A few of my favorite things

It's been a big year for the Scholzen.Since no one can figure out if the plural of Scholz is Scholzes or Scholzs' or what, we've been dubbed Scholzen in homage to the Germans. But that isn't the point. The point is that lots of good stuff happened to us this year. Really good stuff. So here's my highlight reel... my favorite things if you will. Some old, some new. All special to me but in no particular order.

10) Schlumberger

9) Texas (except the black hole where Wichita Falls sits)

8) my expanding Cole Haan collection

7) rheumatology

6) Jen's annual Christmas visit back to the US

5) caramel-filled double chocolate cookies

4) roommate reunion 3

3) learning to crochet stuff

2) my man's man husband holding our tiny baby girl

1) zipping and buttoning pre-pregnancy jeans on post-partum day 3 (here's hoping for skinny jeans by my birthday!)

Life of pregnant Bethie: The grand finale, part III

Even I'm getting bored with the never-ending story of how Ellison came into the world. So let's make this part short, shall we? Won't be hard. Didn't last long.

My ob enters. Oh, the baby's right there. OK, push with this contraction. Pushing commences.About two minutes later (literally)... abracadabra, alkakazam, and ta-daa! Ellison Avery Scholz was born. 2:43 pm.  Seven pounds on the dot and just shy of twenty inches. Practically a carbon copy (do people even know what those are anymore?) of my baby pictures.. I'd wondered beforehand if I'd cry. Instead I found myself laughing out loud. Nick, too, was beaming from ear to ear. She's here!

And except for the fact that it took my left leg almost 8 hours to wake up (meaning I couldn't walk on it until then), everything in the hospital went perfectly. So now we're home, getting used to being a family of three.

Are you wondering about the final verdict? About whether pregnancy was worth it? Um, yeah. I'm still not saying it was fun because it wasn't. And I'm very happy to be the sole occupant of my body again. But she is a good thing. A very good thing.

Life of pregnant Bethie: The grand finale, part II

Continued...

First of all, can I tell you how weird it is to go from being a doctor to a patient in your own hospital? I pranced up to triage in my white coat and work clothes but got wheeled upstairs in a standard-issue green hospital gown with my stuff in a clear plastic "patient belongings" bag just like everybody else. Weird.
Anyhoo, back to my story. I called my co-fellow from triage to let everyone know I wouldn't be coming to LBJ clinic. But what about the pager? She suggested I call the attending (who was still at Hermann) and ask him to pick it up.
"I am naked from the waist down with Pitocin [oxytocin, the labor hormone] hanging. I don't think so."
We decided I would just keep the pager with me until the other girls finished clinic and came back to the med center. Nick would take a message and/or call the other fellow if anything urgent came up. Sounds good. (By the way, crazy dream right? Had I proceeded to clinic, I totally would have gone into labor there!)
Oh, a contraction. Then another, and another. Not that bad. I can handle this for now. Then they keep getting longer and stronger. OK, time for that epidural. Fortunately, my ob has warned everyone that I'm an MD, so the anesthesia resident talks to me in technical terms, which I appreciate. I finally learn what "a prick and a burn" really feels like [That's what you say when you're injecting lidocaine [local anesthetic) before a procedure because it burns going into the skin.] Eh, not that bad. My guilt that I've been lying to my patients for years is alleviated.
Aaah, finally a little relief. Except I am  quite hungry. I'd much rather be she who decrees than she who receives NPO status [nil per os = nothing by mouth], which is mandatory once labor gets going. Good thing I saw that coming and covertly scarfed a Luna bar in triage. Don't tell! At least I got to enjoy Chik-fil-A vicariously through Nick and Jen.
My co-fellow picks the pager up around 2:00pm. I give her sign-out [the run-down on our patients] from my hospital bed. This really entertains Jen. At least no one can say I slacked off as the pregnant fellow.
And suddenly, oh my, the baby is way, way low, and I am way, way dilated. My ob texts the nurse to just let him know when I'm close because he wants to pick his kids up from practice. She texts back that he better come now.

More to come. While you wait, appreciate all the details about bodily fluids that I'm sparing you.

Life of pregnant Bethie: The grand finale, part I

This is the story of how I became suddenly and irrevocably not pregnant. I find the story so overall entertaining that I'm breaking into multiple parts. Probably three, but don't hold me to that.

Thursday, December 22
I was on "any day now" status per my ob, but I surely didn't feel any different. What was different was that I picked Jen up from the airport the night before. Woohoo! Back from Egypt for two weeks! Before bed, she told me, "Wake me up if you go into labor overnight. I wanna come." I'd had a dream I went into labor during LBJ clinic. Nick laughed at me.
I woke up early early early that morning to round on my Hermann inpatients before heading to LBJ clinic (30 minutes apart). During my drive in, Nick called to ask if I was aware of the giant stain on my side of the bed.
Nope. I wasn't. I felt exactly the same, and she was still moving. Surely my water didn't break. Wouldn't I have noticed? I kinda blew it off. I spent the next hour and a half doing my rounds, checking labs, etc. Then I started to get anxious. About said stain. I even called Jen and called in a BFF favor to get her opinion. Still inexplicable.
So I decided to be that needy, clingy patient and call my ob. Just to see if I should come to the office and get checked. But surely I'm not in labor. He called me back. He thinks my water broke and sends me to triage.
"Just head into the med center. They'll call me when you get here."
"I'm already at the hospital. I've been rounding."
"I'm embarrassed that a rheumatologist beat me to the hospital. I'll head over from my office and meet you there."
He does. Water definitely broken. No contractions. Induction indicated. Boo. "You're gonna have a baby today." Call Nick. Tell your manager today is the day. Jen will drive you.
Oh. My. Gosh. I'm really truly no doubt about it gonna have a baby. Today.

Life of pregnant Bethie meets Battle of the sexes

So this is a story about Nick and me. A story that demonstrates just how well I know my husband. And also about how we are meant to be because no other girl would put up with this, let alone still like him.
We've just gotten back from running errands somewhere. Our garage is too little, so Nick has to let me out in the driveway and then pull into the garage. I walk up between the cars, when Nick points out that he needs to get in the backseat to get the bags. I shimmy back a few steps.

Nick: Maybe you should...
Me: What?
Nick: Uhhhh.
Me: No. I don't think so. Not funny.
Nick: But I didn't say it.
Me: Too mean. Not funny.
Nick: But it is funny.
Me: But that doesn't mean you should say it.
Nick: But I didn't say it!
Me: But you were going to.
Nick: But I didn't.
Me: Sigh.

