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Dante’s Inferno

Posted on November 16, 2014 by Elbrecht

[Gustave Doré, The Heresiarchs (1890)]

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I shall die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen.

I am going to Hell. At this point in my life, I’m fairly certain of this fate. Of course, that’s if Hell actually exists.

If it exists, I certainly hope it’s as twisted and tormented as Dante makes it out to be. Because then I’d have some eternal entertainment to go along with my eternal damnation.

For most of my life I thought it was an absolute certainty I’d be going to Heaven. It was a belief grounded in my relatively intact set of morals, which I picked up from a childhood of Christian indoctrination. As in, “thou shalt not kill.”

Even on my worst days, I have definitely never killed anyone. Obviously, this is a solid step in the direction of Heaven for most people. And I took many other steps in that direction for a significant portion of my life. As a child, I even thought it would be cool to be a priest.

Well, things have changed.

I was raised in a Catholic household, went to church every Sunday, believed in God, said my prayers, went to confession, and received communion. Then I went to college, started sleeping in on Sundays, and only made it to church when I was home on vacation. Yet, I still believed in God, that my relatively moral lifestyle was the foundation for a good life, and enjoyed asking God for things of a miraculous nature.

For example, one of my favorite requests went something like, “Dear God, this workout is killing me. Don’t let me die on the elliptical machine.”

Once I started grad school, I started making a real attempt to go to church more regularly, as way of accepting a mature lifestyle, and establishing myself in the community.

When I moved to Boston, I started going to church more regularly, bolstered by the belief that I had found my purpose in life… But that was back in 2004 and the Catholic Church was just beginning to endure the greatest assault it has ever faced. The assault was coming from every angle, even from within. As the accusations of sexual abuse started multiplying and became reality, I was in the midst of the greatest transformation of my life.

I began to have faith in myself.

The same level of faith it takes to believe there is a higher power, someone or something who has pre-destined each of our lives, was the amount of faith I had swept over me and my ability to transform my own life. This level of faith made me begin to question a lot of the certainties I had in my life, not only about religion, but about who I wanted to become, how I could do it, and what it would take.

A lot of things have happened between then and now in my life. Some good. Some bad. But for the most part, the past decade has been a whirlwind of self-discovery. However, my willingness to question what I have believed about religion, God, and faith definitely sits atop my list.

—–

Not that long ago, before I started my medical residency, I was working overnight at the Amazon warehouse in Lexington, KY. Early one morning, around 2AM, a 21-year-old young man was across the conveyor belt from me when he struck up a conversation. I had seen him around before and noticed that during our brief 15 minute breaks he would be reading the Bible. On this night, our chit-chat quickly moved to the most engrossing discussion on religion I have ever experienced.

It didn’t take long for me to recognize this guy had thoroughly delved into the Bible and his knowledge of scripture was as impressive as any Sunday morning sermon I’ve ever heard. But his story, the one that led him to give himself to God, was the final piece of the puzzle in my religious self-discovery.

He told me how he had grown up in a misogynistic home, one where he was taught to do as he wished and pleased, to use sex and drugs to make himself feel good, and to ignore the role of education and morals in his life. He was infinitely atheist, often openly mocking acquaintances and classmates, even friends, who entertained the idea of a higher power.

But at age 19, with his two-year old son, born of a drug-laden sexual tryst, at his side, he gave himself to God.

His girlfriend was pregnant with his next child and he was beginning to feel overwhelmed with the future. He described looking at his son one night, becoming overcome with grief, falling to his knees, and beginning to cry profusely. Then, he felt the hand of God on his shoulder, could hear Him speaking in his ear, and a wave of emotion poured over him.

Moments later, he was irreparably changed. He felt a purpose in his life and a desire to live with a moral certitude. He felt “saved”, as if there was someone else looking out for him and asking him to be a better person. The thought of his eternal salvation came to mind. So he dedicated his free time to his family and his religious education.

From the way he described himself prior to this experience, I could tell a completely different man was standing across from me on an early morning in late May. The difference between him and I, though, was that he believed God had changed his life, while I understood that he, and he alone, had made a decision; the decision to no longer be an irresponsible child, trying to raise a child of his own, and to instead become a grown adult.

In my mind, there is no spiritual mystery to maturation.

—-

The understanding of the human body I have acquired during my medical education is an easy scapegoat for my drift away from God and/or religion. But truth be told, my beliefs were changing long before I understood the electrical underpinnings involved in a heartbeat, the diffusion capacity of a pneumocyte in the lung, or the capability of an egg to be fertilized by sperm.

