Haste makes … it likely that you’ll send your PI a veeeeery rough draft (as in, a methods section without methods…) such that the bulk of his feedback was along the lines of “Um. Have you written a paper before?”
Ugh. Embarrassing. This is why you don’t try to write a paper on an iPad mini in the airport jetlagged on 3 hr sleep.
I just got back from two major conferences, the 2017 American Academy of Neurology meeting in Boston and the 2017 Movement Disorders Society congress in Vancouver. They weren’t back to back, but even just 6 weeks apart felt too close. All my post-AAN time was spent finalizing the poster for MDS (and stressing about whether my passport would arrive).
In terms of networking… I continue to be not great at this. AAN was a little better in that it was more interactive, and I felt more comfortable going up to speakers after their talk. AAN also has a very strong focus on mentorship and career development — this year, like last, I mostly went to career development and research methodology talks, rather than content-based talks on movement disorders, and made some good connections including some folks on committees.
MDS, on the other hand, was very lecture-driven, and very basic science heavy. Day 1 was 8 hours of lecture! It was like being back in school. My co-fellows and I peaced at 6pm (9pm Eastern time!) in favor of beers. Days 2-5 were similar; although there was plenty of clinical content (eg management of non motor symptoms in PD), the plenaries were heavy on immunofluoresence stains. I can’t pay attention with that stuff. And for some reason, slides and syllabi were not available, which meant that most of the plenaries were full of people taking pictures of slides on their phones, which is incredibly distracting in a dark theater!
The things I really liked about MDS were Grand Rounds (expert clinicians examining actual patients; a bit rushed and artificial but nice to see a few different exam techniques), Video Rounds (individuals submit cases for review, which are then discussed by a panel of experts and MC’ed by Tony Lang and Kapil Sethi who are hilarious), and the MDS Pavilion (small TED talk style presentations about topics like “How to write a winning journal article” and “How to get engaged with the Society.” There was also a Young Members Reception which was great, and a Young Members Lunch.
And then, you know, I got to look at this view every morning:
So all in all, not a bad time. Next year in Hong Kong!
Overheard in clinic:
MA: Do you have any pain?
Patient: Oh pain! Do I got pain? So much pain!
I just went to a talk titled this, given by a leading climate change scientist and activist. I was hoping for some practical advice from his 20+ years advocating for alternative energy sources and reducing dependence on fossil fuels (which is not only bad for the environment, but also bad for human health).
Unfortunately, what I got was a rambling lecture on how young people need to rise up and do something. Didn’t say what. Didn’t say how. But something. Then he showed more pics of himself age 4 on the family farm in Iowa.
I don’t know if I even count as a “young person” any more (it’s all relative, right? but seriously, when did they start admitting children into medical school?), but I can tell you that my generation, or at least my bubble of my generation, has the passion. We have the science. What we lack is the generational knowledge of the folks who pushed for the Clean Air Act of 1970 and the Clean Water Act of 1972. Unfortunately, it appears that generation is committed to blaming us for perceived apathy, while withholding the practical knowledge they acquired in pushing forward the most important pieces of environmental legislation since the creation of the National Park System.
So anyway, can scientists not be activists? I don’t know, because to me, being one is being both. See you all at the March for Science next week!
This week, the New England Journal published two articles on physician well-being, or the rather, the lack thereof. One, Kathryn, is the story of a fourth-year medical student who jumped out of her apartment window last August. The other, Breaking the Stigma, is about how the culture of medicine is one of ritual shaming, particularly when it comes to mental illness. [I think both are open access, but please let me know if they are paywalled.]
Tragic stories, both of them, and sadly common. There were no suicides in my medical school, but there was at least one almost. I’m glad that there is growing awareness — at least among medical educators, hopefully among the wider public too — of how severely we are failing each other. When one in ten medical students contemplate suicide, we are failing each other; we are failing our future.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
I hate when people say this. Because you know what’s coming — a socially inappropriate, irrelevant question about your age, your income, your marital status, your ethnicity, or your personal appearance — and the question-asker knows this, and is basically asking your permission to be let off the hook for their rudeness.
It’s also a question without a free choice, because either you say “yes” (and validate the inappropriate follow-up question) or you say “no” (and then YOU become the impolite one.)
So there’s a weird awkward pause while you try to figure out how to respond, and then you finally give up and say “…sure” because it seems easier, and then you have to deal with several layers of increasingly inappropriate follow-up questions.
Next time someone asks me “Can I ask you a personal question?” I’m just going to say, “Only if I can ask you one too.”