It's Always Sunny . . .

I always swore I wouldn't plan an outdoor wedding. I knew myself too well. I was well aware that, throughout the months of planning, my visions of sunlight sifting through my veil to sparkle on the surrounding greenery would be have to jockey for position with crazed checks of the weather forecast. I didn't want to build a fantasy only to have it crushed beneath the white plastic flaps of a hastily-erected tent.

And then somehow during my engagement to Tay, the worrywart melted away, leaving a zen bride-to-be I nearly didn't recognize. We planned a ceremony that required blue skies not only for the twenty or so minutes the nuptials would last, but for enough time to transport the entire wedding party and all the guests up and down the chairlift. In May we decided to bank on June 26 - of the following year - being sunny.

Why was I so comfortable with this scenario? Risk-averse, double-no-triple-check-everything me? At that point, my calm was due to the fact that we had a back-up plan that would also be beautiful. We decided that, if the weather were inclement, we would marry in front of the huge windows in the Gate House Lodge, where the reception was slated to be held anyway.

In the month leading up to the ceremony, I was guilty of frequenting weather.com every day or two. I watched the little illustrations in the forecast toggle between a little yellow sun and a gray cloud emitting miniscule raindrops, but my observations were colored more by interest than emotion. I was honestly just curious to see down which aisle my father would escort me.

By now, however, the reasons for my composure had shifted. Sunshine or thunder, mountaintop clearing or base lodge or even a private room somewhere with just a few witnesses, I was about to marry Tay. There are no words to express how happy I felt to join my life with his.

Wedding Weekend (yes, it's a proper noun in my mind) arrived with a flourish. I took the boards and Tay and I cleaned up the mess of books and study materials that had littered the condo for the previous three weeks just in time for my parents' arrival. The last-minute details that required only a few words to describe turned out to require more than a few hours to complete; we stuffed welcome bags, affixed tiny crystals color-coded according to entree selections to seating cards, tied bejeweled ribbons to paper lanterns, and met with the videographer and wedding planner. On Thursday a shipment of 300 pieces of baklava arrived from Turkey, compliments of Tay's father. In addition to blessing us with their presence at our wedding, my parents' close friends the Hacketts, who had traveled from Arizona, gamely rolled up their sleeves and helped us form an assembly line. We packaged the baklava into favor bags tied with silver and purple ribbon and affixed little cards highlighting the charities to which Tay and I had made donations in our guests' names. (They also gave me the huge gift of revealing that, in fact, my blog has a wider readership than just my parents and Tay. Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Hackett!)

The rehearsal the day before the wedding occurred up on the mountain in bright sunshine, which lasted throughout the welcome dinner. Descending the stone steps on the side of the lodge to be met with so many loved ones from so many different times and places in our lives was surreal, almost confusing. The party lasted until Castlerock Pub closed, then spilled over into Clay Brook hotel for a few more hours of revelry.

June 26, 2010, dawned with tentative sun and emphatic reassurances from all around that the weather would cooperate. A jog with some of my closest college friends, followed by hours of hair, makeup, and estrogen-fueled fun in "Salon 106" (as my hairdresser, Richie, dubbed my hotel room) helped me to remain calm. When raindrops began to spatter the pavement visible outside my window as I sat in a high chair having my makeup applied, my stomach relaxed a bit. At least now we had an answer.

In yet another uncharacteristically calm and spontaneous moment a few days prior, I had agreed to change our rain location to Timbers, a restaurant with breathtaking woodwork that we frequent whenever we are at Sugarbush. Conveniently attached to the Clay Brook hotel, it allowed the bridal party to simply walk through the halls of the hotel to reach the foot of the aisle. As we drew near the entrance to the restaurant, I glimpsed Tay before I even registered the music or the guests, and the tears lasted from approximately that moment through my first dances with Tay and with my dad at the reception.

