Dan "the Man" White

In most interviews, you end up talking about yourself, but I prefer to talk about Dan White. It's name dropping, I know, and it's shameful. But I do it anyway. I was particularly shameless during my interviews at Asheville. A few interviewers remarked about how they would have a tough time this year picking a class because all the candidates were so stellar. This is where I quickly interjected, "Yes! Like my friend Dan White. Have you talked to him yet?? Dan White? Well, yes. Did you know he was a stone mason?!? Like, an actual stone mason, and he has the beard to prove it. Yes, he carved stones. Stones, I tell you! Just look at his man-hands." Followed by, "You should accept me into your program because I know Dan White." That's what I wanted to say, but I refrained, because I think my love for him was already rather conspicuous. Dan and I met during Medicine and Society our first year in med school, and it's been a long courtship every since...

You see, Daniel James (and his partner in crime, Julia Brant - blog post to come about her loveliness later) is one of those people who has done everything. Everything. No, really, I mean everything. I might say, "Hey, do y'all want to go to Olive Garden tonight?" And Dan says, "You know, I used to be a dishwasher at Olive Garden, and let me tell you about the time I walked out on them because..." Or, I might complain about how long it's taking the pizza delivery man to get here, and Dan pipes in, "You know, Robby, when I delivered pizza for Stefano's in Knoxville..." You name it, he's done it. Odd jobs include: sandwich maker, kitchen grunt, dishwasher, cashier at White's Grocery (no relation, but great fun), post-office sorter, barista, pizza delivery man, bartender, physics tutor, and, of course, stone mason. I learned about this last profession on the drive to our Asheville interviews, and that's why I couldn't let it go (but, by the way, it seemed to work - I clinged to Daniel throughout the interviews, and look where I am now... jackpot).

Dan's laundry list of professions doesn't just extend to the weird and interesting. I gravitated immediately to Dan because of his immense perspective. A true out-of-stater and Summa Cum Laude graduate of the University of Tennessee - Knoxville, Dan spent from 2005 to 2007 in Can Tho, Vietnam, teaching American Culture and Listening and Speaking English to English majors at Can Tho University as a teaching fellow. But he didn't just teach and travel. He started a non-profit organization called the "Can Tho Youth Empowerment Project" which developed an English and computer curriculum for a local orphanage. Then, he continued this work back in Charlottesville, Virginia (yes, he has been forgiven for living in Cavalier land), as integration coordinator for the International Rescue Committee for refugee assistance. He used his recently acquired language skills to help families new to the United States find employment, access affordable housing and higher education, and attain financial literacy. He continued his work in medical school, creating and developing a health outreach program for refugee families (aided by med students and MPHs), which developed into an Albert Schweitzer Fellowship here at UNC.

The list continues, but let it suffice to say that Dan's done everything. He's a Family Medicine Scholar, which is one of the many reasons he came out here to the Asheville program (hopefully by the end of this medical year, I'll have blogged about all 7 of the other peeps in our class). I was uber-excited when I found out that I would have the opportunity to come out here and badger Dan for at least one more year of medical school. This is because Dan is my ultimate person to bounce "life" ideas off of. Whenever I get cynical or get caught up in some political conundrum, Dan is the man I go to. He has the perspective and patience to deal with me. As someone who's lived in a lot of people's shoes, he can say, "Robby, you're being an idiot," but in a way that makes me feel all warm and tingly inside. He's the type of guy who makes one think about people and problems in a different way, giving the ole noggin' a kick start. He always finds the good in everyone and everything. For me, the best Dan-isms start with, "You know, kind of the way I like to think about this is..." and then I know that I'm about to hear something profound. His wisdom is only exceeded by his modesty. I'm sure I will get a call after he reads this blog saying I was over the top (which although I usually am, is not true today).

As our dinners in Chapel Hill with Dan, Jules, and the other So. Villers became few and far between during Boards study, I felt that my medical education was diminished. Fortunately, we can delve into my ethical quandaries for at least one more year (much to Julia's chagrin). And once we have fully picked apart every aspect of a very serious problem, Dan the man will pepper in a "that's what she said," and we're all back to real world.

Dan the man, aka "the compassionate stone mason," and friend who got me into the Asheville program through flagrant name-dropping.

Matteo Forrrguess

Most people think of their friends fondly. Friends are supposed to be the ones you have the "good times" with: the times you'll never remember with the people you'll never forget. Matt and I, on the other hand, consider ourselves friends during the least fun times ever, i.e., the first two years of medical school (well, it's not the worst, but it's not college). I thought about this for a while. What's the expression? Friends in the best of times, friends in the worst of times? Well, it's not that bad, but for a relationship where 90% of the time together is spent studying, I'd say it's not that "best of times" either. It's what you make of the 10% that matters though, and we've made the most of it. So with that, I begin Part VII in my multi-award winning series, “Wait, That Person Got into Medical School??”

