I think yesterday was "FACE YOUR DENTAL FEARS DAY!" and also Men's Ministry day on the side.

SIGH.

It probably started the night before when my brother facebook posted this youtube video of "goats yelling like humans, complete mashup". I commented, "sounds like my patients"... even though I've had maybe 10 patients who have made such noises in the last 3 years of practice.

Well, today, everyone who is at all hysterical (hysterical like hysteria, not like hilarity) at the idea of 'DENTAL NEEDLES' came in. We often have to cradle young children who are afraid during injections, cajoling them, and trying to soothe them.
We had to do this with grown adults today, patient after patient after patient. They were all making goat human whines and whimpers. Earlier on in my career, this would have significantly raised my stress level.

Either I have grown numb to such stress, and my baseline stress is always on high. Or, hopefully, I have grown numb to the stressors, so these screams and yells don't bother me quite as much. Please let it be the latter! -_- For the sake of my future heart health. ^_^

One patient came in August and was told she needed a few teeth out. She no-showed three times since then. Suddenly she returned and wanted all her work done in two weeks because she is traveling to Puerto Rico. Also, her granddaughter head-butted her in the face (well-intentioned baby who was just running around, not a psychotic violent grown granddaughter - must qualify here), which resulted in her grossly decayed front teeth fracturing. She cannot afford the generous medicaid fee of 120$ for a root canal because she is poor. I would like to give her the benefit of the doubt that she does not have enough money for a plane ticket to PR either, and that someone in her family purchased the ticket for her. To prevent me from getting jaded and bitter about the medicaid/welfare/US economic situation/fallen fallen world. I have to constantly remind myself that not everyone has the same financial values as myself. Sometimes I don't have consistent financial values at any given moment. God is in control. There are worse things that happen in the world compared to people using welfare money for travel. There are worse things that happen in the world compared to people prioritizing travel over health. Daaahhh.

Next was a woman, who was soooo afraid that she was sick to her stomach. She kept gagging, and then thrusting her body as if to vomit. The only thing that would come out was saliva. I worriedly asked her if she had anything for breakfast, in case she would really vomit. She starts enumerating, "eggs, scrapple, sausage..."
Me: "Excuse me, did you just stay scrapple?"
Pt: "Yes. I really like scrapple."
In my head: "OMG I really hope she doesn't barf out scrapple."
She didn't.
Something that has recently made my life easier is that we found out for patients living at a federal poverty income level or less ($10,800 per year for 1 individual), we just charge them $45 per visit, no matter how much work I do. Sometimes people get a crapload of work for $45. I might as well work for free. I love working for free. That is material for another post. So, for patients who are scared, sometimes it encourages them to suck it up, and get their work done, for the sake of not having to pay another $45. This woman, let me take her two teeth - 100% bone loss. The kind where if you sneeze, the teeth would fall out.

Side men's ministry- J has been trying to get his life back on track. He got in a lot of trouble in his youth. After he did his jail time, he battled cancer. Following that bout he decided he wanted to mentor youth, to help keep them out of illegal things. Today he shows up with a black eye.
Me: I'm so sorry. What happened?
J: Guy hit me with his gun. He wanted to shoot me but his gun jammed.
Me: Wow, God saved your life. Do you believe that?
J: Yeah.
Me: Where did this happen?!!!
J: Two blocks from my house. My neighbour helped me get back to my house. He took my phone and wallet.
Me: When?!!!
J: Saturday night.
Me: WHAT TIME?!
J: 3 a.m.
Me: Yeah?
J: Oh yeah. I was coming back from the club.
Me: Ok...
J: Yeah, and there was this girl who kept trying to get me to leave with her. But I said I have a girl at home, and I'm not that kind of guy. So I had to sneak out to get away from her.
Me: Ok. I guess you did the right thing.
J: Shoot, that's why God protected me. But, if I had to choose, I woulda preferred waking up next to her over getting jumped.
Me: Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
J: Oh. I was just kidding.
Me: So we know to stay away from trouble now?
J: For sure.
Me: Like, don't even go near it. Avoiding trouble means to stay far, far away. FAR, FAR AWAY!!!!
J: Uhh.
Me: FAR, FAR AWAY!!!!

