Un-fucking-believable

Excuse my un-fucking-lady-like language, but I'm still in shock over my recent personal experience with the health system at Hopkins. As mentioned, I've been sick. (I'm all better, now, thank you. Just hacking up some remaining phlegm. Mmmm). So, on Friday, after my last two midterms, I decided to go to the student health clinic to make sure I didn't have a bacterial infection, and if I did, to get some drugs. After walking to the outskirts of the Hopkins Medical campus, way far away from the hospital and School of Public Health, I found the clinic tucked away in a weird strip-mall like setting. I went in and told the woman at the front desk that I was sick. I was feverish, coughing, soar throat, etc. She asked if I had an appointment. "Nope. Just a walk-in." After not being able to find my insurance information in the computer, and making several phone calls to make sure I actually was on the Hopkins plan, she told me that there was no one there who could see me, that they were about to go on lunch, but I could make an appointment for Tuesday to see my assigned primary care doctor. "Let me get this straight: I'm sick, I'm in a clinic, I'm the only patient here, and there's no one who can see me, and I'm at Johns Hopkins, the '#1 hospital in the U.S?'" "Right. You can make an appointment for Tuesday or go to the Emergency Room." After further statements of disbelief, I left and hoofed it back to the School of Public Health, getting angrier and angrier with each sweat-, fever-, and cough-inducing step. Up the street, they were teaching me about the problems with access to health care, how it's a waste of resources to go to the E.R. when it's not an emergency, but how so many people do because they can't get to regular doctors... and the student health clinic at Johns Hopkins Medical Institute is sending me to E.R? Are you kidding me?!!!

Delirious from anger and fever, I went to the student affairs office to find out if there was anywhere in between the clinic and the E.R. where I could go to see a doctor and get a prescription, if necessary. Then, I went on a similar feverish rant as above about the school's hypocrisy of teaching one thing, but doing the exact opposite. The coordinator of my department was there and took pity on me (or maybe it was fear). She called the clinic again, which told her the same thing: Tuesday or E.R. Then the coordinator walked me to the E.R. to find out how long the wait was going to be. I was reluctant to go, was ready to give up and go home, take some Tylenol PM and get under the covers, but she was insistent and ridiculously kind.

It turned out there was only one person in front of me at the E.R. ("Good thing you didn't get sick on a Friday night, otherwise, there'd be a much longer wait due to the imminent gunshot victims." Awesome.) Even with only one person in front on me, there was a three hour wait. It turned out there were many more people in front on me, just further down the bureaucratic line in other unseen waiting rooms. Finally, after three hours, I saw one of the nicest doctors I've ever encountered, especially in an emergency room. He examined me, he listened to me, he sat and explained to me everything that could be wrong, what I could do and what to expected, and when I told him I was a student at the School of Public Health, put things in an epidemiologic perspective. It made me realize why the hospital is ranked #1. But seriously, actually getting to that doctor was short of a nightmare and there was no reason for me to go to the E.R.

I'm on a mission to bring this to the attention of the higher-ups at the school of public health. Do they even realize their health clinic is sending people to the emergency room? The whole experience was completely absurd. I later found out there's a clinic that would have seen me at the main campus, a shuttle-ride away. But not at the medical campus? What?! This needs to be fixed. Stay tuned for my adventures in attempting to change the system.

The Experiment

I've decided that the Johns Hopkins School of Public Health is a giant experiment and we are all guinea pigs. Why have I come to this conclusion? Because I'm sick and I'm pretty sure I got it from being at school. The school is a petri dish being studied by all the top researchers. I knew there was a reason they needed students here. As I've mentioned, I take a shuttle (school bus) to school every day. They pack the bus beyond capacity. Think: the 6 train at rush hour. But at least on the 6 train, there's ventilation. Otherwise, it'd be a major public health hazard. But, nope. Not on the shuttles to the School of Public Health. No ventilation. Just a lot of stressed students and doctors (who no doubt are carrying tons of diseases on them) coughing and breathing on each other. Yesterday, in my 8:30 am Epi class, all I could hear was the symphony of sneezing, sniffling and coughing (aching, fever, runny nose) going on around me. Hard to concentrate. I could almost feel the various bacteria and viruses landing on me. (Luckily, I've got my integument system! But the nasal passage... that's a whole other story. My anti-bodies can only handle so much). You would think with midterms this week, I'd be stressed and that stress was wearing on my immune system. But to honest, I'm not really that stressed. I just spend my days in a giant petri dish in a giant lab... in Baltimore. And therefore, I'm sick.

