So third year came and went and yesterday I had my "bottom of the Grand Canyon moment". I'm still getting used to the feeling. If you weren't there at the bottom of the canyon with me that day wearing a 30 pound pack full of tents and sleeping bags and pita bread, let me fill you in. Our senior year at A&M, Erik and I, along with 8 other friends went to the Grand Canyon for Spring Break. We liked to camp every break, and senior year meant we had to do something big. I was in pretty decent shape, but I had no idea what was ahead of me. Oh, how closely this story parallels my third year of dental school! (Just you wait, second years! You have NO idea.)
The first night we camped on the rim in the snow and ice - I don't do cold, just so you know. I woke up with my sleeping bag incased in a thin layer of ice. ICE! I immediately ran to the car and turned it on, praying that the heater would heat up faster. It didn't.
We packed up our backpacks and even had a scale so we could distribute our provisions as evenly as possible. We had a lot since we planned to camp at the bottom 3 days or so. Full of adrenaline and naivety we started down the teeny, tiny narrow path. We did know a few things: we knew that it was a long downhill hike, that we had to navigate the mule droppings and other visitors as we made our way down, and that if you get into trouble (i.e. fall off the side), no one will come to get you. They're sure to let you know that when you sign up. What we didn't know, was that, just as there was snow and ice on the rim, there was also snow and ice a good ways down at the top of the path. Remember that part about falling of the side? Yeah. Since we, in our ignorance, did not have ice picks on our shoes to help us down the treacherous areas, we chose to sit on our bums with our big backpacks on our backs and scoot down the icy patches until we reached solid ground again. Nerves = on edge.
Now, you may be thinking, "Going down can't be that bad. At least you're not climbing up." Oh, contraire. It was terrible. My pack was just weighing me down. My legs started shaking about half-way down. Visibly. I was constantly hydrating and eating as much trail mix as I could to get some salt and sugar in my body. I'd recover and keep going, only having to stop and rest again. And the worst part of it was the mental game. See, with every step down, there was a step UP in my future. How in the hell was I going to get out of here? Are you kidding me? Can they just send a helicopter and lift me out? Can I build a raft and float down the Colorado river to Mexico and fly back to Texas? On we went. Down into the beautiful canyon.
My legs were rubber. Mush. I got to the campground area at the bottom, took off my pack, sat down on a bench and cried. I was spent. I gave everything and I was stuck down there. I could not walk anymore. I got a hold of myself, but as I did, the overwhelming dread of the hike up began to creep in. I was not in a good mood. Believe it or not, there was a pay phone (remember those?) not far from the cabins (not where we were staying). I called my mommy. I did. I told her I was at the bottom of the Grand Canyon and I asked her to get me out of there. That didn't work. This was my reality.
My friend let us know that the site where we would make camp was further down the trail at the bottom. Like 2 more miles or something ridiculous like that. As unbelievable as that news was, I put my pack back on, and mustered up whatever was miraculously left and followed along. We made camp, ate dinner and I slept. The next few days I didn't want to move. Yet another obstacle to getting out of the hole.
The recovery process at the bottom was two-fold: fight the anger and fear about the climb up and make my muscles work again so I could physically do it. I spent time alone walking the river bed, spending time with God, and taking pictures of His creation around me trying to psych myself up and rest my spirit. I went on little day hikes with my friends to stretch my muscles and make my body do something with all the lactic acid buildup - lots of stretching. Gradually, things got better, and then the big day came.
So here I am. I just got to the bottom of this hell-hole and I have 2.5 weeks to get ready for the climb up. After taking 3 more finals next week, that is. Before dental school, I'd tell people that hiking the Grand Canyon was the hardest thing I've ever done. That is not the case anymore.
I did get out of there alive, in case you were wondering.
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Fixed: 6/13 - #7 is back from the lab and my patient didn't show up, #8 is impressed and I'm going to pour it up and pindex it if I like it and #9 is mostly cut
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Progress Exam Status:
Fixed:
1 done/1 in progress/2
DONE - Perio, Operative, Oral Surgery, Endo, Removable
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D3 Finishes!
Stainless steel crown in pedo...check.
Finished with Operative!
Finished with ENDO! (2/5 to graduate, molar complete)
Finished with Perio! (2/4 to graduate, 2 tx planned)
Finished with Removable! (4/9 to graduate, 2 in progress)
Finished with Nitrous! (4/6 nitrous to graduate)
Finished with Oral Surgery Extractions!
(50/100 ext to graduate)
Finished with Pre-Prosth! (4/6 preprosth cases to graduate)
Finished with DAU! (forever)
All assisting is complete!
Several good friends have expressed concern for me after my last post. Let me explain:
