To The Moon and Back

FYI

2011-02-21T19:43:00.000-08:00

**FYI: A few friends and family members have pointed out that my google reader wasn't working properly on my new blog. I can't seem to figure out why it's not working, but will let you know when it is!**

P.S. Okay...it might be working now. :)

Clarification

2011-02-07T18:51:00.001-08:00

My sister pointed out that she didn't think my last post was entirely clear. She says that I should've made my new blog address into an actual link you could click on, and changed the header on this blog back from 'on call mom'.

So, just to be clear. My goal is to post weekly on the new site: www.oncallmom.com. That blog will remain open to anyone (and, while not anonymous, will have less identifying info.)

This blog will be the one going private, and will ultimately be where I'll probably post more of my kid pictures/random family happenings that I might not want a patient happening upon. Also, I hope you won't be shy in asking for an invite, even if I don't know you well. I know I'm not when people go private!

And we're live...

2011-02-06T19:40:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I've decided to go the new blog address route, as discussed below.

Come join me at www.oncallmom.com!

I'm not making any grand goals, here, but I'd like to post weekly. Keep myself thinking and writing, and all that good stuff.

I'm going to keep this blog, but will go private. I'll probably be prone to post more kid related stuff on this one. Email me or comment if you want an invite. I'll probably leave this up for a few months, because unless you're on google reader, it might be a while before you think to check my infrequently updated blog! xoxo

On Call Mom

2010-09-29T20:03:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling the need to re-name my blog for a while, now. "Time Exists Just On Your Wrist" was perfect during my residency years. I was working all the time, and sometimes it felt like time was going too fast while at the same time it felt like the training road would never end. Those lyrics from the Travis song ('time exists just on your wrist, so don't panic...moments last and lifetimes are lost in a day') were a helpful reminder. But now? I feel more like an 'On-Call Mom'. A)We moms are always on call for our kids, right? B)Though I'm not taking nighttime call like I did as a resident, my doctor self is always on-call my my patients, my kids, and my friends/family.

I turned to the very talented Ashly of kidlark (kidlark.blogspot.com) to design a new header that reflected this, and she did a fabulous job!

Pretty fancy. I really like it.

So....do you think I'll actually blog now? ;)

P.S. I'm still undecided on whether I'll transfer my blog to a new one (I have to think about what I want public if a patient were to find my blog) or keep blogging here. Decisions will be forthcoming. :)

Of Conga Lines and Kids

2010-09-03T18:52:00.000-07:00

Chris and I were fairly laid back about our wedding planning. And by 'we', I mean 'me', because is any guy high maintenance about wedding planning?

Which is not to say that I wasn't involved or didn't care. I did. But I didn't stress about it. I just thought it was the best kind of fun to look at flowers and try on pretty dresses and eat lots of sampler plates of delicious food. So when the florist delivered the wrong boutonnieres for the men? I didn't even notice. Apparently the bride at the other wedding really, really did.

There was, however, one thing we did both feel strongly about, and we made it clear to our DJ:

There is to be NO Conga line at the wedding.

I don't know why we felt like this except that it seemed to evoke cheesy weddings from an 80's episode of 'America's Funniest Home Video's. And not that we're particularly high-brow, but, you know...you've got to draw the line somewhere.

Flash-forward to now: E has become enamored of our wedding video. When she has screen time, she wants the wedding video and nothing else. Specifically, the parts with 'wild dancing'.

And in watching the 'wild dancing', I have had occassion to re-live--on a daily basis--our Conga line. Yep, you heard me: we had a Conga line.

Chris's Aunt Pam, who is the type of person who is so fabulously fun, and who you love so much that they can get away with anything, got into the DJ's good graces. And then she convinced him that we weren't really serious about that whole 'no conga line' thing. And then suddenly there was a line of people dancing around the room to the lyrics, 'I'm hot! You're hot!

Oh, yes. It was glorious.

And you know what's funny? That Conga line is my favorite part of the video. As it was one of my favorite parts of the reception. Because everyone was smiling and laughing and embodying 'wild abandon.' Because even my mom was throwing her arms up in the air like she just didn't care. Because we were all doing it together.

And it makes me laugh every single time we watch. The thing I was sure I didn't want, is my very favorite memory of all.

Sometimes I think parenting is like that. I wake up in the morning and I think, "NO conga lines!" You know, I have my list of things we should do and when we should do them. Of laundry to be folded and emails to be sent and errands to be run.

But then the kiddos get themselves in the good graces of life's DJ, and suddenly it's time to dance or get off the floor.

And when I dance...when I just follow the moment and forget my plans: put down my phone and pay attention to a make-believe ball, skip the planned bookstore trip and laugh at the afternoon melty's (a more palatable descriptive term than meltdowns), or put down my book and read to them some of theirs...we make the best memories of all.

When I look back at each day, I'm always happiest when I've let a little Conga line in:a little messy, a lot of flexible, and an extra helping of feeling happy to just be together.

So now, when my life starts to get a little crazy, I close my eyes and think, "I'm hot. You're hot." And with a bounce in my step, I go on my way, knowing that these are the moments I'll probably end up treasuring the most.
*****

Afternoon melty's? What afternoon melty's?

Me and You

2010-08-04T19:59:00.000-07:00

Chris and I celebrated five years of marriage earlier this year. It is a milestone, some would say, and it has caused me to reflect on what marriage means to me. I found my answer on my iPhone (no, really!)

I was looking for something from one of our text messages, and ended up scrolling through the long stream of messages we’ve sent back and forth since we got these great little devices over a year ago.

-----------------------------------------------
“Good news on jon. Call me when you get a chance.”
****
“Did you say you wrote a thank you note to Mary including Eva’s gift?”
****
“There is no way I can survive this day.” (that would be me. I’m prone to dramatics. And it was a work day, not an at home day.)
“Praying for you.”
****
“Do you want me to park the car?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
****
“Love you tons!!!”
“You too!”
****
“Have to leave by 10:20. Need help.”
****
“On the plane. Love you!”
---------------------------------------------

And suddenly it seemed so clear: how two lives are one. How the beauty of our forever-ness is tied up in the the little snippets of back and forth, of scheduling concerns, and of words of encouragement. I saw what’s so beautiful about marriage in those conversation bubbles.

It is a dance, a balancing act, a safe haven. It is a place where we put both of our concerns and desires on the table, and try to make them merge. It is a partnership that asks both of us to help each other out, to have each others backs, and to express love.

Sure, love is in the weekend getaways, the romance, and in the grand gesture gifts.
But deeper love is in the “can you pick up probiotics on the way home? And I love you.”

I love my husband deeply, and I still take such pleasure in the flowers, the little blue boxes and the special dates.
But its the dailiness, the constancy and the quiet partnership we have that fills my soul to the brim.

It's in the way he knows when to bring home frozen custard because I'm having a bad day. It's in the way he adds extra salt to recipes because he knows I'm crazy like that, and the way he takes care of me when I'm sick. It's in the fact that he gets up with our toddler in the mornings so I can keep sleeping, and that I get the baby to fall asleep when I know he's exhausted. It's in him always bringing E to the hospital when I was on call so that I never missed a bedtime. It's in the standing together during those grueling training years and the pillow-talk discussions of new routines to meet changing circumstances. It's in the lunchtime phone calls and the 'what do we have on Saturday again'? It's the 'we'. It's the 'us'.

That’s something my tragically romantic 13 year self would never have believed:
That the best things in life are often the deeper comforts, not the grander excitements.
Or that the first is what often leads to the second.

I’m grateful for marriage. I’m grateful to understand why it matters so much. And I’m grateful that I have the opportunity to walk through this crazy world with someone who makes it such a peaceable walk. And who thinks I’m worth the 0.20 cents/text. (Now that’s romance…and get a texting plan, dear!)

My partner in crime:

Still crazy, after all these years:

Related Blogs

2010-07-28T06:47:00.000-07:00

You might remember my sister from this post. She is wonderful, beautiful, smart and talented, and having her close by is a big part of why my life is so great. She has also, historically speaking, been a VERY bad blogger. Not bad with respect to content. Bad with respect to frequency. You think I'm bad? Ha! So, those us who know her, rejoiced when she finally decided to be more regular about this blogging thing. And I am loving it ! She has always been one of those moms who makes me excited to have more kids. Because even when things are crazy (she too has moments where she'd like to put her kids on craigslist...I kid!), I know she would never choose to be doing anything else. She loves being a mom and understands what a privilege it is to raise up little ones And, it must be said, she is an exceptional Aunt. She fawns so much over my kiddos, you'd think they were hers! Bless her. So I'm glad she's chronicling more of her journey through life and motherhood. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I am!

Sister Extraordinaire:

Now, in case you've missed the button to your right, my sister-in-law, Caitlin (who you might remember from this post), has the most fantastic design blog. She has quite a following, with good reason. She is (you will see a theme developing here) gorgeous, intelligent, talented and kind. I love her like a sister, so maybe I should just drop the 'in-law'? You might see a blog like hers and think that surely that someone living such an exotic, well-designed life couldn't be down-to-earth, approachable, and self-effacing. You would be wrong. She is just as fabulous, good and kind as one could ever wish, and the total opposite of snobby. I eat up all her fabulous designs and am so grateful that she never minds advising me on paint colors, tile backsplashes and the like!

Sister-in-law Extraordinaire:

Did I win the lottery with these two, or what?

A final thought before I head poolside:

I was in the car the other day, on the phone with my sister(Chris was driving...I really am committed to this no cell phone while driving thing). The little ones were asleep in their carseats. Mary asked, "Why are you whispering?" "Oh," I said, "my kids are asleep."

Cue lightning bolt. Or did the earth shake? Not sure, but what's that I just said? My KIDS are asleep. Kids. Plural! I have KIDS. Oh, what a delicious moment.

My kids.

No phrase has ever fit so comfortably on my shoulders. My sister was right: having two kids is definitely more fun. :)

When things get crazy, we just shuffle step our way through!

Community

2010-06-29T11:52:00.001-07:00

I need naps more than ever right now, but that makes it all the harder to get one. Because when I lie down to catch some rest, I am suddenly consumed by the urgency to 'hurry and fall asleep! Before a kid wakes up! There's only an hour before E will be up! Hurry! Sleep! Fall! Now!' Not surprisingly, this isn't the most effective way to waltz into la-la land.

Anyoo, while contemplating the issue of napping, I thought about the person I know who has a supreme talent for napping. Did you know that it was a talent? When I first moved in with Nancy Pants* (a year after we met in grad school and quickly became bosom buddies), I remember learning about her napping talent. We were supposed to go out to dinner and were within 30 minutes of leaving. She says to me, 'Is it okay if I run take a nap really quick before we go?" I looked at her as if she'd said, "Is it okay if I hike the Appalachian trail really quick before we go?" because that is about how likely a 'quick nap' and an on-time departure seemed to go together. "No, I promise," she said, "just a 15 minute power nap. I'll set my alarm." And, true to her word, she was up and ready to go on time. Amazing. If I only have 15 minutes to sleep, you can guarantee I'll spend them thinking about sleeping, but not doing it.

So it was appropriate that while I was laying on the couch the other day, trying to sleep, a memory of Nance is what finally helped me slide into dreamland.
My mind was walking down memory lane, and turning over my medical school memories of the hospital where I delivered both my kiddos. One in particular made me smile.

Nance was getting married soon and had ordered her wedding dress from a store out west. It had arrived that day and she needed to drop it off at the seamstress the next day if the alterations would be finished on time. We had discussed whether she would take her skirt 'mermaid style' or not, but I needed to see it to know. The problem? I was on my surgical rotation, and on call that night. Bummer.

But then she said, "Can I bring it and show it to you there?" Huzzah!
And that's exactly what she did. I met her by the back entrance of the hospital, and we snuck her (large white garment bag and all) up to my call room. I willed my pager into silence and she tried on her dress. She looked gorgeous in it, even amidst (all the more because of?) all the 80's hospital decor and beige walls. We debated the possibilities for her skirt and then I escorted her back out the way she came.

The memory still makes me smile. She brought her wedding dress to the hospital! And tried it on! Just to make me feel like my work life didn't always interfere with real life! And I think if there were any drama surrounding the incident (there was not), it might have made a nice little scene on Grey's Anatomy.

But really, thinking about it just made me grateful to have such lovely friends. Cause I do, and I could write a post about each of them.

I've thought a lot about the need for community since the birth of Finn. Friends, family and acquaintances have served us so generously (meals, kind words, babysitting, photograph taking). No, "let me know if you need anything," but "I'm going to bring dinner tomorrow..is that okay?" They've taught me how to serve and how much comfort there is in just knowing that they're there. Because there are times, I know, when the going will get rougher for all of us, and then we will be most grateful for the communities we've forged (or the ones that we didn't know we'd forged but which appear in our time of need). I believe that God didn't want us to be alone on our journey here. He knew there would be times when we just could not go it alone. And sometimes happy events(a baby) and sometimes sad events (illness in the family) illuminate these golden threads of connection we've sown so that we remember that they're there and that what matters is love and service.

So here's to the little moments that bind us together: to the dresses in hospital rooms, to the late night chats, to the dinners brought, and to the laughs we've shared. To the kids we've hugged, and to the e-mails we've sent, and to the congrats we've given. To the weddings we've attended, to the blogs we've commented on, and to the prayers we've offered for each other.

I've never felt more what a blessing community is--whether near or far, virtual or real-time--or more of a desire to continue building one.

So, to my community: thank you. You make my heart so happy.

*Things you should know about Nance: She is brilliant. She loves dark chocolate. She is an amazing photographer (has studied the artform most of her life) and has documented most of my major milestones since we met. She loves people so well and always gives them the benefit of a doubt. If she tells you about her friends and family, you will walk away thinking everyone she knows is beautiful and smart and wonderful. It took me a while to realize she describes everyone in these terms. And it's not insincere. She sees everyone through the best lens possible, finding their most desirable traits and celebrating them. It's a gift and I love her for it.

All of these photos were from her lens:

Engagement Photos:

E's birth:

E's baby blessing:

E at six months:

Pregnant with Finn:

And she just took newborn shots of Finn as well!

A parting shot: can you blame me for being totally in love?

Our Cute Little Man (and an explanation)

2010-06-06T10:01:00.000-07:00

Why, you might ask, has it taken me a month to post about the arrival of my adorable little man? And why have I taken to posting only once every two months? A few months ago I started getting all these random spammer comments, and it weirded me out a little. I've been sort of avoiding posting since then. Part of me is considering taking this blog private and then starting a new blog where I can talk about doctor and mommyhood with fewer identifying factors. We'll see. But in the meantime, there are more important matters to discuss.

Finn is here! I never wrote my birth story for E, so I'll do it this time around. Here goes (be forewarned, it is long):

With E, I was induced a week after her due date. This, combined with the fact that my mother delivered all of her babies 2-3 weeks late, left me feeling doomed to very prolonged pregnancies. And, with work taking more of a toll the more pregnant I got, I knew I didn't have it in me to last longer than 41 weeks without asking for induction. One article said that a bad mood is one indicator of impending labor. I commented to one of my colleagues that if that was true, I was about to deliver, cause work was making me GRUMPY! But I really wanted to have that, 'honey, it's time to go to the hospital!' moment. It seemed, I don't know...fun? I'm a total sucker for surprises. :)

So I was pleasantly suprised when, while watching SYTYCD (that's
So You Think You Can Dance for the uninitiated) on the eve of my due date, my contractions were just a bit uncomfortable. Nothing major. Only noticeable because this never happened with E. The next couple days were the same. Irregular contractions with a titch of pain. 'Hooray!', I thought, 'Maybe my body is gearing up for this before 41 weeks!' I had my last doctor's appointment two days after my due date.

This is me on my way to my appointment. Little did I know, I was only 24 hours away from meeting baby #2.

I mentioned to the doctor that I was feeling my contractions a bit. I was still thinking that this was just very preliminary stuff. But then he checked me and said, looking surprised, 'You're 4 cm and fully effaced.' Oh! That changed my mindset entirely. 'I'm in early labor,' I thought. My contractions were still pretty mild and 15 minutes apart. I called my mom. She was sure at hearing this news that I would have the baby before she arrived the next day. 'No way,' I thought. Though I did think it was interesting that E had been telling me all week that her baby brother would come the next day. My mom insisted that I stay on the phone until my next contraction came. I told her that a watched pot never boils and hung up.

My sister and her daughter came to join us for dinner (her husband and sons were on a campout). By this point, the contractions were every 8 minutes, and I was starting to use my hypnobabies to get through them. I'm not a serious student of hypnobabies (though I always intend to be), but it helps me with the pain. So does thinking of Disneyland, but I'm kind of funny like that. The evening wore on and I said to my sister, 'hey--do you guys just want to spend the night?' Because I was beginning to wonder if this was real labor. She quickly agreed and we all headed for dreamland.

Make that: they headed to dreamland, and I just headed for bed. I tried to catch some zzz's in between contractions, with varying levels of success. I don't know why, but I didn't want to go to the hospital during the night. I had in my mind that I just needed to make it until 5 am. And that's exactly what I did. When light started to creep through my window, and a minute after 4:59 was on the clock, I shook Chris, 'Honey, I think it's time to go to the hospital." Huzzah! I got to say my line.

We got up and got dressed. I put on earrings because I think it's important to wear earrings while giving birth. At least that's what they told me in medical school. We ate breakfast. "Maybe we should wait a little longer," I said. Contractions were still only 8 minutes apart. And not lasting that long, though painful. "No," Chris said, "we're going." I think after how quickly my sister's babies arrived, he wanted to make sure he wasn't going to end up playing doctor. What a role reversal that would have been!

We drove to the hospital in the early morning light and Chris commented that it was his very favorite time of day. So peaceful.

We got to L&D, and I told the nurse that I was in labor. They looked dubious (which would become a theme) but put me in a room. The floor was otherwise empty, and I loved that. The resident came in, and apparently also thought I looked too calm to be in labor. I wanted to yell, 'It's called hypnobabies, people!" but that would've ruined my zen. But then he checked me and found that I was between a 6 and 7. Ha! He had no choice but to believe me that this baby was on its way.

That's when he broke the news that my doctor wasn't on call. I go to a solo practicioner, who I LOVE, and hadn't realized that since my last delivery he had joined a coverage group for weekend calls. I wanted to cry. I chose my doctor because he is very 'non-interventional', very skilled, and very kind. And I was about to be delivered by one of 5 doctors whom I'd never met? But I soon learned that disappointments often make room for us to see God's attention to detail. Because you know who walked in my room a few minutes later? The doctor on call, who happened to have been a resident when I was a med student. A resident whom I had loved and who helped train me. A resident who was so kind, and also of the 'non-interventional' school of thought. A now-doctor who loved soccer/football so much that he would sit and talk about it with Chris between contractions. A doctor who rubbed my shoulders while the epidural was going in. A doctor who said, "Wait, I know you!" even after all these years. Not only did he remember my face, but he remembered that I was LDS and that I'd had a boyfriend in South America on a mission when he'd known me. "That must be you!" he said to Chris. Good thing it was. ;)All I could think was, 'Holy tender mercy, Batman."

I got up to walk the halls and get things moving. My nurse told me that all the other nurses kept saying, 'are you sure your patient is in labor? She isn't in enough pain." HYPNOBABIES!!

And, really folks, don't judge a contraction by its cover. Do I need to writhe on the floor to make it believable?

My sister had come to the hospital by then, and brought me a flower (that she made) to wear in my hair. Isn't it wonderful to have a sister who knows that having a flower in your hair really does help things go more smoothly?

I hadn't decided if I would go the epidural route or not this time. My very wise sister, who has delivered two babies naturally, told me that there comes a point where the contractions don't get worse, just closer together. That's the point where people get scared, though, and get the epidural. I think she's right. Because there came a point where I got scared that they were going to get worse. And I called for the epidural.

In my mind was the ghost of contractions past. It must be said that contractions with Pitocin (like I had with E) are a totally different beast than contractions without. The first time around, before I got the epidural, I remember sitting there, pitocin at full throttle, just focusing on not dying from the pain. This time, I felt more in control. But I kept thinking it would feel the way it did with pitocin, so I said, "I guess call for the epidural before breaking my water." The anesthesiologist got there faster than I expected. The doctor checked me right before and I was an 8. I was about to say, 'I'm an 8?! Then don't bother...' but he was already set-up and I was too tired to change my mind. "Will you judge me if I get the epidural?," I asked my sister. I already knew she never would. Luckily, he only gave me a light epidural, so I would still be able to push effectively.

Here is my support team. Don't let their relaxed look fool you--they were very effective:

About an hour later, it was time to push, and a few minutes later, Finn arrived. Sweet, sweet, adorable, Finnian Scott. 8 pounds 8 ounces of adorable.

Waving 'hi' while being held by Aunt Wendy:

Meeting Big Sister:

Though she hasn't been entirely okay with the new world order, E has never taken it out on 'baby brutta'. Just us. ;)

My little bundle:

Awake!

And that, my friends, is how we doubled not only our numbers in the kid department but the size of our hearts to love them (apparently it happens between the final push and the first cry). My mom arrived shortly thereafter, and my in-laws brought E to visit that afternoon. It all went smoothly. The rest of the hospital stay was uneventful (but it must be mentioned that I had cable TV!! All to myself! Can you say HGTV marathon?) and we went home the next day. We are all kinds of grateful.

There are a lot of things to write about, like the transition to two kids (yowza!), or my first 'is there a doctor in the house?' moment, but I'll save that for another day. I am feeling a bit 'writey', so maybe I'll actually pen those thoughts in the coming week. 'Til then, I'm off to go kiss my babies. May the sleep be with you (and with me!).

The Things That Will Change

2010-04-07T19:07:00.000-07:00

Last week, E and I treated ourselves to dinner out.

Chris was still en route home from a business trip, the AC was out, and the thermostate read 91 degrees outside/84 degrees inside.

