I suppose I should have reported the following right after it happened, but six days later I had to take the MCAT, so I was obviously somewhat preoccupied at the time.  And since then I've just been...waiting for my MCAT scores?  Anyway, I finally got them tonight (yes, I'm pleased); thus, maybe it's time to finally write this entry and therefore be able to throw away my post-MCAT to-do list, on which the only un-crossed-off item is...writing this entry!

On Sunday, April 16, my parents and I went out to dinner at the Park West Diner.  It was during Passover, so all we could really eat was salads.  It was still light out as we drove home.  As we passed the Dunkin' Donuts that sits on Lila and Arnold's stomping grounds, I of course kept my eyes at attention to spot these famous ducks I'd never actually seen before.  And wouldn't you know, on that night there they were.  I was so excited that my mother told my father to make a u-turn and go back.  When we pulled into the parking lot, I sheepishly peeped that I'd like to actually be able to feed these wonder ducks.  I didn't have my pocketbook with me, so one of my parents gave me some money to go inside and buy munchkins for Lila and Arnold.  I asked for a dollar's worth of glazed cake munchkins, which should be six or seven.  Instead, the girl gave me at least 15 or 20.  They sometimes do that at Dunkin' when it's getting late and the baked goods either have to be unloaded on customers or buried in the trash can.

Back outside, my father and then my mother joined me for the feeding.  It felt sort of wrong to be giving Lila and Arnold Sonnenschein (I picked the last name sometime in the past few months) chometz, since they are Jewish ducks, but they didn't seem to mind this breach of Passover.  Nor did their friends.  For at least ten minutes, while the munchkins lasted, we were beneficent rulers of the Dunkin' Donuts duck domain.  They climbed the stream bank to reach the parking lot.  Beckoned by the happy quacking of their acquaintances, they flew across the water for a bite or two of glazed cake.  I loved it.  I darted around the back of the blacktop and the grassy area above the brook, trying to distribute the meal to as many ducks as possible.  If they were satisfied, I was satisfied.  My dad and I even got a few of them to catch the munchkin morsels on the fly.  My mom had been right all along, that these really were the fattest, glossiest ducks anywhere.  Given their diet, they might also have the hardest arteries of any ducks, too.  But life as a duck is dangerous enough; what difference are a few thousand milligrams of triglycerides a day going to make?

After this encounter with the Dunkin' Ducks, I do have to admit that the construction of one female and one male as "Lila and Arnold" is probably simplistic.  These ducks are mallards, so the males and females don't look alike, but within each sex, every duck is damn near identical, as far as I can tell.  So perhaps it is more accurate to refer to "LilaS and ArnoldS."  No matter.  Unfortunately, the Lilas and Arnolds haven't been spotted, not by me or my parents, since that Sunday evening over two months ago.  We have no clue what's become of them.  I suppose that our local Dunkin' Donuts could just be a migratory stop-over point on the ducks' route to summer holiday in Dunkin' Country, i.e., New England.  Lila, and Arnold, and duplicates, wherever you are, know this: I hope you're well-fed in your new home.  And we here in Wayne will always welcome you back for another buffet.

(Help me please, did I really just spend a half hour writing an entry about ducks I named and then paid to feed?)

(Oh, by the way, my weblog turned four a month ago today, on May 20.  Happy belated birthday, kiddo!  You don't get much action these days, but I like you even as a rarely-updated relic of a distant place and time.)

2005, the Year in Review: A Patient's Tally

Doctors dealt with (not including radiologists and pathologists I never actually spoke to): 21
          Gynecologists: 8
          Anesthesiologists: 4
          Dermatologists: 2
          Orthopedic surgeons: 2
          Internists: 1
          Other: 4

Medications taken (not including anesthetics and IV fluids I'm not aware of): 20
          Prescription: 14 (only 5 or 6 of which were controlled substances)
          Over-the-counter: 6

Pelvic or otherwise "internal" exams: 7
          Awake: 6
          Under anesthesia: 1

Soothing female voices that told me to just let my legs fall open and scoot my ass a *little* further down on the table: No idea, but it was very sweet of them.

Radiologic exams: 6
          MRIs: 3
                    With contrast: 2
                     Without contrast: 1
          X-rays: 2
          Ultrasounds: 1 (but done from both outside *and* inside...ooh)

Biopsies: 5
          Frozen sections: 1
          Regular: 2
          Pap smears: 2

Blood draws: 4

Doctor-ordered self-administered colon cleanings: 1

Surgeries: 1 (my first, and hopefully only, laparotomy)

Explorations of my abdominal cavity: 1

Six-inch scars acquired: 1

Cysts drained: 1

Hair-, tooth-, skin-, and fat-filled 14-cm dermoids removed: 1

Internal organs that came out with it: 2

Inpatient hospital stays: 1

Nights in the hospital: 2

Weeks during which I was unable to perform full physical activity: 12
          Pre-surgery: 6
          Post-surgery: 6

Dollars spent on medical care: This would be a good time for me to express my appreciation to Blue Cross Blue Shield of Massachusetts and Oxford Health Plans...

What else can I write.  It was far from my finest year.  Here's hoping for a healthier and happier 2006.

Nearly 13 hours ago, with the completion of my biology final exam, I officially fulfilled my basic science premed prereqs.  It took me two summers and two semesters.  Now I never have to take another test again if I don't want to (that is, if I choose not to go to medical school or any other type of grad school).  I suppose I should be proud of myself.  Sarah the premed?  Who would have predicted it.  But I did it.  My anthem for the year: Coldplay's "The Scientist."  "Nobody said it was easy / No one ever said it would be this hard..."  Hard academically, but far, far more difficult emotionally.

As I walked down Oxford Street to the Science Center this morning and then back up it little more than three hours later, I took in the houses and gardens and sidestreet signs as keenly as ever, wondering if these umpteenth trips would be my last trips.  Because on Sunday I am leaving Boston after six years, moving back home to New Jersey to do I don't know what.  And I don't know why.  I knew why when I made the decision, but the reasons have somewhat dissipated since then.  Yet still I'm doing it.  Yeah, so these days I'm drifting, like a piece of plankton.  How's that for biology.  (Actually, we didn't learn a damn thing about plankton in seven weeks of daily lectures.)