Are you thoroughly confused because you can't read Nick's mind like I can? Let me elucidate. Nick was thinking it would be appropriate for me to make the backing-up-beeping noise that giant trucks make. Because I'm such a wide load right now. Funny? Perhaps. If it were characters on TV. But despite my self-righteous indignation, even I have to admit... it really is funny. And he's just too darn handsome (in my unbiased, objective opinion) to stay mad at for long.

The end.

Life of pregnant Bethie: The waiting is the hardest part

I told a lie last time. I'm going to talk about babies again. Sorry. Lots of stuff going on at work, but it would require such a detailed (and technical) background explanation that I'm pretty sure I'd just drive you away, never to return to my humble blog.

I could probably also talk about the delicioso y fabuloso Reese's cheesecake bars I made for our Sunday School Christmas party last night. But I have no pictures, and it just wouldn't be fair to talk about something so very incredibly delicioso y fabuloso (and believe me friends, they were) when you can't take a bite yourselves. In a nutshell, Williams-Sonoma cheesecake + 2 bags' worth of chopped Reese PB cups +  PB-chocolate ganache = wonderful goodness.

So I'm left with the baby. And how we're ready for her to be here. When the ob told me Thursday that he thought it would be any day now (and probably not January 6), we got a fire under our butts regarding getting ready for Gizmo. So now the diaper bags are stocked, the hospital suitcase is packed, the carseat is in the car, etc etc. The only thing we don't have... the baby. Everyone at works wants me to sit still and not sneeze so she'll stay inside as long as possible. Nick, on the other hand, wants me doing squats and jumping jacks and suicide sprints because he is impatient, like a kid at Christmas. As a compromise, I'm taking Izzy on a mostly-leisurely walk this morning before church.

Guess we'll see what happens, huh?

Life of pregnant Bethie: The bright side

Sorry for all the pregnancy blogging, kiddos, but I just have baby on the brain. Well, more like baby on the bladder if we're talking literally. But seriously, with all the dancing and grooving she's doing in there, it's hard not to think about her pretty much every waking minute.
If you've talked to me pretty much at all over the last 8 months, you know I'm not the biggest fan of being pregnant. I'm sure she's worth it, blah, blah, babies are great, blah, blah. I don't like being pregnant. But in an attempt to turn that frown upside down, after immense effort I have identified two not-so-bad things about the current situation.

1) Less shedding
It will catch up with me later, but I'm enjoying it for now.

2) Satisfaction for my control-freak side
Yes, I know lots of things beyond my control have been happening lately. But just go with me here... I, more than anyone else, know exactly what's going on with her minute by minute. If Nick were the pregnant one, it could be hours between updates. And I couldn't trust that he'd pay adequate attention to her moving, or his total water intake for the day, or Braxton-Hix contractions, etc etc. But since my brain gets a direct and continuous feed from my uterus, I am never without material over which to obsess. And Nick will tell ya, nothing makes Bethie happy like having something to worry about. :)

Roundabout two weeks and counting. I'll try really hard to think of something else to talk about next time. Until then, peace.

Some rules of baking (and when to break them)

1) Underbake everything by 5 minutes.
Unless it's bread. Gooey bread is gross.

2) Add more vanilla.
Unless you've already doubled the vanilla when you copied the recipe. 2 Tablespoons when it was originally 1 1/2 teaspoons might be overkill.

3) Homemade is always better than pre-packaged.
Unless it's dulce de leche. Just not worth it. As I discovered tonight. See #4, below.

4) Don't bake angry; this leads to incomplete following of directions and guaranteed failure.
Unless you're in such a bad mood that the outcome actually seems funny and breaks your funk. Like tonight, when I didn't put the baking dish of sweetened, condensed milk (supposed to become dulce de leche after 60 minutes in a 425 degree oven) in a water bath, causing it to boil over vigorously and leave black gunk all over the oven and smoke residue on the stove and a haze that's still hanging in the air. Adding too much flour, now that's just kinda annoying. This was hilarious. I mean, hilarious.

Bring on Christmas. Think I'll enjoy my re-discovered Christmas cheer by baking something. Happily.

Great expectations

I arrived home before Nick today and found a couple packages by the front door, one of which was (hear the angels sing) Fannie May candy. Mom sends us a box of Trinidads and a box of Pixies every Christmas. Yum. Forget Girl Scout Cookies; this is the really good stuff.
I called Nick and told him I had a little surprise for him when he got home. A half hour later, he walked through the door, and I presented him with his box o' chocolately goodness.

Nick: Ooooohhh... Nice. Ya know, when you told me you had a surprise, the first thing I thought of was you having the baby.

I guess I'm not the only one with Gizmo on the brain.

PS Exactly one month to our due date! I'm calling December 30.

We've lost the funk

Christmas is coming, but I'm just not feeling it. I don't know why. Maybe it's the 70+ degree temperatures outside. Or the fact that our front yard still looks pitiful, despite Nick's best attempt at dolling it up with Christmas decorations. Or maybe all this focus on the bun in my oven has distracted me. I mean, I'm actually off on Christmas day for the first time in three years. This year should be a big deal. But enthusiasm eludes me.
Maybe a little Christmas baking and tree-trimming will help. If not, I could always try steroids.

Oh, the irony

I saw a commercial for this product for the first time on What Not to Wear last night. You have to click on this link. I mean it. Just do it. Now.
Forever Lazy

Do you think Stacy and Clinton know that this fashion abomination is being advertised in the middle of their show?

The scientific method

I fell off the horse but got back in the sewing saddle, boys and girls. I decided to approach this incredibly difficult straight seam methodically, and change one variable at a time until I figured out what exactly was going wrong. We'll skip the long tale of woe (with more gnashing of teeth) and cut to the part where I realized that the extra bobbins I'd bought were a close but not quite exactly perfect fit for my machine.
Therein lay the source of my frustration!

The situation was quickly resolved by emptying and re-using an old bobbin. Approximately fiften minutes later, we find ourseleves at the end not of a sad tale of woe, but a triumphant legend of victory!

Aren't they lovely? Exactly like I'd imagined in my head.

The pink ribbon tabs put them over the top. I'm still swooning.



I sure hope Elle likes pink!

Ad lib

Dinner tonight was broccoli turkey casserole. A casserole just seems like the thing to do when trying to use up leftover anything, especially Thanksgiving turkey. So I perused recipes but sadly lacked a couple ingredients for any of them. So I went crazy, willy nilly style in the kitchen, and just... Made. It. Up. And you guys know what a rule-follower I am. The recipe is king. But not today.I decided to prepare a response just in case Nick thought it was gross:

(Apologetically, with my eyebrows raise and nose crinkled)

Yeah, I just made it up. Entirely from stuff we already had open or leftover. I mean, it's based loosely on a few different recipes, but I kinda winged it. I really threw it together in like 15 minutes.

