Bad news at the Arts Club

Alex lives (lived) in Notting Hill, right across the street from a place called the Notting Hill Arts Club. It sounds like a community center, but it's an uber-hip, alternative nightclub where they play emergent hip-hop artists. Alex says there's always a line in front of it and we've talked about going there someday. But she's in Africa now, and Alicia wanted to go, so I jumped at the opportunity. It was a really cool place and I'd like to go back. The performers were talented and I was really enjoying myself, until one group, in the middle of their set, announced that Michael Jackson had just died. They were visibly shaken, as they clearly saw him as an influence, so they had the dj play some MJ songs. It was so bizarre, no one could believe it and we all got on our cell phones or Blackberries to verify the news. But the weird thing was that people were dancing. I mean, it's hard to deny the urge to dance to a Michael Jackson song, but it didn't feel right. I've never been a big fan of the man, but I couldn't get jiggy to his music immediately after hearing of his death. It didn't seem reverent. I genuinely hope he finds peace in death. It certainly seemed out of his reach during life.

More Amazing Adventures in London

GRRR! People in administrative positions who process many applications should learn how to read them properly! I turned in a form to get travel insurance from the school and received a confirmation for travel cover for Kenya...even though I'm going to Uganda. And I received an email about my ethics form (which they are taking their SWEET TIME processing!) asking me if I have local ethical approval for my project and could I please submit the info sheet and consent form I'll be using to interview people...even though I stated very clearly on my form that I do have local approval (and I listed the multiple institutions which granted it) and that I will not be interviewing anyone, so I don't need friggin' consent forms. READ, people!

Grr. Mustn't get cranky now. I've had a good (if tense) week.

Exams are over. I feel that I did not fail either of them, which makes me happy. With this school/course, the point isn't really to pass with a good grade; the point is just to pass, which is nice. After the second exam, on Wednesday, we all headed to a nice pub where I proceeded to get tipsy (and then announce to everyone repeatedly that I was drunk). Then a few of us went for karaoke, which was super fun, then I met Carina and Alex at a nightclub. It was absolutely packed (with people under 21 years old) and we were all dripping with sweat. At one point, some dude with his back to mine was trying to edge me out of my dance space, so I kind of gently pushed him backwards to give myself more space. He then leaned against me really hard to push me into Alex, so I elbowed him...several times in a row. He didn't like this, so he shoved me hard into Alex, spilling both our drinks on us and Carina so we were all dripping. I turned around in full fight mode, and Carina and Alex were pissed off as well. We all started yelling at him and I looked at him and realized he was a full head taller than me. I came up to his shoulder. This of course made me feel feistier, because I knew that a guy that big wouldn't dare fight a girl my size. There was a tense moment until he realized he had shoved a 5'3" girl, and then I think he might have realized that wasn't cool. Meanwhile, his girlfriend was also in fight mode and started wiping the two drops of spilled drink off of his arm as if we were bitches for having spilled our drinks on him. This made Carina angry, seeing as how we were all dripping from our own drinks, so she wiped the drink (which was mostly sweat, really) off of her face and wiped it on the girl's face. Is that not the most amazing thing you've ever heard? Carina's insane. Of course, the girl didn't take too kindly to that and she looked ready for a fight, but for some reason, thought better of it and the whole situation diffused. Weird, huh? I *almost* got in my first bar fight!

Later on in the evening, some guy was dancing behind me (I hate when they do that; it really makes you feel like an object) and he kept sliding his hands up to my boobs, and I kept redirecting them back down to my hips. I turned to look at him, and he could not have been older than 18. I got felt-up by a kid. Ew.

Last night was our school's end-of-classes-and-exams party. It was super fun, although Alex had to leave early in order to get ready for her 3:30 am taxi to Heathrow. Poor thing. I'm going to miss her massively. Back at school, my crush randomly walked up to me and showed me his underwear. Yep, his underwear, which had his name on them. Classy. I sure know how to pick 'em. At the end of the night, he told me I should "email and stuff" so naturally I started imagining our wedding (JUST KIDDING!) Holly and Kate both danced with the Silver Fox, a teacher at our school who they're both gaga over, and Holly has decided to never wash again in order to keep his DNA on her as long as possible.

