PT Panic

I am very sorry I haven't written recently, both because I just realized I had a comment YAY, and because it really is great catharsis. I seem to come to it when I am stressed the most, and it does make me feel better, something about the act of even typing is relaxing and familiar--maybe it is like playing the piano, another thing I did as a child when I was stressed.

What is stressing me? Well, not too much at the moment. However, I do have a math final next week, but I have a strange calm. I know the material very well, have done all the homework and am totally up-to-date with studying and reading. Tonight we have a class review, and will have another on Sunday. I think I will be fine. The only other stressor, more like irritant, is that I have been experiencing a recurrence of pain. This might be because I have been more physically active. However, I REFUSE to give up my activities--so I am going to re-focus on pain management. Step 1# I finally made an appointment with the PT a student in my program recommended. He works for the office and assured me that they have pelvic floor specialists.
Let me tell you a little something about PT and me. It's a love hate relationship--mostly hate. The type of therapy that I do is...to put it mildly VERY invasive and personal. I have to work one on one with the therapist and really build a trusting relationship. Because I suffer from sever chronic pain, I am very afraid for the to touch me. This causes me to tense up in ways I am not even aware of. A lot of the therapy is learning to let my mind control my body. Sounds easy, right? Not so much. When you suffer pain you begin to contract your muscles in a way that protects your body. It is like a reflex--it becomes second nature, well first nature actually. We are engineered to preserve ourselves. So imagine you have to use your mind to control your INVOLUNTARY muscles. Try it. Right now--try and stop peristalsis from moving food through your esophageal tract. It's kind of like that. I remember facing the same frustration when I was in voice lessons. My voice teacher would tell me to do something and i would do EXACTLY what I thought she said. However, it was wrong. Although I was trying my very best to emulate her instructions I was hitting a wall. Since I am not someone who likes to do things I am not good at, you can imagine how frustrating this was. The good news is, I stuck with it (mostly because I didn't have the heart to tell my grandpa that I no longer wanted him to drive me to the lessons he was paying for and because I felt I owed it to my teacher), and in the end I got it. One day it clicked. The same thing happened with PT and it started to feel worth it. I built an incredible relationship with my old PT Kasey (she was a G-dsend and I literally prayed and thanked G-d for her everyday!)

Unfortunately, just when we were making real progress, I had to leave. This was daunting because I knew with moving, getting married, and starting school it was going to be difficult for me to find a therapist. Additionally, I truly felt like I struck gold with Kasey and knew it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find someone to take her place. Also, the fact that my injury is quite rare (there aren't a lot of 27 year olds walking around with shattered pelvises thankfully) it's hard to find someone to treat my "special needs" especially since I am a newlywed who is planning on starting med school soon. Both physically demanding situations. (I will let you paint the picture there). Furthermore, from what I understand, pelvic floor therapy is kind of new to PT, and there aren't a lot of PT's that are specialized. The waiting list to get in to see Kasey rivalved the wait for tickets to see the Westside Story Revival, BUT this guy I met in the program (who wants to be an ortho, oddly enough) assured me they had a therapist that could help. Finally, I screwed my courage to the sticking place, and called yesterday. After playing phone tag with a very inefficient answering service, I was finally scheduled for next Tuesday with Court. GREAT! Wait a second---I thought--I mean I am sure I know the question to this, but I have to ask: "Umm..out of curiousity, Court's a women, right?" Receptionist: "Oh, no. Court is a man." Jude: silence...Receptionist: "I assume that's okay (judgemental tone). I mean he's our only available..."Jude: "Oh yeah! Sure! Uh.. see you Tuesday! *click* I was shocked!

Now, I don't mean to sound closed minded. I am an equal opportunist here, and I realize that jobs are not and should not be divided by gender roles, it's just that the thought of going to a guy is very unsettling to me. Those of you who know me, may know that my tried and true gyno is a male, and I have NO problem with that, but this is different WAAAAY different. The therapy is much more invasive and personal. Additionally, it shold come as no surprise that men and women have VASTLY different anatomy in the pelvic region. Therefore, Kasey was able to describe muscle contractions and sensations in a way that I don't think Court will be able to. Not that he isn't well trained, or intuitive, he's just not going to be able to see things from the same perspective. Also, I am sure that he has a good heart and has some really lovely reason for wanting to help women (I keep telling myself), but there is some part of my mind that asks "Why would a man choose to go into this particular specialty? What kind of frea---" You get the idea. Brendan did little to ease these concerns.