Now imagine Nick really liked it, which by the way he did. Read the same statement above, but imagine my head cocked haughtily to the side with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder.

The spin doctor is in the house.

Sew simple

I have come to a realization. I know you're dying to know what it is, so I'll tell you.

I don't enjoy sewing.

I really want to, but I just don't.

I want to be that girl who whips up cute, ruffly aprons and the mom who cranks out her kids' Halloween costumes every year. But I never will be. Because I don't like sewing.

As I observed at our impromptu Pearland girls' craft fest* last night, I find sewing both tedious and unforgiving. Some say the same about baking, but the organic chemistry of it all makes sense in my head. I can predict the wiley moves of my flour and eggs and butter (oh my!), but sewing is all physics and geometry to me. And I hate physics and geometry. There's no chance for salvage in sewing. It's a start-over or a throw-away kind of deal.
I'd originally planned on using this post to show off pictures of Elle's new curtains, but me and my sewing machine are taking some time apart to cool down after after much wailing and gnashing of teeth (not just on my end) because that devil machine doesn't really like heavy-duty thread and keeps jamming in protest. (It's definitely not operator error. Just isn't. Can't be.)
But I'm close to finishing. Sew, sew close. Just need to finish the top seam across the pink ribbon tabs of the second panel. Don't give up hope; pictures still to come. Once I finish that seam and sweet-talk Nick into installing the curtain rod. So maybe by this time next year. :)


*The husbands came over here to watch "The Walking Dead," so I invited myself elsewhere. We had a grand time with chocolate caramel cookies, brownies, crochet, and sewing.

Muckraker

Yeesh. I'm finally home. This Thanksgiving call was proving not just easy but downright peaceful until this afternoon. Then I got a call from a team wanting help managing a steroid dose. Apparently they forgot the second commandment of rheumatology: Don't muck with the steroids. Oh, I should probably mention that this man has been admitted for almost two weeks. But they didn't want help with the steroids Monday through Friday between 8am and 5pm. No, it occurred to them to ask for my help Saturday afternoon over a holiday weekend. Two hours of chart-sifting and family-calling and other-doctor-calling later, my answer is still... don't muck with the steroids.

Bah humbug. I think I need some hot chocolate and sewing and maybe even chocolate for dinner. That will make my bad day better. Hopefully I'll have pictures of baby room curtains to post soon!

Peer pressure

Have you noticed the plethora of "thankful" postings on Facebook, blogs, etc? Everybody's doing it, which got me thinking I should do it, too. My wave of gratitude is really tied to a very sad situation I saw in clinic yesterday morning. I don't want to make you sad, too, so suffice it to say that at least one of the things on my list was inspired by my interaction with this woman. Don't worry; I have no intention of getting sentimental.But I do have a lot for which to be most supremely thankful. So here goes:

1) my husband for loving me every day even when I don't make it easy
2) my work because I will always be employable somewhere, even if that somewhere is Wichita Falls
3) Izzy and sometimes Jonesy and even sometimes Dallas for the playful joy, unswerving loyalty, and hours of free entertainment they give us
4) my health because I have too much to do to be slowed down by sickness
5) Reese's peanut butter cups because sometimes I just can't decide between chocolate and peanut butter
6) my little gestating Gizmo soon to be known as Ellison Avery because I love her already and really want a baby even though I can't think of a single logical reason why
7) the organic chemistry lab that taught me not to be scared of baking because even though it was horrible I wouldn't have my favorite hobby without it
8) Cole Haan shoes because they really are more comfy with those amazing Nike Air soles and I really can stay on my feet longer without getting whiney
9) my family because for better or for worse they made me who I am, cowlick and all
10)  all the dear, dear friends who loved me along the way while I became who I am - you should each get your own spot on the list! (Shout out especially to Jen, Angela, Cassandra, Mike and Kristen, the other Mike, Meagan, and the other Kristen! I'm sure I'll remember someone else later, and I'm sorry, and I love you!)
11) prayers that get answered just before I'm about to give up
12) that dreaded Tuesday night shift at Cricket's seven (seven!) years ago, when I met my Mr. Right (see #1 above)

I could keep going, but I think that covers the high points. Happy Thanksgiving!

A different kind of rain

It looked like rain all day today, but the sky never made good on that threat. There was, however, another kind of shower...my baby shower! Yay! The church girls pulled off a fantastic pink and aqua Texas theme, complete with little pink cowboy boots and glittery silver stars. And man, did I get some stuff!

It's late, so here's just a few pictures to accommodate my adoring far-away fans.

Meagan made cupcake decorations - white chocolate Texas-es.

Pink cowboy boots as vases. Too much cuteness for one day.

My friend Federica (from residency) flew all the way from Nashville. Isn't she fabulous?

I opened a LOT of presents. And I think this is a pretty accurate representation of the current  Bethie to baby bump ratio.

Which is the mother, and which is the daughter?

Ellison and I feel very loved. Nick does, too, except for the part where he had to carry everything inside. And PS, I miss everyone who couldn't come. You'll just have to visit once she's actually here!

Scrap and tell

I should be reading something academic. Something rheumatologic. But I'm not. Because that wouldn't make your day any better or brighter. Unless you have lupus. Which you don't. Because it just isn't lupus. But moving on. Here are a few of may favorite recent scrapbook pages. This is my less-intrusive way of making you look at my pages. Much better than showing up at your front door, scrapbook in hand, right?

Anything that looks particularly cool or requires special tools is probably a product of my scrapapalooza weekend with Angela.  Pictures of pictures don't really do justice to the original photograph or my evolving scrappy craftiness, but these are the best I can do with a point-and-shoot camera and zero photography skills. Hey, I can't be good at everything.

Who knew peeing on a stick would make such good scrapbook material?

And a smattering of our fake engagement photos. I just can't give Kristen Stewart enough credit for these. I like the angle of the camera in this one and how we are straight on when the photo is a little tilted.

Rolled flowers really intimidated me. But turns out, they're one of the easier things to make yourself. Now I use them a lot. A lot a lot a lot.

And here's my solution to the predicament of not being able to pick black-and-white or color.

Thanks for visiting. Happy hump day!

Battle of the sexes: hot wheels

Believe it or not, my trusty Blazer has seen better days. It's been a faithful companion from Wichita Falls to Waco and beyond. But I get to drive the Pathfinder and just reminisce about my old car while Nick actually deals with it. Getting to the point: we're finally talking about actually buying a new car. Not today, but soon. Soon-ish.

Nick wants a Camaro.

I say fine. As long as you can fit a car seat in the back.

So we went on a field trip to the Chevy dealer, car seat in tow.