My medical knowledge has played a role, but not as great as it might seem. I have actually entertained the reality that my belief in science, the platform on which medicine is based, is not mutually exclusive from religion. Many people think a true belief in science, or more accurately, the scientific method, prevents one from acknowledging a God. I don’t necessarily believe that is the case.

“Finding Darwin’s God” by Kenneth R. Miller, is one of the most influential and thought-provoking texts I’ve read in the past 10 years. In it, he lays a quite convincing thesis for the co-existence of God and Science. In fact, he argues the “miracle of life” known as creation is not mutually exclusive from the acknowledgement of evolution. He argues it may actually speak to the wonderful power of a creator; one that has set the world in motion, but is allowing it to be self-defined.

Self-defined. Like each and every one of us.

—-

As I laid out my thesis against his belief in God, the young man at Amazon pointed out he had at one time felt exactly the same way. Until the fateful day in his life when he was saved. When God revealed Himself and changed the young man’s understanding of the world and his life.

When the young man expressed it as his destiny, one that had been pre-determined, I pointed out if his God is real and controlling my life, then my life is pre-destined, and I truly have no say in whether I end up in Heaven. Or Hell.

And if that is the case, then I am on a Highway to Hell. Because the God of Christianity requires a belief in Him to be saved. There are no keys to the kingdom of Heaven to those of us who have chosen to place our faith in the belief we have control of our lives; control of who we become and our ability to make it happen through sheer willpower and effort.

Faith is not exclusive to those who have religion in their lives. Some of us have faith there is nothing waiting for us after our hearts stop beating. And that faith allows you to embrace the world, its challenges, its heartbreak, and its rewards more than the holiest of thou.

Of course, I could be wrong. And then I’ll end up in Hell. But rest assured, Dante and I will have a quite a party down there. At the very least, I’ll spend the rest of eternity trying to convince Lucifer to apologize to the Man Upstairs.

Life on the Amazon

Posted on March 3, 2014 by Elbrecht

“Welcome to the Jungle

We’ve got fun and ‘n’ games

We got everything you want

Honey, we know the names

We are the people that can find

Whatever you may need

If you got the money, honey

We got your disease”

Axl Rose’s voice roared over the loudspeaker as I sang along with a bar code scanner doubling as my microphone. “Welcome to the Jungle” seemed quite the appropriate theme song for where I found myself at 3AM on a recent Wednesday morning: an enormous warehouse on the outskirts of Lexington, KY.

But how the hell did I get there?

One day in July 2013, while on a month-long break from medical school, I found myself dreaming about what I would do during the 8-month break I would soon have between finishing medical school and starting Residency.

During that day-dream, I found myself:

a) in the outback of Australia, rough-housing with cuddly koalas and lacing it up with rambunctious kangaroos

b) providing medical care to the indigent people in Chennai, India with an old friend

c) attending evening lectures at Harvard and mingling with Nobel laureates

d) indulging at Carnival in Rio de Janeiro

Each of these seemed as likely as the next. My mind wandered and the possibilities seemed endless. Approaching the end of my journey to becoming a physician, I was feeling a bit grandiose. My delusions of grandeur had me feeling like the memories I would create by gallivanting around on such ridiculous journeys would serve as a buffer for the long nights and difficult times I would likely face in Residency.

But none of those things will happen during this 8-month break. No koalas. No Jared Diamond lectures. No flights to Chennai. No beads at Carnival.

Instead, I’ve been spending an enormous amount of time on the Amazon.

No, not the Amazon River. Though I’m surprised it didn’t ever arise as a possibility during my day-dreaming sessions.

The Amazon I’m referring to is the Amazon processing line. The Amazon that services your on-line orders for ginkgo biloba, Lego’s, the King James Bible, cans of corn, defective remote-controlled helicopters, and a new door handle.

Yeah, you ordered all of those things from one website. In five minutes. And it cost you $107.18 and was delivered in two business days. I remember your order. Creepy, I know.

So where did my day dreams go so wrong?

The end of my nearly nine year sojourn to becoming a physician ended with a month of Trauma Surgery, not exactly the typical elective for a a future Family Medicine doc. I felt like an incredible weight had been briefly lifted from my shoulders when I walked out of that hospital for the last time as a student. Now I wanted to regain some semblance of self, or at least reflect on whom I had become… even if it included moving somewhere I hadn’t lived in nearly 15 years.

