Notes on Hien

Hien doesn’t remember meeting me for the first time. We were at a med school orientation party, an obligatory ritual for grad school nerds at the start of any new educational endeavor. Big summer thunderstorms rolled through Richmond all night long. Our introduction was quick but just long enough to make me curious about her. I angled for another conversation through the first weeks of medical school but my big break came when fate assigned us to the same group in anatomy lab.

We spent the next three months up to our elbows in cadaveric goop. It turns out that you get to know someone pretty well under those romantic circumstances. I discovered that Hien grew up almost Canadian in way upstate New York, loved mashed potatoes and red wine, spoke passable French, table Vietnamese and halting Spanish, was a monster in the 100 meter free and looked great in a pair of scrubs. She also was the best student in class. We got into our first fight over how to dissect the knee and, since that day, she hasn’t stopped telling me the way it is.

It’s hard to describe the past five years with Hien in a couple of paragraphs without sounding like a complete cheeseball so I’ll just say that I’m having the time of my life. The long days and nights of residency are made easier knowing that we’re in it together. I have found a faithful travel companion and a fairly reliable navigator. A mean bowl of pho is always close at hand. Scrabble matches have taken on a new urgency. My ears will stay forever clean. Everything seems possible.