Yup, time to go out for dinner.

She declared that 'Pizza!' would hit the spot, and I was happy to oblige. (Normally she askes for 'gnocchi!', which is her favorite pasta dish at a local Italian place. I get an enormous kick out of my daughter asking for gnocchi'.) We packed up my mercifully light diaper bag and headed to one of our favorite pizza joints.

"Table for two", I said. Because she's really her own little person these days. She's not a 1/2 person, the way she sorta was when she was a baby in a car seat.

We were seated at our small table, and she chose the chair side instead of the booth side. We ordered a cheese pizza to split, and waited.

"I want my food, mommy."

"I know, sweetie, but they have to make it first." She seemed satisfied with my answer.

Then she took her styrofoam cup with a cover and asked if she could put her straw into every spot except for the one where it was supposed to go. She knew how silly she was being. She watched our fellow diners, declared that she did not like the waiter serving a neighboring table (E, Shhhh!), and played with one of her princess figurines.

Our pizza arrived, and she only protested a little when I told her it needed to cool. It did, and she ate up her little piece. No spills!

We paid our bill, and then we left.

And that, my friends, is what is about to change.

I am acutely aware of all the things that will be different with two little people in tow. One of my friends (mother of 3.5) says that normally people don't realize how easy one child is until they have two. But I do realize it. And so, I am treasuring every one of these moments. The ones where I can take my little buddy, and just enjoy a quiet little dinner out. The ones where I can enjoy having a toddler who actually sits in her chair all through dinner (generally not the strong suit of little boys). The ones where I can spontaneously plan our day around only one set of nap-time needs.

It's bittersweet, you know, this expecting a second child business.

But then I think, gee, if my mom had stopped after one kid, she'd be missing out on me! Ha! Or more importantly: on my two amazing little brothers.

And I think about how my siblings are one of the greatest joys of my life.

And I see how sweet it is when E kisses her little cousin Hazel and comforts her (and try not to think about the times she is less tender!).

And I get more and more excited to meet this little guy who's birth will start a new chapter for our growing family.

Sure, it will require more of my time and heart to parent another little person. But then, has the point ever been to be more about me? And haven't I learned by now that giving more, loving more, sacrificing more has opened up the greatest joys and deepest satisfactions of my life?

I got the biggest reassurance this last Sunday while sitting in Church. E was sitting on my lap (which has become harder and harder for her to do), just listening to the speaker. The sun was shining, Chris was sitting next to me, and nothing extraordinary was happening at all. But as I just held my daughter--my daughter--my soul fairly buzzed with the delight of loving her. Oh, the depth of my loving! It is an emotion I never could have imagined.

And I know I will feel that again for another little person. This is something totally miraculous and worth any inconveniences I will have to pay at the alter of baby-hood.

So, when people ask if we are ready, I think: 'Sure!" Whatever 'ready' means when you can't predict at all what will be coming. But we are excited to move on to the next great adventure. And ready for the love that that adventure holds.

Shifting

2010-02-09T13:31:00.000-08:00

My sister-in-law’s recent post about reviewing 2009 inspired me to take a look back at this most recent year. And when I did, I noticed that the end of my medical training had coincided nicely not only with the year I left my twenties, but the end of the decade. And as I considered this, it occurred to me that the whole decade had a theme. Quite simply, in almost every way, it was ‘the decade I became a doctor.’

I look back and I see how much the pursuit of this goal shaped almost everything I did in the last ten years. It shaped the relationships I did and did not enter into (thank goodness). It affected which vacations I was available to take. It guided where I moved and with whom I lived. It altered my hobbies and how I approached my college education. It deepened my friendships. It moved my faith and made it stronger. It gave me confidence to live outside the box. It required sacrifice from my loved ones. It changed when I thought I’d want to start a family, and then when that timing was different than expected, it changed how I mothered and how I experienced motherhood. It limited my ways to serve in some capacities, but opened endless abilities to help in others. And mostly, it just felt right and guided, which is all I can really ask for my life. This journey seeped into most of my waking moments (of which there were too many!) and followed me like a mostly welcome shadow.

And now it is over. And I am a doctor. And thirty. Aside from my wistfulness over the softening of the skin around my eyes, there isn’t room for regret over this milestone (Hollywood’s obsession with youth, be darned!). But I do feel a shift happening inside of me.

It is a subtle shift in my thoughts, in my goals, and in how I seek/am able to spend my time now. I feel nesting instincts in my soul. A pull to focus more on family. My twenties were for my MD. My thirties should be for the little guys. Of course doctoring is a big part of my life. And I want to continue to learn, serve and grow in this capacity. I don’t have any idea where this will take me professionally, but I am content to be present and let it unfold.

But as I continue to raise my precious daughter with Chris (and expect the arrival of a son in just three months!), my (our) focus will be on them. I feel the weight of responsibility to teach these little people about Gospel truths. I feel the weight of responsibility to protect them from a destructive media culture that preys upon girls especially. I yearn to be wrapped up as much as possible in the joys of family. And I feel the desire to build a safe haven for my children at home, so that they can have a secure place to head out into the world from.

The world sometimes has different ideas about what’s important and from where satisfaction is to be gained . Sometimes I’ll read about a career opportunity and the siren song of success will tug at my heart. In the trenches of medical training, it is easy to fall in love with the admiration and the professional strokes that come from working the hardest or sacrificing the most for your profession. It doesn’t take long for me to silence that siren song these days, though. Instead, I am happy to be the best doctor I can be for my patients and quietly soak in compliments like this one, “Judging from your bedside manner, I bet you’re a great mom.” I should assure them that there’s probably no connection, but I smile and think , “I hope so.” It’s what I aim to be in my own imperfect way.

So, here’s to the next ten. And to all those who are fighting the good fight on the homefront.

It’s the most worthy endeavor of all.
-------------------------------------

My homefront:

E sitting with my Dad, re-visiting my childhood happy place:

Less Work, More Aquariums:

And Parks:

A classic mommy moment: "Don't play with daddy's glasses! But don't take them off until I get a picture!"

Bringing Something Else to the Table

2009-11-18T19:14:00.002-08:00

My husband is in a constant state of productivity. Really, I could not be more serious about that. You have to keep your eye on that one: I turn around for a second and he's off to grout the shower or rake the leaves. Or organize the basement or hang up more pictures. Or pay the bills or fix the creaky door. You get the idea. It is a wonderful blessing in that I never have to nag him about anything. I wouldn't know what to nag about, since he does things before I even realize they need to be done. I have to be very specific with him when I want him to sit down and stare at the wall with me. It doesn't come naturally to him (though he obliges me as any good husband would).

So, this is not a complaint, you see. I am thrilled to have found someone who has such a vigorous work ethic. But it presents a different problem: it is enormously hard to live up to. I mean, knowing that it is not in my genes to be in such a constant state of motion, how will I ever feel like I'm carrying my weight? I know, I know, I worked so hard at medical training. And it's true. Most people seem to think this means I am immune to any kind of inertia. And that's not true. When left to my own devices, I do not have the internal drive that he does. It's amazing how I can wile away the hours and not have anything concrete to show for it. Constant attention to my 'to-do' list is not in my DNA (though it is easy to see that it is in his!) My attempts to contribute to the homefront always seem to pale in comparison to his. And sometimes I feel guilty about that.

Until my dear husband wrote me the sweetest birthday card upon my recent departure from my 20's (yes, it's true...I've joined the 30 club.) It turns out that he doesn't see it like that. Instead, he sees me as doing a different kind of work. Remember that book, "Frederick"? It's about a little mouse who looks sort of lazy because he is daydreaming while his cohorts are gathering food for the coming Winter. But really, he is gathering colors and stories that will keep them all entertained during the long, cold season. Chris wanted me to know that he sees the ways that I bring 'Frederick' type work to the table. I have never lacked for the ability to enjoy the moment, for imagination, for stories to tell, or random outbursts of song and dance. I've never struggled to sit with Eva and read, while leaving the breakfast dishes undone for a few hours. I am good at looking for the reward at the end of the chore or the treat to look forward to at the end of the day. I like surprises and spontaneity and joy. And, he wrote to me, this is why he loves me. He isn't keeping silent track of the times I don't organize my closet fast enough, or the times I don't get to the laundry before he does. He is enjoying the company we keep together. He sees that together, we have a productive and happy home. Without his perspective, I might only see my shortcomings. He's helped me to see that they can actually be strengths. Not all talents are easily checked off on a list. And if we were both always checking boxes, we might never stop to taste the chocolate (ha!).

We try to meet each other in the middle. He tries to be a little more Frederick* and I try to be a little more worker bee. And the result is a home that is a happy, imperfect, constantly-evolving place of joy for us.

So I guess it's our differences that makes us such a good team. And I guess that this 'Frederick' is pulling her weight after all. :)

*may you one day witness one of his spontaneous human beat-box displays. good stuff.
---------------------------------------------
And now for some pictures:

Eva rummaging through her birthday loot. Isn't that sweater dress just perfection? Oh, Target...let me count the ways...

Halloween had us dressed up as Daughtry, his groupie, and their butterfly fairy. Work with what you've got, that's what we always say.

"Pre" (Why does her smile look so mischievous?)

"Post"

Love this little face:

Chocolate

2009-10-19T19:24:00.000-07:00

I am ALMOST done with an actual post, but I keep falling asleep at night before I can finish. So, until I get back to the computer tomorrow, here are two quick things I think you should know:

1)You should most DEFINITELY join the Godiva Rewards Club. It is free to join. I knew among the benefits of being a card-holder was a free piece of chocolate every month. And since we have stores in a few of the malls I frequent, I thought this could be kind of cool. Still, I figured it meant that they would dictate what kind of candy I got. Read: whatever seasonal/unpopular flavor is tied to a certain month is what gets handed to you.

But I was wrong!

When I went into the store last week during a family shopping extravaganza, I told the clerk that I was using my rewards card. I figured she'd dump a pumpkin truffle into a bag and call it good. She just stared at me, waiting, so I thought I mightn't look so cheap (ha ha) if I actually purchased a single piece of candy. So I asked her for a mint medallion (which isn't what I wanted at all, but since it was just a cover, I was going for inexpensive). She picked it up, swiped my card, and said, 'you're good to go.'

And that was when it hit me: I could have asked for ANY PIECE OF CANDY. It sort of broke my heart that I'd wasted my inaugural piece on a mint medallion. I mean, there are hazelnut oysters to be had! But still, I couldn't get over how cool it was.

"Chris, I can walk into Godiva once a month and get whatever kind of candy I want. For free.' Since each truffle runs at least a few bucks, and since all I ever want is one anyway, I thought this was really something.

And now I've written five paragraphs about it, which is something else entirely. And my mom is going to tell me I'm crazy for writing a page about chocolate when I could've used this time to finish a meaningful post.

Still. It's kind of cool and you're kind of glad you know...right? ;)

Godiva has some smart marketing people at work. Though maybe it's not that smart if I never do anything but take free candy. Will they kick me out of the club? Chris thinks its likely.

Have you joined yet? Chocolate awaits!

*I am not getting kick-backs from them. I just have a 'not-so-easily-suppressed' QVC saleswoman at my core.

And the other thing:
My baby is TWO! She was so cute on her birthday. OH, she was so cute. When Chris went to get her out of her crib that morning, the first thing she said was, 'BIRTHDAY!' Amazing how they remember. We had cupcakes and presents with family(someday I will be organized enough to do a friend birthday) and watched her expertly blow out her candles. (She'd been practicing all week. I'd be in the kitchen and hear her sing the whole happy birthday song to herself, then pretend to blow out fake candles. What's that they say about little pitchers?) It was a fabulous day and I just can't believe what a joy little E has been these past two years.

Here she is eating her cupcake. Surprisingly, she was very dainty about it!

Return to Me

2009-09-27T17:40:00.000-07:00

Well, I suppose I should blog. I feel profoundly out of the habit, which was an unintentional move. Maybe it's hard to return to regularly scheduled programming after a post like my last one. The good news about my brother-in-law, is that we've received bits of news from the doctors to bolster our hope.

Since I didn't recap much of the summer, and since if I tell myself it has to be done in detail I may never blog again, I'll settle for this:
Beach (we covered that), work on the house, go to the Zoo, read, play with friends at the park, Family Reunion in SF, Family Reunion in Santa Cruz, work on the house (pretty much done on that front), go to the Zoo, play with friends at the park, read, go to Williamsburg, go BACK TO WORK! Try to figure out where the summer went. AHHHHH...feel so sad that I have to escape to NYC for a college reunion the very next weekend.

Come back. Try to re-establish a routine. Remember how much I wish I could figure out how to doctor without doing chart-work. Sort of like trying to figure out how to mother without changing diapers.
And suddenly, it's Fall. Time for that crispness that has me reaching for a light blanket, a s'more (actually, those are seasonless in this family) and caramel apple cider. Eva just wants to go to the 'pun-kin patch!'.
Phew.

Something about being away from work made it that much harder to go back, though I have enjoyed seeing my patients and co-workers again. And it was a relief to see that I still remembered how to doctor! Two months away felt like a long time gone.

I feel I should leave you with something more than just 'I'm back', so here are three fun little things:

1)My sister got a VitaMix. These expensive blenders really are amazing. If you're not familiar, they actually blend up all the fruit and vegetable together--we're talking industrial strength--instead of just extracting the juice. This is supposed to be much healthier. I actually believe it since my mom's green concoction, which was quite tasty, had me over the beginnings of a cold in a matter of hours! Trust me--I'm a doctor. Mary made one last night for an after dinner snack. How awesome is it that her boys think a spinach drink is a dessert smoothie!! ha ha! She offered some to E, who I wasn't sure would be interested. But she drank it right up! I think I know what I need for Christmas this year. My daughter! Drinking Spinach! And how is this for the cutest green mustache ever:

2)I just made this 'Boo' Sign and I LOVE it. The picture quality is terrible (can you even tell there is glitter on the black edges?), and the ghoulish lighting is courtesy of my dear hubbers who thought it added to the ambiance. If you are interested in the instructions, let me know! I found it online after seeing the demo in a local antique shop.

3)I saw this quote on another blog recently, and thought it was lovely:
"Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy." -Anne Frank

Happy Sabbath everyone!

Post-Edit:
For Lyndsey and anyone else who is interested, here is the link to the 'BOO' sign instructions. Enjoy!

Hope For All Things

2009-08-23T13:47:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about Hope a lot lately. It's funny how cancer will do that to you. My brother-in-law, Jonathan, has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. It is not the kind of news you ever expect to hear, but especially not about a 28 year old. It brings to mind that song lyric playing on today's radio stations, "I guess we're all one phone call from our knees."

Of course, in times of trouble, as in times of ease, I look to my faith. I sit and ponder what this means, where to find strength, what to hope for.

Hope can sometimes seem at first blush to be little more than wishful thinking. As one author put it, most of us use the word 'hope' as the verbal equivalent of crossing our fingers. i.e., I really 'hope' this officer lets me off with a warning. We talk as a family about how nice it is to have a doctor offer us some small sliver of hope. Countless well-wishers tell us that they 'hope' things go our way.

But as I ponder the scriptural sense of Hope, the one that we are commanded to have along with Faith and Charity, I wonder what it is that God is asking us to do. Surely He is not talking about just clinging to wishful thinking. Because, since life doesn't always turn out the way we want it to, where's the virtue and courage in that?

I finally read an article that clarified this for me. There is a scripture about how experience brings about hope (Romans 5:4). Why is that? Our past experience with God as a just and loving Being informs our ability to Hope that He will continue to be so. That no matter how things turn out, He will fulfill his promises and take care of us in the eternal sense. Hope, then, is a courageous determination to look to the future. A belief that no matter what the present, the future will hold what God has promised. And that is as joyous a thought as my mind can comprehend.

So, based on my experience, I know that I can place my Hope surely in several things.
I put my Hope in miracles, understanding that those miracles take many forms. Sometimes healing bodies, often healing hearts.
I put my Hope in eternal things, including families that can be bound together through sacred covenants.
I put my Hope in a loving Heavenly Father, who grants tender mercies to help us through the trials we encounter.
And, mostly, I put my Hope in Christ, who understands all things and abides with us during our darkest hours.

I ask for your prayers on behalf of Jonathan and our family as we navigate what lies ahead, grateful that we don't have to captain this ship ourselves.

God will take care of that.

Why God Made Sisters

2009-07-28T10:41:00.000-07:00

I always knew my sister was a keeper. I idolized her from the start. There was the time when she slipped a diagram under our bedroom door, replete with a picture tutorial of how to escape my time-out via the bedroom windows. There was the time she let me ride bikes downtown with her to buy her latest pet and then let me take over care for said pet (hahaha!). There was the time she let me listen in to the recounting of her latest dating misadventures, even though I was only 12 but dying to be grown-up enough to hear . And there were the million other times she has screwed my head back on straight when I've started talking crazy. Growing up, I just wanted to be like her*. And now I just want to be with her, so it's a good thing we only live 20 minutes apart.

Yesterday we left our little ones in the capable hands of grandmas/nannies (with the exception of her nursing infant, who is so quiet, she doesn't really count) and headed out to Leesburg for the love of a good deal. We're both re-decorating right now, so we each had our wish list. And maybe it's the karma of sisters, but we both found just what we were looking for.
Somehow we managed to get it all into her mini-van (oh the wonder!):

We celebrated our spoils over lunch at Friday's. A sister knows that after you've both ordered your salads, and just as the server is walking away, it is the right thing to say, 'actually, can we get a side of fries with that?' Since I'd been thinking exactly the same thing, I added, 'with a side of ranch?' Perfection!
I could write a page long list about the things I love about my sister (beautiful! brilliant! spiritual! kind! funny! talented!), but as we talked, with the easiness and understanding that comes with a shared lifetime, blood and history, I realized that the heart of the matter is this:

God made sisters because He knew there would be things that only He and she could understand.

And I'm so grateful He gave me one. Cause Heaven knows I couldn't do it without her.

*the wanting to be like her thing hasn't ended.

Post-Script: If God is especially kind, He will also send you amazing sisters through marriage. Lucky, lucky me!

Stream of Consciousness Re: My New Life

2009-07-22T19:37:00.001-07:00

I sat here and tried to think of what to say. Chris said, 'you could blog about unpacking boxes.' 'You can't blog about that.' 'Well, then you could always just do that.' HA HA HA! I've been telling him that I'll unpack the bookcases for a few days now--seems like the least I could do. Once the basic, needs-to-be-done-to-function unpacking was done, my pace slowed. My intentions are solid gold, but my schedule is jam-packed. What with blueberry picking, afternoon naps, visits to the container store, and chasing a toddler around the yard, I'm trying to figure how I ever had time to go to work, let alone do anything around the house. Now that boards are behind me (three cheers!), I am finally relaxing into this new schedule (which is off completely until Labor Day, then part-time). Since it's the first time I've had this schedule stretching out in front of me since E was born (maternity leave was not relaxing), I'm sort of giving myself permission to be less productive than I would be normally. For a few days, anyway.

But I did unpack some (okay, three) books today.

It's taking some time, because more than boxes, I just feel like I am un-packing my life.

I am not used to having totally unstructured days. I am not used to having more than a few hours at night to get things done. I am not used to life without my routines and my schedule (as decided by others). And the possibilities of this are rather paralyzing. What first? And when? With who? What makes the cut? I feel an accountability to this newfound flexibility/freedom. My brain looks like this: Blogging? Creative Writing? Napping with E? Stickers? Organizing? Reading 'Fancy Nancy'? Running though the sprinklers? Reading the paper? Ordering window Treatments? Journaling? Signing up for dance classes again? Cooking Dinner? Doing Laundry (what is THAT?)?
It's a little bit of chaos right now, but I'm enjoying the mess.
Things will settle, and when all is said and done, we'll have a new normal.

some observations and recent happenings:
1)Realizing that I now have time to take over some of the domestic responsibilities that my uncomplaining husband and Nanny have taken care of is, well, taking some time. I think, "Oh. Right. Guess I have time for that now? Darn!!" Certain things are not so bad. For example, I'll enjoy more time to cook. But no one looks forward to dusting and such.
2)My brother's gorgeous wife brought Little Olivia into the world. She is perfection--a miracle--and I cried when, after texting me throughout her labor, my brother told me the little darling was here.
3)The Outer Banks were especially kind to us this year. Quiet. And Kind. It was just my wonderful in-laws (who can take most of the credit for the amount of our house that IS put away) and us. E was endlessly entertained on the beach by her 'gampa' who can make her laugh to the point of hiccups at the drop of a hat. That meant that Chris and I actually got to sit back and enjoy the waves/read. The whole week was one of my favorite beach weeks ever.
4)Being with Eva so much is hands down the best part of this transition. I find her utterly bewitching, and feel privileged to witness more of her daily moments. She, as well, seems endlessly pleased by our new arrangement.

So, what can I say? It's all a work in progress right now. I'll keep you posted!

Eva loves the Ocean, but this is definitely her favorite vantage point:

This is what she does if you try to put her down in the ocean:

Look at that face!

Glamour Puss:

Happy Together:

See what I mean?:

She is in one continual state of playing with my hair:

Those curls!

I AM...

2009-07-04T09:17:00.001-07:00

...DONE.

Finished.

Complete.

To the End of the (training) Road.

No one can ever take that away from me.

And it feels so good. :)

Pockets

2009-06-18T18:08:00.000-07:00

I know I've been quiet on here lately. With multiple major life transitions all converging on the month of June, I just gave myself permission to totally slack. In this respect, anyway.
It turns out that there are a myriad of i's to dot and t's to cross as residency comes to a close.
And it turns out that moving into a house (that we own!) takes a considerable amount of time and planning.
And it turns out that taking your last set of boards takes some effort.
And it turns out that I can still find time for 'So You Think You Can Dance.' Ha!

