I’ve been in partial 3 weeks now. It hasn’t been terrible. I wanted to run the first week, but that urge has weakened since then. I finally started restoring weight (it was slow to come) and that has freaked me out. It’s not necessarily the number that scares me; it’ the direction. When I saw the same number on the way down it was great. Seeing it on the way up is terrifying. I’m afraid it won’t stop. I’ve also begun getting the “night sweats” that come with restoration. Not particularly pleasant.
I am uncomfortably full. I feel my body changing and as a result of both of those I feel horribly fat.
And apparently in the past year I developed a lactose intolerance. They give me so much milk at partial. The first two weeks were hell with bloating, and gas, and nausea until I figured out what was going on. I don’t touch milk at home because I don’t particularly like it. I used to have a latte every single day. In the past few months they have increasingly made me nauseated. I thought at the time that it was simply the restriction making my stomach more sensitive to strong foods like coffee (which does happen) and I naturally cut back on them. Looking back now, though, I wonder if it wasn’t the lactose that bothered me. Regardless, I use Lactaid at partial and avoid milk at home. Thankfully, yogurt doesn’t seem to bother me. I think I would die without my Chobani.
On the medical school front: I am currently on the in-state waiting list for my University’s medical school. I am low on the list, #46. It’s been a rough week (really two weeks since my letter got lost in the mail and after waiting a week I had to personally go in to find out). It will be more accurate in another week or so as people respond about whether or not they want to remain on the list.
Last year I told myself and everyone else that the rejection was ok, that I was glad for the extra year. But even as I said that my weight dropped. So clearly, there was some sort of disconnect within me. I found myself doing that again this year, but now I have been saying what I actually feel. I sobbed for the entire first day (I never cried once last year). I am sad. I am angry. I am pissed off at the admissions committee, the director of admissions (who told me I would have “no problem” getting in this year), at the entire medical school system, and at myself for even allowing my hopes to get up.
And you know what? Just acknowledging those emotions has made it easier.
I am moving forward for my backup plan. I have accepted the evening clerk job on my unit (can you say regular hours, no floating, no weekends, and a better salary?). I am working on cover letters for graduate assistantships. I am researching other graduate programs to apply to in addition to one final round of med school apps. And I am starting to look more into what I could do if I just used my MPH as a terminal degree.
We’ll see what comes. Time will tell, both on the weight front and the medical school front.
...to find art in chaos... 