Speaking of not being stressed, I should probably study.

Mid Mid-term Week

For all two of you who read this blog, forgive my lack of posting recently. I have midterms this week. Today I had my first of three-- Biostats. And to be honest, it wasn't that bad. Who knows though? I may have made several careless mistakes. Next up are my Epi and Theory midterms. I really don't like Epi all that much, so I'm putting off studying for it and blogging instead. And seriously, learning about masses of sick people isn't all that appealing when I feel like I'm coming down with something myself.

While I was taking my Biostats midterm, something else was happening from my former life today, three thousand miles away. The final episode that I wrote for Clean House taped today. I'm sort of sorry I couldn't be there... mostly because the studio is at a house with a pool. Not that we're really supposed to go swimming in the middle of the work day, but it's still nice to be at work while poolside. Plus, there's free food. But no, I'm here in Baltimore, getting sick due to the damn seasons that everyone on the East Coast loves so much. And worrying about how I'm not at all worrying about my Epi midterm.

Okay. Back to the books. That's all for now, two loyal readers.

Twelve Hours of Biostats

Today I spent twelve (aka 12, XII, 6x2, 24/2, 2*3!) thinking about and doing biostats. Thursdays are supposedly my easy days. I have just one class on Thursdays: Biostats. And that's it. At my last biostats class on Tues, my professor announced that the problem set originally due today could be handed in tomorrow, Friday. I started it this past weekend with the intention of handing it in today, but as soon as she gave us another day, I couldn't not take it. But it was more than just this problem set that kept me and Mr. Gauss so tight all goddamn day long.

First, I had my one and only class, biostats, from 10:30am to 12 PM. (The professor went over by 10 minutes). Then, I went to the super sweet reading room to finish my biostats problem set. I spent about 2 hours thinking about one part of one problem before I figured it out. If I had wanted, I could have gone to the 2 biostats help sessions (there are 2/day! That's 10 times a week!). But, I decided to sit and struggle and ponder until I figured it out. Perhaps a waste of time. From noon to 5:30, I worked on the problem set. From 5:30 - 6:45 I went to the biostats review session for the midterm next week. How I have a midterm when I just started class practically yesterday, I don't know. (WOW. This is uninteresting). Then, I came home and finished my biostats problem set at 10:30 PM. Twelve hours! But, wait, I did watch "Project Runway" from 8 PM-9. So, really I only spent 11 hours on biostats today. Thank god. I thought for a second I might be a loser, or "out" to quote Ms. Klum. Whew. Close one.

Auf wiedersehen!

Sushi for Dinner. Carrot Cake for Dessert.

All this talk of hurricanes has been making me hungry. Specifically for sushi. My all-time favorite sushi place is a tiny restaurant in LA called Sushi Ike. Pronounced EE-Kay. Now every time I see Hurricane Ike in print, I read it as "Hurricane Ee-kay" and think of Chef Ike and how much I miss his delicious creations. Since sushi has been on my mind lately, I suggested to my Saturday evening dinner companion that we get some. We went to what he claimed to be "one of the better sushi places in Baltimore" but unsurprisingly it left much to be desired compared to my beloved Sushi Ike. I've been missing LA a lot recently, especially the weather, maybe even more than the sushi. It's been 100 gazillion percent humidity here lately. The kind of humidity where as soon as you step outside, you start sweating. Or at least I start sweating.