In the end, I decided to keep the appointment, because well, I need to. Also, I know being a woman in family practice I am bound to get a patient one day who will not want to come see me for his prostate exam for the same reasons I listed above. I will do my best to convince him that I am highly trained and well qualified, and will probably be offended that he won't believe me. So, I am paying it forward. I am also going to do my level best to keep an open mind and benefit from this new experience. Maybe he will bring a new perspective and teach me new ways to release muscle tightness. Maybe..

I promise to keep you updated. Oh! I cannot forget. My family is coming out to visit in mere weeks! Days even. 17 to be exact! YAY!

Until next time.....

Finally an Update on my daily demons.

I decided to start blogging because I enjoy reading other's blogs and feel kind of guilty if I don't put myself out there as well. Also, it is cathartic and a nice way to take a break and reflect on my life instead of focusing on a billion other things.
As many of your know, right now my life consists of two major priorities: 1.) Being a wife to my wonderful husband Brendan and 2.) Preparing for medical school, which is a full time job in and of itself. Although sometimes stressful (I am referring to the latter not the former), I enjoy both very much, especially, as I am learning not to put so much pressure on myself. When Brendan and I first got married (it's been so long ago, we just had our two month anniversary), I was very committed to this idea of being the PERFECT wife. I think I created this ideal during our year apart. I thought, "If I could only be with Brendan, I would never complain about anything. I would be happy every moment of the day and will do anything to make him happy." Of course, that is not how life works out, and it took awhile for me to realize that the Jude Brendan wanted as a wife was REGULAR Jude, not perfect Jude. Meaning, if I ruined the dinner I INSISTED on cooking completely from scratch there was no need to get frustrated and angry--and DEFINITELY no need to feel guilty about being frustrated and angry. I was becoming one of those crazy people who goes on vacations and constantly insists that everyone is having fun--so much so that the fun is kind of sucked out. Luckily, after a couple of weeks I stopped worried about staying on top of clumps of cat hair on the floor, or m aking a different four course dinner from my Newlywed Cookbook every night and stopped to smell the roses. I definitely have not looked back since. Although my perfectionist tendencies still creep in from time to time--I am beginning to let go a little more each day. Having an incredibly loving, supportive husband helps immensely with this.
Unfortunately, I have still been unable to shake my obsessive quest for perfection when it comes to school work. I will work on a single math problem for an hour before I get it right because I am convinced if I can't find the derivative of a natural log I will fail as a physician. I know this is ridiculous, and I know that sometimes the best thing to do is step away and do anything else while I let the answers come to me, but for some reason this is very challenging. I pray that I learn to accept my talents and limitations, but I am also thankful that my tendencies though anxiety-inducing, serve to propel me forward. I have never been happy settling for anything but my best, and I am not going to change that now. My promises me that in the end, it will be these struggles that bring me success.
Since this blog has kind of focused on my kryptonites, I guess my final weakness that needs attention is being so far from home. I obsessively worry about missing out on events with my family in Michigan. For example, my cousin Jon is on leave from the navy and came home for a couple weeks to stay with my grandparents. Since he has been home my entire family (excluding Brendan and myself) gathered for a picnic. Although I miss them dearly, what bothers me most is knowing how hard it is for my mom not to have me there. It makes her very sad when the whole family is together except for Brendan and Jude and of course, her grandcats, Dax and Gatsby. I feel extremely guitly about this, and it sort of ensures that I am always homesick. If I am not feeling homesick from missing my family, I feel homesick because I am having a wonderful time alone with my husband and do not feel I miss them sufficiently! Ahh to be in my head! ha ha. This adds additional feelings of guilt because I don't want Brendan to think my homesickness is a reflection on him. It is definitely NOT! I am so thankful to have this time with my new husband. We can focus totally on being together and exploring a new life. When we get bored or need advice, we don't have the luxury of going to our parent's house. Instead we work things out together, and make our own decisions. When I need comfort after a long day of class and missing my family, I have Brendan to rely on. It is making our relationship even stronger and more fulfilling then it ever was. I am so proud of him and me for working so hard and being so successful in this marriage. I know that we are just starting out, and I know marriage is a long journey and we may not always have the novelty of being newlyweds on our side, but I am sure thankful to be on the journey with someone as wonderful as him. I can't imagine our lives will ever get boring.
Okay, well I really need to get back to studying. Even though I have more classes to take before I will be totally prepared for the MCAT, I bought a fantastic book from Princeton Review and have been ploughing throught he Physics section. It is amazing how informative the book is. I got through the first 50 pages of physics last night and was completely prepared to discuss applications of DE during Calc last night. I am constantly surprised at the speed at which I am learning (I just started thinking about how I could write that sentence as a DE--oh brother!) It has been a long time since I felt this passionate about Math. It has suddenly become accessible to me again. I am sad that I parted from it for so many years. I talked to my mom today and she reminded me that when I was in seventh grade she was approached to send me to University of Michigan to have graduate students study how I learned math and solved Trig problems. I was THRILLED at the chance to spend an entire summer emersed in mathematical research but eventually decided not to go when it interferred with voice lessons. Since then I somehow lost my spark for math, as young girls sadly do all to frequently, but I am excited to have it back. I really think I am going to continue to take more math--and possibly physics than is required for my program.I love how it transfers me to a different mindset and allows me a new perspective from which to view the world. It's also a fun activity for Brendan and I to do together as we try to discover new ways to approach the same equations.

