I'm a new fan...

...of the musical Sweeney Todd. My roommate Clay had seen it 3 times, counting the time we went together a couple weeks ago to see it, purchasing affordable last-minute tickets. For the second half we stole down to some empty orchestra seats which gave us an incredible view of the actors'/singers'/musicians' expressions and audience interaction. We also had to crawl over a grouchy, arthritic older lady who asked, richly in sarcasm, if we had any more coming.

In brief, the show is about a barber who kills people with his razors for revenge. The music is fun and full of rich and varied textures, and this production, which originated in England's regional theater before making it in London's West End and then coming Broadway, is unusual since the ten actors also perform all the music. The scaled back, deconstructionist* approach encourages use of the imagination, and the simple set and props turn the focus onto the actors' expressions and movements. The Lion King had phenomenal costumes, but as a musical I enjoyed this one much more.

So, for Clay's birthday coming soon, I took him to see our second showing of Sweeney Todd in as many weeks! Here are a few pictures to give an idea of the show. It closes on Sunday, but there may be a national tour next summer.


* Deconstruction is a philosophical or critical method which asserts that meanings, metaphysical constructs, and hierarchical oppositions (as between key terms in a philosophical or literary work) are always rendered unstable by their dependence on ultimately arbitrary signifiers. (www.m-w.com)

Apartment 7G, amended

I realized my scanned page in the 7G post didn't have the best resolution. I tried increasing the size, tried changing file types, tried uploading from My Documents rather than My Scans. All to no avail. I don't know what I'm doing wrong.

This is all remedied, however, thanks to a suggestion from my friend Scott. I took a digital picture of my original sketch, uploaded that to the computer, and uploaded that to Blogger. There has to be a better way.

This may be the appropriate place for a general question regarding the nature of the verbs upload and download. Of course I upload a picture to my blog, and I download music from iTunes. But what about camera to computer? Does uploading always refer to transferring from the simpler to the more complex? Or does downloading always indicate a direction toward my personal computer, whether that be from the internet or a digital camera?

Anyway, here's the picture. I forgot to write "bike" next to the funny-shaped thing locked to the railing of the staircase. "Jonathan's bike" is now in the hall outside the apartment, rather than in the living room.

A couple days of misfortune

After days like Thursday and Friday, it would be easy to come home discouraged. I think I generally try to think optimistically, but these days were stretching. A quick summary:

Thursday, patient 1: The I.V. I started in the patient's arm infiltrated* at some point. She was nearly completely covered by warmers and drapes, so I didn't realize until I took down the drapes at the end of the case. The entire arm, up to the shoulder, was swollen! I (and she) were fortunate in that she still had a good pulse (in other words, the pressure in the arm did not exceed the arterial pressure, so blood and oxygen was still delivered to that limb), and I had given no "vasopressors" in that I.V. which could have potentially compromised her blood flow.

Thursday, patient 2: During the second case, which was a laparoscopic case done in lithotomy and steep trendelenberg*, I noticed the patient had regained her twitches, which was a sign to re-paralyze her. (It's important to keep patients paralyzed during laparoscopic cases so that the movement of their diaphragm doesn't interfere with the surgery.) I gave an appropriate dose of medicine and waited a few minutes. She still had twitches! Around this time, the circulating nurse noticed a large puddle of fluid on the floor! Given the trouble with the last case's I.V., I immediately became concerned that my I.V. had slipped out and produced the puddle. This would explain why the patient wasn't paralyzed! I called my attending who came to assist. We pulled out the patient's arm (with difficulty, given the position) and realized the I.V. was fine. Meanwhile the surgeon is getting frustrated because the patient is breathing on her own and we're having trouble re-paralyzing her. It got to the point where my attending and the gynecologist were nearly yelling at each other! Turns out that for some reason or another, this patient needs whopping doses of paralytic agents. And then after my attending left, the gynecologist continued to be snippy to me. Between cases, I think she felt bad, and so she tried to joke with me that from now on I would be called "Mr Paralysis." Not funny.

