Active Surveillance Officially Over?

The other night, I was heading down the elevator when I ran into one of the members of the Brain Trust: 

"Are you going on another date?  How do you psych yourself up for all of these dates?"

I giggled.  I'm not sure what gave me away.  Was it the sparkly pink, supershiny lipgloss I usually reserve for raucous nights out?  Perfume?  The fact that I was actually wearing makeup?

So, yes ladies.  Active surveillance is officially over for now.  After a two month hiatus from dating, I decided to come out of hibernation and to see if there was anything worth checking out.  And yeah, sometimes it is hard to psych myself up for a date, because in a lot of ways, it's like trying to get excited about yet another job interview.  But each time I hear that little voice whispering "Dating is drudgery, wouldn't you rather just hang out with your friends?" I try to ignore it and carry on.  I simply can't lose faith in love.

Well, I went to a ski club happy hour, a college alumni holiday party, and did my usual Tuesday night chill-out and knit with the girls.  It was great to meet some new people and as a result of these adventures, three dates emerged.

The first was a bust from the start.  He knew it, I knew it, we proceeded, we were proven correct.  The second and third have some potential.  The second was a lovely fix-up with the friend of a friend's S.O., and the third...well, it's gotta mean something if a guy walks through a blizzard to take you to dinner.  More to come...

Strength and Flexibility

I was at my kick ass yoga class tonight (literally, this class is a killer, but oh so good for the weary back), and the instructor always opens with a parable about what yoga can do for us.  Now, this isn't some new-agey, crunchy granola blog post, but the theme tonight resonated with me.

Our instructor talked about how yoga isn't just about becoming more flexible, but that it was also about building strength and musculature.  Taking it further, he talked about how the best way to deal with everything in life--the good, the bad, the ugly--is all about being strong, while being flexible at the same time.

It may seem like strength and flexibility are two opposing forces--after all, shouldn't something strong be rigid and unyielding?


I don't know if it's the lousy sudden winter weather, but lately, I've been feeling a bit down about being a woman in my field.  I went to our society's meeting a couple weeks ago, and was surrounded by a sea of male colleagues.  As I watched the blatant schmoozing, I wondered briefly about the sanity of my choices (heck, I'm sure every woman in a male-dominated field does every now and then).  As you know from previous blog posts, I've been doing a lot of thinking about what I want my professional life to look like once I'm done with this endless training, and the whole strength and flexibility aspect really comes into play.

As a woman in a male-dominated field, we have to be strong enough to accept that, even if it seems like it at times, we're never going to be one of the guys.  However, we also have a unique opportunity to enjoy the flexibility to think about things from a different perspective, and do things our own way.  Even in the way we interact on a daily basis, I think we ladies have to be very strong internally to be flexible enough to survive in the world we live and work in. 

My yoga instructor said tonight that we can't be flexible if we aren't strong.  We each have to build our core to be flexible enough to make our way through this maze.

Research

I have received some gentle feedback regarding the fact that I haven't posted in awhile (ahem, sorry Brain Trust).  Well, besides the fact that I've been on active surveillance recently, things have been heating up with my research.  I've been spending a lot of quality time in the lab learning about cell lines, how to manage them, and new definitions of sterile technique. 

When I started my research year, I decided that it would be about expanding my mind in as many ways as possible--professionally and personally. Professionally, that means diving head first into the deep end of the pool of basic science research with nary a life vest in sight.  What I've learned thus far, is that it's actually a lot like learning to operate.

There's a myriad of terminology to learn, and an alphabet soup of acronyms to go along with it.  There's a whole new set of equipment to play with (I'm doing my best to not blow up a centrifuge by unbalancing it).  And best of all, there's a great new group of people to learn from and collaborate with.  It reminds me a lot of being a third year med student and learning the ropes of the OR.  There's some gentle ribbing and chiding, but ultimately, a lot of truly generous hands-on and on-the-fly learning.

It's fun to be part of a creative process.  Each day I try out one thing a few times, if it doesn't work, I troubleshoot it, or ask the deepest question of science..."why?"

The one big difference between the OR SFS and the lab SFS is that I realize I'm impatient.

The OR is all about instant gratification--see the tumor, cut it out, on-the-spot results.  I spent all week growing up some cells, and then all yesterday afternoon performing an assay, hoping it would work, and after running it on the flow cytometer today, I found out it didn't.  My initial excitement at doing the experiment was mildly dampened when I realized it was going to take another week before I could try this again. 

But...when the stuff does work, and there are results, it's one of the most amazing feelings.  All I want to do is proudly post that hard-earned graph on my refrigerator and say, "I did that."

Bond...James Bond

Last night, I went out with a couple of Brain Trust gentlemen and one of their better halves.  After a long day (and a Saturday at that) of "Communication Skills" training, we decided that drinks were in order.  We headed to a very interesting bar that was part Chuck Bass and mostly James Bond.

