Paula Deen has been diagnosed with an illness that gives her the risk of heart attack equivalent to an individual who has already suffered a heart attack. In other words, she has type 2 diabetes.
This is the woman who has become renowned for her high-calorie and fat foods.
Now she's a compensated spokesperson for Norvo-Nordodisk.
OK guys. But remember, type 2 diabetes is a real, serious disease. And Paula Deen will only get better if she actually does dieting and exercising the right way. But I'm skeptical.
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
A vigorous argument against sexual "performance enhancing" drug use in youth
Here's an interesting quotation from a 2004 NEJM piece by Morgentaler on the treatment of erectile dysfunction.
"...the effects of the recreational use of PDE 5 inhibitors have not been well studied. My major concern is the psychological impact of taking these medications for younger men who are not yet in a stable relationship. I have seen cases where men who lack for nothing except confidence secretly take sildenafil every time they go on a date, in the hope that it will help them please their partner. However, this can create obstacles for a solid intimate relationship. Apart from issues of authenticity, trust, and honesty, it seems to me that the key psychological cost of using sildenafil recreationally is that, by relying on a pharmacologic enhancement to his sexuality, a man loses an opportunity to achieve what we all look for in relationships—namely, to be loved and accepted for whom we really are."
That's some sincerity right there...now, whether you agree with the degree of passion in that statement.
(h/t UCLA IM Residency program IMS morning conference, 1/19/2012).
"...the effects of the recreational use of PDE 5 inhibitors have not been well studied. My major concern is the psychological impact of taking these medications for younger men who are not yet in a stable relationship. I have seen cases where men who lack for nothing except confidence secretly take sildenafil every time they go on a date, in the hope that it will help them please their partner. However, this can create obstacles for a solid intimate relationship. Apart from issues of authenticity, trust, and honesty, it seems to me that the key psychological cost of using sildenafil recreationally is that, by relying on a pharmacologic enhancement to his sexuality, a man loses an opportunity to achieve what we all look for in relationships—namely, to be loved and accepted for whom we really are."
That's some sincerity right there...now, whether you agree with the degree of passion in that statement.
(h/t UCLA IM Residency program IMS morning conference, 1/19/2012).
Sunday, January 08, 2012
Saturday, January 07, 2012
Charges filed
The unspeakable, tragic death of Sheri Sangji, hit especially close to home to the bloggers on this site: the accident (which left Sangji burned over half of her body) occurred in an Organic Chemistry laboratory at UCLA. And Sheri was an alumna of the Pomona College Chemistry Department, of which Anthony and I were also graduates.
At this time, I do not wish to re-hash the details of her accident, aftermath, death; nor the policies and procedures enacted at UCLA as a result. But in the last two days, some newsworthy developments have taken place. Criminal charges have been filed against both UCLA and the principal investigator of the laboratory in which Sangji worked. This is unprecedented indeed; and Sheri's death was unimaginably tragic for those closest to her. I don't know what else to say.
At this time, I do not wish to re-hash the details of her accident, aftermath, death; nor the policies and procedures enacted at UCLA as a result. But in the last two days, some newsworthy developments have taken place. Criminal charges have been filed against both UCLA and the principal investigator of the laboratory in which Sangji worked. This is unprecedented indeed; and Sheri's death was unimaginably tragic for those closest to her. I don't know what else to say.
Friday, January 06, 2012
Economics
I just finished reading Economics in One Lesson, a veritable manifesto of libertarian economics by "Austrian" Henry Hazlitt.
I strongly recommend everyone gain some basic understanding of economics, and although this book was pretty slanted toward "free market," "no government," and all the other tenants of libertarianism, it was thought-provoking. And It forced me to wrestle with assumptions I've had about various government programs over the years.
The point is not to read (and understand) basic economic texts with the hope of becoming indoctrinated. That's easy. The point is to just learn and understand some basic stuff that a large chunk of the population have never considered, save for taking basic econ in high school. And I'm not claiming this based on elitism, just based on how many conversations I've had with people where economics are fundamentally misunderstood.
