Emerging Victorious

So, there's a reason I haven't written in some time.   The life of a pathology resident is usually reasonable and governed by sane, achievable goals.   If we don't always lead an entirely 8:00-5:00 existence, it's still a job lived during fairly acceptable hours.   And while at work, we usually find time to wander into research projects and "hey, let's write up that case" from time to time and actually complete this.   I'm about halfway through, and really starting to catch on, I think.
  
   My last four weeks, however, had every potential for utter failure.   I was assigned to Surgical Pathology at the Big House, *Christian Denomination* Hospital, which is our toughest rotation.   I was assigned there with one other resident, also in my year...when usually there are three of us.   The attending pathologists were also short-handed due to academic meetings/talks/etc.   Many were covering as many as four services (when they usually cover one or two) simultaneously and were being driven off their feet with frozen sections.   We're approaching the end of the academic year, when one of my fellow residents will be transferring programs out of here, and another (with whom I was assigned on this rotation) will likely be leaving as well. I was assigned to give a noon conference hourlong presentation on pediatric kidney tumors one day and had to trade two weeks of call with other residents.   One of our attendings had a protégée observer from Vietnam spending time in the department and I adopted her as my personal student/assistant for much of the month.   Outside of work, it was Holy Week, when my husband and I sang for Mass five days out of seven, and the *Hometown* Community Chorale was preparing two intense pieces for a concert.  

   Despite all this, I may have actually had my best surgical path month to date.   I'm getting faster and more intuitive in the gross room.   My diagnoses and dictation are getting vastly more confident, and I'm previewing more effectively in the mornings.   I got a decent handle on teaching while guiding the observer, and even took her out to lunch one day.   I actually made it to Mass every time during Holy Week (grossed fast enough to get out...way more efficient than I usually am).    I was still quite stressed at the end, but I emerged victorious.   I am still claiming to anyone who asks that this is the best medical specialty there is.  

      I'm looking to the future, my two senior years, with more enthusiasm every day.   On my worst surgical path days, I was beating myself up mentally for the one time all month I flat out missed obvious cancer, thinking "I could get sued for this in real life." But I know I'm where I need to be in diagnostic skill right now.   I did really well on my in-service exam and I can feel myself heading into a very rapid learning phase.   Every day I soak in much more than I used to because the basics finally make sense and I have a framework.  

    Honestly, it feels good to take on a serious challenge and to emerge victorious.   Residency started out as the hardest thing I've ever had to do and life in pediatrics didn't give me much confidence in my ability to stand up to true challenge.   But now I'm almost a PGY-3 for the first time ever and looking toward a full on career in this and I'm rising to it.  

Am I Cool Enough for Your Book Club?

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a youngish professional woman who has been married for over five years with only a dog to show for it must be in want of a book club.   If said woman is the 746,998th person to blatantly twist the only Austen line most people remember until it cries for purposes of amusing her own tiny public, this only underscores her need of book club.   (BTW, I am a librarian and/or a historian in another life.   But not a grammarian.   Diagram that last sentence 1800s schoolhouse style to see if it actually works grammatically, because I'm curious.)

Anyway, I checked out meetup.com this evening looking for an interesting new activity group, seeing as how I obviously need yet another vague obligation in my life.   The fact that the people I care about most, other than my husband, live in other states and have done since I left Milwaukee at a minimum, has impressed itself on my mind, and I'm looking for an interesting new friend or two.   With a comical pseudo-desperation reminiscent of some of my friends in their search for romance.  

Coworkers, you say?   They are, indeed, fine people and I consider them friends.   But as far as I can tell from the general vibe, we are not "hey, let's go watch a movie or do ANYTHING outside of work more than twice a year" friends.   The one I get along best with of all of them is a guy, unmarried, not exactly my age.   To ask him to join me for some sort of extra-employment activity would be massively awkward.   The girls are great but many of them have kids and/or cases of workaholism that prevent their accepting any invitation to hang out. I have, oddly enough, met more good friends through my husband's hobbies than through my own.   Knitting Guild is a wonderful place to meet fine, upstanding knitters who are generally too different in their life circumstances to really become close friends.  Same with choir, substituting "singers."

