Anatomy Class

I find her, on her back, trembling,

Her legs swinging high above her head

As if she were climbing an invisible ladder,

Or a branch.

I can't tell if she is really female;

To me, all dragonflies look the same.

I search the ground for a makeshift gurney,

Hoping a tissue paper will do.

The cold autumn kills.

I can’t save her.

In my room, she rests inside a pickling jar.

I watch her breathing, seeing

The vibration of seraphim’s wings

Trembling before God.

Her opalescence overwhelms me.

She twitches, occasionally, in quiet agony.

Her winged body,

Outstretched like a cross

Encrusted in jewels that glisten

In the light from my halogen lamp,

Lies ever more still.

I breathe on her,

Hoping the warmth reminds her of sunlight,

a breeze of summer, a bit of grass.

She barely moves now;

Only a relaxing of joints,

I tell myself,

Only a relaxing of joints.

Night out...part 2

Some people procrastinate by watching TV. Absent one, I write. Since there’s nothing more exciting going on in my life than looking at sections of preserved vaginas, I’m going to recount a sordid act of infidelity I witnessed some nights ago. Some history: Todd and Andy are friends. Andy has always wanted to be more than just friends, but Todd’s bed had no vacancy for several years straight, apparently- until tonight.

Dugan, Todd, Andy and I went to Club Café with several people after the get together at Laurel. I, still analyzing what had transpired between John and me, was oblivious to the drama happening across the table. On the surface, Todd seems nice enough, and Andy’s manners would make him a great doc. He was rather cute. But the alcohol since dinner had made them more crude, and their intentions more obvious. Around us, the meat market was in full swing, set to the beat of Madonna and Cher. Let the games begin.

By my second Diet Coke Todd has introduced us all to his current boyfriend, whose name I didn’t catch but whose Aryan features I couldn’t ignore. He appeared gracious, debonair even, but his hand clutching Todd’s told me he was human too. He didn’t talk much and spent most of the time staring out at the dance floor. Todd and Andy were whispering beneath their breath, and I saw on Andy a devilish grin. Todd excused himself for a smoke. Andy followed. Todd’s boyfriend came running after.

We missed them for 20 minutes, when finally Todd came back, proclaiming exasperatedly “ I’m so fucked….I so want to sleep with Andy, and I want [the boyfriend] to go home, but he won’t leave.” Dugan suggested a solution. “Why don’t you just leave and come back in a while; we’ll make sure Andy will still be here.” It wasn’t as simple. This game of trying to ditch the boyfriend would continue for several hours into the night. Andy would bum a smoke, and Todd would follow with the boyfriend hung to his side. Finally, Todd came back with both his lovers and said his goodbyes, leaving with his boyfriend still attached. We looked to Andy. Sullen, calculating, with a flash of teeth, he has since ordered another martini.

Todd returned unaccompanied some time later to meet Andy. They danced. Hips, shoulders, sweat. “It’s just a one night thing. I used to like Andy, but he has such attitude.” Dugan scoffed. “I’m like, you’re cute, but not THAT cute to act that way to me!” I finished my Diet Coke, palming my phone, hoping my boyfriend would call.

Out of the blue minutes later Todd came running to us. “Shit, I’m busted. That was [the boyfriend]’s best friend; she definitely saw us. Shit!” Andy was now clutching Todd’s hand, beckoning him to leave. He still had that devilish grin. I guess Andy never really took the Hippocratic Oath to do no harm. Dugan schemed further with them, but not before I left. I heard Dugan remarking on Todd’s current relationship. “I’ll give it another 3 weeks at most.”

it's not all about studying

Social life is really hit or miss here, particularly for me. Harvard, being a hop and skip away, is where I spend most weekends with my boyfriend. But there are moments that beckon my presence, like the gay Christmas get-together with other doctors and med/dental students that any self-respecting homo would dare not miss. In my case, my exposure to gay-anything was new and exciting, a mixture of homecoming and coming-out, all for a bit of holiday fun.

We met at Laurel near Back Bay Station, and unlike usual, I was 10 minutes early. The hostess informed me that they were still setting our table, so I was free to sit by the bar and talk to the only other member of our party that was coincidentally extra punctual. His name was John, a tall brunette with a dimpled smile and piercing green eyes. I noticed him before; he smiled at me as I walked in. We talked. I ordered a diet coke; he ordered a scotch on the rocks. Within five minutes of conversation, I realized that I was in over my head. He was hitting on me, and I was flirting back. Badly. I’m not used to being hit on, much less do something about it. He had that look in his eyes, the kind that my boyfriend had (still does) when we first met that was electrifying, only this time it was one I didn't quite catch until it was too late to stop talking. It felt extra bad because we both have boyfriends. While his was slightly late, mine was faithfully typing away at a computer somewhere in the basement of the Science Center. When we finally got up, the bartender “assumed” we only wanted 1 bill.

We sat at opposite ends of the long, queer table. For the entire dinner, everytime I looked up I'd catch his eyes smiling at me, in full view of his boyfriend blabbering on about his workday with patients. I felt guilty, intrigued…more guilty as the night wore on. Before we left he made a point to shake my hand. I, meanwhile, awkwardly introduced myself to his boyfriend, who appeared oblivious to everything but the exhaustion evident on his face. He's a second year dental student, and works long hours. John said he'd offer me his card, but he doesn't have any on him without an expired email address (sure). I didn't offer mine. I faked a laugh and bid him good luck with his job. He promised we would definitely run into each other in the future. I know I'm not holding my breath.

My brief foray into the dating game has taught me this much: the game sucks. Even at this stage where my social life consists of ties with college and tentative relationships with the real world, I can't say I am ready to re-enter the dating pool as an 'adult'. More importantly though, I don't need to. Temptation is ever present, but stability and love is what I have. As a wiseman once said, " It don't matter where you get your appetite, as long as you eat at home." Amen.

Trust me...I'm a doctor (in training!!!)

I suspect that at this point in our careers, most med students are petrified at giving out medical advice when asked. This is a great thing of course, since like most med students I probably couldn't tell you the front end from the back end of an opthamoscope, much less give you cogent advice on your heart condition.

Inevitably, however, we do get asked. A couple weeks ago a friend of mine called nervously with the point blank question: "why is there blood in my stool?" Taking a moment to properly weigh the merit and urgency of the question, I wanted to yell back "OH MY GOD YOU HAVE COLON CANCER! That sounds horrible, have you visisted the emergency room?"

But I stopped myself. I mean, the words just didn't come out like that. Instead, I heard myself asking

"What have you eaten recently?"
"Do you feel sick/under the weather?"
"Can you tell me if it's dark brown/black or bright red?"
"For how long have you noticed it?"
"Are you on any blood thinner medication?"
"Was it hard/painful to pass stool? Was it loose or compact stool?"
"Does it hurt? Where?"

My voice slowed down as my tone deepened. I said things like 'uh huh', 'I see', and 'I understand' with every couple of sentences. I could see myself categorizing the information he was giving me and asking targeted questions to keep pace. I nodded my head as if he were able to see me.

After a while, I revealed that in class I ran across some common conditions that may cause blood to appear in stool. I told him what the research said, but that he should take everything I say with a huge grain of salt. However, I did tell him to make an appointment with his PCP asap. In the meantime, his best bet was keep making observations and bring a sample of stool to the doctors so they can analyze its content.

Somehow, I think the barage of information they keep on yelling at us in class is seeping in. At the very least, the method of questioning a patient for medical history, thinking logically and offering advice based on facts--they're all beginning to structure the way I think. It's exciting, and still very scary, but exciting nonetheless.