I strongly recommend everyone gain some basic understanding of economics, and although this book was pretty slanted toward "free market," "no government," and all the other tenants of libertarianism, it was thought-provoking. And It forced me to wrestle with assumptions I've had about various government programs over the years.
The point is not to read (and understand) basic economic texts with the hope of becoming indoctrinated. That's easy. The point is to just learn and understand some basic stuff that a large chunk of the population have never considered, save for taking basic econ in high school. And I'm not claiming this based on elitism, just based on how many conversations I've had with people where economics are fundamentally misunderstood.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
New Year Readings
Oh hey, Happy New Year! Here are some excellent pieces on the current state of health care. First something optimistic:
Atul Gawande exposes a program in New Jersey which aggressively targets the sickest of the sickest patients, with early promising results for bending the health care cost curve. Obviously, it paints a rosy picture (usually the case w/ AG's work) but still it provides some good stuff to consider.
In another recent piece by the NYT, the disturbingly prevalent problem of patients staying in hospitals due to placement issues (lack of insurance, housing, or transitional care). I saw this all the time during the first six months of third year.
Lots to do. Lots to do.
Atul Gawande exposes a program in New Jersey which aggressively targets the sickest of the sickest patients, with early promising results for bending the health care cost curve. Obviously, it paints a rosy picture (usually the case w/ AG's work) but still it provides some good stuff to consider.
In another recent piece by the NYT, the disturbingly prevalent problem of patients staying in hospitals due to placement issues (lack of insurance, housing, or transitional care). I saw this all the time during the first six months of third year.
Lots to do. Lots to do.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Outpatient surgery
Six weeks of waking up at 4:15 AM six days a week, albeit learning a ton about the field of surgery and management of patients, and it's now six weeks of sampling.
Outpatient is all about getting exposure to as many surgical subspecialties in one week increments. This is both awesome because 1) weekends are free, and 2) outpatient (well, predominantly outpatient) surgery services tend to operate at more reasonable hours (no earlier than 6 or 630 start times), while less awesome in that your participation is less essential (you can't really contribute a lot when you get only one week on a service). But this is fine because it gives time to attend to other things in your life. Like writing on some blog.
Third year keeps moving along: so much shit to learn, so many more experiences to be had, so much so much. So much to constantly both pick up, question, and actively and passively absorb. It's a learner's playground. The only challenge is staying constantly vigilant, enthusiastic, and inquisitive. Sometimes this is more easily said than done.
An intern on a previous rotation summed it up best, speaking to me after I'd made a small error in patient management: "It's OK, we picked it up. No harm done, no need to apologize. We do this and learn for our patients' sake. Patients first."
Indeed.
Outpatient is all about getting exposure to as many surgical subspecialties in one week increments. This is both awesome because 1) weekends are free, and 2) outpatient (well, predominantly outpatient) surgery services tend to operate at more reasonable hours (no earlier than 6 or 630 start times), while less awesome in that your participation is less essential (you can't really contribute a lot when you get only one week on a service). But this is fine because it gives time to attend to other things in your life. Like writing on some blog.
Third year keeps moving along: so much shit to learn, so many more experiences to be had, so much so much. So much to constantly both pick up, question, and actively and passively absorb. It's a learner's playground. The only challenge is staying constantly vigilant, enthusiastic, and inquisitive. Sometimes this is more easily said than done.
An intern on a previous rotation summed it up best, speaking to me after I'd made a small error in patient management: "It's OK, we picked it up. No harm done, no need to apologize. We do this and learn for our patients' sake. Patients first."
Indeed.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
S@&! just got real, part 3
Had to break some bad news to a patient today. Not fun, obviously. But it's what I signed up for.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Specialty Watch
The most likely specialty I will choose, as of 23 October 2011 is:
Obstetrics and Gynecology
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Black cloud
Second Peds overnight call, almost just as crazy as the first. The residents, for good reason, don't want to look me in the eye. I'm a black cloud. Take that for sending me out to Riverside County for peds. Ha.
But the learnin' and "stick with you for a long time" type of experiences are plentiful during the wee hours, so I ain't complainin'.
