unbeing dead isn't being alive.

e.e. cummings

XX v. XY

I'm currently at the VA Atlanta Medical Center on my second month of internal medicine. Read: lots of old crotchety men. Many have fought in the Vietnam War. Many have PTSD. Clearly, I pick and choose who I tell that I'm Vietnamese.

I spent one morning talking to a Navy veteran who had served in WWII, Korean War and Vietnam War. His wife was at his bedside and the easy comfortable love that flowed between them was palpable. He suffers from dementia and repeated himself often but his personality and spunk were wholly intact.

Some of his pearls of "wisdom":
"It's not, did I shoot down any kamikazes. It's how many did I shoot?"
"When you discover something bad, name it after me!"
"Every day is a holiday and every meal is a banquet."

Point is, I like old crotchety men. And they like me. And it's making me reconsider my current decision to go into OB/GYN. Read: lots of women.

What's a girl to do?

I know what she should do. Take a year off. Get her MPH. And spend that year deciding what she'll be when she eventually "grows up."