And with all the madness, I've been waiting for my thoughts to coalesce and make sense. Usually, I go about my day with thoughts swirling around. Suddenly, they come together in a flash-bang kind of way, and I go write them down. It hasn't happened recently.

So, yeah. I've been quiet.

But then the juices have started flowing as I've been sifting through the pieces of my life in the packing process. Oh the nostalgia!

Last night I finally decided to conquer my medical bags. Over the last several years, I have basically lived out of the pockets of my white coat. Trinkets, books, paper, drug company paraphanelia all weighed me down as I walked the halls of my hospitals. And every time I washed my coat, I would empty my pockets into a safeway bag. And when I put it all back, I usually selected only the important items to go back in. Which meant that I had scads of bags full of old medical junk/treasures. And I couldn't quite throw it all away. So I ended up with something like this:

And sorting through it proved an interesting walk down my medical lane.

I found this:

My very first pager from med school. It looks so old school, now, seeing as it is not a text pager. But it was my first one...the one which seemed impossibly cool at first blush...only to seem impossibly unbearable a thousand midnight interruptions later. It woke me up for transplants and sick babies and ER admissions. It introduced me to medical life. It sat on my hip through my first two years of life-changing, oft-terrifying, humbling hospital training. And now it sits unceremoniously among trinkets, like it never did anything very important at all. Dear Pager: I won't ever forget you.

And I found this:

I could still have free lunch at a hospital! But the thought of eating the same foods I lived on as an intern, appeals to me less than free food. And that's saying something.

This:

Cause even tired doctor's need sassy lipgloss?

And a way to make sure there's no lettuce in your teeth? Heaven knows every other bit of vanity goes straight out the window.

This:

My on-call notes. I have so many of these pages! Sometime illegible scrawlings with phone numbers to call back, symptoms to evaluate, and sometimes angry remarks at the unfairness of the on-call universe. This is practically my journal! My record of my labor! How do I throw this all away? (Don't worry, Mom, I did.)

This:

Parking passes for garages I'll never visit again.

This:

A list of vital signs looked up for our census of patient's during my surgical 'Acting Internship.' These were hard-won vitals signs, as I had to arise at 4-something to gather them. Isn't that worth something? This piece of paper is not a piece of paper. It is a badge of honor

This:

My notebooks of 'beginners pearls'. Little notes about important things I might want to remember. Tips from those who'd gone before. My first attempts to keep track of the seemingly endless line of facts to be learned. I think I'll want these when I'm 90.

This:

Cards of questions I'd written down...things to look up at a later date. And how amazing! I know all these answers now. In fact, they seem like second nature. So I think: I guess I'm really a doctor. Those index cards show me how far I've come.

And finally, this:

Okay, so she wasn't in a Safeway bag, but how lucky am I to have picked up this treasure during my medical training? I never dreamed I'd graduate Residency with the most joyful little girl at my side. And it was the greatest gift of all.

So here we are.

11 days from the end.

11 day from the beginning.

Ma Ma

2009-05-17T18:30:00.001-07:00

Do you ever stop to think what it means to be someone's mother?

Chris was on travel for a few nights last week. I can't complain because it rarely ever happens. But I can complain because I just don't sleep as well when he's gone. You know?

At 2 am, I was startled awake by a dream. I lay there, trying to waltz back to dreamland, when I heard E cry out for a split second. Maybe we were having the same dream. "MAMA!" she called out with that sleepy, instinctual urgency midnight wakings breed. Then she fell back asleep.

'Mama'. The word shot straight from her crib to my heart. I lay there, reveling in the feeling it brought. I love that. I love that I am the name she calls out in the middle of a dream. And a million other times during the day. The one whose kisses magically heal her owies. The one whose presence is the answer in so many ways. The one whose arms have held, rocked, fed and loved her since the day she was born.

Which is not to say that it can’t be exhausting and frustrating to be needed so much, so often. But when I see straight to the heart of it, it seems like really such an honor.

It is a heady thing to be someone's mama. So grand yet so intimate.

And I love it so very much.

********************************************

This is the face she makes when you tell her to smile. And, first pigtails!!!

Singing in the Car:

**I do, of course, recognize that I am not the only *one* who she reaches for, needs and loves. I have not forgotten dad, grandmas and grandpas. But this post is just about my corner of all that! ;)

Lazy Days

2009-04-27T19:20:00.001-07:00

Remember those Countrytime Lemonade commercials? The ones with kids swinging on tires, grandparents drinking juice on porches, and sun slanting through oak trees? The kind of commercials that remind you of every story you ever read about the way a lazy, happy summer is supposed to unfold.

Saturday felt like that. And it felt like a real accomplishment. Here's why:

I often have a period of free time come to a close and think, 'why wasn't that more satisfying? Why is it 'a little of this and a little of that' later and I feel like it slipped right through my fingers?" It's like I really want to grab the time off by the proverbial horns and use it in the best way possible. I do myself in with expectations.

So last Saturday arrived with particularly awesome possibilities: the first sunny Saturday in weeks, and nothing on the agenda all the livelong day. At 9:30 am, we looked at each other and said, 'let's get out of the house'. We decided to call hubby's parents to see if they would mind us crashing their Saturday. They are the loveliest of company, have a wonderful backyard, and live close to the Mt. Vernon Estate. It sounded like a great combination.

We were down there by mid-morning. E was running circles around their yard before we could say 'naptime'. Limeaid in hand, we all sat down on the porch to watch her. And then we stayed there. All day. Forget Mt. Vernon. We went with: Easy conversation, breaks for lunch, a few chores, naptime, hours stretching on. A bowl of ice cream. Total relaxation. Sitting, sitting, sitting on the porch.

The evening sun started to soften and it was time to pack up. My whole body felt happy and satisfied like it does when I close the cover to a particularly lovely book. Or after finishing a to-do list. Honestly, in the most marvelous of ways, the day felt productive.

One of my attendings once told me about an article he had read. It described how bad Americans are at relaxing. When we see an opening in our schedule, we rush to fill it. Instead, he asserted, we need to schedule down time. True down time.

And after seeing how good this day was for my soul, I want you all to try it.

Doctor's Orders. :)

*************************************************
My Easter Delight:

Winding Down

2009-04-18T07:51:00.000-07:00

I can tell that the end of my official medicine training road is drawing near.

Nostalgia has always been my go-to emotion...never very far from the surface. Lately, though, it comes in more noticeable and frequent waves.

Last night, for example: I was the back-up call resident. In the last few months of residency, that is usually a blessed thing where you review ER patient's with the 2nd year resident on the phone but stay home unless someone is sick, sick, sick. It almost feels (oh happy day) like not being on call at all. Still, I had never made plans to do anything on a call night. You know how the cosmos can be.

This week I couldn't resist an invitation to join some of our friends for dinner at their home. I joked to Chris, "surely this will mean that things won't go as planned."

We walked into their lovely home, and immediately my cell phone went off. It was the 2nd year resident. She had two patient's to admit at one hospital and another waiting at the other hospital. The pager was exploding. She was freaking out. "I have never asked for help, but I am drowning...could you answer the phones for me?" Ha! Told you so. After thirty minutes spent trying to figure out why the pager system was malfunctioning, I was able to log in and start covering the messages for her.

My gracious host never batted an eye as I darted in and out of the dining room, and turned their lovely dinner party into a harried scene. The food, by the way, was divine.

As we were leaving their house, I checked in with the 2nd year again and discovered that 2 or 3 more admissions had come in to the hospital she was at. Panic was evident in her voice and her mind was showing signs of being lost entirely. I've had nights like that. I felt for her. "Just breathe, we'll get through this. I've got the phones covered. After I put the baby down, I'll head to the other hospital and take care of that admission." Palpable relief rushed through my earpiece as she sighed, "Thank you. so. much."

I got to the hospital late, during that hour when the ER is still crazy, but the rest of the halls are quiet. I actually love the hospital during that time. It is quiet, sacred and feels strangely like home. I should've known I'd end up as a doctor when hospitals ranked up with bookstores, libraries and The Disney Store as enjoyable places during my childhood.

I don't spend as much time at this particular hospital anymore. I'm there on occasion, but spend more time at another local hospital. It felt good to be back. Walking down a deserted hallway with only the clack of my shoes to fill the space, scenes from my time here popped up like TV episodes in my mind: surgeries assisted on, residents worked with, patients cared for. Emotions came rushing back: grumpy over-tiredeness, satisfaction, desperation, relief.

I should not feel nostalgic over thirty hour shifts, 80+ hour work weeks, and days that make you feel like your emotional, intellectual and physical reserves are being taxed completely. But somehow I do.

I walked down a corridor between the main hospital and the heart center. My white coat hung on my shoulders in the comfortable way that it has ever since it stopped feeling like a costume a few years ago. I smiled at the few families who were still in waiting rooms. They smiled back with that smile imbued with subtle gratitude. 'Thank you for being here and taking care of patients', it seems to say.

I found my patient. "Hi, I'm Dr. H," I began. Like so many times before. I finished up my work and then retraced my steps back to my car.

Why the nostalgia? I feel nostalgic over things that I know I'll never get back or experience in quite the same way again. I feel nostalgic over things that have meaning, over things that I'm grateful for and over things that have shaped my person. And becoming a doctor has done nothing if not shaped me into something new, and hopefully, better.

I feel nostalgic because my training reminds me how much joy is found in unexpected places, including at the end of any given rope. I feel nostalgic because the hard was worth the good, and I would never have guessed that. I feel nostalgic because I've built relationships that can only be built in the trenches. And I'll miss that bonding but not the fire. The fruits but not the labor. I'm grateful that it's done--that I did it--yet sad to see it go. Make sense? Still sorting through it, as you can probably tell.

All I really know is that I'm nearing a very big milestone, and it will be interesting to see where the road goes next.

Thanks for coming along for the ride. :)

____________________________________________

Post-Script: My negligence in blogging was due in part to a baby-free vacation that Chris and I took last week. Though I felt physical pains every time I thought about being away from E, we left her in the more-than-capable hands of her grandparents (where I'm not sure she missed us at all) and spent a few days on the sunny beaches of Miami. Turns out that it is lovely to lay on the beach all day with a book. And sleep in. And talk to your husband constantly. And eat gelato everyday. But after four days, oh, how lovely it felt to hug that little girl again!

Make It Easy

2009-03-26T07:23:00.000-07:00

A few things that are making my life a little easier this week:

1)You need to try this toothpaste:

It has revolutionized my nighttime routine. My lovely mother-in-law gave us a box and promised that it would be a wonderful brushing experience. You must understand: I brush my teeth at night purely because I know it is good for my dental hygiene, not because I enjoy the process (like some of my dear friends). At the end of a long day, I want as little between my head and my pillow as possible. Taking out my contacts, washing my face, brushing my teeth...it was all just a necessary chore. Until. I tried the toothpaste that night. Oh my holy eighth wonder of the world. I could've brushed my teeth all night. It is cinnamoney and clovey and just the right blend of rejuvenating and cleansing. It's so easy to make time for it. I've never felt this way about a toothpaste before. That sentence looks zaney, but its truth keeps me from deleting it. Go forth and enjoy!

2)Kelly Clarkson's new power anthem's are insanely easy to work-out to (and I do not use that word lightly when it comes to exercise motivation).

3)In the vein of nighttime routines made easy, try these for the nights when splashing and sudsing is too much work. They are an on-call residents' best friend:

4)This trailer makes it easy to believe that summer is really on its way replete with featherweight, fun trips to the cineplex.

5)This book makes it easi(er) to understand myself and my colleagues and how we draw conclusions.

6)This surprise package in the mail...

...makes it easy to remember why thoughtful friends and unexpected delights are one of life's most heart-warming combos.

What makes your life easier?

These two make it easy to remember why family makes the world go round:

Wedded Bliss

2009-03-14T11:40:00.000-07:00

This week, it's four years of said bliss.

Looking back several years, I remember when someone (not a close friend or family member, natch) told me that if I went to med school, I'd probably miss out on the kind of guy I really wanted to marry (you know, being too busy studying and all). Clearly, I didn't believe them. Clearly, I was right.

I figured I'd be able to find someone who appreciated my goals and was willing to suffer through the medical training with me. But I didn't count on finding someone who would come to the hospital every fourth night for my entire intern year so we could have dinner in the cafeteria. I didn't count on finding someone who would uncomplainingly get up to comfort the baby at night when I was exhausted and working and wondering how I'd find the energy to keep taking overnight call. I didn't count on someone who never complained when I was late getting home from the hospital, who made my lunches in the morning, and didn't bat an eye when I used our wedding-gifted cookware a lot less than he did in the first years of our marriage. He has smiled and told me he's so proud of what I've accomplished. He has made me laugh when the going got tough. He has worked so hard and been such a sunny person. I am astonished at his unselfishness. He is my happy place.

Medical Spouses are really the unsung heroes who deserve a shout-out.

Ultimately, the plain white tee's say it better than I can.

1-2-3-4

1-2-1-2-3-4
Give me more loving than I’ve ever had
Make me feel better when I’m feeling sad
Tell me I’m special even though I know I’m not
Make me feel good when I hurt so bad
Barely getting mad
I’m so glad I found you
I love being around you
You make it easy
Its as easy as 1-2-1-2-3-4
There’s only one thing
To Do
Three words
For you
(I love you) I love you
There’s only one way to say
Those three words
That’s what I’ll do
(I love you) I love you
Give me more loving from the very start
Piece me back together when I fall apart
Tell me things you never even tell your closest friends
Make me feel good when I hurt so bad
You’re the best that I’ve had
And I’m so glad I found you
I love being around you
You make it easy
It’s easy as 1-2-1-2-3-4
There’s only one thing
To Do
Three words
For you
(I love you) I love you
There’s only one way to say
Those three words
That’s what I’ll do
(I love you) I love you
(I love you) I love you
You make it easy
It’s easy as 1 2 1 2 3 4
There’s only one thing
To Do
Three words
For you
(I love you) I love you
There’s only one way to say
Those three words
That’s what I’ll do
(I love you) I love you
(I love you) I love you
1-2-3-4
I love you
(I love you) I love you

I love you. Happy Anniversary.

*photos by Nancy

For Better or Worse

2009-03-08T18:19:00.000-07:00

I was on call last week during the snowstorm. We always work the afternoon/evening acute care clinic when we're on call, and, ostensibly because of the bad weather, the schedule was mercifully light. However, as we were preparing to pack-up, a mom and her 6 year old son (we'll call him Joe) walked into the office hoping to be seen. Joe had been snowboarding when his Right under-eye area wound up on the wrong end of an encounter with a board edge. The half-moon gash wasn't deep but was wide enough to leave a permanent scar. Mom brought him in to find out if he needed stitches. Joe was terrified of this possibility.

I took a look and delivered the bad news, "There is going to be a much smaller scar if I put a few stitches in there to hold it together." Joe started crying. Mom looked distressed.

"Oh," she said, "I was hoping it wouldn't come to that. But I guess we'll do what we have to do." Her son was quivering at her side.

"I'll be right back after I get together my supplies."

Before I walked back in, my attending suggested I bring in the papoose, 'just in case'. The papoose is, um, sort of what it sounds like. You strap a kid to a backboard, and it allows you to do things (like stitch up their faces) that any self-respecting 6 year would normally kick/scream/yell/thrash around to keep you from doing.

I entered the room and set up my supplies. Mom picked up her purse. "I'll be in the waiting room."

And then she bailed.

?????

I was flabbergasted. Her terrified son was sitting on the exam table, looking at me like I was the firing squad. And he was alone. Now I had to be mommy and doctor. I sat next to him and smoothed his hair while he cried. "It's going to be okay, Joe. I promise you. The numbing medicine is going to sting a little, but then you won't feel anything."

I spent the next 30 minutes in a song and dance routine with Joe. I'd get close to his face with my needle. He'd bravely say it was okay. My needle got closer. He suddenly darted away. I'd comfort him. He'd say, 'okay, try again'. He'd change his mind. Tears kept flowing. I'd say 'maybe I should get out the papoose.' He'd somehow get brave again. Finally, the numbing medicine was in. And even though he was through with the worst, we went through the routine all over again when it came to sewing his wound closed. There was just the nurse and I during this time: comforting, talking, doctoring though we'd only known Joe for a matter of minutes.

I was so relieved when the stitches were finally in. I went and got mom. She also seemed relieved. She kept hugging her son and saying, "I need a hug!" And I'm thinking, 'Lady, your son needs the hug. You need something else entirely.'

In talking to my colleagues afterwards, I expressed dismay that she would leave her son alone during such a traumatic experience. My attending said, "Well, maybe she knew she would faint or something." Like it was no big deal.

But it is a big deal. I mean, I realize that sometimes we want parents out of the room. When we do spinal taps on babies, for example. It's easier for everyone. A baby has no idea what's going on and often looks at the parent with betrayal. "How could you let them do this to me?!"

Joe was not a baby. He was a 6 year old, fully aware of what he was about to experience. He, at such a young age, had to pull it together and get through a difficult experience. But his mom didn't? What message does that send to the child? "This is going to be so bad that I can't watch. But good luck with that!"

I don't know. I guess I just feel like it's part of the job description. As a parent, you have to be there for your kid when the going gets tough. You have to force yourself to do uncomfortable things. I had stitches when I was 12. My dad was there with me and it made all the difference. I remember burying my head into his shoulder and clenching his hand until it was through. I can't even imagine what it would have felt like if he'd bailed on me.

So, I pose the question to you dear readers: is it okay what that mom did? Is it okay to leave a child alone for a difficult procedure (and let's leave babies out, since I do think that's different)?

I think you know where I stand. ;)

E liked the snow when it was through the window. A little less so when it was in her face. :)

Make Cupcakes, Not War

2009-02-22T17:38:00.000-08:00

My friend, Stuart, is an all around awesome guy. My sister and I used to meet up with him at a particular picnic table on our college campus, and talk life/dating/philosophy over tuna fish and rye crackers. He loves to discuss anything so long as you show up with a well thought out argument. Anyhoo, he got tagged (like the rest of us) to do '25 things about me' on Facebook. When I read #9, I had to laugh out loud and say 'Amen'. In his usual pithy wit, he has the following to say:

"On my old jogging route above Van Ness in DC I always passed a house with lots of signs that said “war is not the answer.” Which is sort of like saying “chemotherapy is not the answer.” I mean, in the universe of possible questions and possible answers it’s probably true that neither war or chemotherapy is the actual answer to whatever question you’re asking. But I sort of like to know the question before I rule out any options. If the question is “how should you treat symptoms of the common flu?” clearly chemo ain’t the way to go. But if the question is “what option did Western Europe have when confronted by a militarized, expansionist Germany that was systematically slaughtering Jews and Communists?” war sounds like one pretty sensible answer and arguably the only answer."

Love it.

***

I realized recently that I never blogged about a local lifechanging discovery Chris and I made a few months back. His mom gave us the Post article where local cupcake joints were rated. It was there that I first read the words, "Georgetown Cupcake." And then I tasted one (and another, and another, and another) and learned that no words could describe these spectacular morsels. I do not kid. They are like eating Disneyland. With chocolate frosting. Chocolate Ganache won the overall cupcake prize, but Vanilla Chocolate won my heart. Try one. You won't regret it.

Oh the Wonder that awaits you...

Perfection (even when the frosting slides on the 'fresh out of the oven' ones).

I take that back. This is perfection (I'm allowed to think so. ;)). And a million times better than Disneyland.

p.s. seriously, is there anything more awe-inspiring and joyful than watching your child change and grow? I haven't found it yet.

Boy Who Cried Wolf

2009-02-03T18:35:00.000-08:00

Among our practice, there are a group of patient's who we refer to as frequent fliers. They are folks who wind up in the ER on such a regular basis, that we all know them well. Some, unfortunately, have medical problems that are resistant to outpatient control. Despite their best efforts and ours, they just keep bouncing back.

Then there are the GOMERS. Aptly named by the book "House of God", a GOMER is a 'get out of my ER'. It doesn't sound very charitable, but believe me.

These are patient's who mix in a lot of crazy with a little bit of illness and know how to work the system. They usually come in with the same complaints that can't be objectively proven and are often attached to some secondary gain. When the ER calls us to say that 'miss cyclical vomiting syndrome' is back again, there is much eye rolling to be had. If anyone had ever seen her vomit, or had evidence that she was in need of anything except more narcotics, there wouldn't be such a reaction.

But I got to thinking today: It's a dangerous game, this letting ourselves roll our eyes at the patient's we've come to expect melodramatic reporting from.

I got a call on a patient of mine who was back in the ER with the same pain complaints she has always had. The ER is so tired of her coming in for this, that they barely even initiate a work-up before giving her massive doses of pain meds. I walked in to her room with a pre-conceived notion of what she would say and need. And, for the most part, I was right.

Except there was one new symptom that she brought up. Could be part of her previous syndrome, I thought. Could be something new. I stopped. 'What would I do if I'd never met her before? What would I order if I had no idea her history of coming back again and again with these symptoms?"

It changed my management. I'm not sure if anything will come of it, but it was a humbling moment. Usually continuity is the thing that makes good medicine tick. But every once in a while, the past only obscures our view of the present.

In our friendships, in our work relationships, in our families, we've all come to expect certain things from certain people. But sometimes, we need to let that go. We need to believe that people innately have the ability to surprise us, and leave our doors open to be receptive to that.

Because at some point, we're all going to be the one asking for belief and a chance. And we all deserve to be heard.

The Girl Who Would Never Cry Wolf. Seriously.

Life (and Fashion) Lessons by Baby E

2009-01-20T18:53:00.000-08:00

1)If one bow is good, then ten is surely better...

2)If your hair could look like this, you'd be much cooler:

3) Puma Track Suits: where sass and function meet:

4)It is never wrong to look like a giant cupcake:

5)Invest in a classic white onesie. It will always be in style.