As befitting for a bar which a tuxedo-ed Daniel Craig would frequent, I ordered a scotch on the rocks and the Better Half ordered a similar scotch drink.  The Brain Trust gentlemen...much to their chagrin...ordered some mixed drinks which arrived in girlie glasses.

As the Better Half and I looked at the mixology on our end of the table, and discussed my recent spate of weak dates, we wondered...where have all of the manly men gone?

I recently went out with Older Guy again--despite the fact that he asked me out, he hemmed and hawed about the time, the date, the activity.  I also recently went out with a guy I met a couple months ago and haven't introduced to the blog yet.  I thought he had potential, but then realized that in actuality, he was the girl and I was the guy in every interaction we had--talking, making plans, past relationships.  Just telling him what I did for a living led to an immediate, "You're intimidating."  Eek!

So gentlemen, here is a blueprint on "How to Not Be a Girlie-Man When Dating a Single Female Surgeon:"

1. Advance planning is necessary--especially if you're going to take up Single Female Surgeon's Saturday night slot.  Texting the day of the date with plans is weak, Girlie-Man behavior, and I likely have made other plans already.
2. When the date plan is made, incessant calling/paging/texting/emailing/Facebooking/Twittering/etc on the day of the date to confirm plans is not necessary.  This screams Girlie-Man insecurity and we will run like Bond being pursued by Russians in the Siberian wasteland.
3. We don't want to hear about your many ex'es.  There is zero-tolerance for crying on a date.
4. Frozen drinks are for children.  Please order your drink on the rocks, or shaken (not stirred).
5. Appropriate, tasteful dress for the venue is required.  For suggestions on attire, review Casino Royale.
6. Never, ever, ever tell a Single Female Surgeon she is intimidating.  This is the girliest of Girlie-Men moves.  You may think it, but saying it out loud results in her having license to kill the relationship.

The conclusion?  There is only one man for me.  His name is Bond...James Bond. 

Active Surveillance

Ladies.  I know it's been a long time.  It's been a long time since I've been on a date.  Between disastrous dates, numerous out-of-town weddings, a major holiday, getting ready to move to a new apartment, and an illness in the family, I've had a major case of dating fatigue. 

One of the members of the Brain Trust has coined (well, borrowed) a term for this: active surveillance.  This is a phrase that is generally applied to patients with low risk prostate cancer who elect to monitor things and act only if the situation worsens.  Mind you, this is very active monitoring with regular follow-up--not watchful waiting!

In the dating realm, active surveillance involves continued vigilance to potential dating prospects, however, not actually engaging in the act of dating due to lack of decent prospects or lack of motivation.

I can attest to both.

Recently, I attended (yet another) wedding in the Southern Central Time Zone and reconnected with dear friends from college.  They are all married now or in serious relationships headed in that general direction.  I am the freedom-loving single gal of the bunch, which is a status I have been enjoying to the utmost in recent months.

One of my friends and her new husband decided to play matchmaker with one of their friends.  Indian, interventional cardiology...in the Central Time Zone.  Much to my surprise, I was game and let them give him my number.

Long story short, it has been two weeks and we have only managed to talk to voice mailboxes.  Between his work schedule and my work/social schedule, we have not been able to connect for a full two weeks.  Which begs the question...I just don't have time or the motivation to run through this rigmarole.  My research project is taking shape, I have new friends in a new city, and every night is booked with a different activity.  With so much mental and social stimulation, my life is full and I don't feel like I'm missing anything else. 

So, onward with surveillance, while I continue to be active in every other aspect of my life.

Who Wants to Salsa?

On Friday night, I went out to drinks and dinner with some new colleagues.  They were all joined by their significant others, and, as usual, I was the single gal.

It was pleasant to meet the couples and just be out enjoying some beer and pizzas with the ALCS game in the background.  However, as dinner was winding down, it was about 9:30, and despite a long, rather trying research day in which none of my experiments worked, I wanted to go out.

One of the couples mentioned they had some really good salsa at home that they wanted to eat while watching the game.

Umm...this blew my mind.  I was actually thinking about a different kind of salsa.  You know, the kind where you sway your hips to great music, at a club.

I have to say, at that moment, I was so grateful to be single. 

Why am I trying to pledge the most boring sorority on earth?  As a single gal, every day is an incredible opportunity wrapped up as a special gift.  It's a chance to be utterly selfish.  To do what I want, when I want to, in the manner that makes me happiest.  To live life on my own terms.  No boring Friday nights at home eating salsa, unless I choose that as my fate.