Now my friends will start disappearing one by one. Well, not really. Many of them are doing summer projects in London, but we are all dispersing and I need to deal with the fact that my super amazing year in London is over. I'll stay here until December at least, and probably still have an amazing time, but it won't be the same without everyone, without school. My closest friends will still be here, but everyone else will be gone. Time to let go and move on.

But if you'll excuse, I need to go shopping for a Tinkerbell costume for a Disney-themed birthday party tomorrow. Guess it's not time to move on just yet.

PS I miss you all!

Stress starts with S, just like Schistosomiasis!

Another day of studying and I'm back in stress zone. This time, no wine was involved. Coincidence? I think not.

I hate stress. It feels awful. It makes me feel like I want to die (without actually wanting to die, of course). I can't wait for this to be over, even though I know I'll just replace this stress with other stress. But at least it'll be stress minus the hours and hours and days and days of cramming facts into my brain, facts which I will, without doubt, forget as soon as exams are over.

Hugs, please?

And yay for Jody for graduating (and Amy back in May)! As I'm sure everyone in the family has said (and if they haven't, they're missing prime teasing fodder), It's about time! j/k

I'm gonna go put my poor, beleaguered brain to bed, as it has obviously already turned to mush.

I am studying REALLY hard

It's 2am on a Friday night (make that Saturday morning) and I just got home. Out partying all night? Dancing the night away in a club? No, way better than that. There ain't nothing like hanging out at school with friends until the wee hours, drinking stolen, quality red wine, listening to country music (which I still hate) and studying communicable diseases. Ah, this is the life.

I have more or less been studying for 5 weeks now. Two weeks of working on assignments for my last term of classes, and three weeks studying for the big final exams. I have two 3-hour exams, one each on Monday and Wednesday. I have spent the past few weeks fluctuating between a quiet acceptance that I will do poorly on the exams and full-on panic that I will know nothing I'll be tested on. It wasn't until around midnight tonight that I started to feel like I might finally be absorbing some of the facts I've been staring at for two weeks. I'm sure the wine helped. I totally feel like I could respond to an outbreak if I needed to! You just have to assemble a team, confirm that there is actually an outbreak, come up with a case definition, and...oh, some other stuff. Hypotheses and shit like that. I still only know four of the five criteria for figuring out whether a diarrheal disease is water-borne or water-washed, but that's better than knowing none!

I'm feeling prit-tee good. And now it's time to put myself to bed.

A rather odd day

In preparation for my impending trip to Uganda, I visited the travel clinic on Monday to discuss vaccines and malaria tablets. The school gives each of us 200 pounds to spend at the travel clinic, and if we go over that, we have to pay out of pocket. The nurse and I discussed vaccines, and it was recommended that I get the yellow fever vaccine, Hepatitis A vaccine, and a polio booster. I decided to wait on all and see if my GP would give them to me for free. Turns out, they charge more for yellow fever, but they'll give me Hep A and polio vaccines for free (thanks, NHS!) So then we discussed malaria prophylaxis. For those who don't know, malaria prophylaxis, which helps protect you from getting malaria, is notorious for side effects. They are very unpleasant drugs to be on, but the idea is that malaria sucks a lot worse than the side effects of the drugs. The nurse recommended against the cheapest ones, Mefloquine, because of my history of depression and anxiety. (Also, my friends were telling me that this one can cause delusions.) She recommended against the second cheapest one, Doxycycline, because of my ongoing stomach problems. So I got sent home with the most expensive malaria pills on the market, Malarone. Nine weeks' worth of Malarone costs roughly 200 pounds, which ate up my entire budget for travel meds. I'll have to pay for the yellow fever vaccine out of pocket. On the plus side, Malarone has the fewest side effects, so maybe my body won't hate me too much for taking it.

So, here's where the fun begins. Yesterday, I went back to the travel clinic to get the yellow fever vaccine. People had said the needle was really big and the vaccine can make you sick, but I was determined not to get freaked out. I stayed calm through the whole process, even as the nurse set the needle down directly in front of me. I thought, "I'll just look over at these insect repellants sitting here on the desk," but she the needle was in my arm and out again before I had the chance to. And it wasn't big. It was totally alright! I felt fine. The nurse sat back down and started to write, and I just sat and waited.

Hm, my arm feels a tiny bit funny. I'll just flex it so it doesn't get sore.

Okay, now it feels really funny. Just keep flexing.

Within seconds, a wave of nauseau flooded over me. "I don't feel so good," I said.

"Do you want to lie down?" the nurse asked.

