About Giovanna

I'm Giovanna, and I'm a first year medical student! I cannot believe this new beginning is finally here. My journey has consisted of being born in Brazil, coming to America as a wee pup, and moving all over the place! You name it, I've lived in it. Exaggerations aside, nature and nurture have shaped me into a passionate and outgoing nerd who balances her need for adventure with a need to sit in the library for hours at a time! I received a BS in Nursing over at York College of Pennsylvania, was able to work as a registered nurse for six months, and am ready to delve deeper into the sciences. I'm looking forward to participating in this blog, for it will be a great tool to focus on growth from self-reflection and my ultimate goal of service.

Camaraderie and Opportunity

Giovanna, First Year Medical Student
Christmas break started off on an uninspired note, after an amazing, yet much less than perfect (academically-speaking) first half of the first year. When the reality of personally unsatisfactory performances popped up as test results on my computer screen, I knew that this Christmas break would need to be more than just a holly jolly jingle fest.

Besides renewing my energy for the next half of the school year, I wanted the break to remind of the joy and excitement that I had when I arrived at Loma Linda. By no means did the rigors of the first half of the year turn me into that highly publicized soul-less student. I simply know that we all have a delicate relationship with medicine. It needs constant analytical attention and effort so that those nights muttering “I’m fine” don’t turn into looking up art instructor jobs in Paris under the dimmed light of a computer screen at three in the morning. It takes an intricate balance of some personal time apart and some quality time together. Little did I know that following this simple tactic this break would revamp this love story. On a side apologetic note, the sappy metaphorical tone is a direct result of three too many romantic films while on break.

The background story includes my friend whom I call Baby Liz. In nursing school I was lucky to find her friendship. Last summer, for example, included trying out the local public pool, where the colloquial term “stank face” took on a whole new meaning while bravely worn as the trade-off for the bargain of the admission price. Whenever I am home I visit her, we adventure all over Maryland and southern Pennsylvania. On this Christmas break, we set out on a neighborhood Christmas party that included three houses and three courses. The first house had some delicious tomato bisque as an appetizer, Liz’s house attempted a chicken and vegetable alfredo (I’ll partly take the blame for the chewy chicken), and the last house had some yummy dessert treats and good conversation. As I walked in to that last house I remember thinking, are those surgical room scrubs I see? Any time is a good time to poke away at surgeon’s brains. Intended puns aside, the conclusion of the conversation was that I would be shadowing for a couple of days with the neurosurgery team.

I fell in love all over again, and I thought I didn’t need to. The resident was so welcoming, the other residents so friendly, and the attending surgeons so considerate. I was encouraged to watch a craniotomy for an arteriovenous malformation (where there is a section of no capillaries to offset the pressure between arteries and veins), performed by a female neurosurgeon, both the procedure and gender being a rarity. I sat in that atmosphere of pure focus and meticulous technique for more than four hours, yet it flew by as if half that long. The second day consisted of following the resident throughout the hospital, answering to emergent calls and consults.

It was the camaraderie I saw in the team. This consisted of their inside jokes and positive attitudes, even after days of scant sleep, and their enthusiasm to do whatever it took to care for a patient and perfect a skill. It was also the approachability of attending surgeons with an almost unparalleled responsibility to human life that was so humbling to me. Taking me around the hospital for the consults, Brian, the resident made me feel as if I was part of the team, as if my six months of books and tests made me an invaluable player, and as if my questions presented interesting points. I was even included in the patients’ chart as part of the team consulted (oh, the things that get us newbies excited!). At the end of the two days, I could not express my gratitude. My attempt at expressing just how much I had enjoyed the experience, and how I had hoped not to have been an inconvenience was met with the response, “I only made it here because of someone else’s time and attention, so it is the least I can do.”

Between the fascinating procedures and intricate clinical involvement, those two days were almost enough to have me sign up and start dreaming of neurosurgery. As I asked the female neurosurgeon about her hours and lifestyle, I saw the dedication, passion, and sacrifice that such a life takes. Trying to get a better picture of life as a neurosurgeon, in other conversations with the residents I would ask, “why do you give up so much of yourself, and how do you find the perseverance?” The varying answers included the honor in sacrifice, the reward in healing, and the humility in scientific limitations.

Standing at the brink of the second half of the year, or more honestly, sitting in the cheaper middle seat on a non-stop flight to an even cheaper yet inconveniently far LAX, my passion is more than renewed: it is stronger and has taken on a new maturity. It has a new appreciation for the opportunities I have been given, and it has a new regard for sacrifice and dedication. Camaraderie brought me opportunity, hard work will follow me through, and the love of medicine will drive me on. While I wish I could say I had definitely decided my future career, all I can actually exclaim is that I am almost at sunny California, ready to dig into the books again.