But the learnin' and "stick with you for a long time" type of experiences are plentiful during the wee hours, so I ain't complainin'.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Monday, September 05, 2011
Tom Cruise for leishmaniasis?
Today the Muscular Dystrophy
Association (MDA) hosted its 46th annual telethon, the
first without its poster boy, Jerry Lewis. The broadcast raised 61.5
million dollars for its array of services related to neuromusuclar
disorders like muscular dystrophy and amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.
The MDA is vague about its origins. The
website states that the association “was created in 1950 by a group
of adults with muscular dystrophy, parents of children with muscular
dystrophy and a physician-scientist
studying the disorder.” Whoever helped jump-start and
manage the organization did an excellent job. The MDA is incredibly
visible and vocal. The website lists abundant corporate sponsors:
7-Eleven, Taco Bell, 7UP, Harley Davidson, etc.. The telethon
attracts the public eye with its celebrity hosts: this year alone
Celine Dion, Boyz II Men, Jennifer Lopez, Barbra Walters, Whoopi
Goldberg, and Dwight Howard donated some face-time.
I want to know how the MDA is so
successful and how this success can be transferred to other
conditions.
Physician scientists in-training learn
how to do science: research, generating data; write grants, acquiring
funding; write papers, publicizing our findings. Physician
scientists, for the most part, stick within that system, writing
grants and papers. I want to know how things work outside of the
system; how the government and private institutions obtain funding;
and how they fund the research that interests them.
A recent and interesting example of
organization-driven research is the California Institute of
Regenerative Medicine (CIRM). CIRM, California State-funded research
initiative, was passed in 2004 as Prop 71. Over ten years, CIRM will
distribute three billion dollars worth of grants to human embryonic
stem cell researchers. While CIRM has not provided any immediate
cures, it has driven a lot of fascinating basic research that would
have not been funded in past years due to the controversial Dickey
Amendment.
How did CIRM come into existence? With
a lot of hard work, money, and star power. See Robert Klein, Bill
Gates, Micheal J. Fox. Maybe it's time for me to start networking...
I do live in LA.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
week 2 goals
Goals for week #2 of peds (outpatient for two more weeks):
1. Don't make any more children >7 years old cry.
2. Introduce more kids to the Tickle Monster. (The lucky few who have been introduced are more than a little amused by him).
3. Use more suckers/stickers bribery.
4. Figure out how to seem cooler to adolescents (Probably impossible).
5. Keep wearing bow ties.
6. Don't get sick (Good luck with that).
1. Don't make any more children >7 years old cry.
2. Introduce more kids to the Tickle Monster. (The lucky few who have been introduced are more than a little amused by him).
3. Use more suckers/stickers bribery.
4. Figure out how to seem cooler to adolescents (Probably impossible).
5. Keep wearing bow ties.
6. Don't get sick (Good luck with that).
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Pediatrics
It's sort of like seeing my entire childhood flash before my eyes, every day, for the next six weeks. What a trip.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Sunday, August 07, 2011
Third year update
One month complete.
Each time I actually sit down to type up reflections about third year, I get all stressed out because the great insight had earlier is now gone. And so I sigh and go back to my reading. Or just sit and stare and think. Out of the blue another reflection comes along, and then before I am motivated to sit down at the computer, it too fades out. So then I'm left with a series of strands, unarticulated ideas; incomplete sentences. Which is to say, this will be appropriately scatter-brained.
The last month has felt like an eternity. My fellow med students keep remarking about how fast one month went by. Not so for me. One month has felt like one year. Not to get dramatic about it, because really that's not the point, but the clinical years of medical school are different than everything that came before. That constitutes one reason for third year's difficulty. It's just a steep learning curve -- learning to round on, examine, take histories from, develop plans for, and answer questions of one's patients, while working as part of a team where your role is entirely redundant and usually slows things down, and then finding time to go home at night and fill in critical gaps in knowledge, skill, and understanding. And then arriving the next day, rested, and ready to absorb more information and get just a little better at the other stuff. It's endless, and perhaps third year is one of the most humbling times of my life. Or it, better yet, makes the "constantly humbled and fine with it," the default setting from now on. Because as far as I can tell, third year of medical school is just the start of realizing how little we know and how far we have to go. It's deja vu all over again, because I felt exactly the same way at the beginning of this program in 2006. It's the same, rinse and repeat.