Before I make myself sound like an old ball and chain, mind you that Nick was a little disappointed in the quality of the interior, the pick-up on acceleration, and the enormous blind spot. I'm not the only rain on his Camaro parade. But back to my story...
The car seat fits in the back seat. Technically. As in, you have to put the passenger seat all the way up and collapsed forward and then kinda jimmy the car seat sideways to wedge it through the hole. [Disclaimer: No babies were harmed during this demonstration.] And then the passenger (that would be me) has to sit with her seat leaning a little forward and her forehead almost in the windshield. But technically, the car seat fits.
Nick commented later in the day on the death of his dream. I told him I was sorry he ended up disappointed. He replied...

Eh, it's no big deal. Now I'll just have to get an Infiniti.

Digging a hole

This morning in Sunday school, there was an announcement asking for volunteers to help with the senior adult Christmas party. One guy commented how there's a job for everyone; he even got talked into being Santa Claus one year. Nick leaned over to me and whispered, "Hey, you could be Santa Claus this year!" I can only assume this has something to do with my jolly, round belly.
But anyway... apparently he didn't whisper as quietly as he thought because the entire room burst into laughter and comments about how somebody's in the doghouse or sleeping on the couch or whatnot. The problem is, I just can't be mad at him. First off, he bought me my Kate Spade baby bag, so he's got some extra points built up. And even I have to admit... it was pretty funny. Well played, my dear. Very well played.

Honey, I'm hoooooome!

Does it feel like it's been a while? Well, it has. I've been in Chicago, Chicago (da doo dee da daah) for the last week for the annual ACR convention (ie rheumatology nerds of the world unite!). I certainly enjoyed my visit to the Windy City because it is, after all, the best city in the whole world. I even managed to talk the girls into eating Pizzeria Uno's deep dish with me. Yum! And not to mention that I learned a thing or two at the actual convention. However, it's nice to be home.
But you know the story of my life. No rest for the weary. We all have to present something we learned tomorrow morning in conference. Thank you, Dr An, for the most excellent talk on cervical spine surgery in rheumatic diseases. Just what I needed. And a new consult waiting for me at the hospital tomorrow. No, it isn't lupus, or in this case rheumatoid arthritis. But I guess I shouldn't put that in the chart until I actually examine the patient, huh?
I guess that's enough random ramblings for the evening. I blame the irksome viral URI I acquired in Chi-town and my gestating fetus for hogging all the blood that's supposed to go to my brain. I mean that with nothing but love, Elle. (What if she reads this someday?! Can't have her thinking momma doesn't love her!) OK. Must stop. Making less and less sense as I go. For reals this time... Peace.

Fly on the wall

Overheard between two medical students:

Student #1: Yeah, I think I wanna do surgery or maybe anesthesia.
Student #2: Oh yeah? Why?
Student #1: I don't wanna do medicine because I don't wanna have to know that much stuff.

Sigh. I reached deep inside and found the composure not to make a scene. But really? Really? Maybe we should be like England where they call internists "Doctor" and surgeons "Mister." Because as this student has so astutely observed, too many of them just aren't real doctors. And I'll leave it at that.

PS Student #1 proceded to brag about being an Aggie. Coincidence? Perhaps. Or perhaps not.

Twelve steps to... tasty goodness

I have a problem. I can't stop baking. It's just so darn tasty not to mention a great way to make friends. But it's getting out of hand.

Sunday: I made hot chocolate cookies and took some to my Bible study girls' learn-to-crochet mini-bash. They didn't even last long enough to take a picture.

Monday: Day off to eat leftover Benjy's Mom's cake from the weekend. Oh. So. Good.

Tuesday: I made lemon cornmeal cookies. Mostly because Nick was in Shreveport for work, and I must make something he doesn't like whenever he's out of town. Even if it is only for one day.

Wednesday: Milky Way bar cookies, fresh from the oven. Originally Snickers-based, I called in a pinch-hitter because I want Nick to like them. He's coming home today and needs a welcome-back treat, right? He was gone for a whole day and a half! And I'll take the rest to lecture tomorrow because we all always need a pick-me-up by then. Just look at that chocolately, gooey goodness!

Thursday: Day off since I won't get home until nearly 7:00 pm. And I'm nourishing another human being with my blood (so weird!) and should therefore probably eat something nutritious instead of just plain dessert for dinner.

Friday: TBD, something to take with us on our visit to Phil and Elissa and tiny man Parker this weekend. Pumpkin for fall? Chocolate because Elissa loves it? Banana because of an abundance of nearly-dead bananas? (And don't tell me to freeze them. I tried it. They were liquefied on the inside after I thawed them back out. Gross.)

You see, I can rationalize the need for a baked good pretty much any day of the week. I'm not an addict. Addiction implies a problem, and I think baking is actually the solution to most of life's problems.

Under construction

I hate loose ends, don't you? And I know I've left a couple of them dangling out there in Blogger-land. Particularly regarding: 1) my selection of pink for Gizmo's room and 2) what I did with all that time at Angela's house a few weekends ago. Well, I seek today to rectify that situation and give you some closure.

Watermelon pink it is, and it's perfect. Just perfect.

I learned lots of crafty things. Specifically, I learned how to make rolled fabric flowers and lots of scrapbooky stuff. But this post is about Gizmo's room, so here are the fruits of that labor and then some. A sneak peak, if you will.

An old dresser, refinished via Mod-Podging tissue paper to the drawers. My least favorite thing, but it's growing on me.

Moving on to the better stuff...

Refinished end table. For whatever reason turned out way better than the dresser.

Ribbon board, for clipping photos, hair bows, etc. Sooooo cute!

Shelf on the wall above the changing table. Just lacks a pink and lime green polka dot teapot. That may or may not be sitting in Elle's room, wrapped up waiting for my baby shower. Thanks, Mom!

And last but not least... we got a baby present in the mail from our friends who themselves just had a baby. I put in on the registry because everyone talks about how it's the greatest thing ever, but can I be honest? I don't really know what one uses a "Boppy" for. If you know, don't tell me. I want to figure it out for myself. I'm stubborn that way.

The last hurrah

Nick and I went to Colorado last weekend to visit the near and dear Mike and Kristen to serve as our last Gizmo-less vacation, and that was a good choice.
I take no credit for these pictures. They're all Kristen. If you like them, you should go to www.kristenstewartphotography.com and sign up to have her take your picture, too. Yes, that's a shameless endorsement. I just think she's that good. But moving on...

Nick and me at 28 weeks and counting

Elle gets her first kiss from Daddy.

(Nick will undoubtedly be less than amused when he sees this one made it on the blog.)

Mike and Kristen. And their furry pet babies Bodie and Mocha.