In short, I came up with the idea of trying out a different kind of activity, just to see if it would make a difference.   The activity sounds perfect for me: a local book club.   The problem: I adore books and love to chat about them.   I've just never done this before and don't know if I should expect to be stared down for any non-lofty contribution or should expect to meet a group of people who have read five pages of a book and feel like having a glass of wine.   I'm not sure if it'll be full of older people or some who might actually be my age.   What is it those young professional types too old for "clubbin'" do for fun these days? 

I signed up for the group online, just to at least see the details of meetings and such.   In order to do so, I was hit with a signup questionnaire from the group which was surprising detailed and appeared to be aiming at weeding those not serious about the process.   Favorite book, ok, sure.   "Tell us about yourself," is fine.   But things like how I might handle strong opinions I don't share?   Whoo,   You could, um, you know...ask me that when I show up for the first time.   I am currently waiting for membership approval and trying to prepare for what is apparently going to be a really fun, sorority rush-like screening process.  I threw as much witty banter as I could in tiny Internet questionnaire boxes.   Wish me luck :).

The Dishes

    So, I decided  that a rather nifty challenge for myself, to battle the deadly sin of Sloth, would be to get the dirty dishes done every day at a minimum for Lent.   Some science has indicated that it takes approximately thirty days to form a habit and this is a habit I would like to cement.   I do the dishes on a regular enough basis, but that doesn't always mean every single day.   I'll admit it.   To bar myself from the luxury of not doing dishes some evenings would be to, somehow, make myself a better person.   

   In response to this plan, I have received the following reactions: 1) You're my kind of girl! (from a person who thought I meant I was giving up dishes, in the sense of NOT doing them, ever), 2) that's not...um...spiritual (from my brother and my husband), and 3) That sounds like a good idea.   I understand why it doesn't sound "spiritual" but I submit that this has been supplemented by some morning and night prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours, and is also helping to improve my relationship with the virtue of perseverance and loosen my connection to sloth.  

     I do generally get things done and show up to work when required, even adding projects to my schedule.   However, I'm inordinately capable of doing things (such as blogging, reading, knitting, and watching British accents on the telly) that do not maintain my home in an immaculate state. I have read blogs and statements by priests who suggest that a surprisingly small number of their well fed, well entertained American parishioners accuse themselves of sloth and gluttony in the confessional.   Clearly, this is not meant to break the confessional seal, but to point out that it is very possible for certain sins to be so ingrained in the way we live that our consciences stay silent.   This Lent, I'm trying to do a very small thing to re-train my conscience and to recognize that even an act as small as doing the dishes so my husband doesn't have to is an act of service and self-giving.    

I just might be back...

     Well hello everyone....long time no, uh, see?   Does anyone still blog anymore in 2014?   Am I talking to myself?   I'll presume so and just keep it moving forward.    So, quite clearly, a whole lot of crap has gone down since I last committed my immortal thoughts to the Internet.   I'm this close...
   

Thanks, vinelandrotary.com!



   ...to being halfway done with pathology residency and I have knit a whole whole lot of things in the slightly more abundant free time I have now.   I live in a new city and have been very busy working and not making a particularly large number of fabulous new friends.   I have convinced my very good friend, by virtue of the Shangri-La style bliss my new residency has given me, that she ought to do the very same thing and ditch pediatrics for path, and she just matched.  *sinister laugh as I think about my most recent call weeks*
    
     What am I knitting right now that you might conceivably care about?   Baby things!   Woo!  Uh...wait...they aren't for me.   Two of my bestest friends are about to make me an honorary Auntie in May, one week apart, and thus the Knits begin.  I'll share pics after the gifts are opened so as not to ruin the surprise in case they read this somehow.   I've begun to improvise-"design" about half of what I do and so one of the two items is my own brainchild.   I'm behind my friend Crafty Doctor in this regard, but I like to think that this shows some progress in my skills, anyway.   I improvised a hat for my mother recently, to no little critical acclaim, and I'm looking forward to continuing in this path.   I've been knitting in this semi-serious way for about four years, so by the time I hit anything like the Yarn Harlot's experience, who knows what I'll be capable of.  