7)Throw your arms around your mom's neck. It will make her so happy. Plus it makes it much easier to grab (and then pull) fistfuls of her hair. What fun!

And a note from E's mom: Hope you had a happy inauguration day. It was cold but traffic wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated (going away from the city, natch. Doctor's don't get the day off!) I'm just glad I didn't have to utilize the extra outfit and food I put in my car this morning. Our office asked us to bring supplies so that if there were any emergency situations at the inauguration, we'd be able to go right to work. Being prepared seems to be a great way to ensure that things stay quiet. :) Love that!

Listen

2009-01-10T12:25:00.000-08:00

It's taken me a while to write this:

Sometimes the way God can align my life's little stars amazes me.

I mentioned a while ago that I'd had to tell one of my patients that he had lung cancer. It was so. hard.

But, as it turns out, what comes after a terminal diagnosis is infinitely harder.

J (alias) was stoic, but his wife needed my hand for holding. I was happy to offer up what little effective medicine I had.

The brevity of the time from diagnosis to near-death astonished me. The chemo, done in an effort to stave off the metastatic disease for a month or two at most, had destroyed most of his normal organ function as well.

Finally, the family decided, it was time for hospice care. If nothing else, they wanted to see his pain relieved. They settled into a strange new--albeit surely shortlived--normal and prayed that J would somehow make it to meet his first grandbaby. I prayed too.

They were often close to my thoughts.

Except not at 1 o'clock in the morning, which is what time it was when I finished up an admission during a brutal call night. I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. I still had to drive over to the other hospital we cover and admit another patient. These nights have taught me to just put my head down and keep moving.

Before I left, I checked the online ER charting system to see if any other patients of ours were in the ER. Our practice wasn't listed in the PCP (primary care physician) column for any other patient's. Phew. 'Maybe you should just ask the ER doctor's if they know of any patient's who might need to be seen." 'No, no,' I thought back, 'I just need to go get started on the next one. No one's listed in the computer anyhow.' But the thought persisted, as the good ones are so prone to do, and so I relented.

I stopped by the doctor station. "Anyone have a patient of ours pending?"

"Uh, yeah, actually I do," one doctor piped up.

NOOOO, I thought. Why, oh, why did I ask? There's always this fear that if you ask, the ER doctors will ask you to see and/or admit someone they otherwise would have sent home.

"Really? There's no one listed in the computer."

"Yeah, actually, I think he's your patient. You know J, right?"

"J's here??"

"Yeah, I wasn't going to call you until later, but since you asked. He is having some difficulty breathing. I know he's on hospice care, but his wife got scared. If you want to talk to them..."

"Yes, yes, of course. Thank you for letting me know."

What a strange coincidence, I thought.

I went into their room. "Dr. H!" They were relieved to see a familiar face. The wife's face was lined with panic and J's face was lined with fatigue. The work of breathing was taking a toll. He looked very sick, but was still awake, alert, talking. I examined him. Let's keep him overnight, we decided. Yes he was supposed to be on home hospice, but the staff wasn't being as attentive as they should have. I stepped out of the room so that I could write up his orders. I was tucked away in a little cubby working on them when I heard someone start wailing. Yikes, someone really sick must have just come in. I kept working.

Suddenly, a frantic nurse poked her head around the corner. "Your patient is dying out here!" she barked.

"What?!" My papers spilled to the floor as I stood up and raced toward their room. I could see the wife. Wailing.

I walked in, trying to offer up some calm in a tempest. I assessed the situation. J was staring straight ahead, not seeing, not responding. Not looking very 'with us.'

"Is he dead, Dr. H? Is he breathing? Is he BREATHING?". The rise and fall of his chest, and a heartbeat on the monitor, let me know that he was still, on some level, alive.

"Yes, he's still alive." More questions, more answers. I mainly tried to defray the fear.

We put an oxygen mask on, we gave him pain medicine, and then we waited. He was a DNR (do not resuscitate) so we did not do more.

The wailing softened into crying and expressions of love. It became clear that these were his final hours. They passed. His oxygen level began to drop. His breathing slowed.

"Can he still hear me Dr. H?"

What do you do when you don't have all the answers? "Yes, he can hear you."

Family and friends filled the small ER room. I held J's hand. I thought of what a good man he was and how well he had endured this illness. I thought of all the people who were in this room, and of all those who loved him. It was time to say goodbye.

After the final breath was taken, they looked at me. I went through the technicalities required to 'pronounce' someone.

"He's gone."

And it was back to wailing as the finality of it all settled in. Followed again by peaceful mourning. I wondered what to do next. There were technicalities to be dealt with, but they seem so out of place in these situations. Somehow we worked them out. We sat quietly and we hugged. Then I finally excused myself to go admit the patient at the other hospital.

"I can't believe you happened to be here tonight," the wife said before I left.

I know. I know. They usually go to the other hospital. I'm one of several doctors who share call. If I hadn't asked...If I hadn't listened to a thought....The ER doctor surely wouldn't have called me until it was too late.

She said she'd call me with the funeral information, and then I left.

I arrived home during the early hours of the morning. Almost daybreak. I slipped my key silently into the lock and let myself in. I didn't want to wake my baby or my husband, though I wanted desperately to hold them. I walked to the guestroom and fell to my knees.

'Heavenly Father,' I prayed. And then I talked to Him about what was in my heart. About the equal parts of depression, gratitude and astonishment that were filling up inside of me. About the meaning of life and suffering and death. About how grateful I was to Him for paying attention: to one small doctor on call and to one of a million families who was suffering. For putting us at the same hospital at the same time at the same hour on a Saturday night. About miracles and healing and my small part in those things. And about my understanding of eternity, and more importantly, eternal families.

I put my pager on the nightstand. My white coat lay crumpled next to the bed with my stethoscope inside.

Then I laid my head on my pillow, and I waited.

Sleep never came, but peace finally did.

Merry Christmas to All and to All a Good Night

2008-12-25T18:16:00.001-08:00

I hope you had a magical holiday.

Eyes to See

2008-12-17T18:22:00.000-08:00

Oh how rich we'd all be if we had dimes for every time we've been told to remember that there is always more to people's lives than what shows on the surface. That if we treated the world as if most were having some serious sort of heartbreak/trial, we'd be right over half the time.

The trouble is, it's easy to forget. The driver who cuts you off becomes less 'someone who might be on the way to his baby's delivery' and more 'inconsiderate Northern Virginia Driver #125'. The store clerk who refuses to return your merchandise looks less like someone who could be grieving for an ailing grandmother, and more like a chronic grump who wants to make your life harder.

But every once in a while--every blessed once in a while--a moment taps me on my shoulder and reminds me to approach strangers with more TLC.

I was late to the hospital a few weeks ago. I was supposed to meet up with a fellow resident to split up the list of newborns to be seen, and felt badly that I was ten minutes behind schedule. Mostly, it was my fault that I was late. Little E had woken up right as I was leaving. Chris had things covered, but when I hear that little cry, it is pure instinct (and pleasure) to run upstairs and wrap that baby in my arms. In the moment (and in retrospect) mommy cuddles seem more important than ten minutes of tardiness in a morning where I can easily absorb it. Still, I hate walking in late.

Rushing in the door, I was happy to see the elevator waiting for me, empty. I hit the '7' button and sighed while the doors closed. Right before closure, someone pushed the up button and the doors re-opened. Grrr. Normally, I'm all about holding the door, but when time is pressed, it can feel like an imposition. I smiled (force of habit) as a twenty-something year old male, decked out in the latest fashion and reeking of smoke, stepped onboard with someone who looked like his father.

"Thanks," they said.

"Sure."

Emphysema, Lung Cancer, Heart Disease...my mental check-list of 'why I get sad that people smoke' began rolling. I looked at my watch, at the floor, at my cell. How late am I now? Then I looked at the elevator door and realized that the young man had pressed 2. The elevator stopped on said floor. The doors opened, he gave me a small smile, and both men stepped off. I paused. See, the only thing on the 2nd floor is the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit). He was going to the NICU.

Which meant that heaven only knows what he was going to face when he walked off that elevator:
A premature baby who may have little chance of survival?
A child who will face serious disability?
Good news about a baby who is beating the odds?
Sadness?
Elation?
Grief?

If nothing else that day was going to give an inch, he might have appreciated the little mercy of catching an elevator before it went up.

So it got me thinking again about how little we know of the people who we pass on the street. Of the smoking hipster who looks nothing like a father or of the woman waiting at the bus stop.

I thought back to this summer, when I might have been that person. I too rode up in an elevator, to a Labor and Delivery floor, where Caitlin was in labor with Reese. I'm sure I looked the part of a woman about to become a proud auntie for the third time. In actuality, my heart felt like it had been hand-dipped in lead. Every poster of a mother cuddling with a newborn seemed like a cruel joke and I wanted to wrap my brother and his lovely wife in a blanket of healing that would somehow erase the grief that threatened to overwhelm. I needed every kindness of every stranger that I met that day. And, happily, I received many small gifts on the streets of SF. I recall other times when a smile or a hand on my shoulder has reduced me to tears of gratitude.

So, in this holiday season, I hope we'll all remember something: How much we need to be tender with each other. How much the world needs us to remember that we are all in need. Simple things make a difference. Smiles builds bridges. Charity lifts burdens. Love moves mountains and strangers.

It has moved me. I'm sure it has moved you.

Let's all, collectively, hold the elevator.

Happy Holidays. :)

Make My Day

2008-12-02T14:58:00.000-08:00

If you need a pick-me-up, you should watch this video of my adorable nephew singing 'O Shenandoah'. He is 3 now, but started singing this when he was 2. Everytime he sings it, my heart melts. It really doesn't get old. Niko, you are good medicine. :)

Do You 'Twilight'?

2008-11-24T19:39:00.001-08:00

Cause I do. Opening Night style. (Okay, so not a MIDNIGHT opening night showing).

I enjoyed it so much more than I thought I would. The leads were well cast. Edward was the right mix of intimidating and attractive. Bella avoided sounding cheesy. The rain was a character in and of itself, and the chemistry was spot-on. My favorite part was the sharp, collective intake of breath in the theater when Edward, and then when Jacob, came onscreen for the first time. Priceless.

All of the women I saw it with initially had a 'that's not MY Edward' reaction. But by the end? We are all patently twitterpated.

We headed to cold stone after the movie let out, which is where I heard the following gem out of the mouth of a gum-chewing pre-teen aglow with Twilight fuzzies: "Edward is the hottest thing I have ever seen and I am NOT exaggerating." Just saying.

I definitely recommend reading the book before seeing the movie. You know how most movie translations leave you saying, 'the book was so much better'? In this case, it didn't feel like they were in competition. It felt like the movie was a delicious addition to my enjoyment of the text, not a replacement vehicle.

Future Twilight Fan (who looks not so sure and who now--finally--has a bigger carseat).

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Current Favorites

2008-11-02T17:48:00.000-08:00

1)High School Musical 3.

Yup, I got sucked into the kitschy glitz. And it was so. much. fun. I had seen the first two movies on TV and thought they were harmless fun. When Chris and I decided to have a date night out at the movies, my (longsuffering) husband gamely agreed to sit through a, well, high-school musical. The current social and political climate,
coupled with a series of more serious netflix dramas, left me well-positioned to crave a movie about high schoolers who sing, don't swear, and dress in candy-colored costumes. We were some of the only over-7 crowd that didn't have kids in tow. My poor husband. As we approached the ticket window, he whispered, "would you mind making the order?" Disney really stepped up the production quality. This doesn't look like a made for TV movie that got lost on the way to the small screen. The choreography, film quality and actors all light up the big screen. The two leads really sell the movie. Zac Efron has grown up into quite the Mr. Coolio, but he performs without an ounce of self-awareness. You get no sense that he knows he's 'too cool' but will go along for the ride. It is all so in earnest, and I love that. If you're going to go for a clean, fairy-tale, high school song and dance extravaganza, you might as well go all the way. Honestly, I can recommend this movie. Heck, it's even 67% fresh on rotten tomatoes. That's a huge feat for a movie of this genre. I left with a huge smile on my face. Hope you will too. :)

2)No7 Cosmetics. By Boots. Sold at Target (let me count the ways...) Their cream blush is amazing. "Blossom" is my favorite color. It gives you an 'it's blustery outside' look. And their lip gloss is shiny without giving you that weird 'my lips are sticking together' thing. Each product retails for under ten bucks! I'm in love.

3)Disneyland

Whenever I go back to Disneyland, I wonder if it can possibly live up to my expectations. I have so many fond memories of this magical place, and I want it to continue delivering on its innocence and escapism. And it does. Every time. We smiled for 72-hours straight. Here's to parades and tinkerbell and chocolate-covered frozen bananas. And a quick return trip. ;)

4)First Birthdays
We celebrated Little E's first birthday with pink cupcakes, pink hats, and pink balloons. Our family came over to wish her well and deliver brightly-wrapped boxes. Eva got more frosting on her face than cupcake in her mouth, and enjoyed the balloons as much as anything else she received that day.

Doesn't she look really excited about that hat?

We sort-of had a cupcake theme going.

Ha! We made the poor girl wear TWO birthday hats!

5)Little Dorothy
With this little darling around, there's truly 'no place like home'.

Ruby Red Slippers, Take One.

Ruby Red Slippers, Take Two. (Plus a layering onesie for the change in weather between the ward trunk or treat and the holiday itself).

6)Grandparents
They babysit, they take us to Disneyland, they 'ooh and ahh' over milestones, and they give out more love than seems possible. Lucky, lucky us.

Papa with Eva in Oakland

Nana and Papa stroll Eva by the Bay

Grandma H*re and Eva

Napping with Grandpa H*re

7)"Pushing Daisies." I love this quirky show. Apparently it is in danger of cancellation, so please watch. You can get caught up at abc.com.

8)The Two Day Countdown to a cessation of automated election-day phone calls. 'Nuff said.

9)That I got to vote early (still waited an hour to do so).

10)My Little Corner of the World
My baby makes my life so much fuller and brighter.
My husband is so unselfish, fun, and good, no one would believe me if I told them.

Hiking at Wintergreen

Bait and Switch

2008-10-27T19:25:00.000-07:00

Before I start out a day of patient care, I pull up my schedule. Next to each name is the reason they've stated they're coming to the doctor. "Abdominal Pain." "Med Refill." "Anxiety". You go through the list, one by one, evaluating the order they're going to come in, where the potential delays are going to be, and what patient's are going to require more of your time. You hope that the 'allergies' are truly 'allergies' so that you'll somehow stay on time between 'rectal bleeding' and complicated 'diabetes followup'. You hope that the well-woman doesn't have eighteen other issues to discuss, or you may never get to your well-child check after that. But honestly, one can never tell what lies behind door #3.

Like today:
"Abdominal Pain" reveals to be: severe chest pain and shortness of breath requiring an EKG, an aspirin, and a quick transfer to the hospital.
"Cough" reveals to be: a kind middle-aged woman who knows she probably only has a cold virus, but needs to get better so the hospice nurses will let her back in near her sister who is within days of dying from ovarian cancer.
"Diabetes Follow-Up" reveals to be: a no-show. I feel guilty for enjoying the catch-up time in my schedule because this patient has no-showed several times and badly needs the medical care he's missing.

The uncertainty is both maddening and exciting. On days where you feel tired, you feel like you are just waiting for the 'oh by the way' that could throw off your entire rhythm. But on other days, most days, you feel intrigued, excited, and happy that you're never quite sure what rewards, pitfalls, and emotions, lie in store.

In other news, Chris and I just bought this Turkey Day Calendar, and I'm pretty happy about it:

I paid a little too much for it, but who can put a price on tradition?
When we first found it, Chris optimistically suggested that I could probably make something that looked nearly as nice.
I stared at him until he remembered that I barely have time to sleep, let alone start new ambitious craft projects, and pulled out our wallet.

Honestly, though, I'm just so happy to have a way to keep the focus on Thanksgiving. Each day is a little pocket where you (or a child) could place an "I'm thankful for..." card. Such a great idea!

Blue Steel

2008-10-21T20:12:00.000-07:00

My mom says I would be more regular at blogging, if I didn't put it off when I didn't have time for a vacation recap (which is what I am currently have trouble finding the time to put together). "Just a picture and a paragraph will suffice!" she says.

I'll give it a go.

Eva has many faces. One of my favorites was captured by my sister. Doesn't Eva's pout look professional? Ben Stiller, you've got competition. Those cheeks! I love this girl.

A lighter moment.

A taste of our Disney Time. "Mommy, why are you taking pictures instead of protecting me from large, wild animals???"

Bringing Farrah back:

We celebrated E's first birthday this week. My, my, where does the time go?
I am:
eight hours out from the end of my most recent call.
eight months away from being done with residency.

I am happy about all of the above.

And one other random thought: What's up with the inseams of jeans these days? I'm a tall woman. When I try on any pair of designer-ish jeans, I have to pair them with four inch heels just to keep them off the ground. So I don't. I could have them hemmed a few inches for flats, but my inertia gets in the way. What, may I ask, do my shorter counterparts do? If you hemmed them enough to wear them with flats, you'd lose the entire design of the jean! It seems cock-eyed of the designers to ignore the general bell curve of height in our population.

Time for lights out.

You're a Cali Girl at Heart

2008-09-30T18:23:00.001-07:00

"You're a Danville girl at heart,
You're a Danville girl at heart,
Face the facts,
You've gotta come back."

Lyrics by Marci and Kate circa age 9

This is not my official vacation post because I don't have time to post pics tonight. Here are the basics: ten days in Cali, two conferences (diabetes and chief resident stuff), disneyland, SF, San Diego, my little family, and my parents. Sound like a recipe for success? It was. Oh, how it was.

For now, I'll just make the following observations:

1)Your Baby Will Recover from the Time Change: I was really, really, super nervous about taking little E across a few time zones. She's been on a perfect schedule (with regards to how it interplays with my work schedule) and I didn't want to mess with that. But the siren song of the west coast is strong, so it was a risk we took. Within three days out there, she was on that schedule. And within 5-6 days back here, she was back on DC time. Honestly, it wasn't all that painful. All of this is to stay, press forward with vacation, fellow parents, and don't be afraid like I was!

2)I Will Always Be a Californian--I realize that it's been many years since I've resided in California. And I've come to love VA and make it my home. But every time my plane lands in OAK, and I drive through the Berkeley Hills on my way to the house of my youth, my heart smiles. The land, the shops, the weather...it's all in my blood. I think the memories of our youth are always some of the most potent. And youth has that wonderful way of unfolding in a lazy manner, while the adult years fly by with increasing speed, so it seems like we spent an eternity in our hometowns. Whatever the reason, my soul seems drenched with the sun of my homestate, and always will be.

3)Ten Days Doth a Perfect Vacation Make--I can't remember how long it's been since I've had such a lengthy break from work. It felt amazing. Having two conferences (with pretty laid-back requirements) helped me minimize the number of vacation days I had to use. I think I'd rather take fewer, but longer, vacations. The timeframe allowed me to really relax into being gone, and I came back feeling completely refreshed.

We wore ourselves out in search of a good time:

Seen and Heard

2008-09-24T19:09:00.000-07:00

It is a common practice in medicine to share war-stories with other residents/doctors. Our tales of woe are often rooted in our surgical rotations, since (some) surgeons are notorious for their malignant behavior. My co-resident shared this delight with me yesterday:

As a third year med student, she was required to rotate through vascular surgery. The surgeons on that service were particularly persnickety and/or volatile. One day, she, the attending surgeon, and the fellow (the next step up from resident) were all deep into surgery of some sort on a male patient.

The fellow had made more than a few errors during the course of the surgery, and after one close call, the surgeon stops and bellows at the fellow (...poet and didn't even know it), "Are you sleeping with this patient's wife?"

Shocked silence.

"I said, ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH THIS MAN'S WIFE."

"Um, no."

"Then WHY are you trying to KILL him!?! Get OUT of my OR."

Yes, sir.

Flash Bulb

2008-09-22T19:50:00.001-07:00

It was time for some family portraits, and with my two bff photographers having abandoned me for sweet Deseret, what's a girl to do?

I found Gina Lee through another blog and knew she was a kindred spirit. We set up a time to have pictures taken while we were out on vacation, and I am so thrilled with the results. She put a sneak peak on her blog, so for those who wanted to take a look, here is the link.

You rock, Gina!

(a blog hi-five to anyone who can figure out via the pics--and not gina's website--where we went on vacation).

Rejuvenate

2008-09-22T19:23:00.000-07:00

Chris and I just got back from an amazing vacation last night. And I still haven't blogged about our last getaway over Labor Day. Can you tell we're making up for lost time? After a year of no vacation (maternity leave absorbed all my leave last year and does. not. count), Chris and I have gone a little wild.

I only have energy for one set of pics tonight, so here's round one:

Lakeside Labor Day

We went up to Lake Winnepesaukah (I'll be darned if that isn't some crazy spelling) with some friends whose parents own the loveliest of lovely lake houses up there. We loved every second of it.

Part of what I enjoyed was all the activity. When you have a baby, sedentary vacations aren't much of a break. It's kind of hard to sit and relax while your baby is all over creation. On the flip side, if there are things to go out and do, and the baby can be brought along (with you and your hubby doing the 'baby pass' dance), everyone wins.

In a matter of four days we went: kayaking, tubing, e-biking, antiquing, marshmallow roasting, wake-skating, wakeboarding, kneeboarding, water-skiing, rope-swinging, watersliding, boating, and jet skiing. We came back sun-kissed and oh so happy. Great place, great fun, greater friends.

I spent some time here:

...trying to figure out how long it would take to get sick of looking at this:

Eva laughed at the prospect that this would ever happen:

She nearly got swallowed by the yellow life-jacket monster, but lived to tell the tale.

My muffin of deliciousness:

Chris focuses on his new skill set:

A 250 foot moon bounce that drops you into the lake. Awe. Some.

Taking a snack break.