Well, on that note, I am finally off to study for the MCATS with my MKitties Dax and Gatbsy. They turn Five tomorrow. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!

cheers to my newfound independence

Dear Readers,
I know in the last post I promised a reflective of my husband (LOVE IT!) and my trip to Snugatuck. However, I realize that if I keep re-capping, I will never move forward so I am going to take a break from the re-cap (after one whole blog) and update you on some of our most recent activities.
Since arriving in Oakland on Friday, the four of us have been totally beat. My incredible enthusiasm and natural drive to "nest" is really the only thing keeping me going, and Brendan has even less motivation, and more exhaustion. Gatsby really captured this feeling the best when this morning, I walked in on him in his "bedroom" (our walk-in closet) and found that he had attempted to get out of bed, but apparently passed out while standing up leaving his back paws still in the bed and elevated above his head, while his head and front paws were stretched onward in the walking motion. "I know how you feel cat," I thought aloud. Suffice it to say, we have not been very adventurous as of late. However, armed with gift cards from friends, relatives, and other well-wishers, and the realization that even after my belongings arrive we are running pretty low on furniture, we decided to take a drive to the Target in Berkeley, where we managed to do a decent amount of damage purchasing a set of "everyday" dinner and salad plates, a leather Parson's chair (Not Talcott, Daniel (we wanted 2 Parsons chairs for our bar, but they only had one in stock)), and a few other odds and ends that we desperately needed. It was our goal to make a pit-stop at Target, and Walgreen's before voyaging out to the Ferry Terminal at the Embarcadero, but when we got to the home and garden section of Target, we were simultaneously overcome with malaise. It was all we could do to walk, and we promptly cancelled our afternoon plans, and even our return trip to Walgreens. Instead, we made a bee-line home threw the chair next to the bar, and took our places sprawled out on the bed.