    I'm excited to be able to get back to writing.   I have a lot of things to talk about  from the recent past if "current events" ever get too boring, and I'm hoping to be fairly loose on the content.   Knitting, yes, but other passions will get their time in the spotlight.   Stay tuned for fun things like:
 - Why anything on television involving British accents and period costumes MUST BE watched. 
 - Why pathology is the greatest specialty no medical student has ever considered.
 - What it's like to be on a real hospital ethics committee.
 - Why I'm pretty sure my dad means it when he says he wants to start his own "think tank" and why I MUST be involved when it happens.
  Of course, it may be nearly impossible to write here without getting into what I think of as the good stuff...my politics, my religion.   Who knows.   Watch this space.

The Bride

   I must admit that it is really hard to maintain a knitting blog when my major project has been flying stealth since I cast on.   The person I'm making it for is tremendously special to me and I wish I had the stones to design her gift personally, but I will have to content myself with altering the pattern in a meaningful way.   There is a longstanding tradition among knitters to create, even personally design, for the milestone days of those we love.   If you are lucky enough to be in the charmed circle of love around a serious knitter, just buckle up and prepare to see what they can do.   Allow me, instead of displaying her knits, to introduce you to the Recipient.

   The Bride is one of the people that most consistently amazes me.   We met in the lounge at the medical school dormitory the day I moved in, both of us trying to understand just what it was we were about to take on.   It turns out that she should never have worried even for a moment.   This tiny little person with a huge personality balanced by quiet calm in the face of ridiculous pressure can do fairly literally anything.   She has far more capacity for learning than I thought was possible in a human being, and she pushed her friends to learn more and faster than we thought ourselves capable of (Work! *kshh* work!).   She found her passion in surgery, and she is perfect for it, being uniquely capable of calmly learning while attendings scream and long long days slip by.   When I picture her, it is with the gleam of satisfaction in her eye that she had when she got to close the wound those times in third year.

    I chose to attend my medical school, a well-known private school in the Midwest, in part in order to meet different people with different life experiences, and The Bride was just that...a person whose life could hardly have been more different than mine.   She grew up on the other side of the world, and the bits and pieces she let slip about her early life indicated no bed of roses.  California and UC Berkeley shaped her college life, and she always had stories to share about living in a commune, especially about the people she had met.   I eagerly sought out her stories, though she may never have known that I did, because her life was far more fascinating than she realized.   She didn't share everything, being an intensely private person, so what she did share with her closest friends were like little jewels.   We didn't always know when she was dating someone, but she seemed to seek out those whose lives were as outside-the-box and rich with experiences as her own.  

   Several times throughout the four years, the Bride shared with me the rituals of her Jewish faith.   She even referred to me as "Honorary Jew" for being one of the most reliable about accompanying her to services and for being curious enough about her faith and culture to learn more.   She did not attend weekly services and would never have thought of herself as devout, but like all Jewish people, she had decided what Judaism meant to her, and she maintained many traditions, deeply committed to keeping this part of her identity shining.   She wears her faith proudly, perhaps nudged on by the thought of relatives and ancestors who were not allowed to.  

   When we, her girlfriends, were about to meet the man who is now her fiancé, our first thought was of whether or not this person would be her match, would measure up to her.   We had seen her choose people that, while nice and funny and interesting, were unable to match her in wit, in brilliance, in energy, in ambition.   The moment we met this charming, funny, sophisticated lawyer who kept pace with her in every way, we just knew. To lovingly embarrass her a bit, one of us began to refer to him as "Captain Awesome."   He shares her faith, is not intimidated by any little bit of her awesome, and is her match...we are proud to watch her begin a life with him.  

