Bulls on Parade

A lot weighing on my mind these days.

1) I was a hot mess this last Wednesday. Rank lists for residency were due that night. The realization that my future career has now been determined by the match algorithm mowed me over like a train. Instead of going out to our class's rank list submission party, I felt physically ill at the thought of having to chat with my classmates about the match and instead stayed home and played the new Zelda game until my eyes were gonna melt in their sockets. A friend of mine texted me to ask why I skipped the party, and I simply left the response at: "I am mentally indisposed."

2) I received my first query rejection last night while I was at a friend's chocolate fondue party. In hindsight, I was not ready to query, and I was half-expecting a rejection at that point. It was a sort of curiosity-provoked act of impulse while I was waiting for residency interviews, because the agent in question was closing for queries around that time and I was all, 'Oh no, what if they never come back?' Still, not gonna lie -- it stung. I am already feeling very much in doubt about everything, and the letter was like another swing at my kneecaps.

3) Serious question I have been pondering... has my temper been shortening with age? Or is it the cumulative stresses of this political climate/medical life that is short-circuiting my ability to clamp down on my ire? I embarrassingly lost my cool at the Person when we were at Krewe of Muses over something really stupid. I snapped at a friend when he kept talking in pseudo-African accent after watching Black Panther.

4) Along a more serious line though, a friend of mine (Skillet) and I were talking last night about how our medical schools need to do more in teaching us how to handle situations when patients say things that are offensive or inappropriate. The one time I almost really lost it with a patient was right around when Charlottesville happened. As a caveat, this patient may have had some sort of hypomania, as he had very pressurized speech. I saw him in clinic with the intent of asking him to enroll in my research study, and so I listened politely as he talked on and on. That is, until he went on to say that "Some people are asking to be run over" in reference to the girl who was killed when a car rammed into the counter-protestors. I was absolutely livid, and after telling him I didn't agree with him, I said I didn't think he was suitable for my study and left the room.

Skillet, who's very openly gay, told me that he had a patient--an older woman who was very sweet and conversational until she found out that he was from Miami. "Miami... all those immigrants... and Cubans," she said with disgust. When the attending came in, she requested that my friend not see her anymore.

These are only some of the more atrocious incidents I have encountered since living in Louisiana. Last night, I shared the story again of how I had a residency interviewer tell me, "I don't speak Chinese, hope English is okay!" While my friends responded in aghast, a classmate's husband interjected, "Oh, I'm sure she was just being friendly."

"Yeah, I'm sure she was trying to be nice, but that doesn't mean it's okay to say that."

"Well you know, our society is so reactionary these days..."

We changed the subject before he could elaborate further. Which was for the best, because let me tell you, I was not in the mood to drop a truth bomb on his head.

This dude does not understand how insulting it is to be told, "Wow you speak really good English," when you have a fucking English major from Duke. This dude has never had to politely field questions about Chinese food from curious patients, until they tell you, "Oh you have to understand, we just don't get a lot of foreigners around these parts." In short, he does not understand what it's like to be constantly seen as a foreigner in the country you were born in.

And all of that's just from my own experiences. My friend, who is of Korean descent, was asked about her opinion of Kim Jong Un at an interview. When we were on our surgery rotation together, an anesthesiologist asked her if she has eaten dog before.

Yes, I am well aware that in all these instances, these were well-meaning people who genuinely were trying to be friendly. And maybe you can call me "reactionary," or whatever that term is supposed to signify. And yes, I know this dude does not understand what it's like for an Asian-American in this country. Maybe I would have done all of us a favor by gently educating him last night.

But is that my responsibility? This is what Skillet and I were talking about last night, before the rest of our classmates arrived. If we stayed in Louisiana to train and practice medicine, perhaps we'd make a difference in helping educate these communities or break their stereotyped ideas of what it means to be a gay man or an Asian-American woman. But for the two of us, at a certain point we just don't want to bear this burden.

Visions of Gideon

"I have loved you for the last time
Is it a video? Is it a video?"

-- Visions of Gideon by Sufjan Stevens

2018 is off to an auspicious start. Thanks to my Person's gift to me this past Christmas, I am now in possession of a Moviepass. Which means that for the rest of this year, I can watch one free movie per day in theaters. Which means my obsessive readership of film blogs can now blossom into full-blown cinephilia, without being stymied by my miserly penny-pinching tendencies. Already, I've watched The Last Jedi and The Shape of Water for the second time, in addition to The Greatest Showman, Phantom Thread, and most recently, Call Me By Your Name.

I have plenty of thoughts on the above movies and would looooove to discuss any of them. But for today, let's talk about the movie I watched last night, Call Me By Your Name. I've known about CMBYN for months. It's been raved about since Sundance. I had other movies on my radar though, like The Shape of Water, which I thought was more up my alley. What ended up becoming the swift kick in the rear to go watch CMBYN was Astrid's raving recommendation. Specifically her comment that she thought I might appreciate the melancholic longing and the ambiguity of mounting attraction.

Okay, sold. One ticket please.

I don't intend to go into detail about this movie, but I will say this: I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS MOVIE.

I have been playing "Visions of Gideon" throughout the day, and the melody immediately transports me back to that aching feeling of heartbreak when you watch Timothee Chalamet's face move through a carousel of emotions without break for four minutes during the ending credits.

It's this song that truly seemed to break something that had been muzzled and discarded deep within me. Rewarming a sliver of a memory that had grown cold over the years.

Do you still remember how intense it feels when you are sixteen? The way every thought of it consumes you like madness. The way you feel literally sick, diseased, as if the raging storm of emotions within you cannot be contained by this earthen body that you haven't yet grown comfortable with, contorted in this liminal space between childhood and adulthood.

I never want to feel that way again. I probably never will. But that pain helped me find my voice.

"In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it."