This weekend I decided to be the politically active student I never was in college and go to Virgina to canvass for Obama. It was even hotter there. I got sunburned for Obama. I sweat for Obama. So if he doesn't win, I'll be pissed. Going door-to-door in a condo complex outside of Fairfax, I met some very nice people, a lot of whom are undecided. I have no idea how anyone can be undecided between two complete opposites. It's like saying "I can't decide who I like better: Donovan McNabb (good) or T.O. (evil)" (I'm currently watching the Eagles/Cowboys game. Multi-tasking!). Or it's like not being able to decide between a delicious slice of carrot cake and a plate of shit. How can anyone be stuck weighing the pros and cons of the two? They're opposites. I heard today that people who say they're undecided now will most likely vote for McCain, but are afraid to admit it for fear of coming across as a racist. Not that they actually are racists, but they're afraid they may be pegged as such. If that's the case, it's extremely disheartening, since I encountered so many undecideds in the swing state of Virginia. Hopefully my appearance at their doors made a bit of a difference in swaying them toward the carrot cake. Or the even more obvious choice of Donovan McNabb... Now back to my Eagles.

Seven Years Ago Today

As I have every year on September 11 since 2001, I woke up this morning thinking about the day, remembering the sound of the first crash from my Brooklyn apartment, and bracing myself before I turn on the TV to watch the memorial. This morning I turned on the Today Show to find no mention of 9/11 in the five minutes I had it on. Instead, Dr. Nancy Snyderman, the Today Show medical chief was being interviewed about vaccines, about how there's a measles outbreak due in large part to parents opting out of vaccinating their children. She even mentioned "the herd"-- a percent of the population that needs to be vaccinated in order to protect the rest-- a concept I learned about in epidemiology class just last week. What was going on? How did the decision come about among the NBC execs not to mention 9/11? I turned the TV off and then back on again a few minutes later to see if there was any coverage of the memorial. Nope. Just an interview with DeNiro (even he didn't mention of 9/11) and Pacino about some new movie they're in. But what did it mean for me that instead of 9/11, there was a public health segment on? Maybe it didn't mean anything, but it made me think about my own life and how far I've come since 9/11/01.

Seven years ago when I heard the first plane hit one of the towers, I was in the middle of writing an email to an agent I had met the week before at the MTV movie award after-party. This agent was helping and encouraging me to submit to SNL. I was 23 and gung-ho that I was going to be Tina Fey, even before Tina Fey was Tina Fey. I never finished writing that email. Instead I went outside to see what was going on. I heard sirens and smelled an odd, burning scent, but different than anything I had ever smelled before and have ever smelled since those first few weeks after the towers fell. It was the smell of burning flesh and a burning city. I saw smoke above and figured there was a fire somewhere, but it was oddly quiet on the streets of Brooklyn. It was a Tuesday and my roommates had already left for work while I was home doing my first of many freelance writing gigs. I turned on the TV and watched the news. I called my aunt to see if she was okay, since her apartment was across the street from WTC. She wasn't able to get in touch with my uncle, for what turned out to be the rest of the day. As I was on the phone, I heard from the news that a plane had hit the Pentagon. I told my aunt who reacted, "We're really under attack." It was a scary realization. And probably the closest I've come to feeling helpless and unsafe in this country. My roommates eventually came home after being stuck on trains unable to get past downtown and for the next 3 days, we sat and watched the news. It was unbelievable. The trains weren't running and so we stayed in Brooklyn, watching on the news what was happening across the river. Eventually, we walked down to the Brooklyn Promenade, which has a perfect view of downtown Manhattan. A memorial had formed, people milled around carrying candles, but mostly people sat and stared at the new skyline and the smoke and soot that still was wafting eastward into Brooklyn.

Back at my apartment, after a few days of watching the news, seeing the same family-members over and over on the screen asking the public if they had seen their loved-ones, we decided we couldn't take anymore. So, we watched Sex and the City. Episode after episode. It was the perfect escape to be watching happy New Yorkers in a happy New York. It was candy and it was exactly what I needed. And it made me realize the power of entertainment and escapism. Critics of television claim that it desensitizes audiences from their real lives. What's wrong with that? Real life isn't always so fun.

