TONY: Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop

Med students may be the only people I know who complete four straight months of school, and then as soon as vacation starts, get in a car and drive for eight hours to do EVEN MORE WORK! Confusing? Terrifying? Perhaps. But isn’t that the kind of devotion to public service and the good of humanity that you’re looking for in the physicians of tomorrow? That’s how I choose to think about it.

But seriously folks, we just finished up our Cardiology block, and believe me when I tell you that this block will put some hair on your chest—the heart, as you’d imagine, really is not a joke. Somehow, we all made it through the exam and, finally, began Spring Break! The day after the exam, about twenty med students (myself included) headed down to New Orleans to try our hands at some much needed community service. We managed to get ourselves involved in some great projects—I spent a day caring for animals that had been left stranded and homeless by Katrina, for example. The real meat of our work, however, was the result of our partnership with the Lower Ninth Ward Clinic—a free clinic that serves the residents of one of the regions of New Orleans that was hit hardest by Katrina. As med students, our responsibilities were to go door to door in the surrounding community promoting the clinic, and performing free blood pressure readings and glucose screenings.

You can only understand the state of the living conditions in the lower ninth if you see it for yourself. You’ll have to forgive me for the lack of photos, but I was just too immersed in my experience there to start snapping away with my camera. Allow me to illustrate by making good use of my trademark verbosity: Imagine you’re in a working class, ungentrified neighborhood. The population is mostly African-American, the local public schools are not up to par, and crime is just another part of daily life. Now, take that neighborhood, and pound it with water so hard that over the course of four hours, it is twenty feet deep. Cars and bodies are floating past rooftops. Now wait for the water to go away on its own—don’t worry, it’ll eventually start to drain little by little, or simply evaporate. Now once the water is gone, leave the city alone. Do not touch it for three years. See the over growth of plants, and the sunken roofs, and the signs spray-painted onto the sides of houses that read ‘Please Do Not Demolish’. Have your visual yet? Good. Welcome to the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans—the vast majority of which remains completely devastated and uninhabitable nearly three years after the disaster.

Over 90% of the houses I was assigned to approach were still deserted. If people were to be found, they were in trailers next to their homes. The amazing thing about this day, was that the people that I met as I walked around this decimated neighborhood were in universally good spirits. Everyone was excited to talk, and thrilled with the work that we were doing for them in our free time. I spoke to one man who, the night that the city flooded, spent the night sleeping serenely on his own rooftop. He told me that he understood that people were angry, and could get frustrated with the slow pace at which the neighborhood was getting built back up. But for him, there was no time to be angry. Why? Because he was alive, and every moment was a gift. He then invited us to visit him in his trailer if we were in town for the holidays because he makes some mean fried chicken. How bout THAT for a spring break?

Of course, after spending a few days hard at work in the Big Easy, relaxation was absolutely necessary before heading back to school, so a few friends and I drove from New Orleans to Tampa for some fun in the sun. There are a lot of beaches in Tampa. Now, there are two things that I could do without in this world: shellfish and the beach. Shellfish are on the list because they kill me if I eat them. The beach? Well, I just don’t like the beach. I’d take a pool over the beach any day of the week. Thus I chose to express my opinion through my beach attire:

This is how old men (and Tony, apparently) go to the beach: sneakers, abnormally high socks, and an all-weather hat. Was I ridiculed by my compatriots for, perhaps, the strongest wardrobe choice I’ve ever made? Absolutely. But there is a lesson here that you can carry on through your med school career: Remain true to your convictions! I could have folded, and worn a “bathing suit” and “flip flops”, but then I would have ended up sunburned with sand all over my feet. It’s a metaphor for life. Think about it.

-tony