Thursday, patient 3: With the same gynecologist. Case is going smoothly, except again in steep trendelenberg, I notice the patient's CO2 levels increasing. (Laparoscopic cases are done by insufflating the abdomen with CO2 since it's quickly absorbed, and trendelenberg makes it difficult to effectively ventilate patients.) I increased the patient's breathing rate a little, and switched the ventilator over to pressure control in order to keep her peak airway pressures down. Not a problem. CO2 is 40, everything's fine. Well, a colleague came to relieve me around 8:45, and I "checked out" to him by telling him the patient's medical history, where I have I.V. access, and how the case was going. Quietly I told him that the CO2 had been creeping up and that I'd switched to pressure control.

The gynecologist heard me, and said, "What's creeping up?" I told her the CO2 had increased, but that I'd compensated for it by increasing the patient's ventilation. Still frustrated, I think, from the last case, she began lecturing me that I have to let her know when this happens so that she can take the patient out of trendelenberg, blah, blah, blah. It wasn't so much what she said as the tone with which she said it! I didn't really say anything in reply, but in retrospect, even though I would be talking to my superior, I should have said something along the lines of, "As I already said, I've compensated by increasing the patient's ventilation. If I were to run into difficulty and couldn't control the CO2, I would certainly let you know."

Friday, patient 1: Older lady with multiple medical problems (hypertension, atrial fibrillation, coronary artery disease, congestive heart failure, asthma, stage IV lung cancer) getting a simple procedure--venous port under her collar bone for chemotherapy. Everything was fine, except I just felt on edge the whole time given her fragile physiology. (If you're not a doctor or nurse, just skip to the next paragraph now.) That, and when the surgeon placed an intravenous wire, I realized it's really hard to differentiate atrial fibrillation with LBBB from PVC's! I had fun authoritatively telling the surgeon to please pull back the wire.

Friday, patient 2: A very high strung patient undergoing a large procedure involving a urology, general surgery, and gynecology tag-team approach. She nearly refused the procedure last minute when the surgery resident briefly went over benefits and risks of the procedure in order to get the consent form signed! The difficulty from our end was that her two front teeth were actually caps held on with temporary cement. We warned her that in the process of intubation, the caps might be knocked off.

I intubated, and my attending was hawkishly watching the teeth the entire time. After I placed the tube, she congratulated me, "Good job." I turned to get tape to secure the tube, and when I looked back, a front tooth was missing! I saw it on the tongue! I tapped my attending on the shoulder, and her blood pressure immediately skyrocketed when she realized what had happened! (She was not upset at me, just suddenly under a lot of stress to get the tooth.) As she manipulated long forceps trying to retrieve the tooth which kept slipping farther down the throat, she bumped the other front tooth which also fell out!

All ended well. She retrieved both teeth, and we called an intra-op dental consult. The patient knew this was a risk of the procedure. And I felt better knowing that a simple tap by the forceps was enough to dislodge a tooth. Everything was going to be okay. When stress levels were back to normal, I started to mention to my attending that these mitigating factors certainly helped. We did what we could, but it still happened. Part of a day's work. Before I could say much, though, she patted me on the shoulder and said, "It's going to be okay. I mean, you will think about this every night for the next two weeks, but you'll get through it. It could have happened to anybody. Don't beat yourself up. It'll be hard, but things will be alright." Yikes. I simply nodded and told her I appreciated her encouragement!

Friday, patient 1 from Thursday: I went to write a post-op note on yesterday's patient. I explained (again) to her that the swelling in her arm would go down over the next couple of days. I was thankful that she had no pain in that arm. She did complain of significant pain in her abdomen, where the incision was. She also asked me what all the I.V. fluids were hanging above her bed. I leaned to my left to look at the fluids, and wouldn't you know it, my stethescope slipped off my shoulder and right onto my patient's belly. She cried out and cringed in pain for what seemed like 5 minutes. All I could do was apologize profusely. Maybe that's why surgeons always carry their stethescopes in their white-coat pocket.

* Infiltration is when the catheter slips out of the vein, so that any fluids or medicines given simply collect in the surrounding soft tissue rather than going to the circulation.

* Lithotomy position--think women's exam. Trendelenberg is a fancy word for head of the table down.

Apartment 7G

This is my new apartment. First, a sketch of the floorplan. I rearranged today to make better use of the space. Our previous arrangement made the living room feel extremely long. Instead, I've tried to create two smaller rooms within the room.

My new dining table from Target.com. It's great! The design on the wall is something I'm working on. It's a design I copied from a Frank Lloyd Wright prism window. My thumb is numb as I type from all the cutting.


