Monthly Archives: June 2008

Jun28

Eisenhower Park

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Eisenhower Park

I just came back from a 40th birthday party at Carltun on the Park in Eisenhower Park. I was sitting next to my friend Kris. I’ve known her for twenty seven years. Yes, twenty seven years. It was her sister’s birthday. I’ve known her family for years. As I was looking around the table, I realized how much history I’ve had in Eisenhower Park.

I had a birthday party in the fourth grade in the park. It didn’t quite turn out the way I wanted it to, but it was the first birthday party that I was allowed to have separate from my Indian friends. Honestly, I wanted to have a McDonalds birthday party, but at the time beggars couldn’t be choosers. I remember getting a piece of lingerie at that birthday party, which now makes me think that that was a very strange gift to get at that age!

My first memory at the park was actually traumatic. My mom had decided that she was going to put me in the soccer league. Even though the craze of soccer (or “football”) is now catching on in America, soccer was always pretty popular in Long Island. Anyway, she had decided to put me in soccer pretty late in the game, I had missed several practice sessions. Frankly, I knew NOTHING about soccer. I didn’t know the rules, I didn’t know the concept. I didn’t know anything about cleats or the fact that you weren’t allowed to touch the ball. The coach and my mom had this brilliant idea that my first experience with soccer would be an actual match in Eisenhower Park. So my mom put my little cleats on and the coach put me in offense. She told me that my job was to kick the ball into the goal…but she didn’t tell me which goal post. So…as you can probably guess, when I got the ball, I managed to kick the ball into my own goal post…scoring a goal for the other team. The kids on my team cursed at me, words a sheltered Indian kid had never heard. I think someone spit at me.

Twenty eight years later, driving through the park, I went past Safety Town. Ahhhh….Safety Town. I loved that place. I don’t know if it still exists, but in my time it was a mini-town, we would get into these tiny motorized cars and drive. It was the greatest! I remember feeling free and powerful.

My other senses remember the barbeques, grilled chicken, hot dogs, hamburgers. playing volleyball and biking. I remember speeding through the park as a teenager even though you’re only supposed to drive 35 MPH. I would do 80. It was the quickest way to get to Roosevelt Field mall without getting on the highway.

My high school is situated on the back of Eisenhower Park. I distinctly remember watching people playing golf while I was in biology class. I wondered whether they were doctors, and if one day I would play golf when I became a doctor. I don’t play golf…but I’m still making memories in my favorite park.

Jun26

Con tiempo

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Con tiempo

Twenty first the Metro
That’s where we first met one night
You were too quiet

We didn’t drink ale
You heard my banana rule
Raw tomatoes too

The waiter was nice
What’s the best dessert to eat?
Key lime pie he said

I didn’t think you’d call
I frankly didn’t care much
You were too quiet

With time I liked you
We watched old movies and kissed
I had found my peace

You are so gentle
Yet a troubled soul beneath
Wanting good to last

We had a magic
But the troubled soul beneath
Cannot see new hope

Central Park is hope
Coney Island is hope too
Hot dogs with relish

Do you have cookies?
Who said that you could eat mine?
I like your cooking

I can get hyper
When I drink Starbucks coffee
I speak fast to you

I know how to speak
I am aware of myself
My heart speaks volumes

Jun25

Let barking dogs lie

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Let barking dogs lie

The apartment next door to mine went for sale last year. It remained vacant for several months until September when I noticed that someone had moved in. I’ve been living in my condo for five years and never had a problem with any of my neighbors. The couple that had lived next door previously were very quiet and had a small baby. Very occasionally I could hear the baby crying, but it never bothered me very much. I’ve dealt with crying babies.

I had an extremely harsh schedule last year. I had started my business and was trying to balance my finances working another part-time position. This meant long hours at the office and overnight hours at the hospital. I had also suffered a broken arm earlier in the year and was coping with pain and contractures, juggling work with physical therapy. I was cranky.

My new neighbor has two small dogs. Day and night, night and day all I would hear was the barking, barking, barking. When I would go to throw out my trash or recycle my plastics, bark, bark, bark. When someone walked out into the hallway, bark, bark, bark. It wasn’t one of those low-pitched barks. It was more like a high-pitched yap.

Now I have to tell you my history with dogs. I grew up next door to a German Shepherd named Clipper. He would gnarl his teeth at me and my sister when we would play in our backyard. It felt very threatening. Clipper once got loose and bit another neighborhood dog, Pebbles. Pebbles was sweet and rarely ever barked. Shortly after, she died. This made me even more terrified of Clipper’s threatening presence and barking.