Most of the rest of the experience was different than most people had predicted: Tay and I actually ate our dinners, we visited with every guest during at least once (but in most cases, several times) during the weekend's events, and the night didn't fly by. It was not a blur but a series of moments that were alternately breathtaking, exhilarating, and serene. And of course, no one other than our family and wedding planner could have predicted the fireworks at the end of the night. :)

My husband and I have now stolen away for a few honeymoon days. We are spending the long weekend at a bed & breakfast in Newport, Rhode Island. It includes gourmet breakfasts and daily wine & cheese as well as a resident bichon frise. With an uncharacteristic lack of interruptions and to-do lists, we are enjoying one other's undivided attention and the inviting conglomeration of shops, eateries, and architecture. We are married and we are happy. Oh, and the sun is shining.

Amazing News!!!!

OK, second year is over and I'm studying for the Boards and the wedding is in less than a month and we had a super-fantastic engagement photo shoot last night and I did my final dress fitting this afternoon and we're moving to an exciting new apartment in July, and I really will try to catch up on all of that, but another amazing thing just happened that I need to share right now: I got accepted to attend a 3-day conference offered by the American Medical Student Association in Washington, D.C., that is all about writing in medicine!

A physician who helps to facilitate the poetry group that I joined this year (and who is an amazing surgeon, poet, and person; an idol of mine, really) forwarded some information about the conference to students interested in the humanities. The application deadline was 4 days away, but when I visited the website, I began writing my essay immediately; I couldn't believe that a conference geared so perfectly toward my interests even existed. (Check out the website to see for yourself; it's got Becky written all over it: http://www.amsa.org/AMSA/Homepage/EducationCareerDevelopment/AMSAAcademy/WI.aspx)

I am one of 24 students accepted, and I will be participating in the prose track. (The other options were poetry and journalism.) There are workshops and seminars and small-group sessions with peer feedback and critique. The only catch is that I'd have to miss a day and a half of my internal medicine rotation. I emailed the dean about 5 seconds after getting the acceptance email (and calling Mom & Dad, obviously), so I'll be waiting anxiously to receive her response.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go burst with happiness.

Open Letter to the Doctor Who Did My Physical Exam at the Student Health Clinic This Morning

Dear Dr. S---,

You walked into the exam room without knocking. You didn't introduce yourself. By way of greeting, you demanded, "What do I have to sign?"

I know that just checking to make sure I'm healthy enough to enter my third year of medical school and start seeing patients is probably incredibly boring and annoying; I'm sure it's not what you aspired to do as you to studied medicine. I know you can probably guess that I am in good health just by looking at my vital signs and overall appearance. But couldn't you have listened to all four of my heart valves rather than just three? And couldn't you have listened to more than two of the five lobes of my lungs? Yes, I am healthy, but if I weren't, you could easily have missed something.

What about the rest of the exam? Did you decide it was safe to assume I have no swollen lymph nodes, no tenderness in my abdomen, no abnormal reflexes, no back problems? Or did you just not care enough to do these things or to even say "Goodbye" or "You're welcome" as you flew out the door?

Maybe you had just finished with a difficult patient or maybe you were having a bad day. Either way, I want to thank you for signing off on my health form. Thank you, also, for reminding me exactly what kind of doctor I don't want to become.

Becky

It just got real

You know how sometimes you look forward to (or dread) something for so long that it feels like it will always be looming somewhere out there in the future, will never be right at hand, never really occur? And then one day it sort of smacks you in the forehead and announces, "Hello, I'm here! I'm happening!"?

I'm taking Step 1 of the medical licensing boards on June 21. My last class of the pre-clinical years (the last class before my intense month of studying for the boards) starts on Monday.

Tay and I are getting married on June 26. Invitations go out tomorrow.

Oh yeah, things just got real.

If you're like me, you think you'll have everything all worked out by the time that the thing you're anticipating actually rolls around; you think you'll have completely reviewed and re-mastered all of microbiology and pharmacology as sort of a pre-study before the real boards-studying commences, and that you'll have your ceremony all written and your abs all flattened long before the Big Day. Except then you look up and realize that your second year of med school wraps up in less than a month and your wedding dress has arrived at the salon and is awaiting its first fitting. And suddenly, these two huge events are right here, right about to happen. And it's a crazy, overwhelming feeling.

