Lest the Night Float Gods think I don't appreciate all this down time I've had the last two nights...I'm so lovin' it. I know it can't last the whole week, but...well, a girl could hope...
More please!
Okay, I'm going to do a couple more laps and then maybe some knitting....
Showing posts with label karma. Show all posts
Showing posts with label karma. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Let's get drunk and forget what we did
No, there wasn't another night of moonshine-fueled debauchery. I was thinking about this day last year (you know how I'm all about the anniversary reactions) and went back and read this post from same.
In which, of course I recounted the song playing on my CD player when I arrived at the Chair's house was this one. Which, honestly, I've sort of considered to be the theme song of my intern year (which is better than the theme song of my last residency, the chorus of which is, "Get back, muhfucka, you don't know me like that!"), with its references to being "faded, a little grey from every time that you've been hurt," that "the rain just ain't enough when you're this dry," never fitting in your own skin, wearing out shoes that someone else should be wearing now, etc, etc. It's all about letting go and giving up an identity that doesn't fit anymore, letting people in, connecting and being available to receive what people will give you.
It's interesting...when I first moved here, I had this gospel station as one of my radio presets (there are a lot of gospel stations here in the buckle of the Bible Belt) because I liked this morning show they had. I don't remember her name, the host, but she was positive and upbeat and didn't smack you over the head with ol' time Religion. And she was talking to her co-host (okay, sidekick) one morning when I was listening, during the time that I was still without license and bumming around with my anxiety brewing, and she said to him, "You're going to have a blessed day, I can feel it." And his response to her has stuck with me. He said,
"I believe it, I receive it!"
Hmm. Fairly Secret-esque, and those who had the misfortune of hearing my tirade about how I think The Secret is crap (okay, not crap, but intuitive, and more what I think is that the hype and commercialism around it is exploitative and aimed at a particularly vulnerable population) will tell you how much I buy into THAT. Except, I think he captured (for free, and in six words) the real point of what that whole thing is trying to say. But I also think that point is important. I think it's probably the key to getting anywhere in life, and I think it's something that often impedes us. Because being open to receive something, even a positive something, makes us vulnerable. Change makes us vulnerable. But the only constant in life is change, so, your choices are limited. You can waste a lot of energy resisting, or channel that into opening up and receiving - events, people, things, whatever.
Not that I've been the best at this this year. But hey, I'm human and flawed, and sometimes being able to accept things is all about receiving them at the right speed. There are still plenty of things to which I haven't been able to open myself, because even though I want them, and they may present themselves, it's still too threatening, too frightening, too vulnerable to do so. But that's why life is an ongoing journey, not a destination.
Wow. Could I throw a few more cliches in there? It's true, though, is the thing. Anyway, I think my point was, that stuck with me, and it's something I need to keep working on as I look towards revisiting this post next year.
I also commented that had I chosen my CDs differently, this could well have been the song playing when I pulled up (my favorite line in which is the title of today's post). Which, frankly, would've set a whole different tone for the year.
(I swear to God, I remember every single minute of Porkfest. For the record.)
I can't believe it's been a year since this whole adventure started. Tomorrow night is the resident thing for the new interns at the same place we had ours. It was a nice night. I played pool with Benny and PenguinShrink and Chef, got lei'd by the curly-haired chief (that was how they identified who the members of the new class were - we got plastic flower lei's to wear. It was helpful), spent a while talking to Mike, met a few of the upperclassmen I still consider to be some of my better friends in the program. And most importantly, discovered that the rest of my classmates were scared out of their skin, too, if for slightly different reasons than I was. But, we were all in the same boat.
I also spent a good deal of time talking to D, who left our program the day after I got my license. Just didn't show up to work one day. He was older, had been practicing in another specialty for 20-some years. I thought maybe he was dead, because he didn't come to work, wasn't answering his pager, wasn't answering his phone, and that everyone should stop being so mad at him until we were certain he hadn't just keeled over in the shower that morning. But ultimately the higher-ups confirmed that he was, indeed, still breathing, and in time we hired Ruthie and Faye in his place. So, ultimately it worked out okay. But no one in our class ever heard from him again. Which was sad, because I liked him, and his partner, too.
