Step Up, Down, All Around

So I'm taking Step 3 today and tomorrow, which is the third and final installment of the USMLE's standardized testing requirements. Before one earns the title of "LICENSED PHYSICIAN," one must undergo the cruelty of 5 days and $2000 dedicated to proving one's superiority at multiple choice questions (in the case of CS, pretending to be nice to impostor patients for a day). But Steps 1 and 2 are dead and buried, as far as I'm concerned; let's talk about Step 3.
This is a 2-day ordeal covering potentially every topic in every specialty as far as the eye can see. Including babies. And pregnant women. And adolescents. And did I mention babies? Seeing as I keep a 15' radius from anyone under the age of 18 (that includes unborn children and therefore their pregnant mothers), this seems unnecessary. But USMLE knows best, so take the test I shall.
I don't know how, but the testing facility to which I was assigned somehow acquired a collection of the world's squeakiest, creakiest chairs. By the end of the day, everyone has the test-taking fidgets, and we practically have a dysharmonic symphony going on. And the climate control alternates at 30-minute intervals between frozen tundra and sweltering desert. But the best part in my humble opinion is that you have to prove your pockets are empty every time you walk back into the room from a break by turning them inside-out. Yes, folks, you heard right. Turning your pockets inside-out. Now I suppose this could be sensible for men, seeing as their pockets are deeper than the Mariana Trench. (I discovered this after I got married and first checked Nick's pockets before tossing his jeans in the wash.) However, women's jean pockets are merely for show; no one ever expects to actually put anything in them. I think it's a princess-and-the-pea sort of thing. But I obliged and emptied my pocket lint onto the floor for my proctor. And don't even get me started on the finger-printing...

Hello, world!

Bienvenidos to my blog. Don't come here expecting elegant writing or stories of poignant moments with my patients. There will be little to none of such elements because all my creativity gets expended putting my outfit together every day. Anyhoo, I finally decided to be one of those people who blog mostly so my long-lost friends can know I am still alive and what I'm up to. And this is easier and less time-consuming than individually crafted e-mails or phone calls (and I can do this at 3am without un-making any friends).

For anyone who may have forgotten, Nick and I moved to Nashville, TN, in 2008 for my internal medicine residency at Vanderbilt. This is mostly working out for us. Except for the part where I'm really tired all the time, and that other part where Nick can't find a job. But we still like (and love) each other after anniversary #4, and I think our three doggies still like and love us, too. As long as we keep the belly rubs and bacon treats coming, that is.

Anyone who hasn't seen me since Houston has probably not met our third furry baby Dallas. While Izzy was initially a little less than thrilled to have a new baby sister, they are now puppy BFFs and mope whenever separated. One thing I've been disappointed by is Dallas' hound-dog howl. I mean, her singing voice is downright pitiful. Speaking of singing voices, I wonder if Alan Jackson would be interested to know that Dallas is, in fact, in Tennessee.