Mathieu was born and raised in the French Canadian grasslands of Montreal. There he developed a healthy sense of nationalism (health care and hockey, eh!), yet ultimately realized that Canada is the schwag to America's northern lights (I kid, we love our Mathieu, despite looney Candianisms). So after his eighth birthday, his family left Montreal high and dry, heading to the most American place in the world: Texas! There, he spent about a decade in the blazing Southern sun, learning English and cattle-herding from scratch. On his first day of school in Amurrica, he didn't speak an ounce of Texan; by Christmas he was a budding cowboy and fully fluent. At sixteen, the Forgues Family said enough was enough with this "Everything's Bigger" bit, leaving the state for greener pastures. Matt finished out high school and pursued an undergraduate education at UNC-Chapel Hill. In college he quickly separated himself from the weeds by learning a new language (Spanish), becoming a chronic Dean List award winner, and ultimately being inducted into Phi Beta Kappa. After quick stints in Argentina, Chile, Uruguay, Colombia, Puerto Rico, Costa Rica, Panama, Nicaragua, Bosnia, Poland, Serbia, Montenegro, Croatia, Romania, Turkey, the Czech Republic, Ukraine, Hungary, Germany, Holland, and China (whew!), Matt returned to school as a first year medical student. Here he continues to smoke the competition. The rest is history.

Matt and I met after an unfortunate accident involving my car first year, but we became fast friends thereafter. Around the beginning of our second year, we realized that our study styles meshed. For the longest time I have been totally against group study. Usually that's my own fault - I tend to want to play and distract the group ("why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?"). My strategy has always been "skim over details and do the minimum amount of work." However, in medical school, that isn't always best form. Matt, on the other hand, has the opposite approach. His is meticulous about taking the time to learn details and understand concepts. He'll spend a great deal of time reading and re-reading a syllabus, and by the time he's done, its indelibly etched into his CNS. Ultimately, we agreed the neither is the best approach. I was spending too little time, Matt too much, on school. So we started studying together and boom, we were more efficient and our test scores went up considerably. A Boards partnership was born. Often I want to glaze over an important detail or two, and Matt ensures that we go back and learn it. Other times I put my foot down, deciding to totally ignore a concept that is better suited for the courtship of an MD in his or her fellowship.

Fastidious and detailed, Matt is also a stickler for pronunciation and correct grammar. It is in this respect that Kelly, Ronnie, and I enjoy acting as his folie a trois. We very much love to teach him English pneumonics and American pronunciations of commonly misused vocabulary (e.g. "debris" should be phonetically pronounced, "DAY-bris" with proper inclusion of the sssssss). Ultimately, we don't want him to look uber-European on rounds next year. God-forbid he encounters skin that appears "pew de o-range."

Kidding aside, for those of you who don't know Matt, I think some of his most impressive accomplishments in my mind surround his dedication to the community. Perhaps it is because of all the swimming I did in college, but I am always in awe of the service projects that many of my classmates have undertaken. Here is the short list of a few of Matt's highlights:

• English-Spanish translator at UNC-Hospitals in the emergency room, GI unit, and high-risk OB-GYN clinic.
• Habitat for Humanity.
• After-school tutor programs in math, Spanish, and English with the L.I.F.E program in Argentina, serving some of the poorest communities in Buenos Aires.
• Worked with the Newman Center on UNC's campus as a coordinator and volunteer to serve with the Boys and Girls Club, Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure, and served meals at the battered women's shelter and the homeless shelter in town.

Matt also worked for the Southwestern Company every summer during college. Here, he learned to run his own business, selling educational products door to door in Oklahoma City, Youngstown (OH), and Kansas City from dawn until dusk. His sales were in the 99th percentile, and this was where he developed his unwavering work ethic and mental toughness. One of the things I really appreciate about Matt is his work ethic. Knocking on doors from dawn to dusk every summer to pay for college is the epitome of this virtue.

No, Matt and I haven't had the opportunity to travel together during a semester abroad, nor celebrate an NCAA championship together despite both being in Chapel Hill for the last seven years, but we've made the most of the times we've had. I can honestly say that my past two years would've been duller, my grades lower, and my medical school experience lesser without Matt. So I am more than happy to accept that he is one of my closest friends in the worst of times.

And with that I say, au revoir!

