I'm flying to Connecticut because I procrastinate.

A few days ago I realized that in my ultimate act of procrastination I had yet to sign up for the MCAT I'd planned on taking September 8.  Typically, premed students are advised to sign up at least 6-8 weeks in advance, but because this will be the second to last test date of the year, I'd been told to sign up as soon as I could.  I've previously been told I exhibit somewhat of a type A personality who has everything together, but in this instance, I pushed back my decision for months.

In May, I planned on taking the exam in September.  I could have signed up then, but since I wasn't sure about my study plan, I pushed back the decision of dates.  In June, I submitted my two week's notice to the doctor's office where I was employed to allow ample time for studying.  In July, once I'd settled on a date,  I debated whether to sign up to take it in San Francisco, near my home, or in San Diego, my home away from home.  But I couldn't bring myself to book the test.  Maybe it was a little bit of denial: if I don't sign up, it won't happen, and if it doesn't happen, I can't fail.  Either way, when I realized I needed to sign up for this test if I intended to take it this year, I logged into the website and attempted to view all the remaining California test dates.

There weren't any.  At all.  "Ok," I said to myself, "check neighboring states."  None.  None in California, Oregon, Washington, or Nevada for the end of August or September.  The nearest I could find was Arizona, but since I knew I'd have to travel for this exam, I put that state on the back-burner.  I began checking through states where I had relatives, one at a time, until I found one where I knew I'd feel comfortable, and I could easily get to the test center.  Where, you ask, am I taking my MCAT?  Connecticut.  A mere 2,991 miles from my home.  Not exactly ideal, but definitely going to be just fine.  My best friend lives in New Haven, and there's a test center 10 minutes from her apartment.  I immediately called her, and she welcomed me in, volunteered her car, and offered to do anything she could to help me do well.  What a blessing.  Now, five weeks away from possibly the most painful exam I'll take, I'm finally registered for the MCAT, my flights are booked, and I'll be squeezing in a bit of a vacation afterward.  Maybe that's the silver lining to make up for the complicated stress-ball that came from a little procrastination.  And maybe next time I'll learn my lesson and work to maintain my type A reputation. 

A quick shot of us in front of an AMAZING New Haven restaurant.  Yum!

Uncle Gilbert

I remember distinctly the text message I received telling me he had leukemia, and that I wasn't allowed to tell my best friend.  It was four days before Christmas 2009 and she'd be home in less than 36 hours.  The next few days were filled with a whirlwind of to-do lists to finish shopping here and deliver jam there.  We all stepped up so mama Millie could mother him.  She was by his side every moment she could be in those first few weeks.

The presents were purchased and wrapped, the jams delivered, and Christmas went on with a video camera in hand so he could watch it a few days later from his hospital bed 15 miles away.  The next year included so many trips to and from the hospital I can barely count them all.  My sole job was to guard his house.  In my trek to and from school, I passed his humble home.  I watched the windows to make sure no one had attempted a break in.  I examined the lighting to verify that the automatic timers were turning on as planned.  I mentally measured the amount of weeds and gardening that needed to be done, and called when it became too much but also when it had disappeared.  I was the tattletale when he'd been doing too much.  It was ok.  For more than a year.  And then it wasn't.

He was discharged from the hospital during the second week of March even when nothing was back to normal.  According to his doctors, there wasn't much else they could do at that point.  I couldn't understand.  There's always more treatment, more drugs, more something.  But sometimes that more truly makes life less worth living, as was believed for him.  Mama Millie spent the next four weeks doing anything and everything with him.  They drove everywhere they could just for him to see it.  She even ate McDonalds, her arch nemesis, because he wanted a burger and a Diet Coke.

Two days ago, he lost his fight.  He'd been doing so much better, even to the point where I'd stopped worrying and started to regain hope.  He started not feeling well, and the family gathered around him at the hospital as he finally surrendered.

Thanksgiving 2010 - he's down in front

He's the reason I'll donate bone marrow, should I ever match.  I've been told that it's the most painful thing one could imagine and that anesthesia is forbidden because it affects the harvested cells.  I'll donate anyways and happily, and in my mind it will be for him.  He didn't have a match.  No one had a chance to help physically save his life.  And as a result, a really good man is gone.