Upon arriving in Lexington, I was in need of some serious mental and physical recuperation. I promised to give myself the month of November to basically cram whatever meaningless and mind-numbing things I could into my life before starting to be a productive member of society again.

As November was coming to a close, the stark reality that money no longer grows on trees began to reflect in my bank account. So I began researching possible job opportunities at the local universities, considered private tutoring, and investigated becoming a Craigslist gigolo.

I quickly realized that I was either severely over-qualified or unlikely to get anything worth my Bachelor’s degree when potential employers realized I was in Lexington only temporarily. Except for the gigolo position, you can never be too qualified for that. But you can be too out-of-shape.

And then, in a stroke of holiday magic, I flipped open the newspaper on an early December morning to see a booming full-page ad for “Temporary Work! Great Wage! Happy Holidays!” placed by Amazon and the agency that fulfills its temporary staffing needs for the holiday season.

I could hear the Bezos Dollars cha-chinging in my ears.

So I bundled my pride up in a knapsack, which I had obviously ordered from Amazon, drove it to the Kentucky state line, and tossed it into the Ohio River.

Then I drove to the staffing agency that handles temporary hires for Amazon, parked my Benz as far away as possible, and walked in head held high, unsure of what I was getting myself into.

Before I could muster a word, the young blonde at the front desk blurted out, “We are only hiring for night shift. It’s 6:30P to 5A. Are you still interested?”

“That’s perfect!”

She was only momentarily stunned by my enthusiasm and proceeded to quickly detail what lay in store for me… in the next three hours I would have to maneuver my way through a series of computer terminals, video presentations, and drug tests before an impromptu interview where I might still be told I wasn’t quite Amazon material.

Medical school doesn’t allow time for part-time money-making endeavors, so I thought, “Three hours? I’ve held retractors longer than that!”

By the time I reached the second of three computer terminals, I was beginning to wonder how much my professional reputation could be impacted in twenty years if it came out I was a gigolo between medical school and Residency.

At this computer, I was welcomed by a flashing screen. It warned me that if I was unable to score a 90% on the following exam, I would immediately be removed from the applicant pool and would have to return in 30 days for further consideration. My palms began sweating. These people were not screwing around.

Thankfully, I nailed all 20 of the picture matching questions.

Cha-ching!

After fist-bumping the guy at the station next to me, I said a quick prayer thanking the Medical Licensing Examination Gods for preparing me for such a rigorous test of my mental faculties.

A short hour later, after watching a video about how awesome it was going to be working in a warehouse overnight, I was beckoned to a makeshift interview area.

A pleasant woman pulled up my on-line application and asked, “So you have a college degree, that’s great! Any other education?”

“Uh, yes. I do, but I don’t think it’s relevant.”

She looked at me quizzically. “Will you have a problem standing for 10 hours straight?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Then get a copy of your high school transcript. That way you won’t get fired in the first week.” I humbly nodded my head and wondered again what the hell I had gotten myself into.

That was over two months ago. I can’t say processing customer returns in a warehouse overnight has been a “come to Jesus” moment, but if I needed one, it would suffice.

On a recent night, while parked in the snow-covered lot outside the warehouse, waiting to begin my shift, I answered a phone call from one of my aunts. She had heard what I was doing and chatted me up about it for a minute or two.

As the conversation began to wind down, she asked, “So… you are going to be a doctor, right?”

“Yes. I am. I swear. But if I ever needed a reason to go to college, which I already did, this would be it.”

She laughed. In my head, I reflexively wondered, “I am going to be a doctor, right?”

As I stood at my desk that same night, the conveyor pumping boxes alongside me, the overhead radio station blared ’80’s rock and I sang along as if I was competing for a place on the The Voice.

Axl Rose screeched, “You know where you are, you’re in the jungle, baby!”

I turned to the woman at the desk behind me and said, “More like, you’re in the Amazon!”

She giggled; I again wondered what the hell I was doing in a warehouse at 3AM, when I could be in the actual Amazon. Shooting blow darts at ravenous crocs. Or learning how to carve a canoe out of a tree with a toothpick.

I suppose that’s why they are called day-dreams.