(correctly pronounced "oww rev-ee-or")

D to the M to the O-T-T

Part VI in my med student illumination series features one of my favorite people in entire the world. D has been with me since the beginning. She has been an integral part of the Health Policy Interest Group leadership, we've co-oped numerous "On the Wards" patient visits during our Introduction to Clinical Medicine tenure, and now we spend a few hours every Monday and Thursday working together through Doctors In Training (aka DIT - I'll post on this when the lectures start in May, but it's an incredibly overpriced tutorial through Step 1 that steals money from poor medical students - that being said, we bought it anyway).  Anywho, D has suffered through a plethora of my patient interview follies, anti-Facebook rants (no, Mom, I did not defriend you; I deactivated the whole thing entirely!), and weekly Board review "pimp" sessions. But despite this, we work well together. Or at least that's my perception, and she continually brings out the best in me. The bottom line is, I can't believe I've taken this long to blog about D.  My most sincere apologies.

Now what I'm about to say is going to be shocking. I am speaking fondly of someone who (voluntarily) went to Dook. Yes, Dook, but do not let that fool you. D is a Carolina girl at heart, and I would've gone to Dook too if I had been a Robertson Scholar. (In fact, that would have been the only way I could've gone there, since my Pops told me he'd pay for me to go to any college in the country... except Dook). After finishing up what had to be a miserable four years in Durham, D decided to take her talents nine miles down the road, and began a Masters o' Public Health here at UNC. You see, D is also on the 10-year Tobacco Road program.  Four years at Duke undergrad, two years at the Gillings School of Public Health, and then another four at the SOM, (which means that 6 years at UNC > 4 years at Dook). That's a lot of Tobacco Road indeed, even for an out-of-stater.

Now I'm not going to list all the organizations she's running and extracurriculars that, well, she should be running. I'm tired of detailing all my friends overachieving-ness. It will suffice to say that D makes Ronnie Milam look like a couch potato. It's HIV/AIDS research this, SHAC that. Grant proposal this, Honors in that. Meeting here and there, and hey, she's fluent in Sinhala (look it up), and her Spanish isn't too shabby either. Overeducated and underpaid, D is a do-it-all to the maximum. If I were you, I'd go ahead and pencil in February 11, 2026 to your calendar, because that's the date when D is going to eradicate HIV/AIDS in Southeast Asia. And all these achievements are even more impressive considering that I'm not sure who's taller: D or Little Miss Klara Klein. Who knows why all my female friends are under 5 feet tall, but the old maxim remains true: good things do come in small packages.

In our most recent Introduction to Clinical Medicine class, we were subjected to the "challenging" interview. Basically the SOM hires actors as Standardized Patients (SPs) to help us develop our history taking and physical exam skills before working with real patients. The "challenging" interview was meant to pair us up against a difficult SP. Patients can be angry, histrionic, depressed, etc. and it's our job as future physicians to elicit a H&P no matter what. Students in our class were clamoring for D to show us how it's done, because she's just that damn good. The week before, we practiced the "counseling" interview - talking to an obese patient about losing weight or a smoker about quitting. Within five minutes, D had the latter patient off the patient's habit, and the rest of us ready to quit ourselves (even though none of us smoke we were ready to quit something). Some people just have an innate ability to connect with others, and D exemplifies this to a fault (it's a fault because she puts the rest of us to shame - throwing off the curve). Needless to say, our bout with the challenging interview did not go as smoothly. I opened with an introduction of Gary Burke and myself as second year medical students, and then asked the patient, "What's going on today?" He retorted, "Well, my name is Mr. Kenmore, IF YOU CARE!" (It was a rocky start, but we softened him up as time went on). D rarely makes these mistakes; she wrote the book on Sounding Empathetic in 20 Seconds or Less.

DIT sends us 15 questions each week. Every Monday and Thursday, D and I scoop out a study room in Bondurant Hall and get to work. We spend much of the time reviewing, quizzing, and participating in general mind expansion. Working on these questions alone would be fairly miserable, but when I'm having a bad day or I'm tired, D pushes me through a couple hours of work, and I always feel better at the end. It's a friendly competition to push each other through, and it makes me want to come back to our next session a little bit better and a little bit smarter. When I step back and think about it, I actually feel like I'm her patient and she's my expert physician. We make appointments to meet in the same, small, well-lit room. She uses a lot of big words. And I leave happier and healthier. I guess the only difference is I keep my pants on during the entire interview.

Honestly though, D is one of my favorite people ever ever ever, and it's been awesome working with someone who truly brings out the best in me.