   Now that I have said all this, I expect to receive a mostly-angry email or phone call from her when she has read it.   She has always acted supremely uncomfortable with anyone publicly saying good things about her.   I hope she knows that I wrote it because it is true. I hope she knows that this is exactly how we feel about her and that we want her to know it.

Mazel tov, friend.

Women's Work

You know you could buy socks cheaper from Walmart, right Mom?
 (Photo from agoodyarn.net)

     I just finished reading A Thousand Years Over a Hot Stove by Laura Schenone and Knitting Ganseys by Brown-Reinsel, and I am currently knitting on a stealth project for a friend's wedding, a project which I'm endeavoring to make meaningful in subtle ways.   The two seem to come together to make me think deeeeep thooooooughts, so why not share, eh?

      To call myself a knitter always gives me a brief feeling that I am stating the obvious.   To be proud of myself for knitting a sweater, for searing a pork chop, for hand-piecing a quilt square, is a disconcerting feeling for a moment.   My great-great-great grandmother would not have called herself a knitter, a cook, a quilter, a cheese-maker, a pickle-maker, as though any of these were a hobby she chose to do lightly because she loved it.   I do not know which of these activities, or any other I didn't name, she took the most joy in, though it's certain she had some she enjoyed more.   I would suppose that she'd identify herself to me as a good Christian farmwife who took care of her family, leaving unsaid the fact that she had to take care of them by doing and making so many things.

       Frankly, I'd expect her to marvel a little at the many things I don't know how to do.   Send me back 150 years to when a relative of mine stepped off of a ship with her children, including a newborn she bore at sea, and I would be more useless than helpful.   This skill, knitting, that I cultivate for love of it, she learned so that her husband and children would be clothed.   Many women of that time and place knit as part of a cottage industry, to contribute to the family's financial stability.   I'm amazed they could, given what a single day required of them.   To eat cheese or bread meant that Mom had to make it, and the girls had to help.  To eat vegetables meant that Mom grew them right outside the back door.   Meat meant butchering, which Mom did.   Socks, mittens, sweaters all came from Mom's needles and spindle.   I, at twenty eight years old, have a fraction of the skills a girl half my age would have had, yet I am proud to wear the skills I have like a badge of honor.

      Yet, I cannot judge myself too harshly yet.   My great-great-grandmother would be at a loss faced with my morning, driving to work, using pipettes and machines to stain slides and a fluorescence microscope to assess the work, sending email and posting to this blog.   There is a good chance she might not even have been able to read it.   I know she was as intelligent as I am, and as creative.  She had to be, in order to meet the wide-ranging responsibilities heaped on her shoulders.  She could provide bread, cheese, potatoes to her family...I provide chicken tikka masala, sesame noodles, and baked ziti to mine.  

   When knitting became my passionate hobby, it felt new.   My mother knows how, and enjoys it mostly, but like most women of her generation, she likes to hike and travel and shop, and leisure time is precious.   Her generation embraced processed food and packages of socks as the willingly-paid price for that leisure time to spend with us kids.   Her generation finally got men to help.   Raised by them, women of my age felt "retro" and cool when we learned to knit and cook, making the "knitting craze" blaze around the western world in 2005, and we introduced the world to the "foodie" who marinates whole pigs in the bathtub, makes artisan cheese and fresh pasta at home.   We embraced what had been work for centuries before us and made it what we did outside our day jobs.

