October

I usually kind of think of October as a “filler month”, during which not much really happens. Something to stretch out the transition from summer to Christmas long enough for the weather to change.
Yet this one has challened that perception in unprecedented ways.

My new clinical rotation and the conditions around it set the novel tone from the beginning, allowing me the added free time from getting off work at 5pm every day. I've worked out almost daily, and I have had more time to draw, read, and talk to my friends. It's amazing what one extra hour a day can do.
But Interventional Radiology has also granted me the privilege of meeting Hati. Spending my days with her has been not only fun but inspiring in many ways. She's funny, kind, smart and wise. Supporting one another during our first PICC-line mornings, grabbing our daily Thon Silserli (me) and at least 6 cups of coffee (her), investigating our cases, philosophizing about Medicine, family, cultural differences, travels. Snort-laughing during our lunch breaks. Plotting evening plans. Spending so much time together this past month has allowed for a friendship to grow, and I am glad about it. I am going to miss her when she leaves. And even though we haven’t been able to find Shakira tickets just yet, I am hopeful we will in the future.

Early in the month, our department's yearly resident outing took place in Europapark. I was not excited, but I try not to engage in avoidant behavior as a coping mechanism. So I went.
We picked the first rainy weekend of the season, the place was packed regardless, and I was separated from the group within 10 minutes. Wandering around aimlessly on my own in the Halloween decorated theme park while completely drenched evoked memories of my last visit several years ago, which I had been dreading, and with them came a lump in my throat. For the most part I felt like a spaced-out zombie, blending perfectly with all the spooky decorations around me. I randomly stumbled across a face paint booth and decided to offer mine as a canvas, perhaps metaphorically in hopes of painting over with new memories of the place. It wasn't until I reunited with Lorraine, Jonas and the rest of my favorite colleagues for lunch that I had some honest fun, while telling silly stories and singing the Salmonella song. I still felt compelled to leave as early as remotely acceptable, though. Overall, it was an ambivalent, challenging day.
But at least I enjoyed some tasty churros and popcorn.

The theme park was not the only place I visited this month. I also got to experience the Tinguely Museum from the inside for the first time. Albeit not for long, as I found it spookier than spooky Europapark. I can appreciate the originality in the artist's approach from a pragmatic perspective, but I am not and will never be a big fan of modern art. Some of the child themed sights disturbed us away from staying for the sound bar, so Hati and I decided to attend the open evening lecture at Ubas' Biozentrum instead, held by Cambridge Faraday Institute for Science and Religion's executive director, Graham Budd. That turned out to be a much better way to spend our evening. Witnessing eloquent knowledgeable speakers delivering interesting ideas in an articulate way is one of my absolute biggest pleasures and so I enjoyed this man's talk the way I would an XXL jar of Ben and Jerry's cookie-dough ice cream. It was gratifying to be part of an audience that presumably shared some of my concerns on the (moral and spiritual) future of our kind regarding the upcoming A.I. era, and to have my question selected and answered at the end of the talk: “In a world of dying religious faith, does A.I. have the potential to substitute God?” (Provocative, right?) The event concluded with a delicious apéro —a very welcomed free dinner.
There were many interesting ideas discussed that would require a whole bog entry of their own to fully cover… Staring at the city lights beautifully reflected on the Rhine River waters with the cool evening breeze brushing against my face crossing the bridge home that night, I remember being in that state of intense brain stimulation where one can almost feel it inside the skull.

I finally went out in Basel "for real", too, after almost two years. I have never been a nightlife person and getting ready after 9pm takes me some serious willpower. But I always stare at the Rhystärn near Dreiländereck during my afterwork summer runs, and now I finally set foot on it. I did so during the Boatlife Festival at a 90's party, cruising up and downstream on the basler Rhine River for hours. What a strange and almost ostentatious, yet original concept of turning a boat into a floating club! Sharing the night with an outgoing group of girlfriends felt liberating. It reminded me of how much I love to dance. The inhibition, the expression, the fun. And so, I got home almost 4 hours past the curfew I had set for myself (my first Uber ride in Switzerland as well!).

Just a couple of days after this I received an email from the Spital's marketing department offering me the doctor role at a photo-shooting for a patient education handout. It took me 0,0001 seconds to reply with a big fat yes. I met the most creative people at the Unispital that day, as well as very nice lady from the Neurosurgery department who acted as my fake patient. The awkwardness of talking to her about the weather and other irrelevant matters while holding up a laptop with an unrelated screen and pretending to engage in transcendental conversation to the non-stop bombarding sound of camara clicks, is what actors must feel during filming. It was weird. And I loved it. But I only completely lost it to the thank you gift: one free lunch, one free warm drink, two pairs of USB socks and a Müslibecher. I am going to wear my new garments until I got all of my toes poking out of freaking holes.