Little Miss Klara Klein

I usually don't put a lot of stock into first impressions. Looking back at meeting some of my best friends over the years, we didn't always get off on the right foot (or any foot for that matter). To recount a just few, I'm fairly certain that Josh Hafkin and I each thought the other was an ass for a good bit before seeing the light. It took Phil Owen two years of college to even speak to me (Phil, I hope you're reading this over there in Western Samoa. See you soon!). And if you read "To Keith and Denise Laabs," it should be quite obvious that I don't always make the best first impressions.

But let me tell you a little something about how I met Klara Klein.

On the second day of orientation, our "college" (or "House" if you speak Harry Potter) ate dinner at Franklin Street Pizza and Pasta. UNC-SOM is divided up into five advisory colleges, and the icky first years of Dimock College were to dine together at this Franklin favorite with their prefects. Being only Day 2, we weren't totally sick of meeting new people, and I was attempting to learn the names of all my fellow classmates sitting at the table. I remember sitting next to Kevin Pearlstein and Andrew Wallace, because I was calling Andrew Kevin and Kevin Andrew (I still mix them up just for fun). Sarah Pierrie was there, Justin Woodlief as well, and my goal was to learn at least half our college's names by night's end. Then suddenly out of nowhere, this feisty vixen comes out of left field with a challenge!"

"You are NEVER going to remember my name."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah"
"What is it?"
"Klara."
"Klara what."
"Klara Klein!"

Saaaaay whaaat?? Are you kidding me? I wasn't going to remember the name "Klara Klein?" It's an appellation straight out of Diagon Alley! Plus the challenge, well, there was no way I would forget. Now the next part is a little hazy, but at some point the ish escalated. The pugnacious Klara Klein had set forth yet another challenge for the evening: she told me she was going to kick my ass. At this point it important to keep in mind that we were all sitting down at the table. The second we stood up to "throw some bows," I realized that Ms. Klara Klein was a solid 5'0'' in heels, and thus we had apparently fought in different weight classes in college. Upon reflection, it is probably good we didn't make a scene that evening. I'm not sure I would have come out of that one unscathed (might have lost a knee perhaps). By the next morning, the Klein/Swendiman tandem was running for class president.

I learned quickly that Ms. Klein packs a lot into her 4'3'', 76 lbs. frame (rough estimate). She is what we normies call a "MUD-PHUD" or MD/PhD candidate. Klara will spend the first two years of medical school with us schmos, then take approximately 4 years to pursue her PhD. She will come back (and join the Class of 2017?) as a 3rd year before completing med school and her subsequent residency. Post-medical training, she most likely will return to academia and discover the cure for cancer or the common cold, or perhaps follow in the footsteps of her great-great-great-great-great-uncle's grandfather, Nicolas Flamel, and attempt to discover the Elixer's formula for true immortality with the Philospher's Stone. If you don't believe she has the gumption for this research, in 2007/2008 she "investigated a novel method for transition metal catalyzed pyrrole synthesis using vinylogous diazo esters and nitriles" (sounds like some crazy ass Harry Potter stuff to me!). Anywho, Klara is one of the 8 or so smarty-pantses in our class that are here for the long haul.

Klara left her home state of Georgia to serve four years in Palo Alto, California as an undergraduate at Stanford. There she was awarded a B.S. in Chemistry (Biological Sciences minor), met her lifemate Evan Zeitler (now an MS1 at UNC who continually eludes his inevitable demise on the tennis court - I'm coming for you), and learned "glove box techniques" (the handling of biochemical terrorist agents in space suits through the large rubber gloves that protrude through safety glass, who knew). Klara also won Stanford's most prestigious Chemistry award, the S.S. & I.M.F. Marsden Memorial Prize, given to the most outstanding undergraduate student who has been involved in significant research in the department. If she had not been accepted into medical school (highly unlikely), she would have opened a novelty bakery and pastry shop which I would have frequented daily if only to see Klara peer at me over her 1970s register.

Since becoming soul mates in that first short week, I've enjoyed too few dinners, coffee dates, and small group sessions with Ms. Klein, and ass-kickings by her hubby Evan in tennis. How she balances school, life, and a new puppy, all whilst going to bed before the sun goes down is an enviable miracle. She is living the dream, and I reap the benefits of a wonderfully one-sided relationship: I get freshly baked cookies during small group, a tennis partner in the summer months, and the whole UNC Cardiology team to look after my big, loving heart (Papa Klein is like the chief baller cardiologist here in Chapel Hill). In return, I distract Klara and the rest of the Dimock from learning anything during small group sessions and Potions. When Klara asked today what the difference between a "heave" and "thrill" on a cardiac exam was, my response was that "I sometimes heave after a night of thrills." As usual, I bring little to the table at our morning sessions.