The extent of my naivete is overwhelming at times. It usually happens in the setting of a false light-bulb-going-off: I feel so sure that one thing should be done a certain way because I've done the hard work of thinking through a process, a treatment strategy, an investigative approach to a problem, and then I am gently corrected that in fact the opposite scenario is correct, and this is all for a series of very plausible explanations that I had not even begun to think of when I was crafting my alternative reality. So that's a scary moment, because I plead with the powers-that-be that this won't happen when more responsibility is in my hands.
Of course it's rarely so clear-cut such that I'm completely wrong, and in fact often several steps of my logic are decent. And that's when positive reinforcement of the entire process is crucial. You learn from what you did right, or that which you drummed up using sound logic, and the hope is that the next time you amplify the good and squelch out the rest. As an example, in the OB world, there's a very scary group of conditions interconnected by their potential harm to both mom and fetus: Preeclampsia (gestational hypertension plus proteinurea) and HELLP syndrome. From what I've seen so far, the typical presentation of these diseases is found only in a textbook, and patients have slightly to significantly different presentations, and this makes deciding what to do for each patient such a challenge. When do you emergently deliver? When do you admit for further observation? What tests do you order and in what frequency do you follow them? How are decisions about ante- and post-partum care made? Much of the time, because the adverse outcomes in these pregnancy associated conditions are potentially so devastating to mom and fetus, one can't learn by seeing the adverse outcomes. Rather, prudence and a keen awareness of how to spot early warning signs is the learned skill. So we have to use our imagination, imagine how bad it would be for a woman to seize in pregnancy, and prevent it before it becomes a reality. And in what we hope will be events spaced far apart, never let important lessons be missed when things go terribly wrong.
At least that's the hope of this all. I suppose the key point here is that medical school in the third year is a lot about learning to triage -- to assess what's really dangerous to a patient and what is relatively benign. To at least get the "this is serious" vibe right is all we're being expected to do at the moment. The more subtle refinements come along the way. But for now, it's learning to triage, to learn the difference between a mountain and a mole hill.
And life gets a bit triaged as well. Not much more to say about it than that -- there's less down time, more structure, and in a way that's the best litmus test for deciding on whether a specialty is right. You either manage to enjoy your life outside the hospital and can get everything else taken care of, while also getting sufficiently rested, such that said specialty is The One. And if everything can't be satisfied appropriately, other options are entertained, or the grumbling begins. But it's fine, may as well deal with triaging from the beginning of the clinical years. And more than anything else, the bottom line is that it's not that bad. It's not easy, but it seems like things will work out.
Each time I actually sit down to type up reflections about third year, I get all stressed out because the great insight had earlier is now gone. And so I sigh and go back to my reading. Or just sit and stare and think. Out of the blue another reflection comes along, and then before I am motivated to sit down at the computer, it too fades out. So then I'm left with a series of strands, unarticulated ideas; incomplete sentences. Which is to say, this will be appropriately scatter-brained.
The last month has felt like an eternity. My fellow med students keep remarking about how fast one month went by. Not so for me. One month has felt like one year. Not to get dramatic about it, because really that's not the point, but the clinical years of medical school are different than everything that came before. That constitutes one reason for third year's difficulty. It's just a steep learning curve -- learning to round on, examine, take histories from, develop plans for, and answer questions of one's patients, while working as part of a team where your role is entirely redundant and usually slows things down, and then finding time to go home at night and fill in critical gaps in knowledge, skill, and understanding. And then arriving the next day, rested, and ready to absorb more information and get just a little better at the other stuff. It's endless, and perhaps third year is one of the most humbling times of my life. Or it, better yet, makes the "constantly humbled and fine with it," the default setting from now on. Because as far as I can tell, third year of medical school is just the start of realizing how little we know and how far we have to go. It's deja vu all over again, because I felt exactly the same way at the beginning of this program in 2006. It's the same, rinse and repeat.