We ploughed through. And the day ends. I'm grateful for a job that I cannot take home with me.  Thank you, Lord, for sustaining me each day. By grace alone. For reals.
And thank you, Lord, for the gift of writing, to let me spew all this out into cyberspace. Pretty cathartic to get this all out of my system. Bleehh aaarrghhh. 

future empty lot

across the street there is an externally beautiful stone church.
photos to come...
unfortunately it is severely internally damaged. it would cost milllllionnnns to repair.

rumour has it that it will be demolished sometime in the future.

i'm a little afraid of the dust and allergies to ensue.

gotta start praying about something new and good to take its place....

-a soccer field?
-a basketball court?
-a vegetable garden?
-picnic grounds?
-a community pool?

vignettes before i forget

-9 yr old boy, loves spiderman:
me: "did you get anything cool for christmas?"
pt: "a scooter."
me: "that's cool. so you ride around your neighbourhood?"
pt: "no, just inside the house."
me: "oh, you must have a big house!"
pt: "yes, it's like a mansion."
me: "you live in a mansion?"
pt: "NO, it's LIKE a mansion."

OF COURSE. A SIMILE. DUH!
[later on...]

me: "do you brush your teeth every day?"
pt: "yes"
me: "that is a good answer. do you eat a lot of sugar?"
pt: [closes eyes. pretends to sleep.]
me: "hey! are you pretending to sleep because i'm about to tell you not to eat candy?!"
pt: [fake snores]
FUTURE OF AMERICA, ESCAPING TO THE LAND OF DREAMS WHEN BEING INSTRUCTED TO DO SOMETHING HEALTHY BUT UNPLEASANT. SIGH.
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-29 yr old, right before turning 30, gross decay, we had taken out 7 teeth a few months prior; she didn't have insurance, so i "accidentally" took out 7 for the price of 1. "what was i thinking?! silly me!..." today we were going to take the remaining teeth/decayed stubs out. most i've taken out in one appointment was 22 with my classmate during d3 year. had 3 hours to do that, and i didn't really do it, just assisted. since we had some extra time, we decided to do all 15 today. i KNOW this happens a lot. and have seen 20 yr olds need all their teeth out, and have read about 17 yr olds need all their teeth out. but, to actually remove 15 in a row, and interact with someone my age was a little traumatizing. J's story was that she was in nursing school, had a traffic accident, got hooked on narcotics, ended up switching to street drugs (apparently it's cheaper), and then downhill from there. recently, she has been waiting to get married, and wants her dentures first. NEVER PRESCRIBING NARCOTICS AGAIN! j/k. not never. but mostly never. anyway, J is really trying to get life together. she is pretty but is annoyed that her face appears so collapsed "i'm 30, but i look 40!" (AT LEAST 40!) poor girl. hope the dentures can be done sooooon.

-----
-mom has been bringing in two children at a time each day, has 7 children total. the third day, she brought the two oldest girls, ages 13 and 11. 11 yr old was taking care of everyone. mom seemed a little high. was about to light up a cigarette in the waiting room until 11yr old stopped her. tried to explain that 11 yr old needs a molar out and another molar root canal-ed, but she's not understanding very well. i asked her if she would like to speak to a social worker and explore various resources out there to help manage her stress. it is normal for her to be overwhelmed. (the day before on her way out, she exclaims to the whole waiting room, "man, i wish i had a plane to go home. I AM SOOO TIRED!!!!!") back to today... she starts crying in the hub area. social worker comes. mom is a little apprehensive. every mom is a little apprehensive with the thought of DHS possibly taking children away from parents. it isn't widely known that there aren't enough foster homes for everyone. and that no one wants to separate families. anyway, social worker asks me what is my primary concern... she's probably not sure if i referred her because she was high, or because of something else. my response, "she's just a little overwhelmed with life."
oh ok.
after their chat, i find out that mom isn't happy w/ her relationship w/ kids' dad. even though he is a good father - he is always there for the kids (as opposed to the gazillion absent fathers out there). BUT, it is stressful because he has TWENTY-ONE children total. sometimes the other kids are over. that stresses her out.
yeah. no kidding!
this vignette, the most recent in this series, has already yielded so much discussion.