Loving, compassionate, pugnacious, my vertically opposite Meyer's-Briggs twin, Klara Klein is a playful pitbull in the body of a shitzu. It was fate that brought us together, and I will never forget the indelible first impression she made. And as we both seem to be on the ten year Chapel Hill plan, I will enjoy every heave and thrill we have together during our tenure, as well as all the schmos we meet along the way...

Kelly “the Boot-Wearing, Gun-Toting, Vegan-Eating, Spanish-Speaking, Fake Blonde-Hating, R. Kelly-Loving” Espanozo

More than simply a conundrum for even the well-above average man, I had to go to the literature to find an appropriate introduction for Part IV in our series, “Wait, That Person Got into Medical School??” Okcupid.com offers our best psychological analysis of the woman that is Kelly Esposito. And I quote, “Prone to bouts of cynicism, sarcasm, and thorns, you excite a certain kind of man. Hoping to gather you up, he flirts and winks and asks you out, ultimately professing his love. Then you make him bleed. Why? Because you’re the rare, independent, self-sufficient kind of woman who does want love, but not from a weakling. You don’t seem to take yourself too seriously, and that’s refreshing. You aren’t uptight; you don’t over-plan. You’re very selective. The problem is them, not you, right? You have lofty standards that few measure up to. You’re out there all right, but not to be picked up by just anyone. You are the Wild Rose.”

Weaklings beware; you are unwelcome.

The first meeting of the minds between Kelly and me did not go as well as planned. Last year on her 22nd birthday, I came to her said birthing anniversary already a wee bit tipsy. It was a few days after recovering from my infamous “swine flu” experience, and soon I was immersing myself in Jell-O shots that quickly were dubbed “swine shots” since everything I touched was immediately contaminated. About a week later over half our class came down with H1N1, and I was given quite a bad rep from that party (although everyone knows that Timica Campbell was the first to acquire the disease and spread it around the lecture hall. So there.).

After that rocky start, however, I have managed to infiltrate her inner circle. Whether this is due to our athletic connection (2006 National Champion with the UNC Women’s Soccer team), or the fact that I could provide her with copious amounts of Benadryl whilst wandering through the Bolivian rainforest, I’m not sure. But my enthusiasm for quoting Steve the Lawnmower Guy occasionally (and Family Guy frequently) can’t hurt our friendship.

Kelly joins our Class of 2013 from Wilmington, NC, though she avidly saves lives on Carolina Beach year round. She was a Journalism/Biology double major at UNC, and I’ll skip all the other boring details that you’ve come to expect from my classmates (Phi Beta Kappa, UNC Honors Program, Dean’s List 7 out of 8 semesters, academic scholarship recipient, collegiate athlete on perhaps the greatest dynasty in all of American sports, fluent in other languages, uber-volunteer extraordinaire, yada yada yada). It should be noted, however, that the reason she wasn’t awarded Dean’s List in a perfect 8 for 8 was due to the fact that she spent a semester abroad in Mexico, investigating the merits of Tequila and beans.

Perhaps more importantly, she is one of the few people that my father can pick out of a police line-up. I have brought numerous girlfriends (and friends who are girls) home to Kensington, MD, and I am fairly certain that they have blurred into one entity that is violating his virgin son. Kelly on the other hand has made an indelible impression. A week before eating dinner with the Swendimans, I had to tell my mother in advance that Ms. Esposito was a vegan. This spurred hours of research and a few test runs of dishes by my mother, culminating in a wonderful meatless/eggless/cheese-less feast prepared for us (much to the chagrin of Pops). During supper, Kelly referred to those of the carnivorous persuasion as “You People!” which garnered a wonderful rise out of my father. Don’t worry though, she made up for it by writing a heartfelt Thank You note for the weekend, and referred to my parents as Mr. and Mrs. Swendiman. All in all, that’s called a home run in my household.

(For my future wife nota bene: speak up, write a thank you note, and stay away from use of first-names. Otherwise you don’t have a shot.)

This garnered the familial trust in Kelly necessary to allow her to perform minor surgery on my mother: a post-operative removal of 2-vicryl single abdominal stitch. With the support of her team (Ronnie Milam the Ophthalmologist for lighting and Clodagh Mullen the Gastroenterologist present as an abdominal consult), she was able to remove the suture expertly, despite the third-world tools that the Swendiman bathroom / operating room provided. I sat patiently in the kitchen / waiting room with Pops during the procedure, awaiting the results.