Meanwhile, we felt guilty for not taking advantage of the beautiful day. I know that I live in Oakland, California, and beautiful days are not hard to come by, but I just feel like it is a sin to pass up an opportunity to venture into San Francisco. We realize we are incredibly lucky to live in, what is by all accounts, paradise, and I can't quit my tourist mentality that I need to soak it all in before I must return home. Therefore, after chiding ourselves for being lazy, we vowed to make-up for it on Sunday with brunch at Ma Ma's. This, of course, was seconds before I realized Sunday was Mother's Day, and MaMa's and most any other restaurant in the Bay Area would be packed. We had resided ourselves to a lunch of peanut butter and jelly, but when the morning sun hit us, we knew we were going to have to do it--long line or no long line. Scrapping our first choice (a place called Ma Ma's is bound to be packed). we decided to go to our favorite Hog Island Oyster Company. Our wedding cake decorator (we share her with Martha Steward--no joke) Wendy Kromer tipped us off to their sinful grilled cheese decked out with an organic (but of course) sampling from the Cowgirl Creamery next door. After waiting in a surprisingly short line, we took our seats overlooking the bay and ordered Oysters Rockefeller, clam chowder, and of course our little sandwich with the intention of sharing it all. So adorable, I know :)
Our fresh bread and sweet cream butter was served promptly, and I made the all-too-frequent mistake of indulging too much. Little did I know that my stomach would need to be at full capacity to enjoy all that is Hog Island clam chowder. The oysters, served as an excellent introduction for what was to come next: the soup. Soup. I don't even know if this masterpiece qualifies as soup. It certainly cannot be compared to the canned stuff that lines grocery stores everywhere, and was certainly unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Because we have never been privy to clam chowder at HI, we were wrongfully expecting a small bowl of chewy clam chunks floating in a sea of thin white broth. Instead, we got a heaping bowl of thick stew-like cream, butter, and bacon thoroughly decorated with whole oysters that only hours earlier were in the very ocean our cozy seats overlooked. There in their shells, these succulent sea-creatures were waiting to be plucked from their little caves and devoured to our gastronomic delight.
Certainly, there was no way I could have predicted the chowder. My small mind is simply not capable of it's magnificence. So when ordering, I made the mistake of taking ownership of the sandwich (my tried and true) which was placed before me. The bowl of steaming goodness found a home in front of Brendan. Trying to speed the process of getting the soup into my stomach, I judiciously removed half of the sandwich from my plate and placed it in front of Brendan, waiting eagerly for what was owed. He, of course, being the more savvy of the two, plunged his spoon purposely into his bounty. Because soup is, by nature, difficult to share, and because no person in her/his right mind would part with a morsel of this particular clam chowder, I knew I would be left to fend for myself. When we raised his spoon to his lips I would launch my sandwich into the broth, and carefully return it to my mouth trying desperately not to lose a drop to the table. (Who am I kidding? It would not have been lost, I just preferred not to have to lick food from the table in public.) Forgetting my recent promise to follow a Kosher diet because it just makes good sense. I began removing entire clams and placing them on my plate along with bacon and cheese, sopping up their juice with my crust of bread. Indeed, this was the best clam chowder ever created--no apologies to my East Coast counterparts who loudly that you can truly only enjoy clam chowder in the New England States. It was perfection. The culinary cure to what ales you. Happiness in a bowl.
Sadly, one can only eat so much cream, butter, and bacon before feeling full, and even with both of us trying our best, we left pieces of sandwich and drops of broth uneaten in the bowl, before both agreeing it was time to throw in the towel. When Brendan finally emerged from his food coma, he announced confidently, "This was the best meal I have ever eaten." Now, I am not one to make sweeping statements, so I quickly searched the files of my brain and realized I would be forced to agree. "It's right up there.." I allowed. Sure, Hog Island does not have the panache of some of the finer restaurants I have dined in. Unlike Kraft, in New York, the waiters are not donning suits. Nor will they tell you about their wine selection. Instead the heavily inked staff wears t-shirts, jeans, and whatever shoes will enable them to run quickly enough to keep up with their customers demands. The open oyster bar allows you to watch the chefs shell the oysters and stew them in large silver pots, the clanging of which can make it difficult to engage in conversation, but it doesn't matter. I guarantee that while dining at HI your mouth will be so stuffed, and your heart so satisfied that you will barely have the strength to release a buzz of "mmmm" from your lips--but you will.
After leaving HI, we quickly had to shelve our plans to walk around the city. We were finished. There was nothing more to see. Instead we weaved through about 50 girl scouts and found ourselves back on the BART, where we were entertained by one of the most creative (if not the craziest) BART-freak I had ever seen, but I will spare you the details, dear reader.