I remember answering "yes," but after that there's a blank spot in my memory. When I came to, the nurse was struggling to keep me in the chair with my head between my legs, telling me to take deep breaths and calling for backup. It occured to me that I had fainted, which I found fascinating. It also occured to me that my head hurt, and that I must have hit it on the table on the way down.


The aftermath was, in a word, ridiculous. They asked me if I was afraid of needles and if I had eaten breakfast. I answered "yes" to both, but they decided to check my blood sugar anyway. Right, prick the finger of the girl who just fainted because of a needle. So the nurse pricked my finger, but couldn't get the machine to read correctly, and wanted to do another finger prick. I decided to put my foot down, as I was in no state to be stabbed again. Luckily, another nurse came in and got the machine to work, so they were able to use my first prick. Once I stabilized and felt better, a doctor was called in to look at the cut on my head. She was slightly worried that I might have a concussion, and she asked if I lived with anyone who could watch me for the next several hours. I said I lived alone. The phrase "because you live alone" or "because she lives alone" was then repeated several times. They decided that, because I lived alone and they didn't have the capacity to keep an eye on me, they should send me to the emergency room. The hospital with the emergency room is located about 500 yards from the travel clinic, and though I could walk just fine, they decided to call an ambulance to drive me over. I sat in the waiting room for 20 minutes waiting for the ambulance, enough time for me to have walked to the ER and back 10 or 15 times.

As no wheelchairs were available, I walked with the ambulance drivers down to the car. It was really less of an ambulance and more of a van with individual seats on either side. They drove me the two minutes to the hospital, then took me to A&E Minors (minor accidents and emergencies). The travel clinic said that Minors was expecting me, but they weren't. They had no idea what to do with me, so they stuck me in a bed and told me to undress and put on a gown. A nurse took my vitals (including another finger prick for blood sugar). Everything was normal. After a while, two doctors stopped and looked at me. The first explained what had happened, and the second asked how I was feeling. I said I felt alright, so she said, "She doesn't need to be here either," then they both walked off. A nurse came a couple minutes later, so I asked her what that meant, and she said it was just a manner of speaking and that I should lie back and relax. I did this for a few more minutes, then decided to do a urine sample. When I came out of the bathroom, the second doctor was standing in front of the door holding my clothes and my purse. "We needed that bed for someone else. You can get dressed. You don't need a bed." She practically threw my stuff on the floor of the bathroom and walked off.

When I came out of the bathroom, the doctor called to me from 10 feet away to go wait in the waiting room. I wasn't sure what waiting room she meant, but she was far too busy to answer stupid questions like that, so she waved for me to follow her as she took off down the hall.

"Go through those doors and wait to be called," she barked. I walked up to the doors and pulled the handle. Nothing happened. As she walked away from me down the hall, she called, "Push the green button" as if I was an idiot.

Feeling completely confused, disoriented, and abused, I sat down in the waiting room to wait for I knew not what. I waited for this Great Unknown for about 20 minutes, when Alex texted me to say she had finished her exam. I asked her to come pick me up, then I went to find the doctor to tell her I was leaving. I tried going back through the same doors I had come in through, but of course, those are locked to keep people like me from harassing the busy doctors. So I went to the receptionist and explained that I didn't know why I was there, and could I leave? She said I hadn't been discharged, that a doctor was supposed to talk to me at some point, but that I could leave if I wanted. So I did. I figured I probably didn't have a concussion, but even if I did, I had planned to spend the whole day with friends, anyway.

So Alex came to pick me up and we went to Oxford Street to buy make-up. I mean, that's what everyone does after fainting and spending the entire morning in the ER, right? After that, we went to T-Mobile, where I switched from pay-as-you-go to a cheaper, non-contracted plan wherein I get unlimited text messages. Why did I wait until now to do this???

Towards dinner time, I went to Carina's to study (which I didn't do, but it's okay, because I've been working really hard lately and could afford to take a night off). Last week, Carina decided she wanted a massage, and found a guy advertising free massages on gumtree (the equivalent of Craigslist). He claimed he was trying to build up a client base. Everyone thought Carina was insane for emailing him. He was obviously: a) a prostitute, b) a rapist, or c) an axe-murderer. But Carina is smart, and she arranged to have a friend get a free massage with her (that friend was not me, by the way). I showed up at her house unaware that the free massage was taking place that very evening. And Carina was right to trust him. He really was just offering free massages. Or maybe he was an axe-murderer, but didn't want to take his chances with three girls in the house, one of whom was on her way to hockey and thus sporting a hockey stick. But he gave Carina and her friend massages while I watched Britain's Next Top Model over his shoulder.