It really scared me when he left, I'll be honest. Because I identified with him. I mean, I didn't have a spouse and two mortgages and five kids, but he and I - and Comrade, who's of course still with us - were outsiders. We hadn't just come out of medical school, we'd been in a whole different part of medicine and chose to come to psychiatry. For us, I thought, it was a decision of a different magnitude. One of my friends told me recently that he chose psychiatry because, out of everything he tried in med school, it seemed to suck the least (I mean, I guess when you get right down to it, that's really why you choose anything, but usually, it's not that conscious a factor). But to make a switch from a whole other specialty, right, you do it for different reasons. It's a bigger leap. Something. But whatever happened, he didn't make it. And of course, since I came in to the program unable to see things turning out much differently than they had before, this fact scared the crap out of me. I mean, at that point I was still operating on the conditioning of the Emerald Palace and assuming that they were right and I was a really, really bad doctor. D was a good one. He'd been practicing for a long time. So, in my irrational state, if he couldn't handle it, that really didn't bode well for me.
It ended up having nothing to do with me. Because, of course, we're two different people, with different skills, neuroses, demands, and strengths. Which, logically, I knew, but since when have I been ruled by my logical mind?
Hmm.
I guess it'll be interesting to see the next generation tomorrow night and see what they think, who they've connected with, and what they're ready to receive.
Meanwhile, this year, today was a fairly full day. I got up, went to Starbucks and worked on some very delinquent discharge summaries (still not done), came home, unpacked a bunch of the kitchen. I discovered that the gas isn't on in my house, because the stove didn't work. I mused to the woman at the gas company (they're coming on Monday) about how ridiculous it was that I'd lived here a week and was just figuring out that the stove didn't work. I hung out with Sparrow while the handyman swapped our refrigerators (long story). I fell out of her hammock (it was funny). I found all the pieces to my water cooler and got that working for the first time in about a month (there was an algae incident a few weeks before the move, but it's clean now). I laid on my bed with my sweet sleeping puppy and watched as the sun broke through a beautiful summer squall. Oh, and I made a couple of acquisitions:
On the right is my snazzy new, double-insulated, looks just like the cup I get every morning, stylish Starbucks tumbler that I broke down and bought this morning for all the above reasons. On the left are some hydrangeas in a mason jar that Sparrow brought over for Mags and me, because she thought we needed them.
She was right.
I believe it, I receive it. It's gonna be a good year.
In which, of course I recounted the song playing on my CD player when I arrived at the Chair's house was this one. Which, honestly, I've sort of considered to be the theme song of my intern year (which is better than the theme song of my last residency, the chorus of which is, "Get back, muhfucka, you don't know me like that!"), with its references to being "faded, a little grey from every time that you've been hurt," that "the rain just ain't enough when you're this dry," never fitting in your own skin, wearing out shoes that someone else should be wearing now, etc, etc. It's all about letting go and giving up an identity that doesn't fit anymore, letting people in, connecting and being available to receive what people will give you.
It's interesting...when I first moved here, I had this gospel station as one of my radio presets (there are a lot of gospel stations here in the buckle of the Bible Belt) because I liked this morning show they had. I don't remember her name, the host, but she was positive and upbeat and didn't smack you over the head with ol' time Religion. And she was talking to her co-host (okay, sidekick) one morning when I was listening, during the time that I was still without license and bumming around with my anxiety brewing, and she said to him, "You're going to have a blessed day, I can feel it." And his response to her has stuck with me. He said,
"I believe it, I receive it!"
Hmm. Fairly Secret-esque, and those who had the misfortune of hearing my tirade about how I think The Secret is crap (okay, not crap, but intuitive, and more what I think is that the hype and commercialism around it is exploitative and aimed at a particularly vulnerable population) will tell you how much I buy into THAT. Except, I think he captured (for free, and in six words) the real point of what that whole thing is trying to say. But I also think that point is important. I think it's probably the key to getting anywhere in life, and I think it's something that often impedes us. Because being open to receive something, even a positive something, makes us vulnerable. Change makes us vulnerable. But the only constant in life is change, so, your choices are limited. You can waste a lot of energy resisting, or channel that into opening up and receiving - events, people, things, whatever.
Not that I've been the best at this this year. But hey, I'm human and flawed, and sometimes being able to accept things is all about receiving them at the right speed. There are still plenty of things to which I haven't been able to open myself, because even though I want them, and they may present themselves, it's still too threatening, too frightening, too vulnerable to do so. But that's why life is an ongoing journey, not a destination.
Wow. Could I throw a few more cliches in there? It's true, though, is the thing. Anyway, I think my point was, that stuck with me, and it's something I need to keep working on as I look towards revisiting this post next year.
I also commented that had I chosen my CDs differently, this could well have been the song playing when I pulled up (my favorite line in which is the title of today's post). Which, frankly, would've set a whole different tone for the year.
(I swear to God, I remember every single minute of Porkfest. For the record.)