The extent of my naivete is overwhelming at times. It usually happens in the setting of a false light-bulb-going-off: I feel so sure that one thing should be done a certain way because I've done the hard work of thinking through a process, a treatment strategy, an investigative approach to a problem, and then I am gently corrected that in fact the opposite scenario is correct, and this is all for a series of very plausible explanations that I had not even begun to think of when I was crafting my alternative reality. So that's a scary moment, because I plead with the powers-that-be that this won't happen when more responsibility is in my hands.
Of course it's rarely so clear-cut such that I'm completely wrong, and in fact often several steps of my logic are decent. And that's when positive reinforcement of the entire process is crucial. You learn from what you did right, or that which you drummed up using sound logic, and the hope is that the next time you amplify the good and squelch out the rest. As an example, in the OB world, there's a very scary group of conditions interconnected by their potential harm to both mom and fetus: Preeclampsia (gestational hypertension plus proteinurea) and HELLP syndrome. From what I've seen so far, the typical presentation of these diseases is found only in a textbook, and patients have slightly to significantly different presentations, and this makes deciding what to do for each patient such a challenge. When do you emergently deliver? When do you admit for further observation? What tests do you order and in what frequency do you follow them? How are decisions about ante- and post-partum care made? Much of the time, because the adverse outcomes in these pregnancy associated conditions are potentially so devastating to mom and fetus, one can't learn by seeing the adverse outcomes. Rather, prudence and a keen awareness of how to spot early warning signs is the learned skill. So we have to use our imagination, imagine how bad it would be for a woman to seize in pregnancy, and prevent it before it becomes a reality. And in what we hope will be events spaced far apart, never let important lessons be missed when things go terribly wrong.
At least that's the hope of this all. I suppose the key point here is that medical school in the third year is a lot about learning to triage -- to assess what's really dangerous to a patient and what is relatively benign. To at least get the "this is serious" vibe right is all we're being expected to do at the moment. The more subtle refinements come along the way. But for now, it's learning to triage, to learn the difference between a mountain and a mole hill.
And life gets a bit triaged as well. Not much more to say about it than that -- there's less down time, more structure, and in a way that's the best litmus test for deciding on whether a specialty is right. You either manage to enjoy your life outside the hospital and can get everything else taken care of, while also getting sufficiently rested, such that said specialty is The One. And if everything can't be satisfied appropriately, other options are entertained, or the grumbling begins. But it's fine, may as well deal with triaging from the beginning of the clinical years. And more than anything else, the bottom line is that it's not that bad. It's not easy, but it seems like things will work out.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Summer time and OB living is easy
Well that's sort of a lie. But third year started out with a bang: Gyn surgery, followed by the obstetrics service, at Olive View Medical Center.
A few tidbits (longer post to come at end of rotation):
--I hate myself for taking French growing up at the expense of my Spanish.
--Love the OR. Love it.
--The birth of a baby is pretty neat, either naturally or by C/S. The first screams are oddly reassuring and wonderful to hear.
--Being a third year med student is a weird balancing act.
--Did I mention I love the OR?
A few tidbits (longer post to come at end of rotation):
--I hate myself for taking French growing up at the expense of my Spanish.
--Love the OR. Love it.
--The birth of a baby is pretty neat, either naturally or by C/S. The first screams are oddly reassuring and wonderful to hear.
--Being a third year med student is a weird balancing act.
--Did I mention I love the OR?
Friday, June 10, 2011
New normal, continued
A new piece on Gabby Giffords sheds light on the continued struggle of adapting, and improving upon, her new normal, post-traumatic brain injury. Seems like there's a long way to go...
Monday, June 06, 2011
On the occasion of recently filing a doctoral dissertation
There are two primary steps to officially filing one's doctoral dissertation at UCLA:
1. Bring the following documents to Murphy Hall, Graduate Division, Room 1225: The doctoral dissertation approval form, with the title matching the dissertation title exactly; this form shall include the name of the committee chair, spelled exactly as it appears in the dissertation. The candidate's name, too, includes in the precise form in which it appears on the University Records System Access (URSA) computer system. Along with this, bring a title page of the dissertation, the dissertation approval page (not to be confused with form), which is page iii of the dissertation. The names of candidate and committee members must match exactly with those on the final oral defense approval form, which, by the way, should have been sent to Murphy by the graduate department in which you completed your doctoral work, upon passage of the final defense. However, if filing close to the same day as defending, this form may be brought by the candidate. Also, bring printed-out verification that one has completed the Doctoral Exit Survey (through UCLA) as well as the Survey of Earned Doctorates (through an outside organization), both online.