I like the knee board. I refer to it as a reliable watersport (read:not as hard as ski's to get up on).

The face of contentment.

Beach Therapy

2008-08-24T18:28:00.000-07:00

Every year we head down to the Outer Banks with Chris's family. I love Beaches. All beaches. But especially these beaches. We head down to a quieter portion of the banks where the sand seems laced with enchantment. It is good for my soul. It was nice to introduce the little one to a place that's so near and dear. As always, I left with a little sadness that it was over, and gladness that I got to breathe in the magic once again.

Here's to: sea glass, high tide, seagulls, sunsets and books laced with sand. 'Til next year!

E sees waves for the first time. She's not so sure.

Contemplating the deeper things.

Chris and I recover from all the waves we caught. :)

Sand is not the sixth food group, little dear.

My baby has more of a tan than I do. I hereby give up on tanning endeavors. You know, sun damage and all. ;)

Glamour Puss

Three swimsuits does not equal excess. Right? Right? Bueller?

Doesn't this face say it all?

Sweet Reese

2008-07-19T10:14:00.000-07:00

The sacred and tragic memories of these last few days, will be knit as part of me forever.

It has been:

agonizing to be reminded what the weight of grief feels like.

amazing to watch b&c demonstrate more faith and courage than seems possible.

life-affirming to watch the support of family and friends.

saving to have the Lord's presence near us all.

I too will treasure the time I held my sweet niece, and am grateful to know she is a forever part of our family who we will rejoice to meet again someday.

I love you, Reese.

Thank You For Not Smoking

2008-07-09T19:15:00.000-07:00

My Dear Hubby says he can tell what kind of day I've had from the second I phone him while walking to my car.

Is it a "Hi sweetie. Good, how was yours," kind of day?

Or

"Oh. My. Gosh. You will not believe such and such...." Apparently I can talk for 20 minutes, barely breathing in between thoughts, as I process the craziness I've been through. Sometimes I forget to ask him how his day has been until my head has stopped spinning.*

Today was that kind of day.

I had to phone the husband half of one of my favorite couples and tell him that he had lung cancer. He was at work. He wanted to know if he was going to live. He had that quiver in his voice that makes me want to dole out optimism the situation probably doesn't deserve. But I offered hope because he needs medicine of some kind, and medicine for these things is in short supply. There is always some kind of hope.

I had to watch a marriage implode. Literally, the wife walked out on her husband--maybe forever--while we met with he and the counselor. I watched him sort through the aftermath.

I had to deal with the family of a patient who can't figure out what to do with their 90 year old, demented and agitated mother, who they have neither the energy nor the money to get appropriate care for. I am as frustrated as they are.

The depth to which this work penetrates my psyche, my emotions, my heart never ceases to surprise me.

Thanks goodness I come home to this:

Watching her crawl around and explore her world peels away the layers of my day until it is just me and my little miracle. I wouldn't trade any of these experiences.

*Note to pre-meds: Marry someone with patience. :)

French Fry Romance

2008-06-21T12:03:00.001-07:00

I never got to send a First Father's Day shout-out to mi favorito hombre, Chris. (Not to mention our own amazing Father's.)

Last night he once again proved why he deserves tribute and why he's got all of this girl's heart.

It's been a busy few weeks. Lots of patient's to be seen during the day, and lots of charts to finish/labs to review/news to deliver, once the baby was down at night. Then on Friday, I didn't bring a lunch because I thought there was one at work. Wrong. I didn't have time to grab anything but a granola bar and so when I got home that night, I was beat. We all ate dinner together. Eva was being a doll, so we decorated our living room with blocks and board books, then sent her off to dreamland. I sank onto the couch and picked up my book.

"Hmmm..." I sighed aloud, "Don't french fries sound soooo good." Salty potatoes are
definitely my occasional guilty pleasure.

"Sure."

I thought about getting up off the couch and driving to Wendy's. Too much effort, I decided.

"Do you think we should go get some?" (read: are you in the mood to drive to Wendy's?)

"It's kind of late."

"Yeah." I went back to my book and tried to forget how much I wanted them.

A few minutes later I heard Chris get up from his laptop and go into the kitchen. I didn't pay much attention because my book was reaching the climax.

Fifteen minutes later, he plopped down on the couch next to me, holding a plate of fresh-chopped, just baked, generously salted potatoes. Ketchup on the side.

Be still my heart. Seriously, this man is amazing.

I know many of my friends/relatives have similarly wonderful men in their lives, so let's hear it for the boys!!!

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You know the dangerous part about having older sibling or cousins around? They plant ideas into the minds of their younger cohorts. i.e., I'm not sure Eva would have considered climbing stairs a viable activity yet, but now her cousin Luke has her interested.

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My baby is always ready to play:

By the way, isn't it funny how she decided to take a short nap when we were home in the morning trying to get stuff done? And then in the afternoon when we wanted to take her out on the town, she decided her crib had never sounded so good. Gotta love it.

Reasons Why Kansas City Was Cool

2008-06-10T17:12:00.000-07:00

(not that I've had a lot to compare it too).
A photo essay by Little E

Back in May, our family went on an adventure to the mid-west. Reasons we had a great time:

1)I got to fly on a plane for the first time. The flight attendants loved me and promised to get me a pair of wings. They forgot. I still had fun.

2)Mommy seemed pretty stoked about turning her conference (about learning to be a better chief resident) into a mini-vacation. It's the first time she's had time away since I was a newborn. We went to see some church history sights. First stop, Liberty Jail.

3)It was fun to meet Aunt Sally and Uncle Dale. They took Daddy and I to see more sights while mommy was learning about conflict resolution. Daddy forgot to change me out of my PJ's. He does everything else right, so that's okay. They wanted me to smile for a picture, but I was busy reading the signs. An inherited characteristic from Papa Wilson.

4)I got to try out many different restaurant high chairs. You can't tell from my face in the picture, but my favorite was this one at Baja 600. Mommy and Daddy seemed coo coo for coco puffs about the BBQ shrimp enchiladas. They also thought it was pretty hilarious when I'd lean back and prop one foot up on the top of the highchair. I just like to be comfortable.

5)Midwestern people LOVE me. We couldn't walk five feet without being admired. Can we go back?

6)The "Heavenly Bed" at Westin is as comfy as they claim. My port-a-crib? Not so much.

7)They have really good BBQ. So my Daddy tells me. We walked over hill and dale (or this bridge) to get to the best.

8)We had a great view from our hotel room.

9)Mommy bought me my Halloween costume, but you'll have to wait until October to see it. No photos yet.

10)Mommy wasn't on call. :) She was a little bummed to be on call the day after we got back, though. I hung out on her lap while she talked to patient's and nurses on the phone. Some of them were crazy, but I'm not talking. Yet.

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In other news, I had a lovely Mother's Day. Chris went all out with breakfast in bed. I'd post a picture of me enjoying it, but my bed head was a little scary. Can I just say 'donuts AND chocolate chip mickey mouse pancakes in one sitting?!?' wassup!

*We're child-proofing. A few weeks ago E decided creeping and hurtling herself toward her toys wasn't enough. Within a day or two she was crawling like a champ, pulling herself up to stand, and getting into everything. Busy, busy, busy little girl. It's amazingly enjoyable to watch her grow.

*I've got ghetto fabulous nails. I decided to ask the pedicurist (?) to do a little design on my big toenails. I remembered my cousin Lisa having a cute little flower on hers at one point. I figured she'd ask me what I wanted before decorating. My eyes were covered with an aromatherapy beanbag, and I didn't even know she was painting yet. I took it off to see this:

What can you do but laugh? I'm loving them. And yes I've got big feet. I'm not ashamed. :)

Life is good. We're happy and humid and loving Summer. Ciao for now!

Love is a beautiful thing

2008-05-27T18:44:00.000-07:00

I walked into a patient room last week and was immediately grateful that I've learned how to conceal shock or surprise as a part of my profession. My patient was in a wheelchair but had no arms or legs. None. She was in her thirties, plain faced and blonde. She looked tired--sick. Three black straps across her torso held her into her chair. I'm not sure I'd ever seen someone with that exact disability and it affected me. "Can you imagine's" filled my head.

She was suffering from bronchitis and after I'd examined her we discussed treatment options. A handsome young man, probably also in his thirties, accompanied her. I had assumed that he was a friend or an aide or what not. She said, "I really want to get better soon. We're getting married in two weeks." She blushed and he smiled.

Some surprised delight must have been evident on my face as I enthusiastically responded, "Congratulations! That's wonderful."

I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. And it made me so happy.

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I had to call a male patient the other day and let him know that his tests had come up positive for chlamydia. As you probably know, this is a sexually transmitted infection, and really can't be caught in other ways.

The man was surprised when I told him this. "My wife and I don't have any other partners--there must be another way this can be contracted."

Crickets.

Can he put the pieces together? Don't make me be the one to say, "Maybe you should double check with your partner on that."

He had recently traveled abroad and so he asked, "Could it be caught in a public bath?"

I repeated the question aloud, while my co-resident, was working nearby. I happened to glance at her face and she smirked, having realized what we were talking about. Seeing her face nearly made me lose it. I've never come so close to laughing at such a terribly inappropriate time. I didn't. Again, the poker face is a hot commodity in medicine.

It can be hard to deliver news to patients--for many reasons--but especially when you're giving out a bitter pill.

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Eva is still working on her poker face. For now she wears her heart on her sleeve. :)

Six Months into her reign...

2008-05-06T20:08:00.000-07:00

...and her subjects are more loyal than ever. Check out these awesome photos that one of my amazingly talented BFF's took of our little princess. Don't you love having photog friends?
I can't believe it's been almost a month since I've posted. So much to say, so little time to say it.
Must. Try. Harder

Help Me, Help You

2008-04-10T20:02:00.000-07:00

As doctor's, we are only as good as the information that we get.
In large part, we depend upon the patient's account of what symptoms have led them to seek medical care. Certainly our clarifying questions or 'review of systems' can help guide the story-telling, but we are still at the mercy of memory and point of view.

Today I saw a quirky but pleasant woman that I have taken care of on two separate occasions. She is on blood thinners right now because of a clot that broke off and went to her lungs a few months ago, and her levels have been difficult to control. Her blood is so thin that she has already had some internal bleeding in her left lower leg. She came in to follow up about that, but also mentioned that she had 'new bumps on her stomach'.
"Hmmm...how long have they been there?"
"Since yesterday. They hurt a lot if I press on them."
I examined her stomach, and sure enough there were palpable nodules underneath the skin. They felt like hematomas (bruises) and there was some overlying bruising to the skin. Knowing that she has super thin blood right now, and that any mild trauma to the area cold have produced these symptoms, I set about trying to determine the cause. I would feel a lot better about the situtation if I knew the bleeding into her stomach wall hadn't happened spontaneously.
"Can you think of any trauma to this area yesterday?"
"Uhh...no."
"Nothing, nothing you walked into, nobody bumped into you, etc., etc.,"
"No, nothing."
"Well that's odd."
We kept talking and a minute or two later, while talking about something else, she offhandedly mentioned, "By the way, I got into a car accident yesterday with my brother."

pause.

"Any chance you were wearing a seatbelt?"
"Yeah, I was."
"Any chance the seat belt was sitting right over this bruised portion of your lower abdomen?"
"Yeah, come to think of it, it was."
"And the bumps showed up after that?"
"Yeah, they did."

Huh.

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"Give me the straight scoop, people! And don't tell me the bow makes it hard to take me seriously!"

Chemical Free

2008-03-27T18:34:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a pretty whole-wheat lovin', organic-embracing, sugar-free zone household. My guy friends knew our house wasn't the stop for a Costco enabled chow-down, but they were willing to eat a little rabbit food if it meant they could play my brother's James Bond video game. Life is about compromise.

Anyhoo, this way of eating is in my bones, and I've always been big on produce. When I get stressed, I eat more apples. I used to eat three/day (at least)when studying for med school tests. I intermittently bought organic produce, but often ended up with whatever fruit I could pick up at TJ's, Harris Teeter, Whole Foods, or Giant. Since I buy produce in bulk, price was an issue. We've all read the articles about the chemicals that are poured onto the non-organic produce. Many, many articles. Then one day recently, I reached my tipping point. An innocent msn.com headline pulled me in. "Learn which fresh produce products are best bought organic." They outlined the types and amounts of chemicals that are used for various types of fruits. The scales fell from my eyes, and all of a sudden it seemed so horrifying. I'm ingesting that?

I talked to Chris that night, and we both agreed: this family's produce is organic or bust. Now of course we'll still eat something non-organic if we're out and about or at a family/friends house, but we want to stock our own fridge with the most natural variety of things. We're exposed to so much crappy stuff these days, we might as well minimize what we can.

We ended up signing up for a service that my sister told me about: Washington's Green Grocer. They deliver a small or large box of organic or organic/regular produce to your door. You can have it delivered weekly, biweekly, or on an as-needed basis. No contracts, no long-term obligations. Try it and if you don't like it, you can just stop. You get the list for what they'll deliver the week before. You can change out things you aren't interested in, and exchange them for more apples. You wouldn't want something else, would you?

Anyway, it's awesome. Chris loves experimenting with new veggies (they have recipes, by the by, on their website to guide you), and he made a delicious, colorful, all-organic salad for dinner tonight. Love it.

So, are you in the mood to go freshy fresh?

All in favor of apples el natural, stand up and cheer!

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Easter Magic

2008-03-23T19:08:00.001-07:00

I love this holiday. I love it for all the deep religious significance it holds. I love it for the season it heralds. I love it for the easter egg hunts and the little girls and boys in adorable attire. I especially love it for the cute bonneted little girl pictured below. We had a wonderful day with family and friends and I hope you all did as well.
Happy Easter to all and to all a good night!

Daddy's Girl

2008-03-09T19:35:00.000-07:00

I had good intentions today. I was going to post a real post about a few things on my mind. Then Mary called and put Nikolai on the phone. "Come over, aunt Kate. Come in." You just try to turn down that little voice. We spent an hour over there instead, so blogging will have to be post-poned. I promised my parents, however, that I would post one of Eva's laughing videos before bed. It is good evidence that Chris is funny and Eva is adorable. Notice how she reaches up and puts her little hand on his face. I LOVE when she does that. It's like seeing you isn't enough and she wants to memorize your face via touch as well.

Also, here is a picture of Eva and Cousin Nikolai from our little Sunday get-together. So cute.

Enjoy!

Hats Off

2008-02-24T19:25:00.000-08:00

Spring approaches. I am very happy about this. Even though our forecast still warns of cold temperatures, I can feel in my bones that the warmth and the flowers are on their way. Can't. Hardly. Wait.

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People often ask me how the work/home balance is going. Well, balance isn't really the word I would use to describe all this. Juggling seems a better fit. But it's a happy act. It keeps me on my toes, and I like that. For example:
A few weeks ago, I woke up to feed the baby at about 6:30. We were lounging around and enjoying her cooing before I left for the hospital. The minute I stepped foot into the hospital, my pager started lighting up. Again and again, the same number. 'My gosh,' I thought to myself, 'Can't they give me a minute to get to a phone?' Turns out one of our patients--one who I'd never met because they'd been admitted overnight--was having trouble breathing and the nurses wondered if I might come help them take care of that. I ran upstairs and spent the next hour getting the patient breathing, stable, and on his way to the ICU while adrenaline coursed through me.
We all wear various hats, and my life just requires mine to change rapid fire.

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We're Netflix users now. I think Netflix is pretty inevitable for all new parents since it is a little harder to get to the theater (unless you have wonderful willing in-law babysitters like we do). I'm a big Netflix fan now and I'll give you a live infomercial if you'd like. Our recent Netflix picks:
Away From Her: Thumbs Up. Sad but thought provoking. Julie Christie looks amazing.
Stardust: Thumbs Up. Imaginative. A bit violent. Charming despite being fantasy.
Mostly Martha: Thumbs Way up. German film that the US Studios felt compelled to remake Hollywood style ("No Reservations"). Don't know why as the original is perfection. I forgot how much I loved it.

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Our Little "H*re"

Her 'melt my heart' special

This kind of laughter counts as exercise

Doesn't she look like she's concentrating on sleeping?

How did we go so fast from this: (two months ago)

...to this: (tonight)

I never did a Christmas post, so you missed out on this cuteness:

And this cuteness.

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Eva has started exercising her vocal cords we caught some on video. The money is at the very beginning and very end. It's just a little sample because, per the usual, she got a little stage fright.

Warning: This video will probably bore anyone not related to us.
Warning: If you are related to Eva, you might need to re-watch it five times to soak up all the cuteness.

"Hi, Kate."

2008-02-10T11:50:00.000-08:00

When I was a first year medical student, Nancy (one of my bff's) and I would head almost nightly to the Georgetown Barnes and Noble. We would stake out a table, lay out our respective grad school books, and think about studying. Then we'd talk and eat scones instead. We learned quickly that we were better friends than study partners. ;) Anyhoo, one night after this routine had first started, I interrupted to say:

"Oh, it's 7:00. I have to head up Wisconsin to an AA meeting."

Before I had a chance to explain that this was a school requirement and I was merely observing, a surprised, albeit not judgmental, look crossed her face.

After I'd explained why I was going, she offered to tag along and up we went. It is sort of an awkward thing to walk into a meeting like that and say, "Hi, I'm a medical student and I'm here to observe your meeting. Please just act normal."

So I didn't.

We tucked ourselves into a back corner and tried to look inconspicuous. Nancy stepped out to the restroom and while she was gone, a middle-aged, slightly shaggy man approached me.

"Is this your first time here?"
"Yes." Not a lie.
"When I was new here, someone approached me and told me that I could conquer my alcoholism. Just them saying that was an inspiration to me and I hope I can be the same for you. I want to give you something."
"Okay." Gulp.
"Hold on."

He left the room while I contemplated the various ways this situation could unfold. I could not now see how I could possibly admit that I was a med student observer.

He came back and handed me The Big Blue AA Book.
"Here," he said, "I've inscribed it to you. If you have any more questions or want to talk, I'll be here after the meeting."
"Okay." I tried to look grateful and not terrified. He would probably have thought either was appropriate.

The meeting started. 'Was anyone new here', the group leader wanted to know? [insert many meaningful stares in my direction]. I played with the edge of my notebook and tried to look invisible. They asked again later. And again after that. Each time the silence that filled the room felt heavier. 'Poor thing,' I imagine they thought, 'she can't quite admit that she has a problem.' I worried what my blue book-giving friend would think. I hoped he didn't feel like a failure for not inciting me to stand and introduce myself.

I thought how easy it would be to stand up and say, "Hi, I'm Kate, and I'm an alcoholic." "Hi, Kate." Except that that would be a lie and I don't like to lie. Even if it makes kind, shaggy-haired men feel better. But hey, maybe I lied when I didn't make my true identity known.

When the meeting ended, we raced out of there. Why, by the way, didn't anyone offer Nancy a book or stare at her like she should stand up and introduce herself? She must have looked convincing as my support person--as the one who'd coerced me into coming.

When I got home that night, I opened up the Big Blue Book. There was a very sweet inscription from a very encouraging man. He believed in me. I wanted to read that inscription after re-telling that story recently (sorry weenston, for making you hear it twice) but then I remembered that its no longer in my possession. So sad. Once, when Chris's 'let's trim the fat' spirit rubbed off on me, I unloaded a ton of old school books to goodwill. Without realizing it, I shipped off my blue book as well. When this came to my attention, I tried to no avail to find it at the goodwill. Someone must have needed it more than I did.

But the memory of that night still makes me smile for so many reasons. Because Nancy and I know each other like sisters now and its funny to think of how it must have initially surprised her.

Because I love to think about how bad I felt about not being an alcoholic. What a disappointment!

Because its so great that there are strangers who surprise you with their generosity and goodness.

And because it reminds me that I should never clean out my bookshelves. (Just Kidding sweetie!)

I hope you all have a magnificent Sabbath!

(I'm trying to post a mega cute picture of Eva, but blogger is being c-razy).

Blessed

2008-02-03T18:57:00.000-08:00

Just returned home from my in-laws where we basked in good food and good company. Thank you! I sat there and looked around and thought how much goodness I am surrounded by. Yes, there are things/people I'm really worried about, really stressed about. Yes, there's work tomorrow and a weekend call next week. But, on the whole, I'm just really blessed. I have amazing friends and amazing family. I have an education. I have work that helps me be a part of other people's lives. I have a husband who makes my life better everyday. And, everyday, I have a little piece of he and I who fills my heart in a way I never could have expected. I sing "Baby Mine" (my favorite lullaby and one of the few I know all the words too) to her and I get all emotional because of what it feels like to love a baby so much. Sometimes recently when life seems frustrating, or the future fragile, I walk myself through this list, and I remind myself that these are the things that are eternal. These are the things that, in the grand scheme, no one can take from me. Talk about a silver lining.

I have a few stories to post, but the little munchkin is calling. Here are some pics in the meantime!

Reminiscent of "A Christmas Story", but oh so cute!

Nancy was off to the side and being quite entertaining as far as Eva-dear was concerned.

My favorite little papoose

Mommy Loves Me

Eva reigns from her Bumbo

"I'm dazed and I need a hair brush...c'mon people!"

Pillow Talk

Pink on Pink

Already Irish Dancing...watch out Michael Flatley!

Pumping Iron

2008-01-17T20:12:00.000-08:00

Another multi-part post. :)
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A recent call night was a real doozy. I had three admissions hit at once, and I raced through them with an efficiency that I never had when there wasn't a little one whose bedtime I so badly wanted to make it home for. I made it. Barely. Exhausted. I picked up my little darling and cooed, played and sang to her. To reward me for my efforts, she laughed. No, she giggled. Chuckled. Chortled. It is a new trick of hers and it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. And in that one instant--just like that-- she erased every frustration of the day. Eva is good medicine.