The other dining table. It has a clever design which allows it to fold and become a small side table.


The poetry corner.


The living room. My mom bought me the Iranian hand-woven rug for $1.35 on eBay. (Shipping was another $30).

Brooklyn Bridge

Or "Budweiser can framed by Empire State and Chrysler Buildings." 

A fine New York morning

 

A slow call night

This was how my team spent a few hours watching four consective episodes of Lost on a slow call night not too long ago.

Sorry for the grainy photo. I had to doctor it to make it viewable.

 

Two views from the hospital

 

A new neighbor

I helped Glennis, with whom I share a couple mutual friends, move in to her new apartment the other weekend. She now lives in Washington Heights, just a mile or so from my apartment, so it's fun to have a neighbor nearby!

Moving took all of 15 minutes. Assembling Ikea furniture, on the other hand, took the better part of a few hours.

Dresser, before


Dresser, after


Glennis, Sunny, and me after Glennis treated us to dinner at Dallas Barbecue. I spent half the evening trying to figure out if they were dating or interested in each other.


Yes and yes. 

I saw Sun!!!

Er, Yunjin Kim, a famous Korean actresss who has become well known in the States for portraying Sun on the ABC drama Lost.

I gradually became a fan of the series this last season since my roommate David watched religiously, and when my new roommate Clay here in New York had the entire first season on DVD...well, it was a shame not to methodically work my way through.

It's a great show because the characters are complex, and the format of using flashbacks to develop the characters and explain why they react the way they do seems to provide a limitless source of material. We see the characters working through and overcoming their flaws.

But, back to the title of this post, which merited not one, but three exclamation points... I was walking through the West Village today, and I passed someone who I could have sworn was Kim, notwithstanding my history of having difficulty telling Asian women apart. It was an exciting day.

July 15, 2006

In honor of college friend Jane's wedding in Dallas (which I couldn't attend), I visited the Magnolia Bakery, whose cupcakes came with her highest recommendation. The bakery is on Bleecker Street, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite strolling streets in New York City.


Nearby is Jane Street, and on the corner is Tavern Jane.


Congratulations, Jane and James!

Thanks for the pizza

Zach, a friend of my roommate Clay, stayed with us a few weeks in July as he was taking lessons from various voice teachers here in New York. Zach came right after I moved in, so of course it was normal to have someone sleeping on our couch!

Before he left, Zach took us out to dinner to thank us for having us stay at our place. We went to John's Pizza near Times Square, which was housed in what seemed to be an old church. A mural of Manhattan was painted on the wall, and I liked how the artist blended art and reality by incorporating the light fixtures into the city-scape.

Clay, me, and Zach.

Fort Tryon Park

Here's a picture of some flowers that were recently blooming in Fort Tryon Park.

In memoriam

Ann Vardaman Miller

192_ -- August 12, 2006

Beloved professor, inspiration, and friend

From the thousands of moments that file by every day, here is one that I will remember always: Tea at Barnes & Noble with Ann Miller and Mrs Vardaman a couple months ago in June. I'd brought a few of my favorite poems to read aloud to these former-professors-turned-friends. "...Even after I have forgotten what year it is,/ my middle name,/ and the meaning of money,/ I will still carry in my pocket/ the small coin of that moment..."* Moments before she was driven away, I caught one last glimpse of Ann Miller, with her coy--almost flirtatious--smile through the car window. Standing there with the hot Texas sun on the back of my neck, I knew that I would see her no more.

And an excerpt from a June 30th letter to Professor Miller, which I never mailed because I wanted to print the above picture from 2001 and send it to her:

...As a teacher, you no doubt have been told that you've impacted your students' lives. While I do and will remember your classes fondly, that memory I've stored away...is the way you taught with love. I know of course you love Dickenson and Chekov and Yeats (and I'm realizing more how literature has at its core love and compassion), but even more so how you loved your students and found beautiful things in them. One day you ran your hands through Rosamund's hair and told her it was the most beautiful hair you'd ever seen! And this is what I carry with me from my days in Carroll Science, and what I hope to do in practicing medicine, teaching, or serving....

We miss you, Professor Miller.

Baylor Lariat press release

* Lines taken from "This Much I Do Remember" by Billy Collins

Sharon

One of my fellow-interns, Sharon, and her husband at graduation. I thought they were a rather photogenic pair.