“Welcome to the Jungle

We’ve got fun and ‘n’ games

We got everything you want

Honey, we know the names

We are the people that can find

Whatever you may need

If you got the money, honey

We got your disease”

Back to the Future… The Summer of 1999

Posted on February 10, 2014 by Elbrecht

In the summer of 1999, I was a fresh-faced kid who had just returned to Lexington, KY from a wild adventure I will call “Freshman Year of College.”

In the course of those nine months, I had collected a lifetime worth of memories, learned a few things about sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll, as well as making a cadre of life-long friends.

Nothing like Will Smith’s “Summertime” would be happening.

The prospect of returning to Lexington for the summer was an enormous let down.

When I packed up my 1983 Mercedes-Benz station wagon and headed back to Lexington, I knew I would have to adjust to a whole new life from the one I’d left less than a year earlier.

I returned to a new, smaller house on a different side of town; most of the few friends I’d made in my 2.5 years of high school in Lexington were gone; none of the friends I’d made in college were nearby; and no cool job was waiting for me.

By the end of the first week of summer, I was vowing to never return.

And yet, here I find myself.

It’s as if I’m Marty McFly and I’ve gone Back to the Future.

Now I’m adjusting to an even smaller “house” on a different side of town; nearly all of my friends are either gone or living as fully functional adults; none of my college, grad school, or medical school friends live nearby; and I had no cool job to bide my time until I start Residency.

Marty McFly would be devastated if he’d traveled backwards, or forwards, in time and landed in this mess.

In 1999, I decided to make the most what I had learned during freshman year and dedicated myself to building on this “new me”.

To keep my mind fresh, I read books like “The Autobiography of Malcolm X” and “The Catcher Was a Spy.”

To build on my fitness kick, I dedicated myself in the gym by spending 2 hours a day at the local YMCA, and playing basketball outdoors under the intense summer sun.

To put some money in my pocket, I grabbed a part-time job stocking shelves at a Kroger grocery store… overnight.

To most everyone, I became a ghost. But not this cool of a ghost…

In the fall of 2013, with medical school almost finished, and a potential move to San Fran, Houston, Boston, or DC as real possibilities with the promise of free room and board and cool job opportunities before starting Residency, I made a fateful call to my mother in Lexington.

Within a few minutes, I realized that none of those opportunities would come to fruition and I would need to use my free time before Residency to return to Lexington.

Instead of Marty’s Delorean, my “new” old Mercedes-Benz sedan would have to take me back in time.

With the aid of modern vehicular technology, I’ve been transported back to that Summer of 1999, only to endure the bitter winter of 2013/2014. But despite the unlikely return, I’ve decided to continue building on the “new me” that has emerged from medical school.

To keep my mind fresh, I’ve read books like “My Own Country” by Abraham Verghese and “How Doctors Think” by Jerome Groopman.

To re-start my fitness kick, I’ve returned to that same YMCA… though the days of intense 2-hour workouts are far behind me.

To put some money in my pocket, I grabbed a temporary job at Amazon processing return orders… overnight.

To most everyone, I’ve become a ghost.

The summer of 1999 did provide me with a few memorable experiences though:

I took a trip to Windsor, Ontario, and gambled, drank, and partied like it was 1999 with Wes and Rustang… and then drove back into Lexington after that two-day bender just in time to be 20 minutes late to work.
I was caught with a porno mag underneath my mattress by my mom. I subsequently received a bone-numbing letter and lecture on how I could talk to her about any of my sexual curiosities.
I was chased out of a kegger 20 minutes after arriving by the hostess’s drunken step-father for only bringing a six-pack.
I recklessly drove a friends’ fathers’ Jaguar down the backroads of Ohio during a 4th of July celebration.

And so far, despite the numbing winter of 2013/14, I’ve managed a few memorable experiences:

I took a trip to Hoboken, NJ, stayed with friends, and interviewed for Residency. I flew back into Lexington after two days of vertigo caused by staying up for 36 hours straight to be awake for my interview, just in time to be on-time for my overnight job.
Thankfully, I have not been caught by my mom doing anything. And she hasn’t asked me anything about my sex life.
My alcohol consumption has been limited to a couple of bars and friends’ homes. No keggers.
Nor have I driven anyone’s sports car I wasn’t supposed to.

In other words, while my return to Lexington was unexpected and without a plan, just like in The Summer of 1999 I’ve tried to make the most of it. And as there was that summer, an end is in sight: I will soon find out where I’ll be heading for Residency and begin another exciting chapter in my life.

For the record, if that chapter is anything like “Sophomore Year of College”, it’s going to be one hell of a sequel.