(A shout-out to Aunt Caitlin and Aunt Mary for the adorable Christmas outfits featured below. I LOVE them!)

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A certain rockstar male colleague of mine (who will remain anonymous so as to respect our pact) wasn't sure I should post this on my blog, but I couldn't resist. One of my fellow residents was a breast-feeding mom during our intern year. Like me now, she had a Pump-in-style backpack attached to her like another appendage. It is an act of sheer determination to pump as a resident. So one morning, she was post-call (back in the days when all our calls were in the hospital), and this certain male colleague paged her to get sign-out on his patients. She called him back.
"Did I wake you up?" he asked.
"No," she replied, "I'm just pumping."
"You're at the gym?"

Love. It.

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I saw this on a car recently, and thought it was pretty funny:

We're Gonna Make it After All

2007-12-21T07:18:00.000-08:00

I've been away from Blogging for a while now. When I've lapsed in the past, I have made all sorts of promises about how I'll post more often. But life is a little busier these days, so I'll just promise to do my letter best. I have had a lot of different thoughts over the past few weeks, so this will be a multi-part post. :)

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I've been back at work now for about a month. Two of those weeks were full time and two of those nights were call nights. We're all still standing. :) Actually, life at work is seeming a little more doable. We're getting into our new routine, and it seems to be working. It is so difficult to be away from Eva during the day, but she has been so lucky to be cared for by such wonderful and loving friends and relatives. If it takes a village, I have to thank mine. To Cheryl, Mary, Christianne, Anna, and amazingChris(I've renamed him), thank you for making it a little easier to be at work. I can only manage it because I know she is being so well cared for and loved in my absence. You are all amazing and Eva is lucky to spend time with you and your families.

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People tell me that they are happy to see me accomplish my dream of becoming a doctor. It is good to accomplish goals, but if it were only my dream at this point that motivated me, I would probably have quit when little Eva came into the picture. Her well-being has eclipsed a lot of things I once thought were important. I'm running this marathon for a lot of reasons right now, and my own desires are probably at the bottom of the list, or not there at all. Parenthood has made me realize how selfish I was before. Having a little person who depends on you for absolutely everything induces an amazing frameshift. I like it. I like that my love for her pushes me to not be me-centered. And I didn't think I was so me-centered before she was born. But you realize that until you have to serve someone so much, so often, it's easy to have your own comfort and preferences be preeminent.

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Eva smiles. Eva sleeps (6 1/2 hours last night at one stretch!!). Eva melts my heart completely. Life is busier with a baby, but my daily joy has multiplied and deepened. She is an amazing gift.

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Chris deserves a "Husband/Dad of the Year" award. He is so amazing with little Eva, probably because he has so much time with her. Watching their daddy-daughter bond grow is precious. It melts my heart when he says things like, "I've found it really helps her get to sleep if I rub her face like this," or "Her diapers seem to stay on well when I fasten them like this." He is a very hands-on Dad and more spectacular at the job than I could've imagined.

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I had a patient come in the other day who was complaining of a vague abdominal pain. I looked at her check-in sheet to look for any other details the nurse had gathered, and walked into the room. We chatted for a few minutes and she described her symptoms. "My heartburn has been a little worse, but it doesn't feel quite like that is what's causing it. I'm not really nauseous and don't have any fevers." I was going through a list in my mind of what I thought could be ailing her when she said, "By the way...did my pregnancy test come back yet?"

Surprised, I looked down at my laptop to see if any results had been put in her file yet. No one had mentioned to me that they were running a pregnancy test (she probably asked the nurse to run it, and they didn't catch me before I went into the room to let me know). I clicked on the tab to update her screen, and "Pregnancy Test: Positive" popped up in front of me.

"Oh!" I said, "You're pregnant!"

She started crying. "I have a four and a half month old," she said. "I have four kids...we were supposed to be done. My husband was going to get a vasectomy in the next few months."

Woops.

This is the part of doctoring that I find interesting and tricky. It is so easy to want to slip into the 'friend' role and comfort someone from that standpoint. But I also need to balance that with my professional role. I probably go a little more to the friend role with patients like these, for better or worse. We talked about how the test wasn't 100% accurate, how caboose babies are often the best ('but that is how my fourth one is!') and how breastfeeding is obviously not a perfect form of birth control. We talked for a while and by the time she left, she was at least laughing a little bit.

I definitely feel for her. If I were in her shoes, I would be announcing baby #2 in a month or so. "Pulling a Britney" as it were. Not a good thing on many levels. I do think it would be funny, however, to tell my Program on April 1st that I'm expecting again. Just to see their faces. But don't worry, Winston, I won't. ;)

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One of our wonderful nurses got me an ornament for Christmas. It is a little doctor's coat, replete with a stethoscope, reflex hammer, etc., There is even a little nameplate over the pocket that has "Dr. H*re" engraved into it. I love it and hung it on our tree immediately. The other night, mom told me about another ornament I had once hung on a tree.

When we were kids, she was in charge of the Primary (the kids organization at our Church). She had planned a Christmas Program for the Christmas party. She was dressed up as a large green tree, and each of the kids would come up and place an ornament on her tree. Every ornament was a symbol of one of the names of the Savior. I remember this all in the hazy way of many childhood memories.

Mom was going through old albums and pictures, when she stumbled across the pages from that year. She found a picture of me hanging my ornament upon the tree. "What do you think you hung on the tree?" "I don't know." "A Stethoscope. A symbol of the Savior as the Great Healer."

So this year, as I hang my stethoscope around my neck instead of on a tree, I'll try to think about things that are bigger than me, and how much I believe in God's plan for my life.

Merry Christmas, everyone! May you have family, and Christmas Carols, and more twinkle lights than you know what to do with. :)

D-Day

2007-11-28T17:18:00.001-08:00

Folks, don't try this at home. Returning to work 6 weeks after having a baby, that is. If you choose to do this, you can expect the following things:
a)to spend the majority of the morning crying your little eyes out
b)to require multiple assurances from your amazingly patient husband that 'we're going to get through this'
c)to think of your baby one billion times even though you are only away for a matter of hours on the first day
d)to feel an ache every time you hear another baby in the office cry (which is often at a place where we routinely give shots!)

This has been a tough adjustment, and I'm so grateful that my program agreed to let me go back part-time these first two weeks. It's marginally easier to leave in the morning when I know that I'll be back around lunch. I did have a moment, however, that reminded me why I am going to march through this last year and a half to complete this path to becoming a board-certified physician. One of my nursing home patients needed to be seen, so I stopped by there on the way to my office. She has not been doing well since she entered the nursing home several months ago. This does not surprise me. If I had to leave my home and live in this house of white-walls and blank stares, I would similarly lose some of my will to survive. I sat across from her and tried to pull her out of her funk...tried to coax a smile out of her or at least find the spark in her eyes that is so often out. It wasn't my most successful attempt, but as I sat there, I thought about how she needs me. She needs a physician to come in and try to help her, even if I don't succeed in altering her medical course in a dramatic way. And I am happy to be that person for her. So, I thought, if I can't always be at home with the person I would most like to be taking care of, at least I am helping other families with theirs. It is rewarding and that is of some comfort.

Another thing that is of comfort? The delightfully cozy Christmas music playing on itunes and the following pictures:

Apparently, hula dancing can really wear a person out. Eva fell asleep mid-move.

A smile picture with slightly better camera work. Where's Nancy when I need her? ;)

Snow Princess

Love little girls in winter tights!

Here's to wishing everyone a good night's sleep!

Happy Thanksgiving!

2007-11-22T07:23:00.000-08:00

I hope everyone is having a very cozy and grateful day. Before we head off to meet our relatives for some serious stuffing/potato enjoyment, here is a little 'thankful' list in honor of the holiday

I am grateful for:
1. Rockstar husband who took over all baby care early this morning so I could sleep
2. Rockstar sister who watched La Bebe so we could catch a movie for my birthday (I highly recommend 'Dan in Real Life' by the by)
3. A Mother-in-law who makes delicious shrimp for the non-turkey eaters in the family
4. In-laws who I look forward to spending time with
5. Nephews that I adore like they were my own
6. Panda Licorice (regular and rasberry flavors)
7. A family where every sibling, parent, aunt/uncle, in-law, cousin can be counted as a friend
8. "Pushing Daisies"
9. Christmas Music
10. Waking up and realizing that five hours have gone by (not a regular occurence)
11. The Gospel of Jesus Christ
12. And the newest addition to the list, and what I'm feeling particularly grateful for right now, little Baby Eva:

I realize that the up-close camera work and bright flash distort her appearance a bit, but I still couldn't resist posting the first smile I've caught on camera.

Happy Holidays! Get ready to pull out those Christmas decorations!

Eva vs. The Pager

2007-11-08T09:42:00.001-08:00

vs.

Sleepless nights are nothing new for me. The things that have changed since the arrival of my lady love: the sound of the awakening agent and the frequency of said nights. Before inundating you with more evidence of my 'new parent picture-taking hysteria', I thought I'd analyze the nature of both types of night-time interruptions to decide which is preferable. (And, yes, I do realize that the outcome is obvious from the outset. Please exercise the willing suspension of disbelief as we go through the following blog exercise.)

#1
Pager: Beeps can reliably be stopped with the press of a button.
Eva: Cries do often responds to bouncing/feeding/diaper changing, but would not call this responding 'reliable'.

#2
Pager: Sometimes requires me to leave not only my bed but my house and to drive to a hospital.
Eva: Mercifully allows mom to meet most of her night-time needs from the comfort of her bed or her comfy rocking chair.

#3
Pager: Cannot generally be counted on to be quiet for at least two hour intervals.
Eva: Cannot generally be counted on to be quiet for at least two hour intervals (although to be fair to her and the pager, they have each at times given me up to five hours of quiet).

#4
Pager: Gets passed on to the next resident for a few days in between visits
Eva: Would be very sad (and hungry) if she was to get passed on to anyone but mama for a night

#5
Pager:Looks like this. (see above picture.)
Eva: Looks like this. (see above picture as well as glut of pictures below).

#6
Pager: Made of Plastic
Eva: Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bones

#7
Pager:Prompts me to call people who are frequently frustrating and occassionally crazy.
Eva: Prompts me to cuddle an adorable infant who I am sure will never be frustrating or drive her parents crazy.

#8
Pager: Cannot be taken care of by dear hubby.
Eva: Responds quite well to diaper changes and burp sessions by Daddy.

#9
Pager: Looks like this. (again see above picture.)
Eva: Looks like this (I'm not sure this point can be underscored enough.)

#10
Pager: Will hopefully one day be a thing of the past
Eva: Will occupy my heart forever. (What? You thought I'd make it through this entire post without getting sentimental?)

Congratulations, Eva! Your prize is a lifetime supply of diaper changes, feedings, hugs, night-time soothings and...well, a lifetime of those who love you meeting your needs the way our lovely parents did for us. :) A grand prize, indeed.

And now onto the pictures:

The Halloween Pics. Take One. Apparently Baby Eva does not think its amusing to have a feeding interrupted for the noble cause of modeling cute outfits. See Mary's Blog for a cute pic where Luke appears to be holding Eva's hand in an attempt at comforting the screaming princess.

Take Two.

Daddy's Little Girl

Chris and I made a quick outing to Old Towne a while ago. We decided the charm of the cobblestone streets were worth it and luckily the bumpy stroller ride served to put our baby to sleep. Here we are by the boat that Chris and I once took a cruise on in his pre-mission days.

Chris walks in front of "The Chart House" which is where he took me for our six-month anniversary all those years ago. Oh how things have changed!

Eva wore Katharine's cute outfit to church last Sunday. The jumper still overwhelms the little darling, but I still loved it.

Is there anything cuter than a purple fleece hoodie for a newborn?

Eva considers smiling for the camera but changes her mind:

Chris's Aunt Pam made this amazing little dress for Chris's younger brother when they were still expecting him to be Jennifer instead of Jonathan. It has been perfectly wrapped in tissue paper for the past twenty seven years until we pulled it out to put on Eva. This time I woke her up from a nap to get her all dressed up. Again, you can see what she thinks about her mom interrupting more important activities for dress-up time. But isn't that outfit amazing?

Yesterday I went to a class on bow-making for little girls. As the class started, Eva (dressed as you see in the picture below) was asleep and hidden in her car seat. The teacher of the class explained that if our babies were small, we could use the thin ribbons to make little delicate bows. Big bows, she explained, overwhelm little babies. A few minutes later when Eva woke up and wanted to eat, I sheepishly pulled my daughter out of her seat, painfully exposing the fact that I had committed the sin of putting a Texas-style bow on my little one.

Now I'm going to leave you with all that cuteness and try to lie down. I'm feeling like this:

A Break From Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

2007-11-08T09:28:00.001-08:00

We take a break from what will otherwise be "All About Eva" for the following medical commentary:

About a month ago I got a page to call the office while I was rounding at the hospital. I called back to find that my co-worker Beth had paged me.

"Hey," she said, "You speak American Sign Language, right?"
"Yeah."
"Do you mind if I refer a patient to you for follow-up? I saw her this morning for an acute care thing, but she needs follow-up for her chronic issues and I thought I'd see if you'd take her."
"Of course!"

Many years ago when I was starting on this crazy path called medicine, the idea of being a 'signing doctor' was one of the things that drove me. I knew from speaking with my Deaf friends that a doctor who could communicate with their Deaf patient's without the aid of an interpreter would be a very good thing. Since leaving college, my chances to use my language skills have not been as frequent as they were there, so I am always happy to find opportunities to use my signing.

A week before my due date, I noticed that a patient had been put on my schedule ahead of time. This was unusual only because they had only been 'opening' my schedule one morning at a time so they wouldn't be scrambling to re-schedule people if I went into labor. I was curious to see who it was, as I didn't recognize the name. My nurse came out of the room and said, "By the way, she's Deaf." "Oh! Great!" It was one of the few moments that I was glad that I hadn't gone into labor yet.

I walked into the room and started introducing myself to the patient via sign. The smile that broke out on her face was definitely a 'reward' moment. "This is so cool!" she signed, "I've never been able to talk directly to my doctor before!" She normally utilized paper and pencil instead of an interpreter. It was great to watch her relax, to make jokes, and to communicate directly with me, her provider, in a way that the rest of us take for granted when we seek medical care. I was lucky enough to have a similar experience at the free clinic where we volunteer as residents.

I always appreciate those moments in my medical life, because they put the sleepless nights and less-grateful patients into perspective. And since I'm a new mom, the parallels to parenting are easy to find. I hold my little Eva, see her smile in her sleep, and think, "It's worth it."

So here's to hoping that we all have a moment this week, or make a moment this week, that reminds us that what we're doing is all part of a bigger and better plan.

My sister-in-law is cooler than Your sister-in-law

2007-10-24T17:16:00.001-07:00

Notice to all you women out there: When your brother's are looking to get married, offer them suggestions regarding their choice. Hope that they will pick someone who is warm, smart, loving and talented. Tell them to be on the lookout for someone who is willing to hang out with his family. Remind him how lucky he'll be if she is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.

Then tell him that if he could also pick someone who is an interior designer, you will be SO very happy that he'll never have to buy you birthday presents again for the rest of your life.

Thank you, Brigham, for managing to do all of the above. :)

Brig and Caitlin flew out this last weekend to see Baby Eva and to offer up Caitlin's design talents for my hopelessly bare nursery. They came in on a red-eye and visited us at the hospital before we were discharged and they headed home to take naps. We were all in a new baby haze that night, so decorating didn't begin until Saturday morning. And with Sunday being Sunday (and their return flight being Monday morning), we had exactly one day to accomplish our task. One day. I wish I had a 'before' picture, but suffice to say that the beginnings were bare. We had: one crib with bedding, one changing table, and one rocking chair. The walls were a mintier green than I would've picked myself (but as a renter, am not at liberty to change) and I couldn't catch a vision of what I wanted the room to look like.

That's where Cait came in. We all piled into two small cars (six adults, two babies, two car seats, and two strollers) and headed to the mecca of one stop shopping: IKEA. A few hours later we re-surfaced, with more boxes, lamps, vases, etc., than should have been able to fit into our two small cars. With a little help from our guardian angels, we managed to make it all home with ours and Mary's stuff in tow.

We didn't arrive back at the homestead until dinner-time, and so after some delicious veggie lasagna (thank you, Sunny!) it was all hands on deck. We assembled, decoupaged, and framed until we dropped. Caitlin outlasted us all. The next morning I just sat in the room staring around. Could this possibly be the same room I had seen a few days before? From the polka-dot carpets to the perfecty accessorized bookshelf to the dreamy lighting fixtures, it was the most peaceful and adorable haven I could've wished for my baby.

I really feel so lucky to have such a wonderful sister-in-law and so grateful that she battled jet-lag, work constraints, and a tight time schedule to come transform our nursery (and guest-room) with her magical design wand. You are the best!

Designer Extraordinaire

Cait and Kate and Eva take in the new surroundings

And a few more photos from the past week:

The $100 salad. Brig does not do vegetables. Unless you pay him. :)

Worth the Wait

Playing dress-up is even more fun than I thought

So cute!

Eva meets cousin Nikolai

A New Family

First Doctor's Visit

Doing Crunches

Got to catch Zzzz's where you can!

Baby Joy

2007-10-18T16:54:00.000-07:00

She's Here!

Eva Noelle H*re entered the world last night at 8:05 pm. She weighed exactly 8 pounds and is 20 inches long. She has adorable butterball cheeks(my gift to her) and a full head of dark hair. We are in love. :) I will post some more pictures of the whole adventure when we get home, but here are a few images to show you the new joy in our life.

Eva with her with her Fan Club

Future Soccer Player

Our Little Angel

Hanging out with Grandma H*re

Just the three of us.

Could we love her any more?

Love, Love, Love this little face

...we'll call you.

2007-10-14T18:00:00.000-07:00

No baby yet. I promise we will pass along the happy news when it happens! I am three days past my due date, although if you actually look at the medical definitions, you aren't considered 'over-due' or 'post-dates' until you are past 42 weeks. Someone, PLEASE tell that to everyone at work. If I have to face, "You're still here???" thirty times/day for too many more days, I might lose my mind. And for those who have asked, I am indeed working until I go into labor. People tell me that that is better because it should keep my mind off things. Personally, I find the weekends much easier to take, but time off pre-labor is not an option unless I want to cut into my time with baby girl. Which I absolutely don't. And so I will wake up tomorrow morning, drag my white coat out of the closet, and continue helping and healing (hee hee) until this baby stops me, or my induction date (Friday) arrives.

Everyone keep your fingers crossed that I make it through this week!

Tribute to one of the Great Ones

2007-10-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

I was talking with my parents the other day, and something my mom said got me thinking.

My dad (pictured above with my studly brother Brig) has experienced some really heavy-duty health challenges this year. It has been hard to watch someone that I love so much experience so much pain, and for the causes to remain somewhat unclear. He has handled it with courage and faith and I am so proud of what he has endured. Sometimes I have felt like a failure. Here I am a doctor, and still unable to fix one of the people I'd give anything to be able to help. It has been a learning experience for all of us.

The response of our relatives, neighbors, fellow-church members and acquaintances has been amazing. The outpouring of love, support and prayers has been truly humbling. I know my Dad has been overwhelmed with gratitude for the way these gestures have lifted him. I have seen the medicinal effects that a friend's outreach can have on someone's suffering. They are direct and powerful.

When I was talking to mom the other night, she told me about one past acquaintance who had heard about Dad's struggles and called to check in. Dad had commented to the friend how grateful and humbled he was by all the people who have reached out in love and concern--people from years past as well as the present. The friend then stated that it was the least they could all do--a small token of thanks for the years of continual love and service Dad has always shown to those around him. My mother, who is not typically an emotional person, got choked up as she said that it was amazing to see the fruits of my dad's labors--the love of all the people who he has given his tireless efforts to--come back to him in this way.

I got choked up at that same moment. It has been such a privilege and a joy to be raised by such an incredible Father: he has been my rock, my friend. A spiritual compass, an undying supporter. He has worked tirelessly for our family and for so many others. Most of his service was under the radar and I only hear about it now from others who tell me about all the things he's done for them. He never came home from work and turned on the TV. I don't think he ever did anything when he got home but spend time with mom and us kids. He took us on business trips and daddy-daughter dates. He coached our teams. He served at Church. He never missed a back-to-school night or after-school waterpolo game despite being a high-powered executive. He understood that someone else could conduct the meeting, but no one else could replace his spot at our gametime. He didn't raise his voice in anger at us. He taught us about good music and good grammar. ;) He supported my med-school dream wholeheartedly. He was kind, funny, and full of integrity. He was wholly unselfish in every way. I know for certain that God blessed me abundantly when he sent me to be one of my dad's daughters.

The more I pondered this, the more I felt like I just had to post some sort of tribute to one of the greatest people I'll ever know. I love you so much, Dad, and know that I could never have found my way to where I am without your character as a roadmap. I believe that what you sow is what you will reap. I'm so happy to witness, in this time of difficulty, what a true principle that is.

On a lighter note, I just had to post one quick thing that one of my other heroes said today. Poppa is my mom's amazing Dad. Here we are dancing at Brig and Cait's 2006 wedding:

Poppa is a man of deep character who has had an on-and-off again relationship with religion and prayer. He was asking my mom today (Happy Birthday!) how Dad was doing. He then said, "I've been praying for him, you know. And I think my prayers count for more than the ones from people God hears from a lot. God must think, 'Wow...if John is praying for something, he must really need help.'" He always makes me smile. :)

Love to all the amazing men in my life!

