possible future med student

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Ben read every single entry while he was at work on Monday.  Yep, every single one.  From the time I bitched about work in Seattle to the time I bragged that Sarah Jessica Parker stepped on my messenger bag.  Every single one.  And he had one comment.  ”You’re no longer a possible future med-student.”  And he was right.  I am now definitely a med student and a future doctor.  

I don’t know why I’m faced with writer’s block when it comes to medical school.  I can write for hours about pears and pies, but I’m at a loss for (written) words when faced with penile implants and pancreatic cancer.

Sure, I think about medicine a lot.  I grapple with what it means to be learning about the ins and outs of the human body.  I wish Miss Frizzle were around to make it understandable.  And I sure as hell embody the typical Medical Student Hypochondriac Syndrome that seems to inflict only me.  But, yes, I am most definitely a medical student completely immersed in medical education.

But I have not written a word since August.

I’m not ready to say that I’m not as excited about medicine as I am about food.  Maybe I’m afraid that you’re not as excited.  Or maybe I’m more comfortable talking about food.  I’ve been eating pears and pies longer than I’ve been learning about penile implants and pancreatic cancer.  I have more fun making snarky comments about stale bread and stiff waiters than I do mouthing off about renal physiology.  

And it might be best that I keep these two separate after all.  The blog is for food; medicine stays in the hospital.  It’s a nice distraction from the sterile hospital.  Restaurants and hot fires and appetizers are sexier than scrubs and stethoscopes and draining abscesses.  And trust me, I won’t be posting any pictures of those up here anytime soon.

And in the meantime, here are some recent photos of hot chocolate, from Seattle to Union Square.

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