Just to be clear, I am thrilled out of my mind to be marrying Tay in less than two months. It's just that there are still many details I hope to attend to, putting the finishing touches on our ceremony and celebration. I'm also thrilled out of my mind to be finishing this year of school and moving on to clinical rotations. But Step 1 of the boards is the most important test that I will ever take (Literally. This puppy tests the entire body of knowledge from the first two years of medical training, and my score will be the most important factor in determining the strength of my candidacy for residency.) and the time remaining just doesn't seem like a fraction of what I need to tackle the entire mountain range of material, of which it currently feels like I know nothing.

But here we are. Less than two months left. It's time to stop thinking (lamenting overambitious study schedules that were left in the dust months ago and worrying about, well, all of this) and start doing. Do what I can each day and then go to bed with a clear mind so I can be well-rested enough to do what I can the next. Because the boards and our wedding are here. They're real and they are happening.

And I will be ready.

Fit for a Princess

Sometimes I see something and I decide, I have to do that. Someday, be it soon or way in the future, I'm going to do that thing!

That's exactly what I thought last year when my friend Gina told me about a race she was running, a new half-marathon in Disney World. The theme was Disney Princesses. And I knew that, someday, I needed to run that race.

Luckily for me, it actually fit into my schedule this year. Last weekend I flew down to Orlando to visit Gina and to run what turned out to be a fantastic race. Seriously, it was made for me. Why? Because the finishers' medals look like crowns with rhinestones in them. Because people all around were running in tutus and tiaras. Because on my race bib was printed not only my number, but Princess Rebecca. Because we got to run through Epcot and the Magic Kingdom, including a path right through Cinderella's castle, with trumpeters up above heralding our arrival. Because, even after minimal training and getting up at 3:45am to wait in 40-degree weather in the dark for the race to start, it reminded me how much I love to run. Oh yes, and because, when it finally did start, it was with fireworks!

Like I said, it was fantastic. I am so glad I went. And so glad I carried a camera!

ZUMBA!

When I was a kid, I loved to dance. I took ballet first, but the teacher was mean and that dashed my hopes of becoming a professional ballerina. (Don't feel bad; I was five and mainly in it for the tutus anyway.) Then I discovered jazz. I danced my heart out for years. I took lessons with Donna, one of those hardcore jazz/aerobics people from the '80s who rocked the spandex shorts with a neon thong leotard over them. (That part creeped me out, but I figured it meant she was pretty legit.) I'll never forget the year that she placed me at the very front of the group's formation to lead during our end-of-the-year recital. We danced to the theme from Flashdance. It just doesn't get much cooler.

I don't remember why I stopped. It was probably due to other commitments like softball and violin. I always remember my dancing days fondly, though, and I miss having an outlet to let loose to the music like that in the company of others who love it, too. (And in a more organized way than, say, at a club or a wedding.) So when my favorite spinning instructor announced that she would be teaching a Zumba class on Monday nights, it was clear that destiny was calling my name.

Zumba (http://www.zumba.com/us/) is a new workout craze based around Latin dance. It features steps from salsa, merengue, and many other dances and uses really fun, fast-paced music. I tried it tonight and it was fantastic! It was fun because the steps changed with each song, so it was a mental workout too!

It's funny how I'm trying new things during medical school, a time that is notorious for its challenges and jam-packed schedule. I think what's happening, though, is that being frustrated by - and just plain unhappy with - school has made me really ask myself, What do you wish you could do? What makes you happy? in a way that doesn't always happen when I actually do have free time. It's like I'm forced to squeeze as much happiness as I can out of the tiny little moments of freedom that I seize. And I'm getting better and better at doing just that.

Update

The surgery went very smoothly! I can't type very well with just my left hand, so I will write more details later. I lounged around this morning (and got pancakes in bed!) and I'm about to get back to studying. No pain or discomfort, just the awkwardness of having my right arm in a sling. That's all for now!