------------
patient sees our framed mini paintings/greeting cards on the wall. one is of la puerta de san juan. the other is of a pirragua stand. he (65 yr old) sighs and reminisces, "i used to go to that gate, look at the ocean, and kiss my wife there every day." - married 35 years, wife has since passed away. deeeeetohhhhhhh. "my last job was selling pirraguas. you know, puerto rican snow cones..."
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

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ok. too much emotion in one post.

double blogging here. lame, i know.

moobie reflection - by wunbeanie

so i just watched ‘LINCOLN’ at the ritz in old city. and i was on the edge of my seat the entire time – partially ‘coz i was stuffing my face with popcorn, and didn’t want any of it to fall on my lap; partially because i am used to sitting on the edge of my seat (years of piano, orchestra, dentistry…); and partially because i was totally immersed in the movie.
i loved the acting and the dialogue. ahhhhhh. so good!
of course, the entire time, however, i couldn’t help but JUDGE. i judge my confederate brothers and sisters. like, “DUH, slavery is WRONG!… what KIND of bible are YOU reading?”
thank God, those days are over.
except they are not. human slavery is apparently at its all-time high, globally speaking.
and, of course, i always turn into what i judge. or i always notice that i am judging myself when i judge others.
i cringed when i was at my home church yesterday for the holidays – a taiwanese church, taiwanese people smugly knowing that chinese folks would not come to hear a sermon preached in the taiwanese language.
and i cringed when i imagined myself, decades later, thinking about my present day and asking/judging, “what kind of bible was i reading/living, after all?” … i’m trying to love God with all my heart, soul, mind, above all else. i’m trying to love my neighbour as myself. i’m trying to live among the broken, and identify as broken. i’m trying to serve the poor, the orphans, the widows. i’m trying to share my possessions. i’m sure the founding fathers were trying too.
Lord, help us!
merry Christmas!

five months in da hood

currently hibernating in michigan. have some time to sit down. think about some funny and/or life-changing stories, or terrible stories that i have to think about with humour in order to better cope with the brokenness of humanity.

ok.

verbal vomitage to come.

Writing for blogs owned by Daves

Recycling posts here...