And finally, I promise to let you know when the baby comes. If that ever happens. :)

Just You and Me, Babe

2007-10-08T19:37:00.000-07:00

As promised a week ago (for those of you who thought maybe the delay in posting was secondary to labor--ha!--this baby doesn't intend to face the cold, harsh world), here are a few pictures from our trip down to Williamsburg over Labor Day. We stayed in a marvelous Marriott Resort called Ford's Colony, thanks to a mucho reduced online price. It was delightful in and of itself. Golf courses, a spa, pools, tennis courts, walking trails, rooms to die for with whirlpool spas, activities for families, bikes for rent...you get the idea. It was so cool to add those very relaxing activities to the typical dreamland that is our Williamsburg getaway. We ate at our favorite joints, shopped, enjoyed our dose of colonial history, had a pregnancy massage (me, not Chris, natch, and it was AMAZING!) and relished the fact that we still have this much fun in a place we've been to together at least a dozen times.

First Stop: Sno to Go. For those poor souls who have not experienced this goodness, Sno to Go specializes in shaved ice mixed with soft-serve ice cream centers. Sounds odd, but tastes sooo delicious. Skipping Sno to Go would be like missing out on the Cheese Shop.

Walking down DOG street. Can you feel the relaxation emanating from my being? Williamsburg does that to you.

Chris poses with the Fife and Drum. It's a pretty cool sight, and Chris still gets a little teary thinking of what might have been (Grandma almost had him convinced to do it).

Our ridiculously great hotel room...

...looked out onto a ridiculously lovely forest.

Chris's ulterior motive in taking me on this getaway: start baby girl H*re's collection of W&M paraphernalia.

Pictures, Pictures, Everywhere

2007-10-01T20:20:00.000-07:00

It is late right now, and seeing as I am nine months pregnant and worked late patient care today, I think I'm supposed to be tired. :) At least Chris keeps saying so and is actively wondering why I'm not headed for bed yet. Instead I am blogging, writing notes, and tidying things up. Nesting instinct, much? :)

While I might have a good amount of energy left right now, I still should be careful about depriving myself of sleep before little baby girl shakes up the nighttime routine, so I won't post all my pics tonight. The Williamsburg post is going to have to wait until tomorrow. Unless I'm in the hospital (I should be so lucky!) We are, by the by, at the week and a half count down. Wahoo!

So first, here are a few pictures from my shower a week and a half ago. It was so delightful and I felt positively showered with love and adorable baby things. This little girl is lucky to be surrounded by such wonderful family and friends as she prepares to make her entrance into the world. The day before this shower, actually, the nurses and doctors at work had surprised me with a shower as well, and so it was just a wonderful, party-filled weekend. How can people be so nice to little old me? :) The pics from that event are still on my nurses camera, so that will have to wait. In the meantime, here are the other ones.

Lovely food, lovely people:

The guest of honor

I adore this baby bedding (you should see it on the crib!) Thank you Caitlin and Mom!!!

In response to the many requests for a bump picture. Chris took this one on our way to church. Nine months in and still smiling:

Hope to be back soon!

Dress Code

2007-09-16T17:17:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I was on a week of hospital service, which is always capped off with a Sunday call. On a weekend call, we are required to go into the hospital in the am and round on our patients. After that, if no one is requiring admission to the hospital, you can answer the nursing/patient calls from wherever you would like until someone does come in (which they always do at some point). I, being a little optimistic, decided to dress in my Sunday best. Our church starts at 1:00, and so I figured that I could be done rounding by the time church started and hopefully head straight there.

I guess I forgot to knock on wood.

After I finished rounding at Fairfax, I headed over to Fair Oaks, which is the other hospital we cover, and where the third year resident was finishing up her morning rounds. Upon arriving there, she told me that she was just heading to the ER to do an admission. She'd gotten called about this gentleman earlier in the morning, but since things had been so busy with their existing patients and the ER doc was keeing an eye on this supposedly stable patient, she hadn't been to see him yet. Right before I walked in, she'd gotten a call from the ER saying that this 60-some odd year old man had suddenly deteriorated and had required intubation. They weren't sure what was going on, but an ICU doc had been called as well since things were rapidly going south, and mostly unexplainable. I offered to go over and help her get stuff ready on the patient.

We headed over to the ER and found our patient in his room. I have seen many, many intubated patients, and since most alert people wouldn't tolerate a breathing tube down their throat very well, they are usually heavily sedated. But this man looked different. He looked dead.

I commented as such to the third year after we had finished examining the patient and stepped outside to write the admission orders. We sat down, and within five minutes, were interrupted by the nurse stepping outside of the patient's room. "Um, could someone call a code please? His heart just stopped." "Call a code in room 2!" I spoke loudly, while the third year and I ran back in.

The things that were already were in our favor: He already had a central line (a large centrally placed IV that makes it easier to give hard-hitting drugs) and a breathing tube.

Things that were not in our favor: His heart was flat-lining and he had no pulses.

When someone is flat-lining, you can't actually shock their heart. You have to have at least some electrical activity for that to work. So instead, we started giving the man drugs to re-start things and doing CPR to get said drugs circulating. One of the nurses started doing chest compressions, but looked like she was tiring after a little while (it actually gets exhausting pretty fast). I took over for her while we waited for reinforcements in the manpower department.

"one-and-two-and-three-and..." I counted to myself as I kept my elbows straight and got into the rhythmic pattern of resuscitation. As I thumped away, I had a few thoughts:

1)This poor man's family...I don't see this ending well
2)Thank you, little baby girl H*re, for not sticking out too far and making this task impossible.
3)I am in heels and a Sunday Dress, 8 months pregnant, and doing CPR. My life can be really odd.

That moment in that room is a memory that I think will be glued to my brain forever.

And in case you were wondering, we were able to bring the man back, but only temporarily. He passed away peacefully less than 48 hours later. His rapid descent into acute illness remains somewhat a mystery, but his loving family handled the situation with amazing grace, and let him go when it was obvious the way things were going to go. It can be the hardest but most merciful gift a family can give, I think.

I have more to post here soon--pics from our last pre-baby weekend away and baby showers, so I promise to be back soon. I've been blog-slacking, but am going to improve. I swear. ;)

Miss Teen USA 2007 - South Carolina answers a question

2007-08-25T18:44:00.001-07:00

I made Chris watch the end of the pageant with me. He was reluctant until Miss South Carolina stepped up to the interview plate. We were both in tears we were laughing so hard. The phrases, "US Americans" and "those Asian countries" just keep running through my head. You've got to watch this. I can't believe she didn't win!!

Fairs, Home Call, and Pancake Traditions

2007-08-19T16:40:00.000-07:00

This weekend marked the arrival of the much-anticipated (at least for me) Arlington County Fair. Living a block away from the fairgrounds, combined with free admission, made it easy to stop over for a quick dose of fair ambience as often as we liked. Or a quick dose of soft serve/frozen chocolate-covered bananas, depending on the night. We met up with and ran into several friends and family at the fair, and it was fun to watch the kids enjoy their rides since I, in my pregnant state, could not. As anyone who knows me could tell you, giving up roller coasters for nine months has been a serious sacrifice. :) There were some new additions to the Fair this year, most notably of which was pig racing. We've been joking about it for months, and the race itself did not disappoint. I laughed hysterically as the little guys raced around the track, even as our pig (go team pink!) fell way behind the rest. There's no better place for people watching, learning about your community, hearing about new cuisine (deep fried oreos??) or winning posters of B-list movie stars than the fair. What's not to love? I'll be sad to see the carnies pull out tomorrow morning. It's the sad moment we've been dreading since we watched them pull up earlier this week. :)

I loved riding the carousel with Nikolai. He loved going 'up and down, up and down' and watching his little smile was pretty darn satisfying.

This picture was an accident, but I love how it looks like it should be the cover of a Sweet Valley High Thriller: Terror at the Fair!!!

Chris and I smile as our last fair outing comes to a close:

Other highlights from the weekend:
My dad started this wonderful tradition when we were growing up where he made Mickey Mouse pancakes on Saturday Mornings. Today I was feeling a little nostalgic, and I decided to revive the tradition in our household. Below are the results. I was pleased and Chris says they were as tasty as any magical mickey pancake should be. ;)

In other news, I've taken my first few overnight calls of second year this month. They differ from my intern year calls in that, technically, they are taken from home. That had always sounded so appealing in theory, "See your husband after work! Maybe sleep in your own bed!" It doesn't always work out quite that well. We have to work late on our call night's doing the afterhours acute care clinic, so appropriately called IC (pronounced 'ick'). Once that's done, an admission always seems to roll into one of the two hospital's we cover during the hours of 7 and 10 pm, so the decision point is whether to start driving home--a twenty-five minute commute without traffic to the farther hospital--and hope I don't get called in, or stick it out at clinic a little while to save myself the drive. On a good night, like my last call, this can all work out well. I can get home at a reasonable hour, spend some time with Chris, and be in my own bed. Notice I didn't say sleep in my own bed. Even if I don't have to leave for an admission, I still have to answer all the nurse, nursing home, and patient questions that come in during the night. But then there's always the possibility that you can get called in at any point in the middle of the night to admit a patient (assuming you ever got to go home in the first place). And then you could get another call from the other hospital saying that they have a patient for you to admit when you're finished with the first one. Worse case scenario, this could go on all night, and driving back and forth while sleep-deprived probably isn't the safest thing in the world.

When I got called in for a middle of the night admission on my first call, my heart was seriously heavy as I walked out of the house and back to my car. But then again, I'd seen my husband and the outside world for a bit earlier in the evening, so you have to factor that in. It's hard to say if these are better or worse than my intern calls because it just depends on the night. Chris made it out to the hospital on pretty much every call night last year (amazing), so seeing him isn't the biggest change. But I'll have to vote slightly in favor of liking home calls better at this point, for the sole reason that I don't get that trapped feeling I used to last year. I used to get a little down when I realized I wouldn't leave the hospital for thirty hours. Now at least I'm out and about, which in some respects is better. We'll just have to see.

And before I leave you, here are two quick tidbits from my last week of work:

1)I got a page at about 3:30 am on my last call night. I called in to retrieve the message and heard the following. "Hi this is patient so-and-so, and I had a question. I was seen by Dr. X a few weeks ago and she gave me medication to treat a yeast infection. I've taken all the medicine and my symptoms haven't gone away. I was wondering what you could do for me because now I'm seeing some blood in my urine. Could you call me back at 011 38 3"

At this point I'm thinking, "An international call back number?" The message continued, "...I'm on a tour in Germany. Thank you very much."

I valiantly tried to call her back, but our practice cell phone won't make international phone calls. I was left with two questions: a)Has someone taught her how to calculate a time difference? and b)What does she think I can do for her in Germany from my bed in Washington DC???

2)I had a patient come in for his appointment--ostensibly a well-man physical. I walked in, made some small talk, and sat down. "So," I asked, "Any new health problems in the last year? Is everything okay in general?" "Oh, yeah, yeah, everything's fine. No new problems." "Great!" Pause. "I think I might have genital herpes."

Seriously, I almost started laughing out loud. Not because there's anything funny about herpes, but because everything about the way he delivered the news seemed intentionally comical. I had to stare at him for a second to determine that he was not about to start laughing either, and then I said, "Tell me about that."

Learning a new Rhythm

2007-07-26T18:16:00.000-07:00

You would probably guess that a day working in the hospital is more intense than a day seeing patients in an outpatient clinic. You would be wrong. I am amazed, almost four weeks into a mostly clinic-based schedule, at how physically and emotionally taxing it is to take care of a steady stream of people all day long. The pace is relentless as you strive to meet the needs of each person who walks through the door, keep an eye on my enemy (the clock), and learn a whole new type of medicine along the way. I have found, though, that the potential rewards are equal to, and often surpassing, the way it taxes you. With each patient I sit across from, I have the chance to make them feel heard, to help them make a human connection, and to hopefully offer them a chance to feel a little bit better.

What I love about family practice is the variety. You'd be surprised at the things that have walked through my door in just three weeks:the man sobbing as he detailed the shock of having a restraining order issued against him from his soon to be ex-wife, or the gorgeous couple with an 11-month old son who came in for STD testing because he had recently cheated on her.

Sometimes its easy to get frustrated at the system. I wish so much that I had as much time as I wanted to with each patient. I wish that patients realized how much it can mess up the day when they are half-hour late for an appt., or how terrible I feel if I'm running behind. But then the simplest thing happens, and I remember why I love it so much. Case in point:

A woman came in complaining of elbow pain resulting from an injury two weeks prior. I examined her, told her what I thought was going on, and started to walk her out the door. She headed for the exit sign, but turned around on her way out. "Thank you doctor," she said, "Thank you for helping me."

It was that second phrase that got to me. "Thank you for helping me." It was so straightforward and cut right to the heart of the matter. I'm here, ultimately, just trying to help. The trite answer for med school applicants, when asked why they are going to med school, is "I want to help people." We're so used to hearing it, that we tend to roll our eyes and wish they'd come up with a more original answer.

But, 'here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud'--it's that med school essay answer that most accurately sums up our collective mission in medicine. Or maybe it just most accurately sums up what my hope was when I decided that this path was worth the sacrifice it would require. My heart swelled as that patient walked away and I realized that maybe I was actually doing what I'd written on paper that I wanted to, all those years ago.

it can be this sad

2007-07-11T17:08:00.000-07:00

I knew it was going to be a busy day.

Four new patients were on my already long list of people to round on before rushing back to the office for noon conference, when my pager went off. I called back the number and saw "Peds ER" come up on the caller ID. That's everyone's least favorite number to see, because it always means more business.

The doctor started by saying, "I'm sorry to have to get you involved in this case."

An auspicious beginning.

She proceeded to tell me about the girl who I would be admitting: a 17 yo girl, she had been driving she and her sister to swim practice early this morning, when she lost control of her vehicle. The car ran off the road and slammed into a phone pole. Her 14 year old sister had died before making it to the hospital, while the 17 year old was left with only a few minor scratches. "We just told the patient that her sister didn't make it...she nearly levitated off the bed as she screamed."

All of the frustrations of the night before--the last-minute prescription refill request that made me a half-hour late leaving the office, locking my keys in my car and waiting an hour for sweet chris to rescue me, knowing my family was leaving back to California today--all melted away as quickly as a snowflake on my tongue.

My job, then, was to go downstairs and talk to this patient, examine this patient, and figure out what to say to someone who is yelling, "I killed her, I killed her. It should have been me."

This is what makes my job difficult.

Thank goodness for prayer. "Heaven help me know what to say and do."

My heart felt heavy in my chest as I walked into the room. The patient was quiet by this time, cooperative, and hollow-looking. I talked in a soft voice, examined her gently, and re-iterated the goals the consulting psychiatrist had set up for her, "get through the day, and tell one of us if you feel like you want to punish yourself for what happened." Her dad was acting the way I imagine many men do in acutely stressful situations:in control and dealing with logistics. Remarkably normal. His wife wasn't there initially, so I didn't meet her during my interview.

I wrote up the orders for the patient to stay overnight--the family hadn't felt safe taking her home yet--and started to make my way out of the ER. As I passed another empty room, I saw the mom sitting on a bed. She was wearing a bright yellow shirt. Three friends and an ER doctor were huddled around her, hands placed on her shoulders. Her shell-shocked face peered through their frame, and I saw the tear stains on her cheek.

"Her daughter is dead," I thought.

I looked down at my growing baby bump, and thought about what it means to love people and what it means to make yourself vulnerable in doing so. I thought about how being a parent has got to be the most vulnerable thing of all. When else could someone's loss hurt you to that degree?

When I was about to marry Chris, I remember thinking about how opening my heart to him and his wonderful family was such a joy. But caring so much about them, also meant I would care so much if something sad happened. My potential for joy and pain multiplied together, as they so often do. That is the risk we are willing to--or should be willing to--take.

The ER doctor and I were talking about how when you deal with a case like this, it puts your problems into perspective. But more than that, it makes you paranoid. My family sometimes teases me for worrying too easily if Chris hasn't call within an hour of when he was supposed to, etc., But I would challenge you to see some of the things I see--to be reminded so regularly that such difficult and horrific things happen to nice people--and not to be a little more conscious of saying 'i love you' when you hang up the phone, or hugging your loved ones with a little more rapture.

Tonight is a grateful Wednesday. I am grateful that I can be with a family during one of their darkest hours. I am grateful for the people that I love and their safety tonight. I am grateful for my belief in God and my knowledge that there are joys that can transcend and heal the hurts that I see. I am grateful that I am sitting on my couch, next to my best friend/husband, and typing a blog entry instead of so many other places. And I am grateful for hope and optimism, and the promise that even for the family I met today--someday--joy cometh in the morning.

Happy Fourth!

2007-07-04T19:41:00.000-07:00

We just finished watching these:

while standing here:

It was spectacular. The weather was unreal for a DC independance day: cool breeze, low humidity, and a high of 85. I had the day off--yes, you read that correctly--and it was great to celebrate our great country with my family out here. My favorite new firework was the one that looked like a giant dandelion reverse fading into form without a discernable 'pop'.

It's late, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to say 'Happy Fourth'! It is such a great time to reflect on how unbelievably blessed we are to live in this country, and to remember how much of it we take for granted. There's a lot more to say about the events of the past week, but my fatigue is getting the best of me. For once I think I'll hit the sack instead of 'pushing through.' That's for you, Chris. :)

Enjoy your apple pie, parades and amber waves of grain. :)

end of an era

2007-06-19T11:40:00.000-07:00

First of all, I never posted on here the following important annoumcement: it's a girl! And if her ultrasound pics are any indication, this little darling is ready for her close-up. :) I can't believe how cute she is in 2-D black and white! I'm about 24 weeks at this point, and enjoying the fact that when I'm wearing scrubs, my ever-expanding waistline is still less than obvious.

I titled this post 'end of an era' because we returned two days ago from our last baby-free vacation. Well, I'm sure we'll take a couples only vacation again, but probably not for the next year. Actually, I won't be taking any vacation except for maternity leave (doesn't count) next year. Knowing all of this, I went in with an extra determination to drink in and appreciate every free moment. And boy did we ever! It was a wonderful break from hospital life. Just being able to spend 7 days in a row with Chris feels like vacay, but we headed out to Cali to make it even better. My mom had cleared her schedule, and it was wonderful to have her undivided attention (when grandbabies enter, parents get a little distracted from the big people) for a whole week. She was up for any adventure that Chris and I could dream up, so we ended up in Berkeley, at the beach, at the pool and at the shops!

I took about a million pictures, and here are a few to highlight our good times. But first a few I'd been meaning to post from the weeks prior.

Now that we know what we're having, the baby buying has begun! Chris's parents and grandma gave us a mini-shower of pink, and we loved every minute of it. Below you'll find Cheryl and I examining the cuteness that is a little jumpsuit with a bunny tail on the back. Chris looks blown away by the fact that 'they make such cute stuff for girls!'

I saw a similar set-up on someone elses's blog, and couldn't wait to buy my own cupcake stand. I made the following for Mary's shower.

I had commented on how much I loved the small lavendar flowers growing in our courtyard, and then one day after a long shift, I came home to find that Chris had known my own little pot of them was just what the doctor ordered. A shout-out for the little things in life that make it so much better.

Jon and his beautiful bride Wendy pose with Bob and Cheryl after the ceremony in Buffalo. Lovely!

Chris (he in his super-fabulous groomsmen gear) and I enjoy the wedding atmosphere.

First day in Cali. We headed to Berkely for some good times and wallet emptying. We found this cute little store 'this little piggy' that sold adorable baby stuff. It's probably not healthy for me to have an entire new shopping horizen opened up. Chris is a little nervous. ;)

That night we ate at one of our favorite west-coast joints, Il Fornaio. Then we headed round the corner for some Italian style gelato. Yum! Another bonus: Jamba Juice is still out in full-force in California. Though all the east coast franchises seem to be shutting down--much to my dismay during my difficult to please first trimester--there are still places that keep the jamba love flowing.

Another cute baby shop, but this one in Carmel-by-the-Sea. Shopping at Nana's with our own Nana.

We headed to the coastline for a few days. Carmel is just good for my soul. I love that one second you are in the sand, and the next you are looking at this:

We didn't try their food, but we enjoyed their outdoor decor.

We took our blanket down to the beach to watch the sunset. Perfection.

Summer favorites: my mr. coolio, sand and flip-flops.

Turns out that I forgot to warn Chris that I was about to launch myself onto his back, piggy-back style. Mome caught the ensuing madness on film. Amazingly, though we brushed our hair in the sand, we never fully toppled over.

In my happy place.

We stayed at an awesome, zen-inspired hotel just off the main strip. This is the view from our balcony.

The courtyard there at night was magical. You could always hear the running water fountains from your room, and it is such a soothing thing to fall asleep to.

Bamboo in our room!

We even had a little meditation Buddha fountain. The hotel even provided little bamboo leaves that you could write a wish on, and float in the Buddha water.

Warming their hands by the firepit.

We spent Wednesday morning biking by the monterey coast. Gorgeous.

Chris thought it was funny to reach the camera up over his head and take action shots of mom and I. I must have no vanity because I'm posting pictures of myself in a biking helmet!

Happy Together.

Lovely, Rocky beach.

We stopped on our way home to get fresh cherries. Nature's best dessert.

We went to the Oakland Temple with Ben, which was wonderful. That hilltop offers the most amazing views of San Francisco. One second the sky was crazy orange:

The next it was pink:

Chris in front of the temple:

As a final treat, we headed up to Oregon for my cousin Meredith's wedding. She and Brandon were a model perfect couple, and are a match made in heaven.

Chris and I at the wedding.

The fam at the reception. Don't you just love weddings??

So there you have it folks. It was hard to come back to work, but I felt fully refreshed and satisfied with our week away. It was so restful and filled with so many of my favorite people.

p.s.My cousin Annie just posted a request for a 'baby bump' picture. I'm sorry that none of hte above really highlight that at all, but I'll try to take one this week!

p.p.s. my cousin Oliver posted a comment on my last blog entry directing me to a fabulous new site called sprig. It's designed to highlight the intersection between all things green and fashion-forward. I'm in love. How much better is it to buy a purse when the website can give you at least one reason why you're being eco-friendly in buying it? Within minutes, I'd already found at least five items for my birthday wish list. :) Check it out.

