Catching up: A Birthday Extravaganza

I'm sitting in a hotel room in Fort Nelson, Canada and have no restraints on my time right now because Stacey is across the street waiting to get her exhaust leak fixed. Ahh, the joys of owning an old vehicle. At least the ride from here on out should be quieter. I've been meaning to write about my birthday since... my birthday... because it was awesome.

I woke up to a soft knock followed by a soft voice and a slow opening of my bedroom door. Attached to that knock was a hand now carrying a tray full of morning goodness. Scrambled eggs with onions, bacon, fresh tomato and avocado cut over the top, sourdough french toast with real maple syrup, bacon and a whole grapefruit just for me. A quiet happy birthday singing greeted me, some couple-y words and I was left to eat my breakfast in bed. Truly royal treatment. Apparently, it's tradition in her family's household that the birthday recipient gets mandatory breakfast in bed. That's a good tradition.

So I got to spend part of my morning with an amazing girl, a treat in and of itself. She took off about her day and I got down to business. I had a mission. Stacey waited patiently in the driveway and I set to her with a fury known to few men, those who undertake working on their own vehicles in a time crunch. By lunchtime, I was ready for a break, and was pleasantly picked up by my friend Teja. She brought me over to Sage Cottage, a home I have come to dearly love, where Xavi awaited me with an amazing chocolate cake baked with Fair Trade chocolate. Sarah Reed, I salute you and simultaneously get flying-hugged (I owe you one or six for the cake).

They graciously took me by the auto parts store as I was rideless before going to lunch at Nana's and getting some more deliciousness in the form of grilled sandwiches (we ate cake before lunch cause it was MY BIRTHDAY). They dropped me off and I was back at it, with plans to look nice and meet up with the Alaska crew by 7pm. Well, 7pm rolled around and I was still grubbing around in the car with Greta looking exceptionally cute and ready to go. I ran inside, scrubbed up real quick and made it out to Chandler's Crabshack on Lake Union just late enough to be annoying, but not so late that everyone left. We had a spectacular dinner overlooking Lake Union as the sun was going down. The windows in the room opened up the whole view to me from my seat. I again got my hands grubby, but this time breaking apart crab and mussels and all kinds of good things. Dinner was great and the company was better. Capped off with a glass of Cote du Rhone syrah and a chocolatey, gooey birthday cake.

We made a final stop at the Duchess to grab after-party drinks and meet up with a couple more friends... and have cake one more time. What a day. Driving home, I couldn't remember a better birthday... everything that I had wanted and more. Good friends, good food and time for doing exactly what I wanted to. Thank you, God, for an amazing birthday.

Exploding Little Men

There's a little man in our backyard right now, and I'm a little worried that he's going to blow up any minute now. This isn't some kind of euphemism or anything like that. He's mowing our yard. And I have two open gas tanks sitting back there.

I don't really know where he came from or WHY he's mowing our yard in particular... maybe he works for the realtor? He's wearing one of those bucket hats that were all so popular in late middle school/early high school. I kind of wonder how he got to be where he is and all that, but I'm mostly just concerned that he doesn't blow up. I also recently (aka this morning before he started mowing back there) dumped gasoline on some weeds to kill them. Just thought I'd share.

Back to studying/working on Stacey.

Hurdles

Just finished my OCP... that's Oral Case Presentation to the layman. I'm sitting in an art-deco meets preschool 5th floor lounge set aside for the few, the proud, the classroom-bound medical students. I should be reworking my pharm cases, but I wanted to blog.

Hurdles. Hurdles define this year for me. I only actually tried running hurdles once or twice in middle school, but from what I remember, it goes something like this:

1. start running as fast as you can
2. realized there is a big metal thing in your way
3. awkwardly jump over it and try not to wipe out on the landing
4. realize you're still alive, upright and still propelling forward
5. repeat

As much as anyone enjoys running hurdles, everyone has a breaking point where they wear out. You have to stop, catch your breath, reflect, refresh and possibly regurgitate, before starting the next race. I mostly have felt this year that I was in the middle of the race: sprint, leap, land, repeat without much of a chance to catch my breath. Some of the hurdles were great: Spring Break skiing, a plethora of live musical performances, dinner with friends, parties, church... all good things... still hurdles.