I’m not implying that my neighbor’s small dogs are anywhere near as intimidating. They’re not, but one particular day I had worked a gazillion hours at the hospital and finished a sleepless day at the office. When I came home, I just crashed. Or at least, I thought I would crash. The barking got in the way. So what does one do in 2008 to figure out what to do about incessant barking? One googles “What do I do about my neighbors dogs barking?” There were MANY answers. One site made it clear that I should not, under any circumstance, knock on my neighbor’s door. It suggested that my neighbor might be violent and might (gasp) sic the dogs on me. Another site suggested buying some sort of machine that would emit a high-frequency sound every time the dogs barked. Only dogs could hear it and this would stop the barking. Yet another site had a template of a letter that I could write. And being a writer, I copied and pasted the letter with a few of my own choice words.

Anyone who knows me well can tell you to stay away from me when I get angry. It’s not pretty. All this was expressed to my neighbor. I expressed what would happen if the barking didn’t stop. I made it clear that I would notify the condo association and then proceed to “higher authorities” if necessary. Yes, I used fighting words. I made a copy of the letter and sent one to the condo association. I took a piece of Scotch tape and taped the letter to his door.

The next day when I came home, my doorman Gary stopped me. He said, “Your neighbor Jerry told me about what happened. Man, he was pretty upset that you left him that note.” This made me even angrier. How dare he tell MY DOORMAN that I left a note on his door?! Gary continued, “You know, you’re both nice people, it’s too bad you can’t just come to some sort of agreement.” But my ears weren’t listening anymore because steam was coming out of them. I stormed upstairs to my apartment. When I came out of the elevator I noticed that there was a PAPER TAPED TO MY DOOR. What was this? I opened it slowly. It read, “Dear Apartment 1191, I wish you hadn’t written a letter to the condo association. You could have approached me and let me know about this problem. I’m only 10 feet away. I didn’t realize that the barking was driving you crazy. I bought a machine that will hopefully help with the barking. Please be patient because it will take a week for delivery. Thank you. Jerry.” I know that this letter sounds innocuous. And I agree in the present that it is. But at that time, Jerry might as well have written, “Stop complaining, it’s not such a big deal, Get over it!” Clearly, that’s not what he wrote. I was wearing a shade of fuming red glasses at that time and saw everything in a different color. Jerry and dogs in Apartment 1190 now became my mortal enemies. I was preparing for combat and my poor doorman could do nothing about it.

My crazy hours continued, the barking went on for another week. Then it suddenly stopped. The machine must have arrived. I was still angry because I had endured months of incessant barking already. How could he not have known that it was bothering me? Didn’t he think about other people’s privacy and feelings? Too late for resolutions and apologies. All this time, I had never even seen my neighbor. I didn’t know who he was or what he looked like. We had only communicated with taped messages on each others doors. Gary the Doorman was the intermediary.

After working too many crazy hours I finally realized that I needed to slow down. I gave up my job at the hospital and devoted my working hours to my business only. Life was good again. I was no longer cranky and irritable. I began seeing the world with a nice happy shade of pink and yellow. Then the inevitable happened. I finally ran into my neighbor in the hallway on my way to throw out the trash. These were the words that literally came into my head: “Oh no….” This man was definitely NOT a jerk. His energy exuded nothing but kindness. He gave me a small awkward smile but didn’t say anything. This made me feel worse. I was the jerk.

It was the first week of 2008 and my first resolution was to make peace with my neighbor Jerry and his dogs. I went to a dog store called Canis Minor and decided that I would buy Jerry’s dogs a New Year’s gift of peace. What does one buy a dog? A bone? A doggie blanket? I finally decided on some dog treats and some sort of chew toy. I knocked on my neighbor’s door and anxiously anticipated some sort of negative interaction between the two of us. Instead, he opened the door and gave me a big warm smile. “Hi!”, he said. I spoke nervously, “I just wanted to make peace between us. I realize that I might have come on strong but I apologize and I hope we can be friends.” Jerry graciously accepted my gift, thanked me and expressed that he was happy that we were okay.

Since then, my neighbor and I are doing well. Occasionally I hear the dogs yapping, but it’s alright. For the most part, they remain quiet. I’m satisfied that I was able to come to a good place and not continue an unnecessary war with my neighbor.

Lesson learned? I am careful to notice what shade of glasses I am wearing. If they happen to be fuming red I give myself a time out and try to come back to the situation. It’s too easy to make snap decisions when I’m wearing that particular shade of glasses. I’ve also learned that people are not mind readers. I assumed that Jerry should have known that I was bothered by his dogs. Unless I express myself clearly I can’t assume that everyone will automatically know what I’m feeling and thinking. Wouldn’t life be easier if everyone could do the same?