As far as where I am and where I've come since 9/11/01, I'm here, in Baltimore, after living in both New York and LA twice in the last seven years. And I've come from being a naive 23 year old just starting out in the entertainment industry, thinking I could land a writing job at SNL without any comedy experience, to a slightly less naive 30 year old with actual experience but the desire for something bigger. Escapist entertainment with a message? Maybe. Stay tuned.

It's Okay to Laugh. Really.

I thought handing in my first biostat problem set today would be a relief (and another reminder that I really need to start AND finish them earlier in the future). But oh no, it is just the beginning. Today's class was nearly incomprehensible. Alas, reading about biostats is probably almost as boring as writing about it, so on to another topic...

I dropped my Entertainment Education class after I was once again shot down by professor. As I mentioned, the final project is to write 13 episodes of a TV or radio drama. (Each episode is supposed to be 15 minutes. What one does with a 15 minute TV episode, I have no idea). Anyway, I said that I wanted to write about health insurance, the uninsured and underinsured and make it a comedy. My professor told me that I had better be Shakespeare if I wanted to write a comedy about a serious issue. Shocked, I tried to explain that I wanted to attempt to make the complicated health insurance problem in this country more accessible through a comedy. "No. People don't take comedies seriously [duh] and therefore, comedies are not to be written about serious issues." ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Grrr... Um, I recall a movie that won the freaking Academy Award that was a comedy about the Holocaust and I don't remember Shakespeare writing the screenplay. I can go on and on with more examples of comedies about serious issues, but that would be preaching to the choir. The choir being everyone in the world EXCEPT for that professor. Also, after telling me and the class last week that we could not use cartoons or puppets, she read one of Aesop's Fables as a great example of a story with a message. Adios to that class. Done and done. It's a shame, because ideally it could have been a great class. I also feel justified since I am one of many who dropped the class. Not to mention, she taught the same lesson two classes in a row. I felt like I was at the Learning Annex, not Johns Hopkins.

I was mildly worried about losing those credits, but fortunately I'm picking up a few doing work/research for my advisor on what seems to be a very cool project. So, it all works out. I think... except that I told my advisor I knew Excel. I mean, I know of it. Like it exists. I've even used it once or twice to make databases, but I don't really know it know it. Guess I'll be figuring it out soon enough.

While I'm on the topic of figuring things out, I figured out that maybe it's not okay to blatantly point out obvious sexual connotations of a health brochure in a lecture class (although my classmates didn't seem to mind). My theory professor (ahh, theory... it reminds me of Wesleyan) put up this slide to show how changing the color and image of a brochure was more culturally appropriate for the audience the brochure was trying to reach-- Latina women. The message-- get breast exams:


Well, while everyone was talking about how cooking together is how Latina women commonly interact, spend time together, talk about important issues, blah blah, I was focussed on the obvious fact that these women are inspecting fruit. Fruit with nipples. I raised my hand and asked if I was the only one who noticed that there's a bowl full of breasts in the picture... that they were giving the fruit Los Mamogramas. My professor said something like, "Well... it it fruit." Um, sure, professor... "But it's also clearly breasts. With nipples." Anyway, people laughed, the professor said we were all getting punchy, the lecture ended and a friend told me I had a dirty mind.

Am I alone here? Have I been corrupted by working in television for too long? (And when did I get the balls to raise my hand in a lecture class and bring up the topic of breasts and nipples?) Does public health need to be so serious? I spent an hour in stats lab today (sorry, can't help it) doing a problem that had to do with the probability of Nepalese girls dying in various situations. Morbid, but also really funny! One of Colin Quinn's few aphorisms, which I always keep in mind was "nothing is sacred." With that in mind, I look at what's absurd, even within a serious topic. Is there something wrong with that? I didn't think so, but I'm learning in public health school, there may be. Time for change. Me and Obama. Here we come.