   My great-great-great grandmother, my mother, and I all share a sense of our responsibilities and a desire to love and care for family.   My great-great grandmother did this by taking on the massive task of homemaking, feeding, and clothing people when none of this was fast or easy.   As technology made these things faster and easier, my mother's generation did not become lazy or accept the reprieve, but instead pushed themselves to take on yet more, caring for and nurturing people outside of their family and community with careers.   Young women like myself continue to feel that tug of responsibility to the public world of career, but we are rediscovering how much joy and fun can be found in feeding people, clothing people in more traditional ways.   In a way, I am stating the obvious when I say that I am a knitter.   To say that I am a knitter is to say that I am committed to covering my loved ones in both physical and spiritual warmth...as women always have been.  It's our job.



Wait, Delores...the Kermis is next month.
Good, then I can finish this shawl.



No, check the TSA website.  If security had a problem
with these, would I be on the plane right now? I didn't think so.

     
     

Leading to This

   It has been something very close to 20 years since I first learned to cast on, make the knit stitch, and bind off.   It has been close to 10 years since I taught myself the purl stitch, expanding my knitting world by 100%.   Think of it...10 years in which I could do nothing but garter stitch rectangles, I kid you not.   No wonder I didn't like it that much.   Five years ago, I learned to use DPN's and circular needles to work in the round, allowing for projects that were not, by the grace of God, scarves.   The fire caught in me and each project I took on taught me new skills...increases, decreases, yarnovers, shortrows, colorwork.  I have made hats, lace shawls, mittens, stethoscope covers, socks, some of which I'm not quite ready to refer to as my own design.

   Until yesterday, I considered it a dance.   My life in knitting was wheeling from one randomly chosen delight to the next, going back and forth between easy and difficult, new and familiar.   Now I know that, in fact, it was all leading to this.   I feel like I can, for the first time, feel comfortable calling myself a Knitter, because I have crossed a major frontier and can never go back.   And it was good :).

 

I have knitted and seamed my very first sweater.   It fits.

 This is Jalapeno Flavored Cheesy Poof, and he is beautiful.

 SPECS:  Pattern: Cheesy Puffs, by Jillian Moreno
                 Source: Knitty.com   Winter 2005 issue
                 Minor alterations: My husband has arms ten miles long or so, so approximately four inches were added to the sleeve length.   Body was size M, but sleeve length requested for that size seemed pitifully short for him.
                 Yarn: Misti Alpaca Chunky, Hunter Green Melange colorway, nine hanks.  Purchased from a now-gone LYS.  
                 Needles: Size 10 aluminum straights, probably from Boye, and a size 9 circular for the collar
                 Start Date: sometime in spring-summer 2010.

    The knitting process overall was pretty simple.   It started out strong, and I cast on pretty much right away after the yarn purchase because I had fallen in love with the big chunky softness of this yarn.   The pattern got a little...meditative...after the entire back panel was complete, and the front panel barely got beyond cast-on as other projects captured my attention.   You all know how it is.

   My poor husband had almost lost hope that I would, in fact, finish when January 2012 hit.   My work involves short tasks to tend to interspersed by up to an hour of downtime, so I needed to fill it.   I hit on a combination of my two favorite things to do, reading, and knitting with the radio/TV in alternating bursts, as a semi-productive use of that time.   Thus, my usual post-Christmas knitting slump never occurred this year.   When the last of my Christmas catching-up was done, I fished around on my UFO shelf and the sweater came back to life.  Within a week, I had a front panel.   Within another two, I had two sleeves.   I was finishing entire hanks in a day, absolutely on fire.

    I recently picked up Principles of Knitting by Hiatt and Knitting in Plain English by Maggie Righetti from the library to figure out the best method of seaming it, then I just went for it.   Last night, as I watched a DVD of a recent miniseries of Jane Austen's Emma, I finished the seams.   Yes, his ends are not yet woven in, and he is in need of a quick blocking, but he is currently one of my proudest accomplishments.

This is Jalapeno Cheesy Poof in vest-like form, awaiting the sewing on of sleeves.   

My husband in his new sweater.  

   Doesn't my husband look so happy to be wearing him?   Here's to being kept warm for years to come, my love.