One day down, One to go

2007-06-06T14:31:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've blogged, but as I mentioned in my last post, I've had a pretty good excuse. I've been studying for my boards while still working a full schedule, so all non-essentiall activities met the axe for a few weeks. But now those boards are half-way over! Hoorah! I thought the above cartoon was very appropriate. I want to review some more stuff tonight in preparation for tomorrow, but I've been going at the 'speed of light' for so long, that I am seriously stuck in 'speed of lump' at the moment. :) Anyone else out there relate? I thought you might.

I can't figure out why I'm so darn exhausted right now. You wouldn't think that sitting in front of a computer all day, answering multiple choice 'read-my-minds' would be so tiring, but somehow I feel more lethargic than when I'm on my feet all day at the hospital.

Aside from the studying, it's been a great week. We were up in Buffalo over the weekend for Jon & Wendy's wedding (beautiful), and I completed my last 30 hour shift of intern year (thrilling). More on these when my brain has recovered from the exam assault it is currently undergoing.

And since I don't have the energy to muster up much for you to read, I leave you with the link to a very addictive new website called sk-rt . It's like Digg, but for women, and is perfect for people like me who want the real pro-web surfers to find all the worthwhile news/blogs/fashions/sites for me!

A Shock to the Heart

2007-05-20T18:51:00.000-07:00

Things are busy around here. Busy, but good. I'm taking Step 3 of my boards in a little over 2 weeks. Yikes! Studying for the first two sets was hard enough when I had an entire month off to prepare. Now, in addition to working 80 hours weeks, I'm supposed to use my, uh, spare time, to study for a test. It is so much fun. Anyhoo, it will be over soon. And the more exciting piece of news is that I only have two--TWO--call nights left in my intern year!! In June I'll be working in the ER, which means that while I'll work some odd hours, it will never be more than 10 or 12 hours per shift. None of this 30 hour business that I've somehow become accustomed to. Plus, a vacation coming up. Plus, two family weddings coming up. Plus, Mary's baby will be born soon. With so many fun things on the horizon, it's hard to feel to stressed about boards. And maybe that's why I'm a little worried about it. :)

So, a few calls nights ago, I headed back to my call room in the wee hours to lay down. My pager interrupted my not-so-beauty sleep about an hour later. It was the PCCU (post cardiac care unit) callling. I knew which nurse would be at the other end of the line when I called back, and which patient it would be about, because she had called me several times earlier in the evening with various issues. I had hoped that the patient would somehow stay stable and well until at least 6 am, but as tends to happen, 4 o'clock proved to be the bewitching hour.

"Dr. H*re, this patient is in sustained V. Tach. Would you mind coming down here?" The question was lined in carefully concealed panic. V. Tach (ventricular tachycardia) is a rather ominous rhythm for your heart to be going in, and can lead to several bad places, one of which is six feet under.

"Sure...have you paged the cardiologist about this?"
"Yes, he's on his way in from home as we speak, but if you could come until he gets here, that would be really great."
"I'll be right down," I said as I reached for my white coat and clogs. In my head I was thinking about how much I needed the cardiologist's help in this particular situation--well, how much the patient needed the cardiologist's help, and how the nurse knew that too. But the fact that I was coming down until he got there was going to make everyone feel better until he arrived. That's the magic of the white coat. Luckily, he arrived shortly after I did.

The patient looked remarkably well for someone whose heart could peter out at any moment. She was alert and talking. Pleasant, even. We gave her several boluses of a drug that should/could help her heart to convert back into a normal rhythm. No such luck. We waited and tried again. Waited and try again. Ultimately, there's only so much time you can spend waiting and trying again before you have to manhandle the heart. We needed to deliver a shock.

In addition to pulling in the crash cart, we called the anesthesiolgist to help sedate the patient. Despite what you've seen on ER or Grey's Anatomy, a good number of shocks are actually delivered to alert patients who might really hate you if they were cognizant for the electric parade you're sending their way.

The cardiologist turned to me. "Would you like to deliver the shock?" "Sure!" He said it in a voice that indicated he felt like this was the least he could give me for my trouble. i.e., 'this poor resident has been up since 6 am yesterday...we can at least let her do the fun part.' I appreciated it.

We put the pads on the womans chest and back, waited for the sedative drugs to kick in, and charged up the machine.
"Everybody Clear," I said in a voice that lacked that unmistakable televised-like drama.

And then I pressed the button. With my thumb. Apparently, that's unusual.

The patient's chest arched up off the bed as the rest of her body went rigid, and then she fell back onto her pilllow. We all looked at the monitor. A beautiful, sinus rhythm was there as a reward for our efforts. The anesthesiologist woke the patient up, and she was happy to learn that the problem had apparently been resolved. We put our equipment away, and I headed back to my call room.

The next morning around 11 am, I was just finishing up some of my chart work on some patients, hoping to get out of there soon. The same, very kind cardiologist from the night before was walking by. "Hey, Kate...do you want to shock someone else? I'm just on my way there now." "Uh, sure!" It might have been the end of a long shift, but it's not really the kind of thing you say 'no' to. Maybe he figured my thumb was on a roll.

This time the patient was a gentleman who had come in for a planned cardioversion. He was in an abnormal rhythm that, while not great, wasn't imminently dangerous. So I went in, and ran through the same routine as above, albeit with even less of an edge. It can all seem so ordinary until you stop to think about it. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Dr. H*re, I'll be the one electrifying you." Ha ha ha. I have to admit that you feel like some kind of mad scientist when you push a button and then watch somebody's body convulse up off the bed in response. You know you're doing something beneficial, but it feels a little sadistic.

Well, I'm off to bed. May you all have very un-shocking evenings. :)

Save Your Stomach

2007-05-05T12:20:00.000-07:00

My cousin Marci aptly pointed out that until I post a new entry, she has to look at that rather unappealing tummy with a tube sticking out when checking for updates. I swear I'm going to post something new. Any minute now. :) But in the meantime, I thought I'd add something more pleasant so as to save your weak stomach's if you check for an update. ;) I've been thinking occassionally about cupcakes in the last few months--how cute they are, how tasty they are, how perfectly personal-pan-pizza sized they are. Until a recent cousin dinner, where Lisa and Marce concocted two of the tastiest cupcakes I've had, I hadn't actually eaten one in many months. Today, I enjoyed a tasty version of Magnolia's recipe at a shower, and so I felt compelled to share the post-cupcake fuzzies with you all. Delish.

Apparently, I am not the only one who has had cupcakes on the brain. If you've been in the wedding-planning mode at all in recent years, you'll have noticed an abundance of cupcake wedding cake options in the hipper magazines. If you are smart and stylish like my sister-in-law Caitlin, you actually served them at your wedding. (see top picure). If you've been to B&N, you've seen recipe books offering over 500 ways to make the little darlings. And if you are really, really passionate about them, you've devoted an entire blog to the love of the miniature cake. It's a culture, people.

In my heart, I still think I'm a funfetti cupcake girl, but I reserve the right to change my mind.

Okay, I think I've written enough now that this actually counts as more than a diversionary tactic from the gross stomach picture. It counts as a post. :)

Call Night

2007-04-23T11:36:00.000-07:00

***Today we were down in the ER, talking to one of the hospitalists. He gave us the brief run-down on one of his patients who he was admitting, that included the following tidbit:

She is a chronically sick lady who, because of throat cancer ("no reason not to keep smoking!"), has had to have a feeding tube placed through her abdominal wall and into her stomach. See above picture. She is allowed nothing by mouth. We always ask an alcohol history, but with someone who can't swallow, you might think this a moot point. Not so! Patient X mixes oranje juice with vodka and pours it directly into her G-tube. We can take away many things, apparently, but not her ability to get drunk!!

***Last week, I got called down to the ER first thing in the morning to admit a gentleman in respiratory failure who had already been intubated. I was admitting him with one of my favorite Critical Care Attendings, Dr. Lee (alias).

If you've ever been a patient in a hospital or ER, you've probably had a peripheral IV placed. This is where a nurse or doctor pokes a needle into a small vein in either your arms or legs and then puts a small catheter over it that will stay put, so we can give our medicines through it. In the ICU, peripheral IV's often don't cut it. The meds that we use are so heavy-duty that if they come into close contact with the skin, you can end up with serious irritation or burns. Hence, in the Units most patient's require what we call a Central Line. This is essentially a much larger and longer catheter that gets threaded into a much larger and more central vein, so that the meds have more direct access.

There are three veins that we usually put them in (in ascending order of 'makes me nervous' factor):femoral vein (groin), subclavian line (under the clavicle), and the Internal Jugular (the side of the neck). I have put in femoral lines and subclavian lines, but had never done an IJ. All central lines have their risks because these bigger veins run in closer proximity to other vital structures. Like, say, the lungs. It is not entirely rare for a patient to get part of their lung punctured when having a subclavian placed, for example.

So that morning, Dr. Lee said, "Let's put in an IJ. Wanna do it?" "Sure." Inside I'm thinking, "Please, oh, please, do not let me hit the carotid!" The carotid artery--you know, that big pulsating artery in your neck that allows you to feel your pulse--runs right over the jugular.

We gowned up, sterilized the patient, and got our kit out. I felt my landmarks about a million times to make sure I knew exactly where I was aiming (please, please, please no carotid) and then stuck my needle in. The pulse always seems to migrate right when you are sure that you know where you need to hit. Also, the skin on older people's necks is a little leathery, so you have to push with enough force to break the skin, but with enough restraint to avoid running right through things. ;)

I advanced my needle and pulled back on the syringe, waiting for a flashblack of blood to let me know I'd hit gold. It can take a while to find the vein, so I slowly came back and forth looking for my goal.

"I think you need to go closer to the carotid," Dr. Lee said.
"And if I hit it?"
He smiled. "We'll just hold pressure until he stops bleeding.It's happened to me loads of times." Simple Enough. Right.

I took out my needle, repositioned closer to the carotid, and advanced again. Bingo! Gosh, it feels so good to see venous blood return...brisk, but not pulsating in the way it would if you'd hit the artery. From there, I threaded in a wire through the needle that would coarse through the veins creating a path. Then I took a blade to make the skin incision a little bigger. Next, I withdrew the needle over the wire, careful not to let go of the wire and lose it inside the vessel. That would be bad. Next I threaded a plasticky type catheter over the wire, and then removed the wire from within. Lastly, I took a needle and thread and sewed the end of the catheter into the skin. You don't want to risk it slipping out after all that work. And done!

I stepped back, evaluated my handiwork, and exhaled.

"Right now," I thought, "I feel like a doctor."

I don't always look this good.

2007-04-15T14:29:00.000-07:00

I stumbled out of my call room the other morning, after having stolen a blessed hour or two of sleep before arising again to do morning rounds, and made my way to the sink. I brushed my teeth, tried to massage out the 'pillow lines' from my face, and smoothed over my fly-aways escaping from the bun I'd done up the morning before. I started to head out towards the floor to see my patients when I stopped. I looked in the mirror again. I evaluated my appearance. If the role is an exhausted resident, I looked the part. I took in the smudged mascara underneath my eyes, the day old hair-do and the slightly rumpled scrub top I was wearing. What other professional, I thought, would ever go out to meet clients looking like this?

Medicine does many things, one of which is to test the limits of what you consider an acceptable public appearance. I realized while staring in the mirror how long it had been since I'd even noticed or cared that we have to be seen by our colleagues and patients in such a manner. You just adjust to it and move on.

When I had jaw surgery in high school, I ended up with a post-op bleed into my right cheek. That half of my face quadrupled in size (a walking experiment in the elasticity of skin), and along with the extensive bruising, I looked like a circus freak (and I'm not exaggerating). After the swelling had gone down a bit, I remember looking in the mirror and thinking, "I should have taken a picture when the swelling was really pronounced so I could have remembered how crazy I looked. Now I look almost normal! Oh well, I'll take a picture anyway." I found that picture years later, tucked into a book. The disfigured person in that picture had the craziest swollen half-face I'd ever seen. And I had thought I'd looked practically normal! So maybe that's how we deal with it. We lose perspective on what we really look like post-call because we're so used to seeing other people and ourselves look that way.

I do have one vanity that I still stake-out, however. Every call, I still wear earrings and a necklace. Usually the star earrings my lovely in-laws brought back from Spain, and a star necklace that my parents brought back from Hawaii. Good luck charms. Like a cotton ball at a speeding train, perhaps, but it's my reminder that underneath the pajama-like outfit and the big, clunky clogs, there is still some femininity to be found.

Incidentally, the worst thing is when someone asks you, "Are you post-call?", when you have just come into the hospital, freshly showered and all. Really? That's really how I look right now? Thanks for the morning boost. ;)

So that the rest of the story makes sense...

2007-04-15T14:15:00.000-07:00

My mom has been on my back about writing this post for a while. "Would you just post it already? I think it would be interesting to hear what life is like as a pregnant resident!"

What's that you say?

Yes, for those who haven't already heard through the marvelously effective word-of-mouth grapevine, Chris and I are expecting our first little one this fall! Very exciting!! October 11th, to be exact. I'm a big surprise junkie, so one of this scale was definitely up my alley. ;) They didn't warn me before my OB rotation earlier this year, that certain things might be contagious. Like Pregnancy. But things work out the way they are supposed to, and we are thrilled to be blessed with a little kate/chris on the way. :)

And now that I've finally put it on my blog, I can weave the morning sickness and pregnancy fatigue into my other hospital stories. Because I'm sure you are just as interested as my own mother in how those details play out in my MD life. ;)

Love you, Mom!

Wicked

2007-04-03T16:16:00.000-07:00

Oh what a very bad blogger I've been. I never posted details/pictures about our anniversary weekend, and it was such tremendous fun that it certainly deserves mentioning. A little background:

Chris and I had decided to do for our anniversaries what my Aunt Diana and Uncle Greg do for theirs. Each year they switch off planning them, and it's always a surprise for the other. As a total surprise addict, this sounded like perfection to me. Chris agreed. This is our second year, and my turn to plan. When Jet Blue sent out an e-mail in January regarding a sale on fares to NYC, genius struck. We (read:I) had been absolutely dying to see Wicked for...for as long as its been running on Broadway. In a matter of days it had all fallen into place: plane tickets bought, hotel room booked (thanks to a miracle-working reservations agent who thought it was cute that we were 'newlyweds' and let us use our reward points), wicked tickets purchased (sticker shock!), and dinner reservations made (revolving restaurant with a city view). I was so beside myself with excitement that I'm not sure I did anything for the ensuing month and a half except pray that a)I wouldn't spill the beans and b)that no freak March blizzard would thwart my well-laid plans. Thankfully, the sun was shining that weekend, and the only real blip was a delay both ways in our airplanes. Don't even get me started on their 'air traffic control' excuses.

So, here are some pics to document a weekend that truly lived up to expectation.

Because of our delay, we ended up arriving at our Hotel, the illustrious Times Square Marquis, close to midnight on Friday. I'm so used to downtown DC, which except for a few hotspots, is pretty dead after hours, that the liveliness was pleasantly shocking. "This city is so alive," we kept saying. It always surprises me when I return.

There is a really wild and very modern elevator in the Marquis. This picture does it no justice, but at least I tried.

Chris finds inspiration among the busy city streets.

The show. The show, the show, the show. Oh. My. Gosh. I just loved it. I made Chris take so many pictures of me in front of Wicked signs, I'm sure he thought I was looney. And then I somehow forgot to take pics of other important things (like our cool hotel room, amazing restaurant, etc..). This trip was really about one main thing. See below. ;)

For Good Measure

Two years in and even happier than when we started!

Because I am one of those people who adores Twizzlers.

For my sister-in-law, who loves Tasti D'lite. We tried to taste it, Cait, but the first one we found was closed!

The NYC Temple. Very cool.

A few other notes:

*My Dad taught me a theory regarding ticket buying: If you're going to bother spending money to see a show, you might as well spend a little more for the good seats. Especially when it comes to musical theater. I once bought the cheapest ticket in the house to see Miss Saigon in London. Tucked away in the corner of the third balcony, I found myself totally disconnected from the show. Compare that with any show I've seen in the middle orchestra, where you feel like you are part of things, and my decision on what kind of Wicked tickets to buy was clear. Our seats were amazing, and I'm glad that Dad taught me that sometimes a little splurge is worth it. ;)

*The song "Defying Gravity" is a show-stopping stunner. Chris and I just looked at each other after it closed the first act, glad that someone else had just seen that, because there are no words for so much talent and power.

*Sardi's was once the hot-spot for big Broadway stars to hit up after their shows. It is now mostly a tourist-type joint, but was still enormously fun to visit for lunch. You still get that old-fashioned theater feeling, and half-expect a 50's era star to walk in the door at any moment.

*The only downside to weekends like that is coming back. Talk about the Monday Blues.

Now I need to go defy gravity myself by lifting myself out of this chair and going for a walk in this lovely weather that we are having. Toodles, all you citizens of Oz!

Times when Bob Dylan isn't such a Good Idea

2007-03-19T10:06:00.000-07:00

An hour or so ago, my fellow interns and I were walking down the hallway after rounds, when we heard strains of live music drifting out from the Child Life playroom. I didn't think much of it, but Cassandra's ears picked something up.

"Wait," she said, "is he playing what I think he's playing?"

We all listened a little closer.

Sure enough, upon a second listen, we heard, "and i'm knock, knock, knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door..." The Child Life Specialist was standing outside the door, looking very distressed.

People, if you were singing in a hospital to a group of very sick kids...would that be your song choice?

Just wondering.

p.s. for those not very familiar with the song, here are the rest of the lyrics:

Mama, take this badge off of me
I can't use it anymore.
It's gettin' dark, too dark for me to see
I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door.

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door

Mama, put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them anymore.
That long black cloud is comin' down
I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door.

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door

Recoveries, Endless Nights, and the annoying kind of optimism.

2007-03-09T09:47:00.000-08:00

Chris and I are going away this weekend for our 2 year anniversary (can't post details yet, because he doesn't know them!), so I figured I better post a quick update before we head out of town.

I'm so happy to report that the little boy I mentioned in my last post was discharged home last night in excellent health. It appears that he did have a serious bacterial infection, but the IV antibiotics did their thing, and he was back to being a flirtatious 49-day old in no time. I love when it works out that way. Unlike another sad case I admitted last night, who I'm too tired to tell the story of. (forgive me for ending my sentence with a preposition).

Thought #1 on last night: I am just coming off of a particularly heinous 30 hour shift. It's funny because I actually had a premonition, starting around Wednesday, that it was going to be a bad night on Thursday. I began to mentally prep myself for it, while hoping that my concerns would be laid to rest. Twas not to be. I'm trying to figure out how to explain how last night felt. Okay, this is a faulty analogy, but let's try this: Let's say that you have a job that requires you to be available to dig holes for 30 hours at a time. Large holes (a la the book) that would require energy, some thought, and at least an hour each. Each hole is akin to admitting one new patient. This isn't a great analogy because patient care is phenomonally more interesting than digging holes, but close enough because at 3 am, the 'interesting' factor recedes from most activities. Maybe, at least, you can imagine how you'd feel if someone told you to go dig a hole when your body is sure you should be sleeping.

So on a normal night, maybe you get asked to dig 5 holes. One at 5 pm, then at 8 pm, then around midnight, and so forth. Sure it ends up that you're working all night, but between each hole, there is the hope that perhaps that was your last. Perhaps the Call Gods will smile on you, you think.

Now take last night. At around 6 pm your night boss calls you (after you've already dug two holes since the rest of your day team went home for the night). "We've got work to do." "Lay it on me." There are at least eight holes that he already knows he'll need you to do. And they really all need to be dug now . So, you both decide, prioritize which holes are most critical, and start digging. By 10:30, you are sure that the clock is five hours too slow. You are certain that you are being punished for something because every time you feel like you start to make a dent in your list, a new hole is requested. You are feeling confident that this can't be good for your sanity. The hardest part about it is never getting that momentary victory where you've finished one hole and know of no others. It's just finish one, move on to the next. And the next. And the next. One. Long. Dig.

But there is always an upside, and I've come up with this: working with a good boss makes everything better. Especially when said boss offers to dig a 5 am hole for you. A miracle.

Anyhoo, I was still smiling when the day team showed up again this morning. Another miracle.

Thought #2 on the night: I'm working again with a medical student who I worked with earlier in the year. He is very professional (almost too , if that's possible), smart, and hard-working. I do enjoy working with him, but he also regularly drives me batty. Case in point: I consider myself an optimist most of the time. It's a survival mechanism for me to try to find a silver lining in my sometimes crazy work life. But there comes a point where someone's dogged, forced, and unrelenting optimism, makes you want to whack them upside the head. That is what I felt like doing to *Dan last night. Early on in the afternoon, I said to my med-student shadow, "I think it's going to be a crazy night." "Looking forward to it!!!!!!" He piped back in the chipperest of voices. Okay . I ran into him a while later after I had been running around like mad trying to put out fires in between digging holes. "This last half hour has been explosive. Really crazy, " I remaked. "Wonderful!" I nearly strangled the kid. Later that night I said, "We've gotten several more 'holes' since you last checked in with me." "Fantastic!" Seriously, how much of that can you take? It doesn't feel happy and re-assuring, rather false and grating. It felt like interacting with a robot that played a broken record of one word affirmations. It's funny how it actually is more uplifting to work with someone who, in a more human-esque way, says, "This really kind of stinks. But we're going to get through it together." I don't think optimism should mean that you can't acknowledge how hard and miserable things can be (as my med student seems to think). I think it should mean that in the midst of that, you are willing to say, 'but I bet we'll end up learning a lot from this pain." Or, "but I bet we're helping a lot of people, and that's why we're suffering through this night." Call me a pessimist, but one more night with robo-pollyana and I don't know what I'll do.