The Life of an Aspiring Physician-Scientist

Diagnosis: Influenza with a little Acatenango

15 Jan 2012 1 Comment

by brittni ashton in Med school

After three and a half months of not seeing each other, the suspense was building uncontrollably as I waited in line at customs.  Managing to look inconspicuous, I walked out of the airport before sprinting at the sight of my very handsome (and non-computer automated, non-pixelated, real) boyfriend.  Tackling Nick to the ground, Guatemalan men and women cheered as the balloons he held escaped and slowly ascended to thank God for reuniting us again. Or at least that is how I had imagined it. Of course, my boyfriend is real, but the suspense of customs had more the do with the waves of nausea and weakness that accompanied my 102 degree fever.  Unfortunately, the sprint and tackle would have probably killed me.  That day, Nick received a patient, not a girlfriend.  After a few days of me moaning, sleeping, and fighting over why I had to drink water, he recommended something I have never seen in medical textbooks as treatment for the flu: to climb an active volcano.  Not thinking straight, I agreed.

8AM, our Acatenango outdoor excursion began. The volcanic ash loosened its grip as the air became thinner.  Strangers, whispering in various tongues, stepped carefully through the brutal terrain of the steep farmland.  While the heat scorched the necks of those ahead, heavy sighs were heard from behind.  I should have known this was not going to be easy.  The lushness of the vegetation and the sounds of the cloud forest birds showed that this country exudes life, yet the armed guard at my side was a constant reminder that something was amiss. Abruptly, there were no creeks, no signs of life, only rumbles of the erupting earth.  I persevered somehow through the dust storms and self-doubt, and the view took away what little breath I had left.  The Pacific and Atlantic Oceans were cousins as the distance across the land seemed miniscule from the peak.  Surrounding volcanoes spoke to one another in code as I tried, desperately, to decipher the language of the land.

I am a Louisiana girl, born and raised, and approaching 14,000 feet I began to truly believe that we would reach the Heavens.   Nestled deep within the mountain’s crater, I watched my breath form shape as the temperature dropped steadily. Flu ridden, food deprived, dehydrated, mentally exhausted, physically unfit, sunburned yet freezing, petrified of dying, and embarrassed of my heavy panting, I smiled and nodded to cover my weaknesses.  I think the group caught on when I fell a quarter of a mile behind, and Nick relieved me of carrying duties by hiring a porter, a Guatemalan man who strapped my 45 pound pack to his head.  As miserable as I felt, I had no shame.   Here I was on one of the steepest mountains of Central America only a week after leaving one of the flattest cities in the world.

The two weeks in Guatemala were full of small victories; surviving the volcanoes and battling the flu, of course, being two.  Deeply in love with this beautiful country, I delighted in the moments when we explored the wildlife of the ecological park, sat sandwiched on the public bus, and watched the floating rose petals dance in the pool next to our dinner table.   I was excited to understand the people sitting on the park benches in Central Parque, but I was also humbled at the ease at which their spoken Spanish was generated. From private tutoring to Spanish sitcoms to flashcards and silly word association games that I somehow get Nick to participate in, I have recently devoted all my free time to learning this language.  Unfortunately, I am still unable to communicate due to my perfectionistic tendencies to always be grammatically correct, but the moments of understanding were certainly worth the effort.  I had good days, and I had days when my brain boycotted being on overload and I sat helpless, unaware of anything being said to me.  This trip reminded me that having the right attitude makes all the difference in language learning; not giving up on anything, I went to my Spanish lesson today with a happy heart.

As I miss Guatemala today and long to be with Nick in Costa Rica as he starts a new chapter of his life, I am comforted in the fact that I serve a God who made the volcanoes and who knows my thoughts regardless of the language.  The potholes in New Orleans will continue to remind me of the cobblestone streets of Antigua. Smells of pepián, rellenitos, chilaquilas de güisquil, and arroz guatemalteco will infiltrate my house as I practice newly learned recipes.  Hiking gear will be bought in preparation for another climb as I continue to be thankful for the flatness of Audubon Park.  Skype dates will replace the romantic, candlelit dinners under the stars, but anticipation will inevitably build once again as March draws near.

This reflection on my trip reminds me of how incredibly blessed I have been, and returning to the laboratory this week, I am rested and ready to complete the experiments in queue.  I look forward to a year full of language learning, cooking, running, skyping, traveling, and, of course, some really amazing scientific breakthroughs. And perhaps, time willing, I will even read (or write) some books on hiking insanely tall, actively erupting volcanoes.

Until next time, adios.

Live it up, love it up, southern style

20 Feb 2011 4 Comments

by brittni ashton in Med school

You’ll never know
What heaven means
Until you’ve been down to New Orleans

-Elvis Presley (1958), from King Creole

A stroll along the levee as the Mississippi sends off barges, a drive down the Avenue as streetcars screech to a halt, a dance in the Marigny as the trumpeter plays off the banjo’s lead, a meal in the 9th ward as the upright sings its pizzicato.  I believe Heaven will be far better than anything we have seen, but I can only imagine what a place will be like that’s better than New Orleans.

I feel like I am falling in love.  Again.  After three years of being a graduate student and after many months of marathon training, I have forgotten why I moved here in the first place.  Work, Work out, shower, study, study harder, pray, sleep.  Where is the dancing, the horse drawn carriages, the long conversations under the mossy oak?  Oh right, science doesn’t sleep.  Mice don’t care about zydeco or your dinner date in the Quarter.  No, there are patients to see, facts to memorize, concepts to integrate, and mice to inject.  And of course, stem cells to tend to.