Independence Pass

Other than being a little dyspneic (that's short-winded for all you Tennessee folk), I can't complain about a thing. We ate yummy food and drove through beautiful scenery.And slept in. And heard all about Mike and Kristen's new life in Denver. It was quite the treat, and I can't wait until next time.

Life of pregnant Bethie: turkey timer

I wish babies came with gauges and indicator lights. I spend way too much time in my days wondering about her. It was extra hard before I felt her move. At least now I can fuss over... Oh no, I can't remember the last time I felt her move. Or, is she moving too much? I wish I had a little green light somewhere (like maybe my belly button?) that would let me know all is well. And maybe turn yellow or red if there's an issue under the hood. Better yet, I'd like a button timer so I can know when she's done and ready to come out of the oven.

Life of pregnant Bethie: going places

You wouldn't believe how much people like talking to pregnant ladies. I mean, it's insane. Everywhere I go, everybody wants to ask me about my gestating fetus. First of all, I'm flattered that the rest of me is skinny enough that even dudes are willing to risk it and ask me about it rather than worrying that I'm just "big-boned" and not mentioning anything.

Today my incubating uterus was addressed by:
Patient #1
My program director
Patient #2
Patient #3's daughter
Cashier at Michael's

I have also been approached by random people waiting in line at the check-out with me at various stores. And pretty much every female store clerk I encounter. And everyone wants two things. To tell me their stories and to ask the same questions. In fact, I'm thinking of making a T-shirt:

Yes I'm pregnant:
January
Firstborn
Girl
Ellison

Yes, I do think I could fit all that on one shirt. I have a lot of prime billboard space in front these days. Pictures to come soon. Really.

Decisions, decisions

This is a story of what might have been but thankfully wasn't. Well, not even a story. Just a quick anecdote.

You know how Facebook suggests "People You May Know?" Well, I think they hack into something akin to the Matrix to figure out who to list. Because just today, I had a suggestion for a guy I dated (I use that term very, very loosely) for like 10 minutes in college. A guy to whom I have not spoken or emailed or anything that could be construed as contact since. And we have no (as in zero) mutual friends. But that isn't the point. The point is that, of course, I clicked on his name to see his picture. My reaction was as follows..
Whew! Good choice, Bethie. Dodged a bullet on that one. Nick was definitely, definitely the way to go.
And I went and went and kissed my husband.

PS No I'm not gonna say who he is.

Hat trick

Today felt awfully long, considering I ended up only seeing two patients in clinic. Lots of no-shows. But it was still quite eventful. Here's my top three highlights. Every word is true. Every. Word.

1) The part where they trust Google more than me
Me: Would you like a flu shot today?
Patient: Hm, do you have FluZone?
Me: Huh?
Patient: FluZone.
Me: I haven't heard of that brand.
Patient: It's four times stronger than the regular flu vaccine.
Me: Um, I don't about that. We have the regular flu shot here.
Patient: Oh, well, maybe I'll try to find somewhere that has FluZone.

I even checked with the attendings; no one knows about this FluZone business. So you can either go with a clinic full of board eligible and/or certified internal medicine physicians, or you can go with the internet. I mean, I just completed a highly reputable medicine residency after graduating from a top 10 medical school. What do I know? Everything on the internet, however, is true.

2) The part when I get stranger danger
Patient: Oh, my! You're pregnant!
Me: Yes, yes I am.
Patient: Oh, your belly is just so cute! [reaching towards me]
Me: Thank you. [stepping away]
Patient: [reaches further, pats and rubs my belly]

I promptly ran away. Here's the baby belly rule; if we've hugged, you're probably good. As in, you can touch without me freaking out. But I have a rule with patients that touching is unidirectional. I touch you, not vice versa. And that's only on the exam table. With purpose. And I don't touch, I palpate. Mommy's sorry, Gizmo. She won't let it happen again.


3) The part where I almost leave early
Another doctor two floors up called our office because she really wanted her patient worked in this afternoon. She thinks he has gout. The secretary checks with me as I am literally signing off the computer and standing up to leave. I said he can come as long as he comes quickly. Do not pass "Go." Do not collect $200. Go directly to jail exam room 6. Thirty (!!) minutes later, he finally arrives from upstairs. He then tells my nurse he doesn't have time for this. His ride is waiting. She explains that new patient appointments take at least 30 minutes, sometimes up to 60. He says that's ridiculous and he just wants me to look at his finger. So many problems with this scenario, not the least of which is that he probably doesn't have gout if whatever's hurting him is in his finger and/or doesn't hurt bad enough that he's willing to stay to be seen. After she explains that as a new patient, he must undergo a full evaluation, he leaves. And so do I.

Happy weekend! I'm sleeping in!

Lemon pie in the sky hopes

With yesterday's gusto of enthusiasm still going strong, I thought I'd satisfy my urge to clothes shop by buying something for Gizmo after clinic today. I mean, tiny little baby clothes should come with tiny little baby prices, right? Wrong. Maybe I'm just too cheap, but I can't justify spending $40 on a dress she'll either throw up on or outgrow before she can wear it twice. So I came home empty-handed and consoled myself with baking.

Exhibit A: Lemon-honey cookies.

Eh, they'll do. Very cake-y, mildly lemon-y. Not bad, just not the sugar-cookie texture I had in mind. Overall not my favorite, which is what Nick says when he's trying to say nicely that he doesn't really like something.

Exhibit B: Chocolate crinkle cookies

Despite the glowing reputation, I've not always had the best of luck with Williams-Sonoma recipes. But I needed chocolate to self-soothe after my epic lemon fail, and the picture just looked sooooo goooood. Survey says: Moderately time-consuming and dirty-dishes-producing, but good and very, very chocolate-y. Worth it? Probably. Definitely, if someone else is doing the dishes.

Best laid plans

Hola, cyber-amigos! I hope your Monday was as good as mine. I know, can you even believe it? A GOOD Monday? And you thought such a thing was only myth. But thanks to my last clinic patient cancelling, I was able to do lots and lots of errand running that I'd been deferring for pretty much the last month. And just ask Nick... productivity always makes me happy.
Know what else makes me happy? I am (almost) exactly 2/3 through this pregnancy business. Today is 66% on the nose.
And what else? This month promises at least a few short days, the thought of which is positively intoxicating. My mind immediately turns to baking and crafting. (But if you see my program director, tell him I said "extra reading on Hughes-Stovin syndrome.") I've already got a pumpkin bread pudding and strawberry shortcake bars in the line-up. I really want to find some killer cookie recipes, too. And scrapbooking. And more decorating Elle's room - re-finishing the dresser, making curtains, putting up wall stuff. I am giddy with anticipation!
Not to mention a visit from Mom and a trip to Colorado. October's gonna pack a big punch. Good thing it's got 31 days.