This month I’ve also attended a couple of social events at unexplored venues, where I’ve met some people. I think about how every time I talk to a new person, there is adventure in discovering the complex intricacies of someone else’s mind, just like landing on a new planet. Planets can be dry and inhospitable, too hot, too cold, vibrant and fertile… Candid interactions sometimes mirror one’s own planet back to oneself as well, and through a series of recent experiences where I’ve felt myself more open, I can increasingly see myself as warm, funny, quick-witted, engaging, curious and inviting, which in turn contributes to a sense of inner comfort and peace. I don’t think there is enough available land for an astronaut to safely land on my surface yet, but for what it’s worth, some things lately have helped illuminate the way back to myself from icy Outer Space. 

When I thought it couldn’t get less October-like, this year’s Science Slam came along. Lorraine and I had the best time. I had no idea what to expect, but finding myself laughing hysterically was not it. At times, I was fascinated, too. The idea of nuclear fusion to generate unlimited energy and all the potential ways in which that would (will!) change the course of Humanity forever kept my mind busy for a while. But what really made me almost jump out of my seat and scream “HECK YEAH” to the top of my lungs was Dr. Jasmin Barman´s presentation Die gesundheitsökonomische Kenngrösse „QALY“: Vom Recht der Untoten auf Verbesserung ihrer Lebensqualität. It touched upon a really relevant topic that I have seen in some ways indirectly reflected time and time again at work. The QALY-concept and its implementation, as well as other established methods for cost-efficiency optimization in healthcare, were taught to us in "Health Economics" in a very matter of fact way back in uni, with no real room for questioning or discussion, and it's only due to my actual work and my own experience that I am now able to look at such matters much more critically. Her delivery was brilliant, eye-opening, and very funny and even though she didn’t win, I thought hers was the best presentation. I appreciated her work and mission and I am happy and thankful to have been exposed to her ideas. I hope people like her continue to inspire and challenge the status quo with courage and wit in the benefit of patients and doctors against health economists.

 

Last but not least, on a muuuuuch lighter note, I finally found the perfect night gown for the upcoming Polyball. My experience with evening dresses is limited to weddings and New Year’s Eve. Those are generally cocktail length, just below the knee. But getting to wear an actual full length gown red-carpet-style is new to me and I. Can’t. Wait. It was almost a child-like excitement that I felt this weekend at Breuninger, sniffing around dresses of all cuts, colors and fabrics, trying them on and feeling like a princess in front of the mirror, as cheesy or childish as it might sound. I just couldn’t contain my smile with every new piece I tried on. It was love at first sight with the black sparkly one, though, very much in accordance with the ball’s official theme this year: Paillettes Illuminées (according to Google Translate “bright sequins”). I am excited about all that live music, 15 stages and 25 bands and DJs in less than a month!! I also cannot wait for the added bonus of Kay´s visit, spending the long weekend with her and treating ourselves to a one-night stay in Zürich…

Interventional Radiology — The Coolest Subspecialty

Fall is here.

Through the windows of the angiography office my peripheral vision catches glimpses of falling leaves just behind my computer screen. It's a nice subtle distraction and such a refreshing change of setting from the otherwise rather dull underground windowless facilities of the Radiology department.

What I'm focusing on my screen is new to me. I am writing very short reports now —this time not on chronic suspicious findings, emergency imaging or oncology follow-ups, but on procedures I've actually undertaken myself. Like a true (very amateur) surgeon.
And with less than two weeks of experience, I've concluded the most surgical branch of my field is the coolest.

This is interventional radiology.

And yesterday was probably the best day I’ve had ever since I started working at this Unispital.

I successfully placed my first PICC-Line on a female patient. In such a way that even she was surprised at the speed of the procedure. “Oh, is it over already? I didn’t feel a thing”. That felt so good.
I’ve always found it strange to pose in front of people as a poised, experienced doctor from day one. And the experience repeats itself with every new rotation. But the fact that it helps so much for both parties to ease into the situation with confidence and trust makes it ok to state things such as “of course, we do this every day” or “it’ll be over very quickly”. Even when I forget to occlude the punctured vein after removing a dilator and there’s a puddle of blood forming on the blue sterile field.

When I know I can finally be successful without any help, it’s really fun to work in sterile conditions, to wear silicone gloves and a surgical gown and to actually talk to the patient in front of me, which is something you barely get to do as a radiologist. I am able to use the ultrasound and fluoroscopy experience gained in the past year at this very same Spital to locate an accessible vein, inject local anesthesia and access the deep vessel with the needle with enough precision not to injure an artery or a nerve. I am able to use a modified Seldinger technique to guide a wire up to the superior vena cava, and to place a catheter all the way up to the heart.