Jun23

Friendship

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Friendship

I am blessed. Most people are lucky if they leave this earth with a handful of friends who they can trust. I’ve been blessed with three best friends in my life thus far.

Sadly, I lost one of my best friends about ten years ago. I think about my friend everyday, the happy and sad memories will always remain with me. I think about the late night Mickey D runs, staying up until six in the morning waxing poetic, a huge argument in front of the Kavorkian Center at NYU, crying, laughing, gossiping, sharing daydreams, studying together and comforting each other.

My two best friends are my sister and my childhood friend Kris. Throughout my life both challenge me to be a better human being. It wasn’t always easy to hear their opinions or have to admit that I was wrong about the way I was handling myself. I like to think that I have done the similar thing for them as well. Our relationship has evolved through the years, there were times when I was not able to share my life with them, but they were always there. When I was ready, they were willing to listen and help in whatever way they can.

Recently I lost two friendships. These relationships were cut abruptly, leaving me feeling confused and sad. But I’ve learned in my life that when certain people exit, the universe has a way of filling that void with a new energy, a new person will come and teach you something different. It is a difficult process to go through (believe me, I’m not one who adjusts well to change). It reminds me that life and the space that I live in is always a delta, it is never constant, whether I like it or not.

As a doctor, I see the real vulnerability of human beings daily. The investment banker with the macho exterior becomes transformed into a child when he needs surgery. The beautiful model tells me how exhausting it is to have to binge and purge. The Upper East Side Stepford wife breaks down in my office. How does this translate into my personal life? I don’t like facades. I have to get to the real person in my profession on a daily basis, it’s exhausting to do 24/7.

My mom always taught me to try and take the good things from every human being. I have tried to follow her advice. This is something difficult to do when you have been hurt by someone. I am learning that not everyone knows themselves well. There are people in this world who live an unexamined life. They repeat unhealthy patterns everyday not realizing that they are hurting themselves and others around them. It is challenging for these people to see a colorful world when all they know is black and white. Even these people carry goodness and can teach you something.

I am, above anything else, a mere human being. I have layers: a doctor, a yuppie, a city slicker, a business owner. But I am a mere human being. I can only change myself and perhaps inspire others to improve themselves. This is what my best friends have done for me. They inspire me to look at myself and strip me to my core. They are able to provide comfort for me when I am feeling most vulnerable. They are remarkable because they are constant but also part of the delta.

Jun21

The hopeful future of medicine

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The hopeful future of medicine
Dr. Mandal

Dr. Mandal

I’ve been in Rochester, NY for a medical conference on IMPS. IMPS? Ideal MicroPractices. Honestly, I never thought I’d be visiting Rochester again since the last time I was here. That was about eleven years when I was looking for a medical residency spot. Rochester was too cold and reminded me too much of Long Island, so I definitely did not want to end up living here for three-four years. The past couple of days has given me a different perspective on Rochester.

I never grew up in a medical family. I was the only one in my small and immediate family to go into medicine. My father never handed me down his old stethescope before I started medical school. I never inherited the stories of what it was like to be in residency during the “good old days” . My grandfather was an engineer, my father is an engineer, I got stories about bridges, tunnels and highways growing up. Traveling through New York CIty was a trivial pursuit of the history of suspension bridges.

Interacting and working with physicians for the past fourteen years has been another trivial pursuit for me. I think it has been difficult for me to encounter like-minded physicians until I finally realized how I wanted to practice medicine. A friend introduced me to the IMP listserv. I have to admit, I was a little reluctant to belong to yet another group of doctors. But the IMP docs are different.

Getting back to not coming from a medical family. I didn’t come from one. But I sure had exposure to doctors as a kid. Severe eczema with an episode of bacterial sepsis (I scratched a little too much seeding bacteria into my blood), asthma, bad bad allergies was my history as a child. This meant weekly allergy shots at my pediatrician’s office. I know this sounds sick…I loved it. I loved the Sesame Street characters on the wall. I loved the coloring books and lollypops I got from the nurses. I loved the attention I got from the nurses, “Look, she doesn’t even cry when we give her an injection”. I looked forward to the weekly trips. I didn’t mind the soreness from the injections and blood draws. What I couldn’t understand was why there was so much crying going on from all the other kids when they would go see the same doctors. In my child’s mind I had figured out that something heinous was going on. One time, I happened to pass by and peeked into a patient’s room. The kid was about the same age as me and was hollering as his parents tried to console him. The doctor, MY DOCTOR, was giving him an injection. The kid’s mouth was opened so wide that I could see both tonsils and uvula. Except that I didn’t know it was called an uvula at that time. It was about this time I had figured out that I would be a physician. I was five years old.