All in all, a very surreal day. And now it is time to polish off my Tropical Environmental Health essay, which, if I manage to finish it today, will be done two days before it's due date. I rock this term (that's not to say I'll get a good grade, though).

Sleeeeeep

I just finished the third week of my final term of classes. I have two more weeks of classes, then three weeks to hard-core study for final exams, then I'm off to Uganda! (plane tickets not yet purchased, visa not yet acquired, project not yet figured out)

My classes this term are AIDS and Tropical Environmental Health. In other words, I spend the first half of the week talking about sex, and the second half of the week talking about poop. One of our professors in TEH is hoping to win the world record for saying "shit" more times than anyone else.

I have decided to take it easy this weekend. I've been sleep-deprived (and therefore, cranky and depressed) for the past two weeks, so I decided to give myself a rest. Having said that, though, Carina is headed tonight to a club I've been wanting to go to, and I seriously considered going back on my promise to myself to chill out. But then I took a quick nap, and once I tasted the sweet, sweet rapture of sleep, the thought of getting gussied up, going to Camden, dancing, and then having to find my way back home was just too much. So home and sleep it is. Tomorrow is a bridal shower in the park, so that shouldn't interfere with my plan.

Speaking of sleep, I FINALLY saw a doctor yesterday. Let's recap the timeline:
October: asked GP to refer me to sleep specialist
December: appointment with sleep specialist; referral for overnight sleep study
February: overnight sleep study cancelled due to record snowfall
March: microspirometry test replaces overnight sleep study (a tiny machine I take home and clip to my finger to measure oxygen levels in my blood)
April: receive letter saying microspirometry is negative for sleep apnea; appointment scheduled for June; I call to move appointment sooner, since June is more or less when I leave the UK indefinitely

So yesterday, six months after starting the process, I saw a doctor about test results. I had to wait an hour in the waiting room (lucky I didn't have class). He started by saying that I didn't have sleep apnea, my oxygen levels were a flat line. He looked at my file, which says that nothing I've ever tried has worked, then he said that they can't do anything more for me except repeat the same tests I've already done multiple times. He said he could refer me to a neurologist to confirm a diagnosis of narcolepsy, but as it could take a couple months to get an appointment, I told him not to bother. I'm leaving for Africa at the end of June, then may or may not come back to the UK in September (and may or may not have health insurance, depending on whether I get a job). So we decided together not to pursue this anymore for now. He did put a referral letter on my file, so that if I do come back to the UK, I can go see a neurologist immediately.

So that was a bit disappointing, until I remembered what my original objective was back in October: I really just wanted to know if I should be using my CPAP machine (I haven't used it in almost a year). According to the microspirometry test (which I'm not sure I trust, but whatevs), I don't need to use the CPAP. Yay!!! Now I can continue to not use it, but guilt-free!

Conversations

I should probably just give up the ghost and shut this blog down. I never even think about blogging anymore. It's pathetic.

Why I love my friends (and professors):

Tanya: "I thought that was a pancake and I got excited, but it's just a crab."

Holly: (in reference to partying at the Leicester Square Wetherspoon's) "I'd rather have bowel surgery in a wood with a small branch."

Professor Sandy Cairncross (Guru of sanitation): "A virus is like a P.S. at the end of a letter. 'P.S. Double-helix, when copying yourself, could you make five copies of me?'" Personally, I think this needs a "kthxbye!" at the end.

I skied!

Back when I was in France, I made a life decision. I decided that skiing was not for me and I was never going to do it again. I believed I had the right to make this decision because I had given skiing a fair shot: I had been four times, and three of them were terrifying and miserable. The one time I enjoyed it, I was 12 years old, so it didn't count.

But Carina's Leysin friends were all going skiing, and Carina said she doesn't really like skiing either, and that we could just go on the easy slopes. So I went skiing yesterday, in the Alps. The Alps! And we stayed on the easy slopes and it was actually fun! Not so fun that I'm rushing back to Seattle to buy my own skis and a season's pass, but fun. Not to mention beautiful. We had lunch in a shack on the edge of a cliff with a view of a gorgeous valley down below. It was stunning. Considering the fact that I've only skied a few times, I certainly have skied in the right places. The Pyrenees, the Alps. Okay, less so Steven's Pass, but I've hit the major mountain ranges. Now I just need someone to invite me to their home in Aspen and somehow convince me to ski the Rockies.