The day continued in this uplifting, reassuring way at the neurology ward, where I helped translate for a Spanish patient, mixing English, German and Spanish over the course of 20 minutes around my fellow international neurointerventional colleagues and the sweet Spanish lady. Delivering good news. The gratitude in her eyes, the kinship, sense of familiarity in her accent and her demeanors, left me fulfilled and happy. Even if I was not the one to coil her aneurysms. Yet.

And then, after work, a more or less unexpected social evening with my newfound favorite medical student, and her friends. We cooked and laughed and talked, and then enjoyed our home-cooked ceviche on a balcony looking out to the rooftops of south Grossbasel to a beautiful sunset, a bit too warm for October.

Finally, while taking a shower last night, I had an epiphany. One of the reasons I wanted to study medicine was to be medically helpful to my family, just like my dad had been to us growing up. Just recently I got to read my own mom’s CT-study, and cousin’s x-rays. It hit me. I already am someone my loved ones can rely on regarding medical issues. And it’s a nice feeling to realize I can already fulfill one of the reasons why I embarked in the journey over a decade ago. Such small things give me the motivation and energy to keep pushing, despite any setbacks, even when times are harder.

I know it’s going to be a lonely winter. It will not be the first, and I'm used to those. But overall, it’s such a good feeling just to have this amount of responsibility and fun at work. To connect with my colleagues. To walk around the hospital and talk to patients. To have many relaxed moments in between tasks to just look through the window and watch the autumn leaves falling, maybe daydreaming a little bit.

A Triathlon for my 31st Birthday

Looking at the 50m Olympic pool from our hotel room balcony brought back many memories. The bright blue water shining underneath the clear, sunny lanzarotenian (is that even a word?) sky looked incredibly inviting from the moment we got there.

Just the morning before the competition, my last morning as a 30-year-old, I dove in and swam 1100m in half an hour, realizing what 10+ years of dry land with the exception of showers can do to one’s aquatic endurance. Back then I used to feel like I could swim from Tenerife to Gran Canaria if I wanted to. To make matters worse, I was freshly coming out of a 7-night shift combo, severely sleep deprived and with a week worth of ZERO exercise on my back (which I definitely felt as well based on the full-body muscle soreness the Monday morning BodyPump session instantly gave me).
Hence, with stiff limbs full of microscopic fiber trauma, on the morning of my birthday, I showed up at the pool with a “let’s give this a try and participate for the sake of it with no expectations” kind of mindset. Then again, I am more of a competitive personality than I like to admit, so all that laid-backness disappeared and soon as I was standing on the verge of lane 5, swimming cap and goggles in place, heart racing, with fellow competitors on both sides.

Jumping in and starting the race definitely increased the flashback intensity of those weekend mornings back in high school what feels like two million years ago. I felt the same excitement, the same adrenaline rush and also sense of dread and stress as I did back then, while focusing all of my energy on propelling myself in the water while keeping an eye on the swimmers around me, as much as the quick neck movements, the fogged-up goggles and the blur or water and bubbles can allow. I caught glimpses of my family from our balcony, screaming and signaling with cheerful and silly gestures that made me smile wide enough for them to notice.
Once again, though, I felt my body give in what I interpreted as prematurely, compared to what my performance used to be almost two decades ago. And so, I was very surprised when I turned out first female to get out of the water, and second swimmer overall. Same happened with the biking segment, at which I felt significantly more comfortable, since I live with my Canyon attached to my butt during the summer.
It was the running that almost killed me (I suspect potentially in a more literal way than I actually jokingly mean, as I’d never experienced that near throw-up exhaustion from physical exercise before, with a pulse of probably up to 200 bpm at one point). Leaving the bike saddle and the easy resistance of a quick pedaling pace to push my legs against hard concrete for several kilometers on end under the scorching sun was a demanding and kind of discouraging contrast to face. But having Guillermo hovering around as much as he could with his phone in hand while cheering for me was annoyingly helpful, until I was finally taken over by the first female. However, I managed to maintain my position and I still finished second, with a pretty good mark for someone with full-body muscle soreness and severe sleep deprivation.
I felt the endorphins all day, with a deep sense of accomplishment and ease, and I slept like a baby in a coma that night. Probably one of my best birthday experiences.

A part of me (the competitive one) wonders how much faster I would have been, hadn’t I had a week-long break from working out just before the competition, if I wasn’t sore, and if I, say, ran a bit more than I do. Biking and running in a wet swimsuit, doing so on the Canary Islands, with my family cheering for me all the way through, setting foot on a podium after so many years, a shiny new prize, a free t-shirt and silicone cap… All of that was great. But I am also excited about this renewed love for swimming as a sport and the possibility of going for another triathlon event under better conditions sometime in the future.
After finally trying out CrossFit, I realize it’s probably not for me. As cool and challenging as it is, there is undeniable beauty and benefits in cardiovascular and muscular endurance, in something as esthetically pleasing, healthy and safe (for the joints) as swimming. And so, I’ve resolved to turn that into my main winter activity in Basel.