 

In search of Mulberry

Wow, I love 24-hour call! I got an hour and a half of sleep the other night, and when I finished my case at 0600, the team captain sent me home. I had napped and was awake & ready to go at 1100 with about three times more free time to enjoy than a regular day.

My first order of business was to explore a new part of Manhattan. I rode the A train down to Canal Street and trekked eastward across Manhattan. Canal Street represents in my mind both the best and the worst of urban life. As can be seen in the picture below, not a tree was to be seen. The pavement sizzled in the 100 degree heat. Taxis and city buses crawled bidirectionally; street vendors hawked cheap key-chains, NYC tee-shirts, and black-and-white photos of the Brooklyn Bridge; and pedestrians ambled in thick crowds on the sidewalks. There was nothing beautiful or charming about the scene, yet I loved the sense of energy, humanity, and multiculturalism packed into this historic street.


After the better part of a mile, I finally arrived. My first view of Mulberry Street is shown below. (Unfortunately, owing to the convention of mounting street signs, I was unable to photograph the street-sign and the street in the same shot.) Mulberry Street seemed to be the heart of Little Italy. The street is lined with Italian cafes with ample outdoor seating, plenty of red-checkered tablecloths, and gleaming stemware set out ready to use. Since the day was so hot, I splurged (in terms of carbohydrates) and bought a $2 Italian ice.



I continued sauntering down the street, and then turned eastward, this time in search of another historic street. Orchard Street, as I understand it, is the historic heart of the Jewish community on the Lower East Side. 125-year-old tenaments line the streets and formerly housed new immigants to the city. When stepping out into the street I was delighted to be nearly run over by a Jewish man on a bicycle! (I could tell by the yarmulke that he was Jewish.) I searched in vain for a shop to buy lox or knishes, but was still pleased to see Orchard Street.

I finished my walking tour in Chinatown, where I bought some small bananas and fresh tomatoes for a good price. This area of the Lower East Side had a particularly gritty & industrial feel, with the blue, steel Manhattan Bridge rising in the distance, an elevated subway nearby, and the wide, hot expanse of East Broadway stretching to the river.

In praise of brevity

The Art of Being Concise

or

Using One or Two Situation-Appropriate Words When Possible Instead of Several Words In Order to Communicate in a More Clear Fashion and To Increase How Effective One's Use of Language Is.

So I finally did it. After years of fearing long-term commitment and a high-maintenance relationship, I've taken the plunge. Despite my fears, I knew this was what I really wanted, so I made the decision and went with it.

No, I'm not talking about a girl. I speak of The Economist. I now have a subscription to that famed British publication. Yes, you know the one...the one with a spartan use of pictures. The one that uses the term multilateral at least a few times every issue. The one in which a person can read in a single issue about landmark changes to the American welfare system, major developments in globalisation, the history of the Suez crisis & its impact on Arab-Western relations, Peru's new president, bird flu in Indonesia, the publishing practices of French politicians, and a thoughtful article on the ethics of war.

At two dollars an issue, and with my needing reading material for my twice-daily 10- to 15-minute subway commutes, it was a deal too good to pass.

The quality of the writing in The Economist impresses me, and the vocabulary is more advanced than any American newspaper I've read. I enjoy the British quirks that come through (like the spelling of globalisation & sceptic, and the unblinking use of dodgy), and the magazine stimulates thought with careful, intelligent, and fair treatments of controversial issues.

But what delights me most is the--forgive me--economy of language in The Economist. I've culled a couple examples of compact adjectives, both from the July 29th--August 4th 2006 edition.

Mr Garcia is timid in part because his political position is shaky. A recent poll puts his approval rating at 50%, low for an incoming president. APRA has just 36 of the 120 seats in the unicameral legislature, compared with 42 for Mr Humala's Union for Peru. (35)

Laloo Prasad Yadav, India's railway minister, was known during the 15 years that he and his wife, Rabri Devi, were successive chief ministers of the state of Bihar, for his earthy realism and rustic lifestyle... (38)

Yet a thoughtful speech this week on public-health policy, the second of a series [Blair] is giving on domestic issues, inevitably had a valedictory ring to it. (56)

Thank you, John F, for sharing your love of the Economist.