I was definitely in a funk this week, and actually in the last couple weeks, as you may have noticed from the paucity of posts and especially the lack of dates. This is about the one year anniversary of the beginning of the end between me and Make-Up/Break-Up.  I've essentially been single for a full year now, and I hate the fact that I was feeling a bit down about it all last week. 

But...

On Friday night, I realized that I currently have a freedom that is unlikely to be replicated at any point in the future.  Between a research year, friends new and old, and a fabulous new city to explore, it's time to really enjoy this, not resent it.  I think with this realization, I have finally, thankfully put the ghost of Make-Up/Break-Up to rest.

So ladies, I hate to cut this short, but I've got a life to be living right now. 

Who wants to salsa?

Perfect Day

Yes, that's not a mistake.  The title of this post is "day," not "date!"

At a certain point in training, you start to realize that you will soon get a "real job."  Between those words lie the emotions of exhilaration and sheer panic.

As a physician, I'm realizing I have more options than I know what to do with.  Private practice or academic?  Group or individual practice?  Research?  Clinical or basic science or translational?  Prospective or retrospective?  Teaching?  Where?  How?  At what salary?  At what hours?

I feel like my brain is going to explode just thinking about it.  But...I have to think about it.  It's getting to be that time!

I recently read a book about financial planning geared towards women called The Smart Cookie's Guide to Making More Dough.  As an aside, I loved this book and highly recommend it.

An exercise in the book asks you to describe your "perfect day."  Literally, pick up your pen, laptop, whatever, and from start to finish, what does a perfect day look like?  Or, what would be your perfect life?

I was reading this as I was on my way to Key West for a dear friend's destination wedding.  This incredible woman, one of the most amazing nurses I have ever known, has achieved her perfect day in the past couple years.  She got a Master's degree, got her dream job, and now was marrying the love of her life.  She earned her perfect day is is living it.  I couldn't have been happier for her after so many late nights on the wards, talking about the many challenges we both faced.

Now, as I sit on the brink of my own future, I wonder what the hell I actually want out of my life.  During residency, I was in survival mode--one day to the next till it's done.  Now, in the research portion of my fellowship, I am well-rested, able to think clearly, and in a place where I am expanding my mind professionally and personally.  For once in my otherwise driven and goal-directed life, I feel like I have no idea what I actually want to do.

Ultimately, I need to sit down over the course of several months, and really think about what my perfect day actually consists of.  And then, to be utterly cliche, go for it!

Arranged Dating Part Deux: The Infamous Date Itself

I feel like there's been a lot of build-up for Arranged Dating Guy.  For the past six weeks, between my parents (well, my dad), the blog, the Brain Trust, and even myself, there's been a lot of speculation.

You all know how disastrous our first conversations were--at least from my perspective.  You all know how the recent dates have gone--a series of hits and mostly misses.

Despite all of this, I couldn't help but wonder whether I was going to meet my future husband on Wednesday night.  It added an air of excitement, anticipation, and gut-wrenching fear to the evening.  If I wanted to get married in the next one year, all I had to do was say the word after this meeting.

I had made reservations for dinner at a local hot spot that I have been wanting to try.  As I got ready for the date, I tried to maintain some perspective and keep an open mind as the Brain Trust recommended.  I put some effort into my appearance (I bought a dress), and wondered whether it would be love or dislike at first sight.

As I tottered my way to the restaurant in precariously tall heels (yeah, I went all out), I found Arranged Dating Guy waiting in the entry.

Immediately, in spite of all my openness and perspective, I knew this date was doomed.

Perhaps I'm being too picky...but gentlemen, a bit of advice.  If you're meeting a potential future wife at a local hot spot, jeans and a T-shirt will not suffice.  Please.  At least pretend like you're trying!

We sat down to dinner, perused the menu, ordered drinks (well, I ordered a drink--he doesn't drink), and started talking.  In the two hours we spent together, it was apparent that we had nothing in common.  He doesn't read, I do.  He doesn't like exploring the world, I do.  He hates big cities, I love them.  The list could go on and on.

At the end of the date,  I asked him to put his cards on the table.  What were his intentions here?

He stated (in checklist form) that he had completed his education, residency, fellowship, and was in a stable private practice job.  It was time to get married and have kids.  He stated he wanted to get married within the next year.  He didn't want to move to my city, but preferred to have a long-distance relationship until I could join him.

Though it may sound shocking, it was all what I expected.  I thanked him for his time and sent him on his way.  I don't want to do long distance--especially after everything that happened with Make-up/Break-up.  Nor do I want to be an action item on someone's checklist.  No matter how good the action is.  It all felt like a job interview and a business arrangement.  Not like love.

I have to say I went through a bit of withdrawal after the date.  I had ended things with Older Guy, Saxophone Guy, and now the Arranged Date was over.  Tabula rasa.  Back to inner game, exploring the world, and perhaps running into love along the way...