If you like Pacific Rim; lovingly, lovely, and accurately described scientific procedures; and also Hermann and Newt being themselves at each other at full throttle, then First a Darling, Then a Marvel is for you.

Newt runs a simulation given three constraints:

1: Newt wants to clone a kaiju
2: Hermann does not want Newt to clone a kaiju
3: Newt is going to clone a kaiju anyway

I was browsing rainbowlists for new prompts, and well... I understand this is probably a lyric reference, but in the hospital (or my hospital, in any case), "Code Brown" refers to feces. It's a tongue-in-cheek way for the staff to say a patient has defecated themself, usually in their bed, and needs help getting cleaned up.

So that's a somewhat unfortunate association that I will never, ever be able to erase, and now neither will you.

Something creepy just happened, maybe? This is one of those situations that could have just been drunk guys and could have been a murder party. It is midnight here, and I heard a shriek from the apartment across from mine. So I hurried into the hall calling out to ask if everyone was all right and if anyone needed help, as you do. When I didn't get an answer immediately, I knocked on the door, and two men opened it. They were holding beers and seemed drunk but genial. They reassured me that it was just one of them who'd yelled, and that everything (and -one) was fine. The one who'd answered the door shook my hand, but kept holding it after he'd shaken it, even when I tried to withdraw slightly. He asked my name and which apartment was mine, which I told them, and then he asked: "Do you live there all alone, or with your husband?"

That was about when I wigged out of there just as fast as less-than-polite haste could take me, because in what world does that not also sound a whole lot like "So, is there anyone else there who knows where you are and will notice immediately if you disappear?" I haven't heard any further screaming, so hopefully they're just partying more circumspectly and haven't, say, silenced their victim.

In summary, I might get axe-murdered by the new neighbors. I've already emailed Lily to let her know that if I disappear without warning, please feed the cats and let the police know whodunnit.

(I'm not seriously worried about murder happening, otherwise I'd be halfway to the police by now, but it made me uneasy enough that I wanted someone else in the building to know what happened and who was involved.)

I have TWO WHOLE DAYS OFF.

What do you even do with two unscheduled days? It's amazing how fast your standards change - three months ago, I pretty much took two day weekends for granted, and now they are an unimaginable luxury of time. I'm not even technically supposed to have two days off in a row, my resident was just really, really, really nice and gave them to me.

(I lied. I know exactly what I'm going to do with these two days, I am going to study like a studying thing for the upcoming shelf exam. Hello and goodbye!)

That awkward moment when I default back to classroom social norms and raise my hand in order to talk at a meeting.

I'll be over here in the corner, alternating between laughing at myself and combusting from embarrassment.

For the first time, a child born HIV positive was cured with antiretroviral treatment in the first days of life. They hypothesize that the prompt, aggressive regimen prevented the virus from establishing reservoirs in the body before it was eradicated.

Clinical researchers are already designing studies to try and replicate the results. This is actually happening in our generation, you guys.

I could never be a vet. Miss Olivia (who is of a feline persuasion) managed to get an infection in her third eyelid last weekend, so she's needed a course of antibacterial and -inflammatory eyedrops, which I've been dutifully administering three times a day. With a human, you could explain that a procedure might be uncomfortable, but it'll both make them feel better in the long run and be over with more quickly if they can cooperate.

You can't explain the concept to cats, for all that Miss Livs is wicked smart for a creature with a eyes bigger than her brain. That's actually part of the problem: she remembers the time of day when I give her the drops, and she knows the procedure I go through to prepare for giving them to her. As soon as that time rolls around, she disappears into one of her hiding places or up onto one of the higher cabinets, necessitating a lengthy chase scene. As you may imagine, this is stressful for her and unpleasant for me. Then I get to pin her down while she makes noises that are not reminiscent of "domesticated feline"* so much as "mountain lion, possibly possessed by a host of hellspawn." And tip her head up, pry her eye open, and attempt to get a drop into her eye, where she most emphatically doesn't want it.

* Insofar as that itself is not an oxymoron.

Fun for all involved! Luckily, I only have to do this through tomorrow.

( Even more luckily, Livs doesn't hold a grudge for long )

I didn’t start listening to Richelle Mead’s Vampire Academy series expecting deathless prose or incisive social commentary. I just wanted YA fluff to mentally snark my way through while I processed data for my research project. The back blurb placed a female friendship front and center, which made me a bit hopeful that this would be a step above the morass of cookie cutter “[Special girl] fights [supernatural creature] and falls in love with [brooding dangerous man]” novels glutting the market.

I didn’t expect Mead to create a bleakly dystopian society built on systemic prejudice and abuse of unearned privilege.

( The problem is, she doesn’t seem to realize it. )

I still have four pages of notes full of issues I haven’t even touched on yet, so there may be more as I can stomach revisiting it.

I am really, really tired.

Boy there's sure a lot to learn about doctoring. Who would have thought!

Did you guys know how much can go wrong in the human body? (Answer: Everything! Usually in a multitude of ways!)

I am going to sleep so much in eleven days. So. Much. It will be a veritable orgy of sleep.

Wait no. That came out wrong.

Okay, back to reviewing pharmacology whee so many drugs that all sound the same.

Being a medical student means being the worst sort of hypochondriac. I've been having these odd dyspneic episodes, which are uncomfortable enough on their own, and are made infinitely worse by the inevitable consideration of whether they're the shiny anglerfish's lure indicating a terrible, toothy disease lurking below. It doesn't matter how unlikely the possibilities are, I always find myself putting together a differential diagnosis while I gasp for breath.

Never mind angels and devils on my shoulder, or internal editors in dire need of a gagging, I would pay good money to silence my inner physician on occasion. Most especially when I'm abruptly very aware of needing to breathe in the worst way, and an inordinately cheerful little voice suggests: It could be congestive heart failure :3

I sincerely doubt it's CHF. I think I would have noticed a few other signs by now? And it's not like I have any risk factors for it, besides maybe high sodium intake? Let me tell you, internet, my diet is dire. I exemplify the stereotypical terrible student; I'm practically the Platonic ideal. I ate brownies for breakfast today, and I'm not even a little bit sorry.

Maybe it's COPD. :3333

I really don't think so, what with the no smoking history.

Maybe you have pulmonary hypertension. May. Be.

My blood pressure was checked this week, it's normal. High for me, but still in the normal range. Knock it off.

Anemia? Bloodwork was done a month ago.

Surprise pulmonary embolism? Pneumothorax? Now this is just getting ridiculous, and also, nope. The lack of giant stabby pain and immediate need for critical care kind of rules those out.

Well, what if cancer? Self, you can shut your filthy gob now, that is right at the bottom of the list.

My actual differential, at this point: Being very out of shape, new and interesting allergic reaction, adult onset asthma exacerbated by being very out of shape and/or allergies, psychosomatic manifestation of anxiety.

The first is far and away the most likely, and until I get evidence to the contrary (ie. I fall over and flop around unable to breathe), I'm operating off of the assumption that exercise is more likely to make things better than worse. A fast walk/slow jog for half an hour had my heartrate up to 140+. It's resting at 90 right now, which. Yeah. I should know better than to let things get that bad. At some point I should probably grab my stethoscope from the FLTC and actually listen to my heart and lungs, just to make certain everything sounds normal, but this is almost certainly an internal PSA on "Why You Shouldn't Attempt to Be One With the Couch, Chel, No Really. Exams Are Not An Excuse." And my chipper little internal doomsayer can go hang and take its catastrophic differentials with it.