He never married, so didn't have a wife or children of his own to spoil.  Instead he took it out on his nieces and nephews, including me, the extra one.  He didn't care that I wasn't born into his family, or even that I wasn't officially part of it.  He cared that I was around.  He spent his time caring for those he loved and asking for nothing in return.  The injustice of his illness when terrible people live much longer lives makes me sick.  But until I call the shots, I can simply remember the man he was and pass along his legacy to the "other ones" around me.

Faithful Father

Yesterday I waltzed into church a few minutes late expecting to slide into my normal row surrounded by my normal congregation members and worship in my normal way.  Ha!  As soon as I walked in, one of the ushers, who happens to be the father of an old friend, seated me next to her and their family.  "Ok, God, I get your point," I muttered to myself as I remembered back on our broken relationship.  We were friends in high school.  WERE is the key word.  There came an end.  See, she managed to turn my whole group of friends against me, exiling me in the middle of my senior year.  I was less than thrilled with the situation, and despite our multiple attempts at repairing the riff created, we've only recently begun to talk.

When the sermon began, I was struggling to connect and focus.  As Danny discussed basic apologetics from the pulpit, my mind began wandering.  I'd heard this before.  Then I realized what I was doing.  I was allowing the amazing goodness of God to become commonplace.  I'd traveled beyond a place of expecting God to move in amazing ways to a complacency with His awesome power.  As we talked about prophecies made hundreds of years before the birth of Jesus and the improbability of it happening by chance, I was reminded that I take for granted the faithfulness of our Savior.  He promised that He would atone for sin.  He promised that the King was coming.  He promised to provide for His people.  And He did.

I've got plenty of people in my life who have failed me.  In fact, I was sitting right next to one.  The beauty and love of God's perfect faithfulness is made unbelievable by our inability to show the same quality.  No person can ever be as faithful as God is.  What He says stands and it doesn't change, despite how much we may sometimes hope it will.  What you see is what you get with Him.

Thank goodness.  Actually, thank God.

Addendum

Common known fact:  I work in a doctor's office.
Slightly less known fact, but still a fact nonetheless:  Sometimes we get addendums to reports.

Here's the addendum to this blog.

I really am happy.  Despite the fact that I'm bursting at the seams with humble pie and I'm struggling to keep my social life functioning, I'm actually really content.  God and I are at a good place.  I'm not jumping for joy at my grades or lack of free time, but I've found my niche in society where no one gets mad at me for asking "Why?" fifteen times in a row.  The restaurant isn't the end-all-be-all of jobs right now, but it pays the bills and is actually kind of fun.  School is a struggle, but for the first time in a year and a half (if not much, much longer) I actually have to work towards a goal.  I have to study and use the brain I've been blessed with.  It's good.

Just thought you all should know.

Humble Pie

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, mostly because of the food. My favorite parts? Stuffing, leftovers and PIE. As we've transitioned into fall my excitement for the BBQ turkey and potato salad have been growing, but not nearly as much as my anticipation for dessert. I even did what I could to twist arms into baking extra pies simply so I could indulge even more. As I whet my palate for the nutmeg-filled, whipped-cream-topped, flakey-crusted pumpkin goodness that awaits me, I've been served a very different kind of pie: the humble kind.

You see, I've never met a challenge I couldn't beat. Granted, I haven't always handled them as gracefully as I would like (namely food for houseboats), but in the end, I somehow always pull through. The second (and third and fourth...) winds of energy flow from nowhere encouraging me to keep working and keep striving.

Until now.

I'm at a breaking point. I think. Four months ago I discovered the profession made for me. It's a long-standing, well established discipline and I'm now fighting to find my place in it. I have at least two years of prerequisites in order to simply have a chance of getting into the required schooling, which will take more than another few years. I'll exit only to find myself in an internship of sorts for the next two or more years. I figured I would simply waltz back into classes and suddenly find my place again. I've always been an A student, with an occasional B from a lack of trying and a total of 3 Cs in my lifetime. This may be all about to change. I spend my nights with my nose in textbooks, and instead of listening to music as I drive I listen to lectures on electron transfer and kinetechores (pronouced kinetic-whores -- I'm still trying to find a good mnemonic to help me remeber what it does, but I can't get the whore part out of my mind long enough to be serious). As much as I'm expecting my studying to pay off, it doesn't seem to be making a difference. My goal for the next two years was to get a perfect 4.0 or something really close to it. Now I'm struggling to get an A in any one of my classes. For one of the first times in my life, there's something that I want and I'm not sure how to go about getting it. Apparently this fall I'll be enjoying a nice big slice of humble pie right alongside my pumkin. Great. Bah Humbug.