The weather has been really gorgeous since I got here, but today, clouds rolled in, and now it's snowing (though not sticking). It's funny because the slopes here are supposed to close on Sunday, and they're supposed to get a bunch of snow on Sunday night. Too bad!

This afternoon, I head to Lyon, France, which isn't far from Geneva. I get to hang out with Izzi for the next couple days! And speak French! I'm so excited!

Leysin

Carina's directions to her home in Leysin, Switzerland:

"The trian goes from geneva to aigle, then you change a aigle onto a smaller brown train that goes to leysin, and you want to get off at the first stop - leysin village. so the train, is towards brig, it will go through lausanne, vevey, montreux and then aigle is the next stp but it is never writen on the board. ever. it can be stressful. but dont panic."

A smaller brown train?? I have to say, I was a bit nervous about how I would manage to find this place. I took the train from Hamburg to Geneva, and from Geneva to Carina's. I was on various trains for a grand total of 12 hours. Blech. But the scenery in Switzerland was gorgeous. Geneva seemed very dirty from the train, but Carina says it's actually really nice and clean. We'll explore on Thursday. From Geneva, I traveled to Aigle, a tiny town at the foot of the mountains. The smaller brown train turned out to be an ancient little mountain-climbing tram with just two small cars. It's probably been in operation since 1920. It rolled through the streets of Aigle, then straight up the mountain until we reached 1200 meters and the ski town of Leysin. I was a bit nervous that the train wouldn't actually make it up the mountainside. A few times, we stopped on the incline to let another train pass, and I had serious doubts about whether we would be able to start up again or just have to roll slowly back down to Aigle.

To say Carina's chalet is nice would be a bit of an understatement. To say Leysin is beautiful is a huge understatement. Breath-taking, awe-inspiring, magnificent and spectacular come closer to describing it. I woke up this morning to dazzling sunlight illuminating a vast, snow-capped mountain range. It was really warm, so I opened all the windows and puttered around listening to the sound of the bells on the necks of the lambs and donkeys next door. It's a bit of a weird place, because many townspeople are American or English expats, but most are Swiss and say "bonjour" when you pass them on the street. There are a lot of skiers and snowboarders about as well, which means there are a ton of young people in town.

So yeah, I'm enjoying it mucho. It feels really good to be back with Carina. Alex was supposed to come too, but she got stuck in Santorini, Greece. Rough, huh? And on Thursday, I'll head to Lyon to see Izzi. I can't wait to see her! And soon she'll be back in London and we can hang out ALL THE TIME! Yay!

Blogging from Germany! Oh yeah!

Hamburg is a really, really nice city. It was the first European city I ever visited, and I think at the time (back in 2001), I didn't realize how nice it was because I had nothing to compare it to. Since then, every other European city I've visited has been ugly or run-down. Now I think maybe I was comparing them to Hamburg (and possibly Berlin) without knowing it. I had to come full circle and return to Hamburg to realize that I was spoiled with my first visit to Europe. Paris is alright, it has its nice spots. Amsterdam has a certain wealthy, Dutch charm. But Hamburg is absolutely beautiful. Almost every building is topped with copper. I asked Ingo why, and he said it was traditional to put copper on churches. "No," I said, "I mean, why is it on every building? Other cities don't have that." He couldn't answer. I remember thinking UW looked like Europe, because it was all red brick and (green) copper tops, but now I realize it just looks like Hamburg. If someone told me I had to live in Hamburg, I'd be okay with that.

For some reason, it drives me nuts that I don't speak German. I have this weird feeling that I should speak it. I think it's ugly and I can't get my mouth to produce the sounds necessary to form German words, yet I want to know it. I don't want to go through the process of learning it, I just want it to be downloaded directly into my brain. But as that isn't an option (yet), I think I will try to learn it. I don't feel that way about any other language. When I hear people speaking Russian or Arabic around me, I don't feel the same urge to be able to communicate with them. I guess I just like Germans. I certainly like Germany a lot. I've always said, I wish I could live in Germany with Germans, but speak French. And I wish there were only two seasons, spring and summer. But life is what it is.