I cherish the moments when I can lose myself in the moment and embrace the vigor of the race as lively and intense. Hanging from a rock wall, exploding a pocket of powder, absorbing full auditory and visual stimulation, savoring an exquisite taste... Flashes of full engagement. But even more do I enjoy the moments when I can look the next hurdle in the face with nonsensical peace and calmly engage in this path that has been chosen. I lost that feeling for a while this year, but was then reminded of the incredible power I have when I fall to the ground with my hands lifted up to my most gracious Father. Thank you.

The Gospel of the Birdcall of 9

Let me introduce this post in the most appropriate of post-introducing ways:

KA-REEEEER!!!!!

If you have no idea what that means, I'm sorry, for I feel that I have failed both you and those who have gone before me in the way of the Gospel of the Birdcall of 9. Please forgive me. For those who know EXACTLY what that means and all that it entails, I beg your forgiveness as well, for I have forgotten my past and that which has molded me.

I was riding my bike along the Burke-Gilman trail as I was on my way to class this morning. I spied, on the other side of Sand Point Way, a parallel friend strolling on her way to class. I wanted to get her attention and simultaneously tell her that I appreciated her as a friend and that seeing her makes me happy. The noise of the cars on the road, the fleeting nature of the moment and my own hesitation prevented the interaction, thus nipping in the bud the joy that could have been added to the day.

And that's when I remembered. I remembered how life used to be.

Flash back to Texas. It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the college students are swarming out of Chapel. And all of a sudden, it comes cracking through the din like a bolt slung by Thor: KA-REEER!!! and you turn, ka-reering in return, before your eyes even make contact, and then they do, and you smile, laugh and go on your way if you're busy, or perhaps stroll over and share the latest on the way to the Bean (school cafeteria).

Coming to a new place, leaving behind friends near and dear, the Way of the Birdcall has faded. But today, today I made a new commitment to share with others the Gospel of the Way of the Birdcall. I've told others of the joy of the Birdcall, I've convinced them of its beauty and authenticity at times. At other times, they've merely blown me off, not believing that something so noble could exist, or perhaps twisting the message in their minds and dismissing it as something childish and irrelevant in today's culture.

No longer will I settle for merely speaking of the Birdcall. No longer will I withhold a due birdcall in shame. I must show others the joy of living with the Birdcall. So today, as I crossed over the pedestrian overpass and looked up the street to see the picketers blowing their whistles and waving their signs, I encouraged them with a hearty sound. The man on his cell phone looked at me askance, but I detected a hint of smile in his eyes and knew that his day was better for having been a part of that moment.

I guess you could take this as a spiritual metaphor or whatever. To that, all I have to say is:

KAAAAAAAAA-REEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!

Chasing Cars

Mom - you might, cancel that, you definitely, won't enjoy reading this one and will have a happier life if you just close the window now.

That warning also goes for the rest of you who don't believe that I am actually James Bond in disguise.

With that said, man, sometimes my life explodes in momentary bursts of awesomeness. Usually, not intentionally. Wednesday was just a typical day... met some random guy on the street in the U district to buy car speakers (woo hoo!), went to my tropical medicine class, sat through repro and path... blah blah blah... attended a training class so we can give free sports physicals to low-income middle-school kids, then hit up the climbing gym for a little while. It was when I realized that I had a 30 minute bike ride to complete and only 15 minutes before I had to be at Bethany Community Church that the trouble started.

I booked it up the Ave on my bike, snagged a left on Ravenna and was making good time. As I cruised up to the various stop signs, I would time myself so that I wouldn't have to actually stop, but could just ride in the shadow of a car that happened to be crossing the intersection at the same time as me. Make sense? I cross at the same time as a car, rather than trying to compete with everyone else for my turn at the stop sign.

So I was cruising up to the 5-way stop at Green-Lake that has lots of diagonals and weird turning patterns. It's confusing as heck. So I was more than happy to jump on the tail of a car in my lane that was just ahead of me. It was probably a little too far ahead of me in retrospect, but it seemed like a great idea at the time. So I was pedaling hard, trying to catch up to that car when my eyes got big and I saw the oncoming car turning right behind the car ahead of me... and accelerating.

I kept waiting for him to brake, to show some sign that he was acknowledging my presence on the road, but no, he was intent on getting through that hellish intersection at top speed. Neither slowing down nor speeding up was an option for me, so I elevated my center of gravity and prepared for impact.