After we returned, we retired to our bedroom where we finished watching a couple of movies, and snugged off our heavy meal. Later, I made an attempt at cleaning and putting away more presents. I promised to write thank you cards, I still have only managed to eek out a few. There is just so much to say! It takes me a long time, and we planned the next day's events. This morning I was awoken by the scratching of one very, very naughty cat on our bedroom door. I offered him his food, and was left alone for another couple of hours before he returned. Finally, Brendan was able to scare him off. I did not wake again until Brendan kissed me squarely on the head and re-tucked me in on his way to work. A couple of hours later I turned on the television to find that The Price is Right comes on at 10 here. Weird. A contestant won both showcases, which seemed like a good omen. I took it as a sign that I should travel out on my own today. I needed to got to Trader Joe's to get groceries for dinner, and the only way was to go it alone.
Brendan came home for lunch, and we went over the BART maps one last time before I set-off. I only had one minor snafu finding the train before I was on my way. Once I arrived to the Rockridge station I felt overwhelmed with pride and happiness. Not only did I make it there on my own, the "there" was paradise. I wandered through some various European-esque boutiques, and a couple of re-sale shops where I narrowly avoided purchasing any of the overpriced adornments, and finally made my way to TJ's. After buying about twice as much as I set out to, I paid my bill and headed home. No snafus. I managed the BART all on my own.
So, all in all, I have to say it was a really great day. I got to spend quality time with the hubs, and accomplish most of my to-do list. Now, back to more thank yous, or just drifting off under the covers...

The Newly Minted Mrs. Rooney

Once again, I feel motivated to start a blog, because it seems like the best way to put my tendency to think in the third-person to use. Hopefully, it will also sate my family's needs to keep up with me while we try to schedule phone calls between PCT and EST, a time change that has been a hard adjustment, but I must admit there is something VERY satisfying about starting your day at 7:30 on a Saturday. I just need to try to stay up past 8pm--or maybe not.

Now for those of you playing at home, you probably realize that today, Brendan and I celebrated our 1 week anniversary of marriage. I have no wisdom to depart on you, yet, but I can say that being married has already been the most satisfying and exhausting experience of my life. Of course, that is probably not so much the marriage as it was the wedding, the honeymoon, and the cross-country move, but I digress. Yes, Brendan and I have embarked on quite the whirlwind since saying, "I do", and ordinarily, I would find this all very stressful, but there is something singular and unique about being accompanied by the love of your life when enduring physical struggles that makes it all worth it. Hopefully, this is not just the novelty of marriage, but our enduring love that has made our trip so rewarding (please try to refrain from gagging--it only gets more sappy as you go along). At any rate, instead of trying to describe it, I am going to try and re-cap the events from memory.

One week ago, Brendan and I got married at Stetson Chapel at Kalamazoo College in front of 100 of the people we love the most in life. After months of planning, worrying, and of course obsessively compulsing, we were standing there, hand-in-hand smiling like fools. I just kept thinking "I can't believe we pulled this whole thing off," and of course scolding myself (as I often do) for worrying so much about inane details. In the end, our plan to "under do it" as far as decorations and complications go, proved perfect. We enjoyed a day full beauty and happiness with plenty of apple blossoms, architecture, food, music, people we loved, and the three most adorable well-behaved children in the history of matrimony. Yes, those of us who warned that having a 2 year old flower girl, and a couple of seven year-olds as ring/bearers/flower girls. Were speechless when the kids sauntered the aisle like pro's. Especially when said 7 year-old ring bearer (and my cousin) Ian belted out the sweetest, most heartfelt adaptation of "Everyday" by Buddy Holly-ever heard. I was even more wildly impressed when I heard that he re-wrote the final chords himself. Best of all, he performed without a microphone. Such a charmer! I am not sad to say that he stole the show, and rightfully so. Soon, for those of you who wish to see the event, but could not attend, or just want to relive the fabulous memories, I will be posting pictures online. Sorry for the delay, but as you will read, I am too busy being exhausted and re-playing the events in my mind.