This is not a rant about my job.  I love graduate school.  I love my mice, my stem cells, my running routes. I even love my classes and public speaking about scientific literature.  Really, I am a nerd.  No, this post is about time efficiency.   I am not married, I don’t have kids, I don’t even have a needy animal.  So, how much more unfortunate would it be if in ten years I listen to Louis Armstrong and think, you know, he was right, I really do know what it means to miss New Orleans.  The tall sugar pines, the Mardi Gras balls, the moss-covered vines.

I traversed the city on foot this week.  I ran 26.2 miles through the pothole covered streets in the Quarter, along Esplanade, to City Park from Audubon.  But even spending 5 hours doing nothing but running the streets of New Orleans cannot compare to this past week when I was able to share my city with someone who had never been here before.  Casey, a close friend of mine from college, was here on a work trip, but I think he quickly realized that even a day of work in this city is better than most vacation days somewhere else.  The coffee is full of chicory, February feels like summer, and the food is really something to write about.

In fact, I must write about the food.  We spent every meal tasting what the city had to offer, from Thai to local cuisine to Indian and Italian.  Oh, and King cakes and beignets and hot chocolate.  Breakfast at a neighborhood restaurant led to us buying art off the walls, and Bacchanal included a journey through a wine cellar to discover an outdoor chef, twinkling lights, a little jazz and fantastic conversation–all surrounded by the sights of dilapidated buildings and 9 foot water marks.

We did a little Lindy hop at the Spotted Cat because he knows I am crazy about dancing.  We did a lot of Karaoke because he is a rockstar.  We walked through the gardens of City park, the streets of the Quarter, and took the streetcar home after catching up along the river.  Potluck with friends, as always, was Monday night, and of course, games were played and the guitar was taken out.

I wish I could say this was a normal week for me.  I did work everyday, I did surgery on my mice, I took exams, presented my data, studied (only a little), and read my Bible.  But I ALSO had fun and was reminded that I live in a city that is full of opportunity, full of people who smile and sing and dance.  New Orleans is very much alive and well, and I live here.

The trees that made Casey double take are always outside my window.  The weather that allows for me to run in shorts any day of the year is only getting more pleasant by the day.  Even my cat, who seems to meow more than he should and throw up at the most inopportune times, seems like a blessing to me after having a friend love on him all week.  Of course, I will eventually get another flat tire when the rain fills the crater on Broadway, I will get more tickets at the Louisiana/St. Charles street light, and I will still sleep with a gun by my bed.  New Orleans still is New Orleans, with the giant roaches and nasty nutria…but in this period of my life, those things are small sacrifices to make in order to live in a city where friends actually visit and graduate school is actually enjoyable.

here’s to making this week another one to remember….

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

26.3 miles would just be crazy.

24 Dec 2010 2 Comments

by brittni ashton in Med school

Every day seems like such a blessing, and days like today remind me that I cannot take my family and friends for granted.  It was six years ago this day that my grandfather, Larry Weeks, died from cancer.  Many of you knew my grandfather well, others maybe knew of him, but regardless, I am sure most people reading this have been affected in some way by the loss of a love one to cancer. Every day cancer research is  improving and we are learning what cancerous cells are doing, why they are doing it, and how we can stop them from dividing so quickly.  Unfortunately, research is a very tedious process.  As a biomedical researcher, I am familiar with what the process looks like–a lot of time and money are required.

Research will eventually lead to a cure for cancer.  At least I am hopeful that it will.  I hope that in the future families do not have to experience the pain  that cancer caused for my family.  I miss my Papa every day. He was a generous man who spoke truth to all people who crossed his path.  He had great faith even during his cancer treatment when he had no strength and could no longer eat  or enjoy any quality of life.

I am passionate about biomedical research.  Of course, research is only possible with adequate funding, funding that is very diffcult to obtain.  I have decided, as a researcher, as a granddaughter, and as an avid runner, that I will raise money for cancer research and dedicate my next marathon to my Papa. The American Cancer Society is sponsoring the February Rock n Roll Marathon and I will be running as a charity runner. No, I will not qualify for Boston and I may not have a happy heart the entire time, but I can guarantee that every cent that is donated will go straight to the American Cancer Society and will be used to give more birthdays to family members who we love so dearly.

I have decided to raise $1300 by February in honor of my grandfather.  Please consider giving a donation to  the American Cancer Society to help researchers continue making progress in understanding and treating cancer.  You can follow the link provided here and click the “Donate” button on my charity running page. More information about myself and my grandfather is on my page.

Thank you for your donations and for your prayers for all families affected by cancer.

Running page link: http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/DetermiNation/DNFY10Mid-South?px=16983791&pg=personal&fr_id=27265

35 days and counting….

23 Mar 2010 7 Comments

by brittni ashton in Med school

USMLE Step 1: April 26, 2010.  But all I want to do is sleep.

Mentally exhausted, but not completely defeated.

The Anastomosis

13 Mar 2010 1 Comment

by brittni ashton in Med school

You drop that kidney, I am taking yours.

That is what I heard today,

And this is my story.

My beginning,

Fear.

I scrub in alone.

Recall: the rectus capitis posterior major.

Medial, Obliquus capitis inferior;

Innervation, Suboccipital.

Don’t turn your

Head.

I suspend the vena cava.

Recite: Extend, abduct, adduct,

Laterally rotate, supinate,

Medially rotate, flex.

Move your arm

Slowly.

Frightened, I anastomose.

Remember: Broken ribs, a lacerated lung,

Blue eyes, red hair, freckles,

Tremendous character.

This is not my

Cadaver.

I wait.

Devastation yields donation.

I hold the retractor,

And my breath.

Perfusion.

Relief.

My kidney remains mine.

When it hurts, just keep running.

05 Mar 2010 4 Comments

by brittni ashton in Med school

I did not win a prize, but I am running the good race.

Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

Hebrews 12:1

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race,

I have kept the faith.

2 Timothy 4:7