2. Once these documents are approved at Murphy Hall, proceed to the Young Research Library, Thesis and Dissertations Office (on the second floor of the library), and bring the following: 1) two (2) manila envelopes, each containing a full copy of the dissertation, with the approval page (iii) being a copy of the original, which was submitted above to the Graduate Division in Murphy Hall. Each envelope should have a copy of the title page taped to the outside; 2) one (1) manila envelope (title page taped to the outside as well), containing copyright forms for ProQuest (must be signed), a copy of the title page, a copy of the abstract page (remember, the title on the abstract page must match exactly the title on the title page, which should in turn match all forms; they will most certainly verify this).
On Thursday, June 2nd, I completed the above two tasks, successfully, at which point I gave the UCLA Registrar's office the fully-signed Doctoral Dissertation Approval Form, which they took from me; ten minutes later, they returned to me a new form, this one stating, "Let it be known," that I had completed all the necessary requirements for becoming a Doctor of Philosophy in Molecular, Cellular, and Integrative Physiology.
"Congratulations, you're all done."
That was it, the form was in my hand; at that moment, I stood alone in Murphy Hall, finally having earned my Ph.D.
How fitting, that the actual moment included no fanfare, no one next to me, in front of me, or behind me. It just, sort of, happened.
And with that, I returned to the lab and began to pack up my desk. The end of one stage; the beginning of another. One cliché after another...
I also know this all sounds sort of melodramatic: "Ooooo, loooooook, a Ph.D.; what does it mean? How does it feel? What a moment. What a moment? Too self-aggrandizing? Too self-congratulatory? But what's in a moment anyway? And it's not like I'm any different than I was yesterday. But I kind of am. Am I really satisfied, or is it just because I should be? Do I really feel like I deserve it? etc etc etc."
But I digress in trying to present a few of my many internal dialogs of the past few days. In truth, I think, the main thing is I am relieved to be done, and I am perplexed: I am, in fact, as happy as I thought I would be, being done with my Ph.D. Not any more, not any less -- just as exactly content as I envisioned. Strange, because it seems that throughout my life, I usually over-expect or under-expect; I over- or under-speculate. Not this time. I am simply content.
Over the weekend, I signed a single email with the suffix, "Ph.D." By the time the "Undo" option on gmail had disappeared, I wished I could have not done it. It seemed really toolish. I'm not sure what this little personal anecdote means, but I guess it suggests I won't be signing emails to my like that friends anymore. Just once. It was more than enough; in fact, too much.
I guess my final point here is that the occasion of finishing one's doctoral dissertation is no different than any other "milestone" - like graduating from high school, undergrad, medical school, whatever - but there's an added sentiment in the case of a Ph.D: relief, and an acknowledgment of good fortune. Doing a doctoral degree requires research that is ostensibly successful, and I came to see how, at many steps along the way, I was just plain lucky. Things worked -- experiments yielded interpretable results, new insights were made, and stories primed and ready and successfully submitted for publication. Yes, I worked my ass off, but I was lucky. I also had great teachers, great collaborators, endlessly patient family and friends, and an institutional framework that supported what I was trying to accomplish. The United States Taxpayer supported me through my fellowship funding. I am blessed, through and through. Now I am eager to peel away to the next layer. Medical school, its years three and four, awaits, and I am stoked beyond belief about going back to thinking about medicine full time. It's been three challenging years, and now, onward.
It's been a great ride. I'm at the "right" place. Thanks for the fun, y'all. Let's keep it going.