Thank You note writing and surgical prowess aside, Kelly adds many other talents to her CV, including:

• Rote knowledge of the entire Miss South Carolina speech concerning the lack of maps in the United States, like such as
• Midnight baking: culinary delicacies of the vegan variety
• Certified 5 Star Chick
• Knows exactly where da gold at, and the genealogy of magical flutes found in the southern U.S.
• Intimate familiarity with da Clay Leek, Bolivia Pampas, and full list animals that Ronnie Milam would like to wrangle
• 11 years as an expert flutist
• Fluent in the language of Yoda from Star Wars

One of my best friends and the last of us four that conquered the Peruvian/Bolivian rain forest during Spring Break, I present to you Ms. Kelly Esposito. Hopefully by reading this blog, you feel less than adequate right now, and that’s okay. I sometimes do too, but I make up for it with an unadulterated bitterness which she finds amusing. Now what do you have to offer? Come on down and let her speak her mind; we can confirm the diagnosis of your patent inferiority. But if you feel up to the challenge (i.e. if you are not a weakling), then I dare you bring your A-game and try to hollar.

But good luck, and don't be talkin' about practice. Practice?

Ronald "Priscilla" Milam

Remember that guy in high school who you wanted to be (or perhaps he was the one you wanted to be with)? He was the one that you tried to sit next to in 3rd period English, so as to attain "cool by association" status. He was the Man's Man and the Ladies' Man, all in perfect amalgamation. On Mondays he was cutting up in class, tossing his hair back with that sexy sly grin of his, but never getting blamed for any of his antics. On Tuesday he finished his BC Calculus exam in 20 minutes and aced it, even though he forgot his trusty TI-83. Wednesdays he had football practice, where he quarterbacked the state's top high school team, then turned his attention to teaching the cheerleaders how to do a proper back handspring with a three-quarter tuck. Thursday nights he spent serving meals at the soup kitchen, right after he finished joining his Grandma on her evening walk around the mall. On Friday nights you could always count on him to pull up to the "my parents are out of town for the weekend" house party, carrying a cube of Keystones purchased by his immaculate fake. The cops would show up because the party was completely BA, but of course he didn't run; he needed to talk your entire class out of getting drinking cites. The next day he would wake up at 7am to build a local Habitat for Humanity house. And on Sundays he didn't rest, but he didn't do his homework either. No worries, he got into Harvard as a junior. He was indeed the most interesting man alive.

Remember that guy? Sure you do, he was Ronnie Milam.

Since medical school is exactly high school (except now it's legal to drink and people get engaged instead of make out by the bleachers), our analogy still applies. Ronald is the proverbial stud, and the question is not, "What does he do these days?" it's "What doesn't this man among boys do?" You would think that we med students would be busy with studying and preoccupied with the molecular make-up of a flagellum, but Ronnie is able to do it all, yet still make Cardiology his bitch lover.

Ronald Milam hails from Statesville, North Carolina. His family later moved to lake-front property in Troutman, NC, almost directly across the street from the Suddreth Family. In fact, this is where Ronnie and I realized that we had too much in common, and where I recognized the need to sit next to him in class to obtain the title of "cool by association" (when we actually went to class, that is). He graduated from UNC in the spring of 2008 like me, and spent a year in Wake County working in EMS. I have detailed the similarities between the two of us in previous posts, but long story short, it started getting just creepy when we both showed up with the same hiking boots for Peru.

In college, Ronnie earned his Bachelor of Science in Biology, and the Chancellor conferred him a B.A. degree as well. Confused, he asked Moeser what the extra letters meant, which is the only time in his life that Ronald has been a bit slow on the uptake. As a student, he volunteered for Orange County EMS, chaired two coed fraternities, tutored underprivileged children, worked for the Beijing Olympic Broadcasting Company, built houses for Habitat (I wasn't kidding when I said that he was "that guy"), shadowed physicians in every specialty, and managed to eek out a spot on the Dean's List every semester at Carolina. Like Smeltzy and Clodagh, Ronald makes you reconsider your childish affinity to spend all spring playing hacky-sack and disc in the quad as an ignorant coed.

Ronnie opted for the ten-year program at UNC as well, enrolling in the School of Medicine for his second (or third depending on how you count his BA) degree from this great University. There, his thirst for activities remains unsated. He is now President of the Ophthalmology Interest Group, and conducts cardiology research with the UNC Transplant Center. Currently, our man is in Pontevedra, Spain, "researching the predictive value of various provocative tests used clinically to estimate the cyclic nature of intraocular pressure in patients with glaucoma" (stolen straight from his CV). But it doesn't stop there, Ronnie also found the time to co-author and co-produce THE music video of the year (as nominated by BET), 5 Star Nerve, something that I can personally attest to taking waaaay too much time out of our lives. His time is further consumed by his puppy Trigger, who subscribes to his owners’ penchant for lively Saturday evenings and a cold PBR.