I can't believe it's been a year since this whole adventure started. Tomorrow night is the resident thing for the new interns at the same place we had ours. It was a nice night. I played pool with Benny and PenguinShrink and Chef, got lei'd by the curly-haired chief (that was how they identified who the members of the new class were - we got plastic flower lei's to wear. It was helpful), spent a while talking to Mike, met a few of the upperclassmen I still consider to be some of my better friends in the program. And most importantly, discovered that the rest of my classmates were scared out of their skin, too, if for slightly different reasons than I was. But, we were all in the same boat.
I also spent a good deal of time talking to D, who left our program the day after I got my license. Just didn't show up to work one day. He was older, had been practicing in another specialty for 20-some years. I thought maybe he was dead, because he didn't come to work, wasn't answering his pager, wasn't answering his phone, and that everyone should stop being so mad at him until we were certain he hadn't just keeled over in the shower that morning. But ultimately the higher-ups confirmed that he was, indeed, still breathing, and in time we hired Ruthie and Faye in his place. So, ultimately it worked out okay. But no one in our class ever heard from him again. Which was sad, because I liked him, and his partner, too.
It really scared me when he left, I'll be honest. Because I identified with him. I mean, I didn't have a spouse and two mortgages and five kids, but he and I - and Comrade, who's of course still with us - were outsiders. We hadn't just come out of medical school, we'd been in a whole different part of medicine and chose to come to psychiatry. For us, I thought, it was a decision of a different magnitude. One of my friends told me recently that he chose psychiatry because, out of everything he tried in med school, it seemed to suck the least (I mean, I guess when you get right down to it, that's really why you choose anything, but usually, it's not that conscious a factor). But to make a switch from a whole other specialty, right, you do it for different reasons. It's a bigger leap. Something. But whatever happened, he didn't make it. And of course, since I came in to the program unable to see things turning out much differently than they had before, this fact scared the crap out of me. I mean, at that point I was still operating on the conditioning of the Emerald Palace and assuming that they were right and I was a really, really bad doctor. D was a good one. He'd been practicing for a long time. So, in my irrational state, if he couldn't handle it, that really didn't bode well for me.
It ended up having nothing to do with me. Because, of course, we're two different people, with different skills, neuroses, demands, and strengths. Which, logically, I knew, but since when have I been ruled by my logical mind?
Hmm.
I guess it'll be interesting to see the next generation tomorrow night and see what they think, who they've connected with, and what they're ready to receive.
Meanwhile, this year, today was a fairly full day. I got up, went to Starbucks and worked on some very delinquent discharge summaries (still not done), came home, unpacked a bunch of the kitchen. I discovered that the gas isn't on in my house, because the stove didn't work. I mused to the woman at the gas company (they're coming on Monday) about how ridiculous it was that I'd lived here a week and was just figuring out that the stove didn't work. I hung out with Sparrow while the handyman swapped our refrigerators (long story). I fell out of her hammock (it was funny). I found all the pieces to my water cooler and got that working for the first time in about a month (there was an algae incident a few weeks before the move, but it's clean now). I laid on my bed with my sweet sleeping puppy and watched as the sun broke through a beautiful summer squall. Oh, and I made a couple of acquisitions:
On the right is my snazzy new, double-insulated, looks just like the cup I get every morning, stylish Starbucks tumbler that I broke down and bought this morning for all the above reasons. On the left are some hydrangeas in a mason jar that Sparrow brought over for Mags and me, because she thought we needed them.
She was right.
I believe it, I receive it. It's gonna be a good year.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Timing is everything
Maybe Karma isn't as mad at me as I thought (or, maybe my Karma is finally catching up with me?). So I'm sitting here in the Starbucks in the town where I now live (yay!) and it occurs to me how well the timing of the things around this move have been pretty fortuitous, on the whole. Like, Maggie breaks her foot two days before we move to a house with no stairs. Starbucks introduces free wireless internet as a perk of registering your Starbucks card three days before the big long break in my internet access.
The move went...well, in the end, I'm in my new place, and I love it. Well, I think I do. Because I'm pretty sure it's there somewhere under all the boxes.
Things started out...inauspiciously. I was the second move of the day, which the guy who did the estimate assured me meant that they six man crew and large truck would show up between 12 and 1. Which was veryimportant, because I was supposed to present the Distinguished Teacher Award from the PGY-1 Class (or something like that) at Graduation last night, which started at 7. I told him I had to be there by 6. He said it might be a close shave for 6, but, it'd be fine.
They came at 5.