1. Bring the following documents to Murphy Hall, Graduate Division, Room 1225: The doctoral dissertation approval form, with the title matching the dissertation title exactly; this form shall include the name of the committee chair, spelled exactly as it appears in the dissertation. The candidate's name, too, includes in the precise form in which it appears on the University Records System Access (URSA) computer system. Along with this, bring a title page of the dissertation, the dissertation approval page (not to be confused with form), which is page iii of the dissertation. The names of candidate and committee members must match exactly with those on the final oral defense approval form, which, by the way, should have been sent to Murphy by the graduate department in which you completed your doctoral work, upon passage of the final defense. However, if filing close to the same day as defending, this form may be brought by the candidate. Also, bring printed-out verification that one has completed the Doctoral Exit Survey (through UCLA) as well as the Survey of Earned Doctorates (through an outside organization), both online.
2. Once these documents are approved at Murphy Hall, proceed to the Young Research Library, Thesis and Dissertations Office (on the second floor of the library), and bring the following: 1) two (2) manila envelopes, each containing a full copy of the dissertation, with the approval page (iii) being a copy of the original, which was submitted above to the Graduate Division in Murphy Hall. Each envelope should have a copy of the title page taped to the outside; 2) one (1) manila envelope (title page taped to the outside as well), containing copyright forms for ProQuest (must be signed), a copy of the title page, a copy of the abstract page (remember, the title on the abstract page must match exactly the title on the title page, which should in turn match all forms; they will most certainly verify this).
On Thursday, June 2nd, I completed the above two tasks, successfully, at which point I gave the UCLA Registrar's office the fully-signed Doctoral Dissertation Approval Form, which they took from me; ten minutes later, they returned to me a new form, this one stating, "Let it be known," that I had completed all the necessary requirements for becoming a Doctor of Philosophy in Molecular, Cellular, and Integrative Physiology.
"Congratulations, you're all done."
That was it, the form was in my hand; at that moment, I stood alone in Murphy Hall, finally having earned my Ph.D.
How fitting, that the actual moment included no fanfare, no one next to me, in front of me, or behind me. It just, sort of, happened.
And with that, I returned to the lab and began to pack up my desk. The end of one stage; the beginning of another. One cliché after another...
I also know this all sounds sort of melodramatic: "Ooooo, loooooook, a Ph.D.; what does it mean? How does it feel? What a moment. What a moment? Too self-aggrandizing? Too self-congratulatory? But what's in a moment anyway? And it's not like I'm any different than I was yesterday. But I kind of am. Am I really satisfied, or is it just because I should be? Do I really feel like I deserve it? etc etc etc."
But I digress in trying to present a few of my many internal dialogs of the past few days. In truth, I think, the main thing is I am relieved to be done, and I am perplexed: I am, in fact, as happy as I thought I would be, being done with my Ph.D. Not any more, not any less -- just as exactly content as I envisioned. Strange, because it seems that throughout my life, I usually over-expect or under-expect; I over- or under-speculate. Not this time. I am simply content.
Over the weekend, I signed a single email with the suffix, "Ph.D." By the time the "Undo" option on gmail had disappeared, I wished I could have not done it. It seemed really toolish. I'm not sure what this little personal anecdote means, but I guess it suggests I won't be signing emails to my like that friends anymore. Just once. It was more than enough; in fact, too much.
I guess my final point here is that the occasion of finishing one's doctoral dissertation is no different than any other "milestone" - like graduating from high school, undergrad, medical school, whatever - but there's an added sentiment in the case of a Ph.D: relief, and an acknowledgment of good fortune. Doing a doctoral degree requires research that is ostensibly successful, and I came to see how, at many steps along the way, I was just plain lucky. Things worked -- experiments yielded interpretable results, new insights were made, and stories primed and ready and successfully submitted for publication. Yes, I worked my ass off, but I was lucky. I also had great teachers, great collaborators, endlessly patient family and friends, and an institutional framework that supported what I was trying to accomplish. The United States Taxpayer supported me through my fellowship funding. I am blessed, through and through. Now I am eager to peel away to the next layer. Medical school, its years three and four, awaits, and I am stoked beyond belief about going back to thinking about medicine full time. It's been three challenging years, and now, onward.
It's been a great ride. I'm at the "right" place. Thanks for the fun, y'all. Let's keep it going.
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