should talk. We should talk about how to make abortion rare, about how to create the kind of world where having a baby is almost always a pregnant woman's best choice. We should talk about sex education, and birth control, and peace, and health care, and day care, and Head Start, and WIC.

Obama may support abortion more than I do. McCain supports it less than I do. But, Obama supports those things that make this a better place to have a baby. He supports those who are, as my dad would say, pro-life with some skin in the game.

In...and then back out again

Wow. It's been awhile, eh? (That whole occasionally talking like a Canadian thing that started when I was in Detroit, that hasn't quite worn off yet.) You would think that I would have plenty of things to blog about, seeing as I'm doing trauma anesthesia. In New York City.

It's not that there aren't things to blog about. It's just that I've spent most of my spare time enjoying the city. My apartment is lovely. The wood floors are gorgeous but not like, I think I'm going to stay home and look at my floors gorgeous. (Not that gorgeous.) So, I've been out.

Right now, though, I'm in, waiting for my camera battery and cell phone to charge; so I've got time for a little update.

Last weekend, Graci came to visit. Last night, she said, "Hey! You should talk about how great it was to see me!" It was great to see her. Really great. When she left, I realized I've been a little lonely traveling the past few months.

I was going to write about all the fun we had, but there's really not much to say except...

We have fun together for no reason at all.
And that is why we are best friends.

Graci is at Harvard this month doing pathology. She took a bus from Boston which dropped her off in Chinatown at 10 o'clock Friday night. If you've never been to the city before, Chinatown at night is probably not the best place to start your tour. Especially if you have working nares. We didn't linger there.

Instead, we walked a few blocks to Little Italy and had a late dinner. Graci said that Little Italy looked like parts of Boston. I told her, well, we're going to hop on the subway after dinner and see if we can't find something that doesn't look like Boston.

We got on the subway. (Again, it looked a lot like Boston's.) A few stops later, we got off and walked up the steps to 41st Street and 7th Ave. As we climbed out of the subway, I said, look up. And right there, part of her brain exploded. It's a hell of a way to meet the city, emerging from underneath Times Square. If you're ever giving a tour here, this is how you should do it. Start in a neighborhood that smells, move on to a little spaghetti joint, drag your visitors underground to see if you can meet a local rat (we did, his name was Gus), and then explode their brains with the world's most expensive advertising. The Midwesterners, they love that.

On Saturday, we spent much of the morning in Central Park. We took a few pictures...






Phone's charged...I'm off. But, I'm staying in tonight, so I'll say more then.

Terroni and Graci take pictures like good little tourists

Not once

No one asked me the date today. It was the first time since I started clinical work that not a single attending, while signing and dating his or her note, asked me the date.

Everyone here knew the date today.
No one talked about it.

Was looking for a subway stop when I ran into this. Completely by accident.

Fortune favors the shamefully clueless.

Blending in

I was standing in the subway on Saturday morning, mouthing the lyrics to the song playing in my ipod. Two couples, clearly tourists, were sitting nearby. One of the women turned to her husband and, in a stage whisper, said, "Look at that person talking to herself. She's probably a schizophrenic. They have a lot of those here you know."

I thought, damn, I've only been here a day and already people think I'm a New Yorker. It's like I was born to travel.

And for this, I have Mr. Sedaris to thank

When I left North Carolina on Friday, I drove to my parents' house. They agreed to keep my car for a month and take me to their local airport Saturday morning for my flight to New York. Before I made the drive north, I purchased David Sedaris' new book, When You Are Engulfed in Flames, on CD. The only thing funnier than reading David's writing is listening to him read his writing. I figured this might distract me from the sweaty, smelly reality of driving for 10 hours in the 90 degree heat in a black car with no air conditioning.

It worked. I was distracted. Granted, I still smelled like a European tour group at Disney World in August. But, the smell wasn't quite so nauseating as it might have been if I hadn't been entertained.

When I stopped for gas at a 7-Eleven in the hills of West Virginia, I was listening to David's story, Town and Country. My windows were rolled down and the CD was turned up. I found an empty parking spot next to a big ole diesel truck. The driver, a big ole hillbilly guy, was still inside. His windows, too, were rolled down. When I pulled in next to him, I was listening to a part of the story in which David quotes a particularly foul-mouthed cabbie he met in New York. As I parked my car, the words, "How is it that you do not need pussy? Does not your dick stand up?" blared from my speakers in David's effeminate voice.

The hillbilly whipped his head around and glared at me. Realizing how it sounded, I quickly turned down the volume on my CD player. This made it worse, as now I didn't even have the speakers to blame. Now, it really looked like I had just said this--like I pulled in next to the guy to scream accusations about his penis.

You know, it's hard to win The Most Classless award in a gas station parking lot in the hills of West Virginia. Stiff competition. But, I think that I more than made up for those points I lost by having all my teeth when my car started yelling DICK and PUSSY at the locals.

Zzzz...

I'm in New York.
All is well.
I'll tell you stories.
Most of them true.

But first, I must sleep.

Wish me luck

My mother, who just finished her second glass of red wine, is now proofreading my residency application personal statement.

Which is to say, my future rests in the hands of a drunk woman.