Brilliance, courage, and... charm as well? My mother melted when Ronald first uttered the words, "Yes, ma'am" during a family dinner. It was that night that I lost the special place in my mother's heart. Since then Kathy has been determined to have Ronnie as a member of the family, first offering up Shelley, and then her only begotten son, to wed the young Milam. And he didn't even need to reply, "Yes, sir" to win over Pops. While Robby was running around in a banana hammock and relishing grape flavored Fun Dip at swim meets, Ronald was becoming an Eagle Scout. Enough said.

Finally, Ronnie would be most displeased if I did not mention his crowning achievement: he won first place in an amateur 3D animation film festival in spring 2005. This video, however, remains a mystery to us all, as no one has actually seen said 3D animation. I will surely post a link to the video if this turns out to be fact instead of fiction.

A charmer, a lover, an Einstein, an enigma, he is Ronald "Priscilla" Milam. His nickname was bestowed upon him by one Kelly Esponoza (our next encounter in this series), due to the number of activities and commitments he undertakes. One fateful Wednesday night, Ronald had too much on his plate and was unable to join Clodagh, Kelly, and me uptown on Franklin Street. He received at least 20 calls from yours truly, where I FALSELY undeclared my love for him (and for this Ron Ron, I am truly sorry, you know it's not true), and Kelly bequeathed the appellation "Priscilla" on him for not having the cojones to make it out.

The legend was born.

Clodagh O’Toole O’Shay O’Leary O’Mulligan

Yeah she’s Irish; deal with it! Her real name is Clodagh Mullen, pictured brilliantly to the left. In Part II of my series entitled “Wait, That Person Got into Medical School??” I am joined by a wonderful lass, who is most assuredly BFF caliber. Affectionately known as “Clo” or “the one who smiles a lot,” she hails from Cleveland, OH. Also on the eight-plus year plan at UNC-Chapel Hill like me, Clodagh is a Tar Heel born and bred, and thus represents everything that is good and right in this world. But don’t let her infectious smile and contagious laughter fool you; she’s as sharp as any knife in the drawer, and brighter than most cookies. As one of those elusive “out of staters,” she’s not just another pretty face. Clearly she’s got a wicked pair that got her past the admissions committee as a non-resident.

The details of the first time Clodagh and I truly bonded are a bit hazy (truly). It suffices to say that it was her birthday, I was throwing my credit cards on the beer pong table and ghost-riding the whip, and dog shit was involved. But just from those vague details, it can be inferred that we became fast friends. I have spent hours and hours pacing back and forth in her room, reciting the cranial nerves (“What nerve are we talking about, we’re talking about the facial nerve, that’s cranial nerve number VII, cranial nerve number VII is the facial nerve, the facial nerve has 5 divisions, 5 divisions, let’s start now with the branchiomotor, the branchiomotor…”). Since then we’ve been to Peru, Bolivia, and back, and I still have not annoyed her enough to defriend me on Facebook. She is the reason people call me “floppy,” and the inspiration behind my New Year’s Resolution to smile more.

After Clodagh graduated from UNC undergrad, receiving a Bachelor of Science in Psychology and minors in both Chemistry and Biology (and of course graduating with Highest Honors), she moved to Philadelphia to work for Teach for America. There she received a Masters in Teaching secondary education with a concentration in science from Chestnut Hill College, and also perfected her “teacher voice” (I have yet to see the wrath and her layeth the smackdown on anyone, but I hope it’s never direct towards me). She taught at Martin Luther King High School, and raised her students’ reading scores by 2.5 grade levels. Not only was she fantastic, but she now has unbelievable street cred.

So I asked Clodagh to send me her resume before writing this blog. Unfortunately, I don’t have the necessary musculature in my digits to type out all of Ms. Mullen’s accomplishments and service. I will list a few here, but know that there is much more to the story:

• English as a Second Language bilingual tutor for special needs students (fluent in Spanish).
• Health Teacher & Math and Science Teaching Assistant, Guatemala City (Clodagh returns every summer to a school in the Guatemala City garbage dump slums to assist the teachers with math and science instruction and teach reproductive health and nutrition classes to mothers and teens).
• Community Skills Instructor, Autism Society of North Carolina (works one on one with students with autism and coaches a soccer team for younger children with autism). Feel unaccomplished yet?
• Research Assistant, Biopsychology lab in Chapel Hill (researched the effects on brain functioning of alcohol exposed PKA knockout mice).
• Two time finalist at the World Championship of Irish Dancing (you know, no big deal – this also explains her penchant for a good dance party).