But, after a semi-frantic phone call and an afternoon of "Shit, they're still not here!" text messages, Mike (who's so my hero right now) stepped up and fixed it (he either took my place or found another intern to do it). Which is really lucky, because the movers didn't leave the new place until after 9.
But they were a good bunch of guys and man, they were hard workers. And because they came so late, they actually brought a crew of nine people, and three more came to the old place and picked up the three things that went to storage. The were a little disorganized...i.e., I KNOW I have way too much stuff for my new place, but, um, here's what the doorway to the office (which is actually the larger bedroom) looked like when they left:
The move went...well, in the end, I'm in my new place, and I love it. Well, I think I do. Because I'm pretty sure it's there somewhere under all the boxes.
Things started out...inauspiciously. I was the second move of the day, which the guy who did the estimate assured me meant that they six man crew and large truck would show up between 12 and 1. Which was veryimportant, because I was supposed to present the Distinguished Teacher Award from the PGY-1 Class (or something like that) at Graduation last night, which started at 7. I told him I had to be there by 6. He said it might be a close shave for 6, but, it'd be fine.
They came at 5.
But, after a semi-frantic phone call and an afternoon of "Shit, they're still not here!" text messages, Mike (who's so my hero right now) stepped up and fixed it (he either took my place or found another intern to do it). Which is really lucky, because the movers didn't leave the new place until after 9.
But they were a good bunch of guys and man, they were hard workers. And because they came so late, they actually brought a crew of nine people, and three more came to the old place and picked up the three things that went to storage. The were a little disorganized...i.e., I KNOW I have way too much stuff for my new place, but, um, here's what the doorway to the office (which is actually the larger bedroom) looked like when they left:
.JPG)
Yeah, not getting in there. The whole front room was also a wall of boxes. With one little gimpy puppy trapped on the couch. Can you find her?.JPG)
Here's a close up..JPG)
Don't worry, that big stain is from the water glass she knocked over.
But on the whole, I'd definitely recommend them, although I'd suggest being the first move of the day if you can. But they were very nice, very good, quite professional (also rather fun guys)and generally good to work with. Oh, not to mention cheap. So if you live in the Triangle, TROSA's the way to go. I would definitely use them again, except, I'M NEVER, EVER MOVING AGAIN. They also do lawn care, contracting, framing, eBay sales, have a furniture thrift shop, and sell Christmas trees seasonally. If I find the front room before December, we'll have a TROSA Christmas tree this year.
Unfortunately, after they left we had sort of a rough time. I couldn't find my bedsheets. Or my pillows. Or my sanity Maggie's food dishes. Or a bath towel with which to take a shower. Plus, there were no screens in my bedroom, the landlord didn't actually manage to get the place cleaned before we moved in, the washer/dryer hookup is wrong, Kyle (the old tenant) took all the light bulbs when he left (such a prick) and I couldn't find more than two bulbs of my own, the shower drain was full of hair, etc, etc, etc.
So Mags and I got in the car, went for a drive, purchased some bottled water from McDonald's (I drank 2 liters of water in about 30 minutes. I did a lot of sweating yesterday, y'all), and called my parents and had a little meltdown.
My poor mother. I hung up on her. I was hysterical and sobbing and tired and she kept saying exactly the wrong thing because there was no right thing to say, which I finally told her, I just needed to have my little temper tantrum and then I'd be fine.
Which I was. It was okay. I came home. I found some sheets, if not the ones I was looking for. I found a pillow, if not the ones I was looking for. I threw it at my dog, who was lying on the bed looking forlorn. Here's what she did with it:
.JPG)
She's so cute.
And ultimately I cleared a path into the office, and found soap and a towel to take the best shower of my whole life, and put a light bulb up in the kitchen, and finally went to bed. And then I decided (since I'd turned the air on, because I have no screens in the bedroom) that I wanted my comforter, which I knew was in the cedar chest. And I had trouble opening it...couldn't figure out why, until I finally got the latch to pop, and poof! There were my pillows, crammed in on top and smelling sweetly of cedar.
Things definitely looked better in the light of day. So I cleared a spot big enough in the front room for Maggie's crate,
(Such a good girl, my girl.)
and headed off here. And now I'm going to the Home Depot and Whole Foods and Target. And my aunt's coming back over and we're going to try to make a dent before I take my pork-themed desserts over to Mike's for his Porkfest blowout tonight (Kate - sure you can't make it??). And I have a little time to work tomorrow before I'm on call tomorrow night. So we'll see how it goes. But regardless, we're home!
