Tag: pranayama

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“Medicine is not a job, it is a calling.”

The other day, I was interviewed by the U.S. News and World report regarding why someone would make the financial decision to become a physician. My best answer was: “You don’t go into medicine to become rich, or famous, and definitely not to be well-rested. You go into medicine because it is a calling.”

12 years ago, I left my law practice to start the long, arduous journey of becoming a physician. Making the decision to leave law (a lucrative path at that!) to pursue medicine was an incredibly difficult one. If I had continued as an IP lawyer, I would be able to retire in the next 5 years, and enjoy a very comfortable retirement. But I would’ve lived only for my own comfort and the accumulation of wealth. But now, I am the person that is there for people on the worst day of their lives, and to me, there is nothing more meaningful.

If you start working as a plumber at 18yo, you will save more for retirement than if you become a doctor. With 12+ years of training, 8 of which you are paying into the system, and another 4+ of residency where you are barely paid enough to cover rent, the numbers don’t add up for doctors. But rationality has little to do with the decision to go into medicine. We make this decision because medicine is a calling. Because you can’t imagine doing anything else other than caring for those who are suffering. Because you have been so close to the human condition that you just want to alleviate other’s suffering. And any other life than that would be unsatisfactory.

I sometimes joke around that if I had stayed in law, I could be relaxing on my yacht on weekends, rather than working extra moonlighting shifts to pay down a mountain of loans. But life isn’t about dying with the most money, it’s about living in alignment with your values with the most meaning. There is a saying: “You may love medicine, but medicine will never love you back.” Whether or not medicine loves me back doesn’t matter to me. Medicine has taught me so much about being a compassionate, selfless, giving, empathetic human. And in that vein, medicine has given me so much than I will ever give to it.

Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it lends meaning to life. Yes, it’s worth it.

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Keep your pulmonary system healthy with this technique of diaphragmatic breathing

Did you know that we have pulmonary vagal irritant receptors? Irritant receptors lie between airway epithelial cells and are stimulated by noxious gases, cold, and inhaled dusts. Once activated, they send action potentials via the vagus nerve leading to bronchoconstriction (which can lead to cough) and increased respiratory rate. When stretched, these receptors also increase production of pulmonary surfactant, which allows our alveoli in the lungs to be more flexible and compliant. Our treatment, when these irritant receptors are activated is supplemental oxygen and airway clearance. You can do this yourself! Just take a long, deep, deliberate breath – right now! That brings in more oxygen into your lungs (supplemental oxygen), and helps to clear your airway with the prolonged exhalation.

Keep your pulmonary system healthy, avoid cough, and your vagus nerve toned during these times in the pandemic with this technique of slow, diaphragmatic breathing. Keeping the pulmonary vagal irritant receptors inactivated and at rest!

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I am giving it all I’ve got.

This decade has been a doozy for me. Has it been for you, too? Over this past decade, I left the practice of law, broke off an engagement to pursue my dream of medicine, attended and graduated medical school and two residencies, wrote and published a book, moved into and out of a three states, completed my yoga therapy and 500-hour teacher trainings, led many yoga retreats, made friends, lost friends, fell in love, had my heart broken… and in some ways, I ended up right where I began. That’s right, 10 years ago, I was living in San Diego, and 10 years later, I have found my way back here. Teaching at the same studio (Prana), enjoying time with some of same people (that’s you, Nico), driving home to see my parents with the same dog (Rusty)… yet I, the Ingrid that was a decade ago, is so different. My heart is different. My soul is less rigid. My heart feels flexible and accepting. My soul feels open and ready. Instead of judging, I seek to listen. Instead of fear, I choose hope.

Halfway through my medical training, I almost lost hope. Seeing so much “unfairness” and suffering life (and death)… watching how human stories unraveled in the most heartbreaking ways… it almost broke me. But somehow, with the support of amazing friends and mentors, I went from thinking: “We’re all going to die, what’s the point?” to “Wait. Yes. We are all going to die… THAT’S the point!” I went from thinking that everything was hopeless and meaningless to realizing that our time is so short, so fast. And that was incredibly freeing. It made me embrace all the clichés, all the inspirational quotes. Because life IS short. So, I had better do what I can with the time I’ve got.

So here I am, giving it all I’ve got. Staying open to it all. Not knowing where this decade will take me. Knowing there will be twists and turns. Uncertainties and fears. But doing my best to keep my heart open to whatever may arise. Because… that’s the point

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Patience. The virtue of “not yet.”