My own personal Yedi

Hot diggity dog, boys and girls. Today was a good 'un. Not just because I got off twenty minutes early and had pizza and cupcakes for dinner. Or even because it finally rained. A lot.
But because I made a mad crazy, wicked cool diagnosis at work. Well, I didn't actually do the staining of the kidney biopsy that showed the diagnosis, but I definitely called it on the day of admission. "Blah blah medical jargon blah blah. Amyloidosis is equally far-reaching but should also be considered as it would unite her various, seemingly incongruent symptoms. Recommend blah blah more boring medical jargon." It was in my note within two hours of admission. And 12 days later, abracadabra, alakazam!
And let me tell ya, kiddos, it's a rare one. Light chain amyloidosis without a monoclonal paraproteinemia? Whew! This is one of those things that people talk about second-hand; so-and-so from residency said his attending saw one once. But no one ever actually sees with her own eyes! And I did.

That is all. Peace.

A little advice

A direct quote from my most recent consult note:

"She does not have any other signs or symptoms to suggest autoimmune or inflammatory connective tissue disease to me at this time. Therefore, would NOT get other "autoimmune" labs right now, as some would likely come back false + in setting of infection and therefore be difficult to interpret accurately."

Translation: Do not, I repeat do NOT, order an ANA. Or I may get angry. And you won't like Bethie when she's angry.

Life of pregnant Bethie: The monster within

Gizmo is not only getting bigger every day, she's getting more aggressive active. You can even feel her moving from the outside, which is the only thing weirder than the fact that I can feel her moving on the inside.

Pertinent digression: Remember that scene from Jurassic Park where the water glasses quiver as the T rex draws near?

The real story: Last night, I finished a phone call and set my phone down. On my belly. Because you must remember, it is my own personal goes-everywhere-I-go table. Then Gizmo kicked, and the phone wobbled, just like that video. I hope it's actually a baby and not a dinosaur in there.

Go ahead, make my day

Yeesh. That was a long, busy kinda day.I went into rheumatology to avoid 12-hour days, but that plan didn't work out so well for me today. At the halfway mark, I was draggin'. Clinic was comprised of 2/3 "I hurt all over" and 1/3 +ANA. And then I got a call about a gout attack (digression: wouldn't that be a totally awesome band name?) they needed me to stomp out. Needless to say, I was slightly less than enthused. And then I remembered.

I remembered the Ghiradelli chocolate square tucked in my lunch box. Happy sigh. Just what I needed.

So I guess I stand corrected. Steroids don't fix everything. Sometimes only chocolate will do.

Broken record

My day, in a nutshell:

1) It's not lupus. Trust me.

2) Don't stop the steroids. Ever.

3) It still isn't lupus. Just ain't.

4) Did I telepathically detect you thinking about stopping the steroids? Quit that tomfoolery right now.

5) No lupus.

6) Yes steroids.

Get the picture?

Octogenarians say the darndest things

I invited myself to Waco last weekend. More specifically, Angela's house. But more on that later. I also attended my first Baylor football game as an alum. This was an especially nice treat since 1) my friend Mike has nicely located season tickets and 2) Baylor won. And not just won, but got the game called in the third because of a >40 point lead in the midst of an impressive lightning storm. But that isn't the point. The point is this. As we were clambering out of the bleachers just before the half, we passed an adorable little old couple, all dressed in Baylor green and gold.

Me: Excuse me.
Adorable little old man: I hope they didn't charge you an extra ticket! [gesturing at my ever-expanding baby-incubating belly]
Me: Nope. I snuck her in!
ALOM and wife: [genuinely tickled laughter]

I think I made his day. Adorable. Just adorable. I hope Nick and I are that cute when we're old.

Absolutely positively

Sorry, I got distracted. Never got around to the third and final installment in the Most Common Rheumatology Chief Complaints series. But better late than never.

1) +ANA

As a preface, ANA is an autoantibody. People order it and then don't know what to do with the results. That's where I come in.

Me: In one sentence, what brings you to a rheumatology office today?
Patient: My lupus test is positive, so my doctor sent me to see you.
Me: You mean the ANA?
Patient: Yeah, my lupus test.
Me: Well, the ANA isn't exactly a test for lupus. But we'll talk about that. What symptoms did you have that made your doctor want to run those tests?
Patient: [The following are selected examples.]
1) I tried a new moisturizer, and my face broke out in a rash. My doctor was afraid it could be lupus.
2) My low back's been hurting for the last several years, ever since my car wreck. I just can't take it anymore. My doctor thought maybe the reason the pain wasn't going away was lupus.
3) I sneezed like 14 times in a row the other day. My doctor thought it might be lupus.
4) I'm just tired all the time. My doctor thought it might be lupus.
5) I get urinary infections all the time. My doctor thought it might be lupus.
Me: Sigh. OK. Let me ask you some other questions. [Big breath] Do you have rashes on the skin, hair falling out, sores in your mouth, sores in the eyes, super dry eyes so you can't wear contacts, super dry mouth so you can't swallow down crackers, fevers or infections, trouble breathing, pains in the chest, palpitations, cough, coughing up blood, coughing up sputum, belly pain, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, constipation, blood in your stools, dark dark black stools, burning when you pee, blood in the pee, super foamy pee like a head of beer in the toilet, joint pains, swollen joints, red joints, muscle aches, ever had a blood clot in your legs or lungs, trouble bleeding like you cut yourself shaving and it just won't stop, numbness or tingles anywhere?
Patient: Well, sometimes I get constipated if I don't take my fiber.
Me: Great news. You don't have lupus.
Patient: But my lupus test was positive.
Me: You see, the ANA isn't exactly a test for lupus. It's a generic screening test, so just because it's positive doesn't mean you have lupus. There's lots of perfectly normal, healthy people with positive ANAs.
Patient: But if I don't have lupus, why do I [insert previous examples here].
Me: Maybe you just had
1) an allergic reaction
2) mechanical back pain
3) a bad day
4) sleep apnea
5) plain old urinary tract infections.
But the good news is, you don't have lupus.

Thank you for this interesting consultation. The patient has been seen and discussed with Dr. A, who agrees with the above assessment and plan.

Sincerely,
Beth Scholz, MD
Rheumatology fellow, PGY-4

Dolor aqui?

Because I know you're on the edge of your seat from last time, I thought I'd enlighten you today about my #2 chief complaint: hurts all over.