Friday, June 06, 2008
This is why I'm hot
(If you missed the reference, click here, and if you're under 35 and missed it, consider yourself a big loser).
(No, it's not a particularly good song, I know that. But it's a cultural iconicissm these days, and besides, the kid's a Cub fan.)
Anyway. This is why *I'm* hot.
Wait. It gets better.
The real reason I'm so hot is because the damn resister in my ventilation fan died in my car, so I'd only have air conditioning when I was moving. This is the second time this has happened, but the last time it would only blow on high, this time the blower just died altogether (honestly? It's an early model Liberty and it's got almost 99K miles on it. I'm very, very pleased that this is the worst thing that's happened. Ask Katie about having to pick me up on the shoulder of I-55 in my pajama pants because the old Jeep randomly died. And don't even get me started about why the extended warranty was such a good idea on my Aztek) (Yes. I used to own an Aztek. Don't judge. I strayed, I'm better now). And yeah, this happened about a week and a half ago. But it was tolerable when the weather was cooler and I didn't bake at stoplights because I was driving a mobile smelting furnace that only cooled off when it moved at a speed greater than 60mph.
Seriously. Where did the cool air go when I stopped? Just because it stopped blowing doesn't mean it shouldn't be there. It defies the laws of physics. So when Dr. Chevy threw me out before noon today (he's so getting a fruit basket), I went over to the dealer and got it fixed. And waited. And waited. And waited. And wasted two hours of valuablenapping packing time. But now I don't melt every time I have to slow down to avoid hitting a slow-moving tractor.
Mags is keeping her cool, though.
She always does.
Meanwhile....you know how things happen and you're just like, hmm, God/Allah/Buddha/the Goddess/Yahweh/FSM has been nudging me in the ribs here and thinks s/he's funny.
I get home, and I'm all ready to settle in for my nap (so I can pack. Post-post-call, remember? And didn't nap, and went to bed at 11 last night) and I get this Facebook message in my Inbox telling me that despite my previous attempts to find her, my best friend from college - whom I don't think I've seen since - has, in fact, found me.
I know this will shock you, particularly those of you who know my best friend from High School, Katie, and my first roommate in medical school, Katie, but, her name is Kate. And she has a blog.
Now, here's why the timing of this is funny.
The other Dr. Kate and I were both chem majors in college (she's still a chemist). My very favorite Kate quote is from when I was running for president of Chem Club (shut up, it was very cool) but was home sick having just had my gallbladder taken out. So I wrote a speech, and Kate read it at the elections. She prefaced this by saying, "now, pretend I'm Kate."
We were together a lot, both by necessity and choice. We are, in point of fact, brothers, actually - Kate and I both belong to the national Chemistry fraternity (shut up, it was sort of cool. Or at least moderately fun). So, this became problematic when someone would say "Kate!" Because I'd usually be the first one to turn around and say, "what?" But if they weren't talking to me, they'd usually say, "No, Other Kate."
Thus, we became Kate and Other Kate. And at some point someone came up to the two of us and some little freshman we were talking to and addressed her directly as "Other Kate." Which I then explained, and said, "you know, like, the other white meat."
Which is precisely the moment we became Chicken and Pork.
Now, Kate had issues with having to be the one named Pork, because of its, ahem, somewhat unsavory slang meaning, so we tried out a couple other alternatives. Calling her Little Kate (which she is) was undesirable in that it made me Big Kate (which I am, but, still). We ultimately settled on Chicken and, of course, the most common substitute for pork....Turkey Bacon (in time this got shortened to Turkey, and the explanation we'd have to give to new people only lengthened). But when it comes right down to it, she'll always be Pork to me.
No, I'm getting to why the timing is funny.
So earlier this week, Mike sends out an email inviting us all to his place for PorkFest, which is apparently a take on some South Georgia tradition called a Pig Jig, asking everyone to bring a pork-themed dish and threatening us with things like desserts that contain pork. And there was some line in there about preparing Boston butts in the North Carolina tradition for this Georgian festival (if someone would just hit a moose on the way over, we'd have the entire Eastern Seaborg covered). So anyway, PorkFest. And I get this email, and I laugh really hard because the first thing I think of is, "Ha! I should bring Kate!" No, not that it would be funny to anyone but me. But anyway, then I spent a good long while reminiscing about college and how sad I was that I didn't know where Kate was or what she was doing anymore.
And then there she was.
So having spaghetti for dinner tonight.
(No, it's not a particularly good song, I know that. But it's a cultural iconicissm these days, and besides, the kid's a Cub fan.)
Anyway. This is why *I'm* hot.