Patience. The last 10 years have been a long, at times, painful lesson in patience. Literally 10 years ago, I applied to medical school (for the 3rd and last time), and 7 months later, I was accepted. And now, as I come near the end of my formal medical training, so many of the endeavors that I have worked so hard towards are now coming to fruition. But again, patience rears its omniscient head and teaches me: not yet. Because nothing has quite yet manifested… I am 5 weeks from completing residency. 3 months from taking the final board certification test for my specialty medical practice. 2 months from starting my job(s). 1 year from publishing my next book. And only now starting work as a medical advisor for a tech startup. It’s been a long time coming. And I am now only on the cusp of all these visions coming into being. All these manifestations that are bursting from my heart; it’s hard to contain it all. I am ready. So ready. Thanks for the lessons, patience. I know there are reasons for your “not yet”. I don’t know what they are, but I believe in your wisdom. And I’m listening. Ready in wait and ready to burst forth. Because when you’re ready to let me go, patience, I am going to be running down that road as fast as I can.

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Help someone breathe for ALS Month

May is national ALS month. We’ve usually heard of this because of the well-publicized “ice bucket challenge”, where one can donate to the ALS foundation to watch a friend or celebrity be doused with a bucket of ice. That was fun, and for a great cause, but let’s also talk about other ways you can help your ALS friends. Start by giving them the present of breath. ALS is known for its neuromuscular deficits, which eventually affect the diaphragm. After all, the diaphragm is a muscle. Diaphragmatic weakness is the core mechanism behind respiratory difficulties in those with ALS. So, the best gift would be to remind them to take deep breaths. Always. The more you exercise any muscle, the stronger it becomes. Remind them to take in a big, diaphragmatic breath, filling up the lungs. Try the instruction of asking them to sip the air in slowly, and thus deliberately and steadily depressing the diaphragm on the inhale (which contracts the diaphragm). You can even think about how contracting the diaphragm is like contracting a bicep; the slower you contract and more resistance you give it, the more you will feel the strength building. Try doing this  by counting with the breath and increase the count with each subsequent breath cycle. Conditioning the diaphragm is no small feat; but with time and training, breathing will become easier and more spacious. Do you know someone that has ALS? Remind them to breathe, and give them the greatest gift you can offer.

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Your brain on yoga

Almost all human cells reproduce on a cycle. Up to 10% of your heart is replaced each year. Red blood cells are replaced every three months. Skin cells, every two weeks.

But it has traditionally been accepted that neurons, the cells that make up the brain and spinal cord, do not regenerate. Based on recent discoveries, it turns out that, under the right conditions, neurons can indeed recover. They just need a break. That’s why, in modern medicine, we will sometimes induce comas and hypothermia in patients with brain injury; so that their brains can rest. It’s pretty incredible that if you can break your neurons from normal operations and focus on healing, they have a chance at regrowth.

So that just begs the question, how can we give our neurons a break, with less extreme measures such as induced hypothermia or coma state? How can we take a deep breath, in this moment, and stop all the bustling chaos in our brains and give our neurons the break they need in our muddled daily lives?  It’s human nature to want to fix what’s broken. And we have the tools to fix it. Take a moment right now to close your eyes and take a deep breath in and out. Try it again. And one more time. We may not be able to replicate exactly what we lost. But in its place we can grow something new. And slowly, but surely, we can grow until we have everything we need.
 

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Paying attention

In our busy, modern lives, we have to rely on our innate automated system more and more each day. From our instincts when we get behind the wheel of a car, to our muscle memory when we unlock our phones, the efficiency of our autonomic nervous system is integral to our daily survival. On average, our hearts beat 70 times per minute. In that same 60-second period, we blink between 10 and 15 times, swallow once, and take up to 20 breaths. Our hearts beat. Our lungs breathe. Our bodies keep us alive.

 

And most of us barely notice. We just take it all for granted. So much of the world operates without us ever thinking about it. We just expect it to work out in our favor… and most of the time it does. We worry about the future and think about the past. But we hardly ever focus on the present; about what is right in front of us. And in doing this, we so often miss what is right in front of us. We take what’s good and easy and working for granted. Until it’s no longer good and easy and working for us… until we sprain our ankle and can no longer walk, until we get a cold and can no longer breathe, until we have a stroke and can no longer use our dominant hand. It’s normal. It’s part of being human.

 

But we can do better. I know we can. We can do better for us and for those around us. Because there are tiny, beautiful gifts we are given every day. The breath. The heart beat. The grace.  It is up to us to appreciate them to the fullest while we can. In this one precious life, what can you notice to bring you more present; whether the breath, the heart, the perspective? Where can you be more present and more aware of the miracle of all the systems it takes to keep you alive? This life. This, that which we, just by the sheer act of paying attention, can be more present and connected to. This life.