So, after an incredibly satisfying day, that could not have been pulled-off without the help of our extremely supportive bridal (and groomal(?)) party--we retired to our honeymoon suite at the Radisson, where you would be correct in assuming we did not get much sleep. The newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Rooney met my parents and brother for breakfast at the Sol World Cafe, where I declared my honeymoon my week to gorge. I figured since I had been denying myself the luxury of good food before the wedding, I would make-up for it afterwards. Okay, truth be told, I did not do much denying. I was not one of those girls that buys their dress a size or two too small with the plan of doing turbo jam and shots of wheat grass for two months preceding the big day. Instead I started working out with my PT about 8 hours a week, treading water, and increasing my peanut butter intake. I also developed a love for baking, and eating said baked goods, once again, I digress as this is not essential information. But then again, is anything in a social blog really essential?--Now how do I get this off italics? Like most people warned, Brendan and I really didn't get a chance to eat much the at the reception. We were constricted by our clothing and trying to be welcoming hosts for 100 guests, while sitting on display and kissing each time we were prompted by the sound of sterling against crystal. (Sorry, but italics will randomly appear from here out since I seemingly have no control over it). What was most depressing, was that I did not even get a taste of the pistachio cake I chose! I know--it's horrible. The crepes went a long way in making up for it though.

After our misty goodbyes, we hit the road but we didn't make it very far without realizing my mother had the entire contents of my wallet and we had to turn back. Practicing the patience of Job (the patience one can only maintain during the first few, most sacred, hours of marriage) Brendan and I returned to Kzoo to meet my parents before continuing North up 131 to Traverse City where we stayed at The Wellington Inn Although we regretted the planning that had us driving 4 hours the day after our wedding, the Inn did not disappoint. We were the only guests staying at the Mansion that night (another family was in one of the cottage houses) so we were upgraded from the cheapest/most lackluster room in the home to the honeymoon suite. Much to my delight it included a jetted whirlpool--the perfect solution to a post wedding backache. What I loved most about the home was that it was filled with original antiques from the 1800's. Since we were the only people staying we also had the joy of perusing what seamed like endless rooms, each brimming with tchotchkis and ornate furniture from the late 1800s. Though Brendan was admittedly "antiqued out", I could have easily stayed for a few more days--spending time in each room.

Because Bed and Breakfasts, by definition, only serve breakfasts, that night we ventured to Traverse City's historic downtown area were we enjoyed dinner at Bubba's where I offset my sins by ordering a large salad (who am I kidding? With all the nuts, avocado, dressing, and cheese, I packed in more calories than a whopper value meal!). Then we slowly wandered back to the Inn where we had the option of munching on generic treats like bite-sized "100 Grand Bars" and Costco Cappuccino. No, the food did not delight, especially when compared to our next night's stay in Saugatuck (heretofore referred to as Snugatuck). In fact, we were so primed for these Legendary breakfasts, we did not recognize them when they were served to us. Then we quickly realized that the breakfasts were, in fact, legend because almost no one had eaten them. Since they are only served to guests at the Inn, which are few in this current economic climate. Most of what is known locally about the food, is from word of mouth. Falsehoods were apparently spread by overly generous visitors and the proprietor herself, who was pleased as punch by her generally sour but otherwise tasteless blueberry pancakes and tough chicken sausage. Worst of all, for a woman who prides herself on being able to cater to guests with all sorts of allergies and aversions (the woman we were joined by had a laundry list of food allergies, which were actually sensitivities, that were linked to migraines), served us perfectly luscious strawberries that were unnecessarily drowned in aspartame impregnated yogurt. Of course, because I have an embarrassingly high intake of diet coke, I cannot complain about being poisoned by artificial sweetener, but I can say lime "light and lively" does not a five star breakfast make.

After retrieving our things (they have an 11 o'clock checkout, which is early B&B standards) we ventured back down to the bay where we took pictures and pondered our next move. The one that would lead us to the enchanted city of Snugatuck, which I will tell you all about in my next blog. I can almost feel your virtual interest waiting, and I am compelled to retire to the bedroom where I will snuggle in bed next to my husband and watch "Bride Wars". It's a good life.

Good night all!

Love, Jude-y Rooney