Me: So, in one sentence, tell me what brings you to a rheumatologist?.
Patient: Well, I had the back injury 25 years. And then there was the car wreck with really bad whiplash 17 years ago; can you believe they didn't take away his license, after hurting me like that? I mean, I could have died. And then they did that surgery 9 years ago...*
Me: I'm sorry. But why are you here today?
Patient: I was telling you,..
[I'll spare you the painful details. Ten minutes later...]
Me: So you have chronic pain?
Patient: Yes.
Me: Where does it hurt the worst?
Patient: All over.
Me: But if you had to pick one spot, where does it hurt the worst?
Patient: All over.
Me: No, it would really help me if you could take one finger and point to the spot that hurts the absolute worst.
Patient: Here. [Takes one finger and makes circular gesture from chin to knee and back.]
Me: Well, I've got great news. You don't have lupus.
Patient: What? Well then why do I hurt everywhere?
Me: It isn't lupus. Lupus doesn't do that. Lupus gives you funny rashes and ulcers and makes your hair fall out. It doesn't make you hurt all over.
Patient: But I read all about lupus on the internet!
Me: Well, the good news is that none of those things are happening to you.
Patient: Well, I don't know. I may get a second opinion.

Thank you for this interesting consultation. The patient has been seen and discussed with Dr. A, who agrees with the above assessment and plan.

Sincerely,
Beth Scholz, MD
Rheumatology fellow, PGY-4
*You have just failed my "follows simple commands" test. One sentence, people, one sentence.

Pain in the what?

I love rheumatology for all the bizarre and esoteric diseases, but let's be honest; I pretty much see the same three complaints over and over.

1) +ANA
2) hurts all over

We'll get to those some other day. Today's featured chief complaint is...
3) I don't know.

Me: So, in one sentence, tell me what brings you to a rheumatologist.
Patient: I got the appointment card in the mail.
Me: Sigh. OK. But why did you get the appointment?
Patient: Because my doctor made it for me.
Me: Bigger sigh. OK, but why did your doctor want you to see me?
Patient: I don't know.
Me: Biggest sigh ever. Any problems with your joints lately? Or rashes?
Patient: Nope.
[Insert an hour's worth of detailed medical questioning here.]
Me: Well, I've got great news. You don't have lupus.

Thank you for this interesting consultation. The patient has been seen and discussed with Dr. A, who agrees with the above assessment and plan.

Sincerely,
Beth Scholz, MD
Rheumatology fellow, PGY-4

Eye on the prize

Gizmo just keeps getting bigger and bigger every day. I hear it's what babies do. The downside to this is that I keep getting bigger and bigger every day. Bummer. A closet full of great clothes that don't fit (right now). A la water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink. And the thought of all the extra exercise and dietary discretion in my future to get back to my usual self is down-right discouraging.
But then I stumbled onto this store - Shabby Apple - and found my reason not to give up. Think Anthropologie but less boho, more uptown. Oh, it's just beautiful. And it's my reward. In however many months, when I'm back to "normal," a new dress from here shall be my reward. The hardest part about that is going to be picking just one.

Umm...

I only had one new consult all week. That might be a record. But it was a doozie. The patient has a neurological problem, which kind of renders her unfit to tell her own story. As in, she thinks the telemetry box is a cell phone. Problem. Her family isn't in the room and didn't answer the phone. Another problem. She's on a surgery service, so the notes lean a little to the Spartan side. Yet another problem. Our Sherlock-Holmes-ian attempt at investigation this morning (including googling rheumatologists in her hometown) twas all for naught. Rounds went something like this...

Attending: So when was she diagnosed with lupus?
Student: I don't know.
Me: Because the patient can't tell us.
Attending: And who made the diagnosis?
Student: I don't know.
Me: Because the patient can't tell us.
Attending: And what meds was she on at home?
Student: I don't know.
Me: Because the patient can't tell us.

I wish I could tell you she woke up and told us everything, or at least that we fixed her with steroids. But in the end, this is what we got...

Me: So what do you think? Is it her lupus? Should we pulse her?
Attending: I don't know.

Say it with food

Not much going on this weekend. Although I feel like I've kept myself busy, I couldn't tell you what I've done. I definitely haven't gotten as far with my next case conference and journal club presentations as I would have liked. But there's always tomorrow because I have Labor Day off for the first time in years! Nick has Labor Day off, too. Since he starts his job Tuesday, I decided a little Pre-Labor Day celebration was in order today. As in, pre-actual holiday and pre-new job.
This "celebration" mostly involved food. I braved the maddening crowd at HEB this afternoon; I'll spare you my long tale of annoyance and woe in the check-out line and get straight to the good stuff. Steak. Lots of steak. And twice-baked potatoes. And asparagus with shallot-garlic butter.

And my man at his new grill.

The fruits of our labor.

And thanks to HEB's strategically designed den of temptation, I got coupon-ed into a package of Oreos with my milk purchase. Which means I'm gonna test that Oreo Fudge bar recipe I favorited so very long ago. I'll let you know how it goes.

P.S. I promise the next blog will not be about food.

P.P.S. Well, not JUST food. I'll talk about something else, too.

P.P.P.S. I just remembered that I never told you how very swimmingly my mint ice cream trial went last month. Deeeelicious. But I don't think it will be worth the decimated mint plant very often. However, I now have a wonderfully smooth ice cream base recipe with cooked (!) eggs that I love. That is all. Good night, and happy Labor Day.

A brief digression

I've been saving this post for a rainy day. Unfortunately, not literally rainy. My dying tomato plan dreams of literal rain. We're talking figurative here; I'm suffering from a paucity of creativity and wittiness. Good thing I've got my fall back plan. It doesn't have anything to do with what's going on with me right now, but eh, blogger's prerogative, right? I'll be back later this week with my usual dazzling array of wit and sage wisdom. Until then, happy viewing.

Internal Medicine Picnic, June 2010

Hawaii vacation, September 2009



And quite possibly my favorite picture of us, EVER. Engagement photos better late than never.

Thanks, Kristen!

Not so pretty in pink

Have you ever thought you were really good at something and then had it taken away from you? Stinks, right?
No, I'm not talking about work. I'm a darn good doctor. I'm talking about my skills (or newly apparent lack thereof) as an interior designer. Specifically, I'm referring to my formerly uncanny ability to pick paint colors. I mean, I picked eleven different colors altogether for our house in Nashville and loved every last one from paint swatch to done deal up on the walls.
But I've found my downfall... pink. Gizmo's room decor is going to be pink with aqua and just a bit of lime green here and there. I can picture it now... three white walls and one pink wall with a thick, horizontal aqua stripe. Oh, the white crib will stand out so nicely against the rich, saturated pink.
Game time: I have a color picked. Nick comments on how bright a pink it is. I start to doubt, which was clearly mistake #1 as I've always ignored his paint color comments before. So instead of going with Bridesmaid, I head one shade lighter next door to Cotton Candy. Fast forward to the home improvement store. The guy shows us the color before he pounds it shut (the nails on my pink paint coffin), and I realize this pink is bright. But not the rich, watermelon hue I'd envisioned. Like, neon. But it always dries darker, right? This leads me straight to mistake #2 in which I quell the inner voice telling me how ugly this paint is. Drying darker takes us from neon to Pepto Bismol. Nick tried to be encouraging and call it bubblegum.
Back to the drawing board. We're down to two much darker, deeper pinks. Watermelon and Dragon Fruit. But now I can't commit; I'm paralyzed with paint selection fear.
I think I'm going to have to join the mere mortals of home design and... buy tiny paint sample jars before committing to a color. This goes against everything in my impulse-decision making self, but I just can't get out of my own head. Hopefully I'll have some good news on the other side of my re-pinked wall.