In fact, Clodagh has only one blemish on her immaculate record. Clodagh Mullen is absolutely obsessed with poop. That’s right, if you’re having gastrointestinal issues, she’s the one with whom you should speak. What color is it? Does it float? Yup, she asked me if it floated once. This obsession has allowed her to dominate small group discussions and anything mildly related to the colon. Frankly I’d be more concerned, but Clodagh does indeed want to be a GI doc.

In all seriousness though, I hope these vignettes offer a quick glimpse into the type of people who are the future of health care. I started with Alan Smeltz, and now with Clodagh, you can truly tell that the caliber of students accepted at UNC Med is phenomenal (minus the author of this blog, tee-hee). As the years go on, and I am able to profile more and more people in my class, your confidence in physicians should increase tremendously if you read between the lines. There are some pretty amazing people here.

Years later I hope to re-read these posts and smile. I have some remarkable friends and future colleagues.

Alan Smeltzy

Alan Matthew Smeltz (affectionately known as "Smeltzy" by moi and many other MS1s) is my esteemed colleague and roommate. He is a brilliant and simple creature, whom I liken to a hummingbird. He is lightning-quick in the mental arena, has an insatiable thirst for sugar water (and for knowledge/peanut butter and jelly sandwiches), and will lift your spirits. How did a man of this caliber end up rooming with such a lazy shmuck (that's "shithead" in Yiddish - translation courtesy of Frank Comfort)? Simple. Last May I emailed 20 of my future first-year classmates, requesting their review of a beautiful two-bedroom, 2.5 bath flat in the Forest of Finley. I listed my asking price (cheaper than most of Chapel Hill), and noted its proximity to bus lines, tennis courts, pool, etc. I promptly received 19 "No, thank you's" and 1 emphatic "Yes." That was Smeltzy, and the rest is history, as they say.

Alan was born on January 6, 1981. His pediatric years were spent winning computer programming awards in Wake Forest, N.C., but let's fast-forward to his collegiate resume, where Smeltzy attended Western Carolina and received his BA in music. To say that Alan was simply a "music major" is demeaning, because after being wait-listed at Juliard (the Harvard of the Arts), he graduated from Western playing every instrument ever made. Though this may be literary hyperbole, it's not far from the truth. Every now and then I can hear the trombone blasting through the thin walls of the Condo, and it is my understanding that he can play most brass and woodwinds easily. After college, Smeltzy took a few gigs with the Ashville Symphony Orchestra and the Greater Spartanburg Philharmonic, before receiving a full ride to graduate school at Florida State University. It is at this point, with thousands of dollars raining on him like Fat Joe, Alan decided to switch career paths. He was going to be a doctor, and a damn good one at that.

So Alan went to college (again), this time at UNC-Charlotte, where a few lazy group members kept him a hundreth short of perfection. He received his BS in Biology and a minor in Chemistry, while he worked in different labs and published. From there it was time to apply to medical school and fulfill the dream. Carolina was the one. All he had to do was find a place to live in Chapel Hill, which brings us back to how we were introduced. His king-sized bed somehow fit through the door (as did the trombone), and we were off to become doctors.

I was quickly impressed by my roommate’s intellect, desire, and work ethic. The only way I could corrupt him was to watch episode after episode of the Big Bang Theory, but this has not blemished his study habits one bit. He has a phenomenal understanding of science and medicine, and I couldn't be luckier. Not because he pulls up the class average (as that usually hurts me), but because three hours of Histology with Smeltzy the night before a Phys exam brings nothing but good fortune. UNC-SOM frankly should fund him, since he IS my professor of funny-looking pictures. And they should also pay him for putting up with me. He is more than happy to workout at the gym with me, crunch abs until we pass out, run 3 to 4 milers, listen to me whine about gunners, and place the dishes in the dishwasher in a very certain way (just for me!). He even agreed to play a star role in the "5 Star Nerve" music video, as well as be part of the Human Brachial Plexus (don't worry, you'll see). Not to mention that he puts up with all my "you went to high school in the 70s" and other geriatric jokes.

That's not to say Smeltzy hasn't learnt anything from me: now he knows how to skip class and listen to lecture capture on Quicktime at 1.75 speed.

Yeah, that's about all he's learned from me.

In all seriousness, I'm a lucky man to have a roommate as great as Smeltzy. I've also really been lucky in the past... Adam, Adam 2.0, and Phil set a high bar for my future roommates (Swartz, you don't count. You were awful, but thank you for the extra microwave.). Alan has been fantastic, and has lived up to all the expectations. That's why I've extended his contract and locked him up for another year.

I love you, man.