I received invites from two bloggers named Dave (one in Delaware, one in California) to write about the location where I live. I’ve been meaning to sit and write, since it’s good therapy. Who here doesn’t need therapy? Therefore, I figured this would be an opportunity to kill multiple birds with one stone. This use of metaphor has nothing to do with my disdain of birds, or my love for Chik-fil-a’s spicy chicken deluxe sandwich.
Today, I voted for the first time in my neighbourhood. I walked 6 blocks, about half a mile, at dimly lamplit 6 p.m. to get to my polling place.
People tell me I shouldn’t walk by myself in the dark in the city, let alone, the inner city. People often express concern for my safety, and occasionally express anger about my move to North Philadelphia. One of my justification attempts is: “Well, it’s not like I’m walking around by myself at night.” Oops.
I walked towards the entrance and someone handed me a flyer: “HOW TO VOTE DEMOCRAT: PUSH #2 STRAIGHT TICKET”… something like that.
Flashback to 2008 – my family’s first time voting as U.S. citizens. I went to vote with my mom. She was peeved by my Obama t-shirt. At the front of the line, I gave her a hug and said, “Do the right thing, Mama!” She pushed me away and responded with a shameless, “Aiya! Stop campaining in my face! That’s illegal!”
Back to 2012, I looked at the flyer, then looked at the woman. SMH. She asks, “Do you know how to vote? I can tell you if you don’t.”
I’m not sure if she wants to tell me HOW to vote (Democrat), or how to use the electronic voting machines (read the instructions on the machine and follow them).
For a moment I forget why I am living in the community and almost say, “Why the hell would I choose to live here if I weren’t a Democrat?!?!” And even though Republicans get on my nerves sometimes, I am indignant at how one might feel alienated or judged if they were registered at this election site. Meanwhile, I’m also feeling defensive towards her hypothetically assuming I didn’t know how to use the machines because I’m Asian and maybe couldn’t speak/read English.
So, I didn’t end up voting straight ticket, partially out of spite at this flyer, partially because the electronic machine was so much easier than the bubble sheet I had to fill out 4 years ago in Michigan, while living the dental school life of constantly filling out bubble sheets to the point of tears.
A few hours later, as I write this, I am annoyed at myself – for being inconsistent between what I say and what I do, for not wanting to be labelled or typecast based on my life decisions or group identities, yet wanting to label myself, and for letting go of my primary identity and prioritizing an identity that I normally don’t prioritize. I think this is what makes it difficult to [live in and] write about my experience in ‘da hood. I want to discover and articulate generalities about cultural behaviour, because maybe understanding will make me feel more in control, but I can’t even predict my own thoughts and reactions half the time.
As mentioned above, therapy is needed. Hopefully, if I can keep this writing thing up, I will be more sane, while perhaps appearing more insane to you, poor reader.
And maybe I will also have better titles for future blog posts.

can't run can't hide

recently re-read through this blog.

i've been in kensington 3 months.

i laugh at my previous post of hoping to have a dramatic change in my social life by relocating to the hood. i had hope of becoming a morning person. i had hope of being more focused. of being less spread out. of being less social. of having deeper but fewer friends.

hm... change must start on the inside. change is only from God.

i tried to change myself by changing my circumstances. i was hoping that no one would call me to hang out since i was in the hood. i thought my life would be easier if no one would call me if they needed a place to stay since i lived in a 'dangerous' neighbourhood.

ha. ha. ha.

what's been happening is that it seems like more people are calling to hang out. or even just showing up at my door. more people are visiting whether to spend time, or out of worry, or to catch up. more people are asking for a place to stay, whether to need a place to stay, or because they don't like that i'm staying here by myself in a dangerous hood. it's even harder to say no to social things. i'm waking up way later because i can make it to work door-to-door in 6 minutes. i'm staying up late trying to plan to try to plan to try to plan how to get all the home renovations done.

okeee. so i can't change myself by running away. some things are perhaps just inherent w/ my personality and how i've been conditioned for ministry. i surrender. and i embrace it. this is how God made me. no need to be uptight about things.

so, this new attitude is helpful. i'm enjoying all the visitors more. i am learning to say no to more things and to set aside time to rest. i am trying to be more intentional with spending time w/ others. i'm okay with having a zillion people in my life. i can't control that. and the less i try to control that, the less stressful life becomes.

speaking of internal change... my prayer for kensington is not that the dilapidated homes will be made new, or that the abandoned lots will be all turned into parks, or that rich developers will come and nice-i-fy or gentrify the hood. that would be superficial change. my prayer is that the people of the community would see their worth as God's people, that they are not trash, that they are empowered by the Holy Spirit, and not disempowered by society, that they are called to work whether they have 'real jobs' or not, that they are called to take care of each other and love their neighbours, that they are to raise their children according to the ways of the lord, that they are to honour their parents.

once this identity change happens, then people will start picking up the trash, people will start going to school, people will start picking the lice outta their hair, people will eradicate their bed bugs, people will stop killing each other over drugs, people will stop abusing their family members, parents will quit letting their kids skip school, sugar will stop poisoning people's bodies, i won't have to do any more root canals, and we can be functional together.