Wait. It gets better.
The real reason I'm so hot is because the damn resister in my ventilation fan died in my car, so I'd only have air conditioning when I was moving. This is the second time this has happened, but the last time it would only blow on high, this time the blower just died altogether (honestly? It's an early model Liberty and it's got almost 99K miles on it. I'm very, very pleased that this is the worst thing that's happened. Ask Katie about having to pick me up on the shoulder of I-55 in my pajama pants because the old Jeep randomly died. And don't even get me started about why the extended warranty was such a good idea on my Aztek) (Yes. I used to own an Aztek. Don't judge. I strayed, I'm better now). And yeah, this happened about a week and a half ago. But it was tolerable when the weather was cooler and I didn't bake at stoplights because I was driving a mobile smelting furnace that only cooled off when it moved at a speed greater than 60mph.
Seriously. Where did the cool air go when I stopped? Just because it stopped blowing doesn't mean it shouldn't be there. It defies the laws of physics. So when Dr. Chevy threw me out before noon today (he's so getting a fruit basket), I went over to the dealer and got it fixed. And waited. And waited. And waited. And wasted two hours of valuable
Mags is keeping her cool, though.
She always does.
Meanwhile....you know how things happen and you're just like, hmm, God/Allah/Buddha/the Goddess/Yahweh/FSM has been nudging me in the ribs here and thinks s/he's funny.
I get home, and I'm all ready to settle in for my nap (so I can pack. Post-post-call, remember? And didn't nap, and went to bed at 11 last night) and I get this Facebook message in my Inbox telling me that despite my previous attempts to find her, my best friend from college - whom I don't think I've seen since - has, in fact, found me.
I know this will shock you, particularly those of you who know my best friend from High School, Katie, and my first roommate in medical school, Katie, but, her name is Kate. And she has a blog.
Now, here's why the timing of this is funny.
The other Dr. Kate and I were both chem majors in college (she's still a chemist). My very favorite Kate quote is from when I was running for president of Chem Club (shut up, it was very cool) but was home sick having just had my gallbladder taken out. So I wrote a speech, and Kate read it at the elections. She prefaced this by saying, "now, pretend I'm Kate."
We were together a lot, both by necessity and choice. We are, in point of fact, brothers, actually - Kate and I both belong to the national Chemistry fraternity (shut up, it was sort of cool. Or at least moderately fun). So, this became problematic when someone would say "Kate!" Because I'd usually be the first one to turn around and say, "what?" But if they weren't talking to me, they'd usually say, "No, Other Kate."
Thus, we became Kate and Other Kate. And at some point someone came up to the two of us and some little freshman we were talking to and addressed her directly as "Other Kate." Which I then explained, and said, "you know, like, the other white meat."
Which is precisely the moment we became Chicken and Pork.
Now, Kate had issues with having to be the one named Pork, because of its, ahem, somewhat unsavory slang meaning, so we tried out a couple other alternatives. Calling her Little Kate (which she is) was undesirable in that it made me Big Kate (which I am, but, still). We ultimately settled on Chicken and, of course, the most common substitute for pork....Turkey Bacon (in time this got shortened to Turkey, and the explanation we'd have to give to new people only lengthened). But when it comes right down to it, she'll always be Pork to me.
No, I'm getting to why the timing is funny.
So earlier this week, Mike sends out an email inviting us all to his place for PorkFest, which is apparently a take on some South Georgia tradition called a Pig Jig, asking everyone to bring a pork-themed dish and threatening us with things like desserts that contain pork. And there was some line in there about preparing Boston butts in the North Carolina tradition for this Georgian festival (if someone would just hit a moose on the way over, we'd have the entire Eastern Seaborg covered). So anyway, PorkFest. And I get this email, and I laugh really hard because the first thing I think of is, "Ha! I should bring Kate!" No, not that it would be funny to anyone but me. But anyway, then I spent a good long while reminiscing about college and how sad I was that I didn't know where Kate was or what she was doing anymore.
And then there she was.
So having spaghetti for dinner tonight.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Sweet baby girl
(Which is, of course, a reference to this song.)
Love Thursday is a couple days early this week.
I still have so much work to do that didn't get done. And my poor dog had to wait and wait and wait because the dog walker didn't get my message in time to come by today. Doesn't matter. Maggie managed just fine (although she was SO happy to see me when I got home, and barely spent enough time outside to pee), and the work's just going to have to wait, because, I had something much more important to do.
Crazy pregnant lady? Had her baby today.