It was spectacular. A brilliant crash swept my bike out from under me and threw me onto the hood of the speeding car, rolling me over before depositing me on the ground with a few more departing rolls for good measure. After taking a quick self-survey, I assessed that I was indeed still alive, and confirmed that my health had not rapidly deteriorated, information which I relayed to the concerned driver of the vehicle. Ensuring that all of my bodily parts were still intact, I straightened the handlebars on my bike, which had been thrown all out of whack, briefly looked for any debilitating deformations and hopped back on, determined not to miss my deadline.

I was stopped by a horde (two or three) of concerned passersby. They demanded that I must be injured after such an explosive interaction, but I assured them I was fine, wearing a helmet and that my training as a soccer goalie has indwelled me with sufficient falling skills to land on all the right parts.

I made it to my final destination on time and safely transported my passengers from downtown to their evening abode. Mission accomplished.

Piety

When it comes to life, I've got it more than pretty good. I don't need to sit here and tell you how great everything is for me, but suffice it to say that my idea of a rough week is one where I don't get to do something exceedingly fun with exceptional people. A life lived in such a fashion has notable potential to produce a whole lot of guilt regarding the people whose rough week is one where they don't eat.

This is not a new struggle, but one that has haunted me since I first really started engaging God and seeking to understand His purpose in my life and more generally, the world. I've definitely felt the tug to sell everything, give my money away and go squat under a bridge. At least then I wouldn't feel guilty. That's a lie. I would have replaced the previous guilt with the guilt of having squandered irreplaceable resources.

This year has been somewhat of an experiment. I've honestly felt the call to put aside piety and just enjoy what was before me. And it's great! Seattle has a ton to offer!! Skiing, climbing, hiking, famous musicians, rising stars, plays, professional sports, exotic food, more varieties of beer than I could taste in a lifetime. All these things at my fingertips. And yet, handing over a 20 dollar bill for a night of entertainment, I sometimes cringe realizing what that money could buy in Cambodia. Literally, it could feed a family for a week.

This Sunday, my preacher clarified the confusion with a simple admonition: "Don't attempt to be more pious than God."

In short, it is not our work to deprive ourselves of everything in a reckless attempt to fix the world. Neither is it our place to live lives of endless pleasure-seeking that never satisfies. It is our place to enjoy the work that God has put before us, and the fruit of that work and in doing so, loving ourselves. It is only with that framework that we can begin to love our neighbors in the same way we love ourselves. There's a whole lot I could say about that, but the final piece for me was realizing who my neighbor is.

The Good Samaritan is the quintessential example of being a good neighbor. He wasn't out there feeding the homeless or starting new charities. He had some business to attend to. Then something interrupted his life, but rather than seeing it as an interruption, he saw it as an opportunity to alleviate suffering, so he laid down his desires and plans temporarily, and loved some one as he would have loved himself in the same circumstances, then continued about his business. No huge missions, no crusades, nothing worth waving banners around, just simple life, seeing the needs in the proximal context and using the available resources to patch something together.

I don't need to, in fact shouldn't, make my life hell so that people halfway across the world can eat. The number of people who are going to die is too overwhelming for me to start counting pennies... or twenties. But I would be hugely remiss to think that nothing is required of me either. I intend to more forward in alleviating the suffering around me while enjoying the heck out of life and my work, with a huge smile on my face.

That's a good start.

Studying

I'm in my tropical medicine elective, which is rad, but I'm studying for my midterm in systemic pathology. I keep forgetting these diseases, so I'm just going to write them down. Thought you'd be interested. Ha.

Wegener's granulomatosis - vasculitis affecting lungs, kidneys & others; ANCA positive -> causes neutrophil degranulation; small-medium size vessels; can lead to lots of H&E symptoms, glomerulonephritis, skin nodules, lung "coin" lesions, cavitations & hemoptysis. Thanks Wiki.

Primary Biliary Cirrhosis (PBC) - progressive destruction of interlobular bile ducts w/florid duct lesions; most common in middle-aged women; eventual cirrhosis

Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis (PSC) - fibroinflammatory destruction of bile ducts w/"onion skin" lesions; most common in young men; eventual cirrhosis

Wilson's Disease - accumulation of copper in organs, esp. liver, brain & eye; autosomal recessive disorder of copper metabolism; Kayser-Fleisher rings; presents w/acute hepatitis & nonspecific findings (i.e. mallory bodies - purple blobs)

Time just ran out... gotta go take a test. Why are there so many weird liver things?? And all this on the coat tails of a post about using this blog for more noble purposes. I repeat: sheesh.