Rhode Island Review

Given that today is my last official call in the tiny state of Rhode Island and at just over a week from the excruciatingly long drive, I guess it's time to reflect.

Rhode Island Hospital wasn't my top choice in the match.  The snow that trapped me in a La Quinta Inn in Warwick for 3 days right before Christmas because my flights kept getting cancelled didn't give me the best impression of a New England climate.  Walking around Providence in 20 degree weather was a novel experience; I didn't see a soul on the streets/ they were all at the mall.  The warmth of the surgical residents at the social was more promising, especially after a few beers, but I was so over interviewing by then and had already made up my mind I was moving West. Needless to say when I opened my envelope I had to hide the tears and shock of the outcome - those other programs lied to me! Isn't it ironic that six years later it was again a relentless winter with serial blizzards that forced me to abandon any hope of remaining in the Ocean State and set my gaze Westward again.

I moved here determined to remain detached from all things Rhode Island, similar to my uprooting to Texas as an impressionable six year old.  I definitely was not going to turn left on green or say things like "howaya"  (and I still won't say "y'all"). I refused to experience fresh seafood and only made my vegetarianism stricter over the years.  I told myself that places like Newport and activities like sailing were not my style since I wasn't from old money and don't wear pearls or polos.  It was only under the guise of a bucketlisting this year that I finally got over myself enough to enjoy the things that make Rhode Island worth it.  So much time wasted being closed-minded. Turns out, I love oysters. And mussels. And I remembered that fish tacos are probably one of my favorite foods.  Sailing doesn't have to be a rich man's hobby - though it mostly is - and I actually do enjoy being on the water.  Polo, the sport, is just an excuse to have a lovely picnic in the sun with light British commentary.  And Newport is not only a playground to the disgustingly rich, it's also home to the Naval community who were a surprisingly random group of friends this year; I went there more this year than I did to Boston (plus I had to remove every appendix in the city).

real live sailors

sunset in Newport

Residency now seems like one long waking dream filled with reprimands, saltines and overdue parking tickets.  I cannot find a way to describe it any more than I could during my 37-second residency graduation speech or my rambling incoherent fellowship certificate acceptance.  It was like summer camp (or what I learned about camps from Wet Hot American Summer since I never got to go to one) - there were crazy adventures, natural and unnatural disasters, a lot of cafeteria food, and I made what I hope are lifelong friends from all over the country.  I earned my merit badges and lost the naivety and childishness of intern year along the way.  Plenty of regrets, most of them interpersonal communications gone wrong (still too afraid to be specific about anything on the internet ever again).  Couldn't wait for it to be over but now am dragging my feet about my parents coming to pick me up (literally).

So here I am, wishing I didn't have to go home.  But since fellowship > residency > internship > med school > college, the trend implies that I'm only going to enjoy each year more than the last.  Which is a ridiculously sunny thing to say.

Pediatric Surgery, a distant memory