Her day didn't start out that great. I called L&D around 8:15 to say, hey, when did you want her there, anyway? And the nurse says, "She was supposed to be here at 8." So there was this flurry of activity to get her off our unit and fuss, fuss, fuss. You know, honestly, my day didn't start off so well, either (I think I'd been at work about a half hour when I turned and said to my social worker, "Oh, I am so not in the mood to be fucked with today, so everybody just needs to stop").
On the whole, a really, really stressed-out day. My crazy patient (the non-pregnant one) is now crazier than ever and has now failed four medications. We're now looking for the outlandish and ridiculous explanations, like, thalium poisoning and porphyria. My patient load is just huge and sick and bad. And call, at least was mostly just hand-holding.
I did get a great quote today, though, from one of my patients on the ward. "I've learned not to say never no more, because you never know when never's gonna come."
But then, when I was done with call, I went over to L&D.
I checked in on my patient, of course. She was fine. She actually looked better than I'd seen her in a while. I mean, still hates me, but less vehemently. And I just popped in, because she'll come back to our unit tonight and we'll keep an eye on her for a few days, because she's at very high risk for becoming more acutely psychotic. But then...then I went upstairs and met Molly.
Oh. There are not words to say how sweet and adorable this child is.
I held her. And I snuggled her. And I told her how glad I was that she was out. I kissed her little head and wished her luck in things to come. I gave her a little advice on life...play nice with others, seek therapy early, try to always do the right thing, and get a dog. I apologized for dumping all those drugs in on her and her tiny little brain. I told her I was sorry she was never going to know who her father was, and that I hoped she got a real daddy someday soon (Jenn, I'd so send her to you if I could). I cuddled her and cooed at her and couldn't bring myself to put her down. Oh, she's just so sweet. I wanted to take her home and snuggle her for the next five days or so, help her with that crucial bonding time, just wander around with her in one of those baby pouches (what the heck are those things called again?) for a few days and keep her close. And then give her to a good family. She deserves so much more than she's going to get. She deserves love and cuddles and adoration. She deserves parents who love her to bits. She deserves to keep her sweet, pure, unmarred innocence as long as she possibly can. She deserves to have a full and wonderful life full of love and happiness and the elusion of her genetic loading after starting with such auspicious beginnings.
I totally hadn't anticipated how relieved I would feel once she was out, but I just am. So relieved. Now I can treat her mom like a real schizophrenic and not worry about what I'm doing to her little baby brain. I no longer have to worry about her randomly dropping the kid on the unit and not telling us about it. All the fighting about sterilization vs. Depo Provera vs. an IUD has lost a lot of its urgency. And this beautiful, perfect creature is here with us now.
Welcome to the world, baby girl. It's a hell of a ride.
Love Thursday is a couple days early this week.
I still have so much work to do that didn't get done. And my poor dog had to wait and wait and wait because the dog walker didn't get my message in time to come by today. Doesn't matter. Maggie managed just fine (although she was SO happy to see me when I got home, and barely spent enough time outside to pee), and the work's just going to have to wait, because, I had something much more important to do.
Crazy pregnant lady? Had her baby today.
Her day didn't start out that great. I called L&D around 8:15 to say, hey, when did you want her there, anyway? And the nurse says, "She was supposed to be here at 8." So there was this flurry of activity to get her off our unit and fuss, fuss, fuss. You know, honestly, my day didn't start off so well, either (I think I'd been at work about a half hour when I turned and said to my social worker, "Oh, I am so not in the mood to be fucked with today, so everybody just needs to stop").
On the whole, a really, really stressed-out day. My crazy patient (the non-pregnant one) is now crazier than ever and has now failed four medications. We're now looking for the outlandish and ridiculous explanations, like, thalium poisoning and porphyria. My patient load is just huge and sick and bad. And call, at least was mostly just hand-holding.
I did get a great quote today, though, from one of my patients on the ward. "I've learned not to say never no more, because you never know when never's gonna come."
But then, when I was done with call, I went over to L&D.
I checked in on my patient, of course. She was fine. She actually looked better than I'd seen her in a while. I mean, still hates me, but less vehemently. And I just popped in, because she'll come back to our unit tonight and we'll keep an eye on her for a few days, because she's at very high risk for becoming more acutely psychotic. But then...then I went upstairs and met Molly.
Oh. There are not words to say how sweet and adorable this child is.