But I digress. The reason why I mention this story is because knowing fellow physicians who wish to practice medicine in the best way possible is reassuring for me. It reminds me why I went into medicine in the first place. As with any profession and anything in life, there is good and bad in all. After residency I struggled to find a niche for myself. In the first two jobs as a physician, things would go well for six months, but slowly I would get that nagging feeling that this was not where I was supposed to be. Something else had my name written on it. I just hadn’t found it yet.

I had started my medical practice in Manhattan in the summer of 2006. They say if you can make it there you can make it anywhere…Oh boy is that true. I started my business before I even knew the existence of the IMP group. I didn’t realize that the same concepts and the similar reasons why I wanted to go into business for myself was why several other physicians all over the country did the same. Most of the topics at the conference are things that I have already been developing in my own business. The spirit of the people is what gives me inspiration to continue what I am doing. Some have been in business longer than I have, some work in areas that are considered to be dead-zones for effective health care. But they continue. They get over the hurdles, take every day one day at a time and remain true to their souls. The magic of this is this is something that you cannot learn in medical school. It already has to be there. And most of the people here have it.

I have to remember this spirit and the courage of others when I am bombarded with phone calls from patients or pharmacies. I have to remember it when the insurance company deems that my services are not reimbursable. I have to remember it when I am twiddling my thumbs and worrying about why I’m not busy. I have to remember it when I’m overbooked and haven’t even had a chance to eat. I really have to remember it at three in the morning when a patient calls to ask me  what cold medication he should take. What, it couldn’t have waited a few more hours dude?

The beautiful thing about the present is that it doesn’t take too much effort to connect with like-minded people. The internet can connect you to people all over the world. Admittedly, I haven’t followed extensively the healthcare plans of McCain and Obama, but the IMP group could potentially be a gold mine for them. Listen to us. We are physicians who care about taking the best care of our patients. We have great ideas that could be implemented at a national level. We are growing and inspiring others to take charge of their careers.  Patients receive better healthcare because of what we are doing. We are the hopeful future of medicine.

Jun19

Getting back to writing

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Getting back to writing

I started writing a fictional book in 2003 based on autobiographical and biographical events. I wrote about six chapters and then put it away. I went back to it several months later and didn’t like what I wrote. I didn’t know which way I wanted the book to go, but I knew that it wasn’t going in the right direction at that time. Just recently, I was inspired to start writing it again. All the original characters in my book were scrapped. I am starting from the very beginning.

I have always known that I will someday be a published author. Actually, I am already a published medical author. But long before I ever entered medical school, I had the energy of a writer in my soul. I wrote short stories when I was in grammar school, most of them were really sad. When I was in high school I wrote poems, continued writing short stories and also enjoyed writing pieces for the high school newspaper. Some of the themes I remember writing about for the paper were implementing a traffic light in front of the high school to avoid traffic accidents. I also wrote about implementing a prom king in addition to a prom queen so that the “traditional” high school prom event wasn’t so sexist. It was implemented!

I know the title of the book that I am writing. I even know what the cover will look like. Those are the two staples right now. My head is so full of ideas and notions and different concepts that I only write when I am feeling that creative energy. Recently, due to personal events, that creative energy has been depleted, but I am confident that I will regain it.

If someone were to ask me why I am writing this book, I would say, ‘It is in me. I am part of this universe. Therefore I want to write it and give it back to the universe.” I am not writing it for fame or money. My decision to go into medicine was very similar. I didn’t do it for money, I felt I had something in me that I had to give back to the universe.

Med school zapped me of much of my creative force. The whole process of medical school and residency was methodical, hierarchical and very much an apprenticeship. I completed that apprenticeship and now I am able to practice my trade skillfully, but there was a heavy price to pay. That price was giving up reading books for pleasure, sketching, giving up my skills as a trained classical pianist. When I was finished with my training, it took another five years to get through the emotional turmoil and find my creative soul again. It had never left, it was buried deep within. I found it again when I started my own practice and had to create my own website. As a solo-solo-practitioner, I didn’t have the funds to shell out how ever many hundreds of dollars to have someone else create my website. It took about a month to get my website to be exactly what I wanted, but when it was done I felt that feeling that I used to feel when I was younger. It was the same feeling when I had finished writing a poem or perfecting a piece for the chamber orchestra. I WAS BACK!

 I think when I had first started writing the book in 2003, I was still in midst of that emotional turmoil. I was too depleted, that’s why I had to let it go. Now I know that it is within me, the energy necessary to channel it through the universe has been revitalized. It will get done.