No Romance in Medicine

I have been documenting a novel syndrome. It’s not rare, yet has not been thoroughly described in medical literature. How exciting to be pioneering this! I shall call it Primary Medicine Exposure Romantic Block Syndrome. When exposed to a new environment and cognitive concept that leaves their fundamental confidences shaken, patients find themselves with an inability to manage their romantic faculties. I have seen it with my own eyes as one relationship after the other falls apart amongst my fellow classmates. An anonymous poll for prevalence rates is tempting. I’m still working on more marketable nomenclature for this syndrome if you have suggestions (whoever coined Restless Leg Syndrome, feel free to comment this post, I respect your opinion).

After the first week of tests, this weekend has served as the very cure to my constant, controlled, yet gnawing fear of both the medical knowledge and romantic abysses that seem somehow anastamosed.

This weekend was the Pine Springs Ranch retreat for the School of Medicine, where newly relieved first year students, still shaken second years, rebellious third and fourth years (sneaking away from their rotations or setting aside their review books), got together for some good ol’ campfire tunes. While there was no actual campfire, the stars were scintillating and the bugs were chittering along our harmonies.

Muita calma pra pensar, e ter tempo pra sonhar. Calmness to think, time to dream. We all stopped to think and dream on Friday night. Paige, Ben, Linden, Chris, Morgan, Justin, and I plopped down on an inclining rock clearing and watched the quiet stars as Mike played quiet chords on his guitar. We sang, we laughed out our fears and thus renewed our courage.

It was an especially exciting weekend for me, because I was finally going to sing one of my favorite tunes at the talent show, Corcovado (Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars), by Joao Gilberto and Stan Getz, a song that has stayed in my mixed CDs since I was 11. Did I mention it was to an acoustic guitar, alto sax, and electric bass? I felt like the luckiest immigrated Brazilian who misses the raw and relaxed sounds of a typical Saturday night in a bustling musical neighborhood back home. Thanks for the opportunity Drew, Daniel, and Mike (see his take on this weekend, at Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars)! Whether it was rushing through my books to get to practice on Friday afternoon, ditching the hike up to the mountain ridge in order to refine my egg shaker skills, finally singing that song on Saturday night was my cure for Primary Exposure Romantic Block Syndrome.

Medical school is not the bitter, tragic joke, some fall into believing. Did I hear this weekend of a 70% divorce rate amongst physicians? Maybe these bitter folk haven’t taken quiet walks by quiet streams, or looked out the window that looks out on Corcovado, where the Redeemer stands. Now that I have taken a step back from my past month of academic agony and romantic fear, I realize that this is possible and I could even thrive. You see, the art of medicine illustrates Joao Gilberto’s fundamental mistake of claiming the meaning of existence in romantic love. Romantic love is a little selfish in its expectations of returned affections. Love practiced in medicine reaches out to miserable humanity, giving it a hand in the ugliest, dirtiest, most ungrateful and tragic of circumstances, giving one more chance before the final flicker of life’s ember. So learn how to wisely yet unconditionally love first, medicine being a good teacher, and discerning a wise lover will be a skill that translationally follows.

Olympic Class Classmates


I finally met some future classmates for our incoming class of 2016! As I parked my car at Hulda Crooks Park, I wondered how I was going to find a group of med students I’ve never met. I was surprised at how quickly I could pick out a group of eager strangers. The afternoon was spent tossing water balloons as shot puts, or in my case exploding them before even leaving my hand, racing through playground obstacles, and ice block curling. Yes, sitting on blocks of ice and speeding down a grass hill. My favorite part, as usual in any new social setting for me, was the chatter that took place. The background stories, commonalities found, and sarcastic comments followed by disclaimers to avoid misunderstandings, all came together for some fun conversations.
After tossing on the gold and silver bead necklaces to the proud winners, we wanted to keep hanging out, so the idea came up to get together for some worship. As we shared our journeys of getting to LLU, we pointed out how each of us saw God’s hand at work, how He shaped us and brought us through the daunting journey of admission. We ended in prayer, and I left refreshed and inspired. Inspired by a new group of classmates who are here to learn to be servants. So bring on this challenging year, because I am excited to walk next to some bright minds and giving hearts!

IMG_0606Here’s a shout out to our other blogger, Paige, for the planning and execution of this fun day, especially the yummy cupcakes!