I held her. And I snuggled her. And I told her how glad I was that she was out. I kissed her little head and wished her luck in things to come. I gave her a little advice on life...play nice with others, seek therapy early, try to always do the right thing, and get a dog. I apologized for dumping all those drugs in on her and her tiny little brain. I told her I was sorry she was never going to know who her father was, and that I hoped she got a real daddy someday soon (Jenn, I'd so send her to you if I could). I cuddled her and cooed at her and couldn't bring myself to put her down. Oh, she's just so sweet. I wanted to take her home and snuggle her for the next five days or so, help her with that crucial bonding time, just wander around with her in one of those baby pouches (what the heck are those things called again?) for a few days and keep her close. And then give her to a good family. She deserves so much more than she's going to get. She deserves love and cuddles and adoration. She deserves parents who love her to bits. She deserves to keep her sweet, pure, unmarred innocence as long as she possibly can. She deserves to have a full and wonderful life full of love and happiness and the elusion of her genetic loading after starting with such auspicious beginnings.
I totally hadn't anticipated how relieved I would feel once she was out, but I just am. So relieved. Now I can treat her mom like a real schizophrenic and not worry about what I'm doing to her little baby brain. I no longer have to worry about her randomly dropping the kid on the unit and not telling us about it. All the fighting about sterilization vs. Depo Provera vs. an IUD has lost a lot of its urgency. And this beautiful, perfect creature is here with us now.
Welcome to the world, baby girl. It's a hell of a ride.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Serious as a gas attack
You know, I had this whole post written about today being the third anniversary of my escape from the Emerald Palace. But you know...I'm just not feeling it. I'm feeling the moving on.
I can't really tell you why, exactly, because honestly, there was actually quite a bit that was unpleasant about it, but...I had a really good day.
And. Bones is back.
I'm postcall and got home late and am completely exhausted and it's totally freezing in my house because it's 40 in North Carolina and all the windows in my house are open because it very recently was a lot more than 40 and I'm seriously just so tired and hungry and whatever, and still had to stay up and watch it.
And got great quotes like the title, and these:
Booth: What are we, brook trout?
Cam: The body was braised like osso buco.
Hodgins: I do bugs and slime, I don't do arithmetic.
Booth: Special Agent Seely Booth. Special.
Brennan: Oh, we're not blue fish.
Booth: That's very damn poetic of you.
Brennan: You want to come? To go bowling with us at the bowling rink?
Sweets: Me? I'm a dog person. I think that has meaning.
And my personal favorite -
Booth: I thought the whole point of therapy was to give us peace of mind, not to drive us crazy.
Ohh, how I've missed Booth and Brennan.
And now Maggie's barking in her sleep, which is the most adorable thing ever.
I'm just so glad to be living my life right now.
I can't really tell you why, exactly, because honestly, there was actually quite a bit that was unpleasant about it, but...I had a really good day.
And. Bones is back.
I'm postcall and got home late and am completely exhausted and it's totally freezing in my house because it's 40 in North Carolina and all the windows in my house are open because it very recently was a lot more than 40 and I'm seriously just so tired and hungry and whatever, and still had to stay up and watch it.
And got great quotes like the title, and these:
Booth: What are we, brook trout?
Cam: The body was braised like osso buco.
Hodgins: I do bugs and slime, I don't do arithmetic.
Booth: Special Agent Seely Booth. Special.
Brennan: Oh, we're not blue fish.
Booth: That's very damn poetic of you.
Brennan: You want to come? To go bowling with us at the bowling rink?
Sweets: Me? I'm a dog person. I think that has meaning.
And my personal favorite -
Booth: I thought the whole point of therapy was to give us peace of mind, not to drive us crazy.
Ohh, how I've missed Booth and Brennan.
And now Maggie's barking in her sleep, which is the most adorable thing ever.
I'm just so glad to be living my life right now.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Instant Karma
So....I had just written the following...
So I'm on call. It's nearly 8pm. Remember, there's night float here tonight, so I'm only on until 10 (hooray). I've got one coming in, but she's arriving by sheriff and so that will probably take a while, because the ER staff has to see her and whatnot.
And then, of course, my pager went off. And it's the hospital police, saying that the sheriff just showed up with this kid, and you know, kids that age can't usually come in voluntarily and there's no parent with her...in other words....so, can you come fix this?
Aaaaaagh....
So I'm on call. It's nearly 8pm. Remember, there's night float here tonight, so I'm only on until 10 (hooray). I've got one coming in, but she's arriving by sheriff and so that will probably take a while, because the ER staff has to see her and whatnot.
And then, of course, my pager went off. And it's the hospital police, saying that the sheriff just showed up with this kid, and you know, kids that age can't usually come in voluntarily and there's no parent with her...in other words....so, can you come fix this?
Aaaaaagh....
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