Life of pregnant Bethie: Cookie Monster

I had a long, icky day on call Sunday. Apparently there was a massive gout outbreak in Houston, TX, and I was the only one qualified to stamp it out. I tell you that to tell you this... I came home, and Nick had a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies coming out of the oven, just for me. To make my bad day better. Cute huh?
I was sitting at the computer, leaning back in the chair with my feet propped up on the desk. He brought me a little plate with my cookies. And set it. On. My. Belly. And it didn't fall. It stayed. Right there.
I have grown my own personal table. I hope Gizmo's proud of herself.
Heck, in a few weeks I'll be ale to balance a BIG plate of cookies. Keep 'em coming, honey!

Battle of the sexes: Pink, it's my new obsession

Preface: Gizmo is a girl!

The A/C was fixed Wednesday, so we are out of the hotel and back into our house. Good.

Work has been busy. Very busy. Journal club presentation quite overwhelming. Not as good.

We registered for baby stuff. Very good. As in, muy bueno.

There is so much pink to be had, I don't even know where to begin. Nick on the other hand, doesn't have the same appreciation.

Nick: Why is everything pink?!
Me: Because we're in the baby girl section.
Nick: But, why is everything pink?
Me: Look, here's a purple thing.
Nick: Why is everything pink?!

Upon spying tiny baby Batman onesies in the boy section...
Nick: How come all the good stuff is for boys? How come they don't make this for girls?
Me: They do make good stuff for girls.
Nick: They don't make Batman or Star Wars for girls.
Me: Tell you what. You can put a Batman onesie on her, as long as you also put a giant flower on her head so everyone knows she's a girl.
Nick: Why is everything pink?!

While looking at even more pink things...
Nick: You realize I'm gonna get her Star Wars toys, right? And trucks. Stuff I wanna play with.
Me: You realize, right, that Han Solo and GI Joe will be used to rescue the princesses? And marry Barbie? I mean, Barbie has to marry someone.
Nick: Why is everything pink?!

So you see, everything's coming up (pink) roses in our house. At least as far as I'm concerned.

Steam treatment

Ay, ay, ay. Today has brought both fantaaaastic and really yicky news. Good news first.

Nick has a job! Hallelujah and yippee-kay-yay! And not just any job, a job at... Schlumberger. Ooooo, aaaah. I've been told that this means something to you if you have any contact with the oil and gas industry. So many thanks for any and every prayer dedicated to Nick and his job search. Like I've been telling him for years, we just had to get back to Texas so good things could start happening!

And now for the rest of the story: Our home's air conditioner died today. A moment of silence please. After some back and forth with the landlord, it looks like somebody will be over sometime tomorrow afternoon to maybe possibly see about starting to get it fixed. That is a reeeeeeally long time to go without A/C when your house feels like an indoor sauna. As in, it went up 8 degrees in less than 2 hours. And I'm not super pregnant, but I'm pregnant enough that I was particularly uncomfortable (translation: particularly whiney). So I'm writing this from the chilly comfort of a hotel room. Yup, Nick, me, Gizmo, Jonesy, Izzy, and Dallas are shackin' up for the night. Wish us luck, folks.

Walking the plank, aka Sitting for Boards

Get it? Plank, board, plank, board? Hee, hee. Anyhoo...
I took my internal medicine boards today. Two things on that.

1) My specialty proved quite advantageous. There were a lot of rheum questions on that test, which from my perspective was great.
Other (hypothetical) person: Man, there was a lot of rheum on my boards. :(
Me: Man, there was a lot of rheum on my boards! :)

2) This brought back some horrendous memories of vascular surgery. You see, I had a rather difficult attending who liked to pimp. A lot.

[Note: This section has been edited for content to avoid getting myself hunted down by ABIM for disclosing classified testing material.]

Attending: Why does [this specific phenomenon] happen in renal failure?
Me: I don't know.
Attending: Sigh. Because of [this specific reason].

The fortunate part for me was that she didn't remember any of us, so the questions got repeated over and over and over again.

Attending: Why does [this specific phenomenon] happen in renal failure?
Me: This seems too easy. Is it a trick question? Well, I'll go for broke. Because of [this specific reason].
Attending: Hm. Very good.
Me: Woohoo! Point for Bethie!

Then, lo and behold, one of my questions today was....

42. Why does [this specific phenomenon] happen in renal failure?

And after fighting back a string of PTSD memories, I knew the answer.

Curses and many thanks, Dr. X.

Chez Bethie

As you all know, I love to cook. I especially love trying new recipes. Sometimes this goes well, and sometimes...not. I am happy to report that today I had not one, not two, but three resounding culinary victories! This is very welcome news since I've not been cooking much lately (lots of boards studying!) and was a little afraid I'd find my skills rusty.

I. Mint lemonade
Finding myself inspired by Angela's hunt for the perfect basil lemonade, I scoured the internet today for a minty variety of lemonade. Thank you, Bobby Flay and my voraciously growing mint plant. The original plan had been to drink this while laying out/studying in the backyard. Nick even agreed to refill my drink and spritz me with the hose periodically (yes, I think that would make him my cabana boy), but with a heat index of 105 degrees, I just couldn't do it. But I'm taking a raincheck on the cabana boy offer.

II. Sauteed chicken and zucchini with parsley-tarragon sauce
Yum and more yum! Cooking Light is notorious (in my humble opinion) for underestimating how long it takes to cook chicken. So yes, you can tell me all day long what a super-fast 20-minute recipe you have, but I just don't believe you anymore. I tried to get around this by pounding out my chicken breasts, and you know what? It mostly worked. Still took a little longer than the 4 minutes per side they instructed, but overall cut down on the cook time by a lot. And the light dredging of flour gave them a nice crust without seeming to heavily breaded. Wanna know the best part? This dish required one cutting board and one skillet, for which the dishwasher (aka my darling husband) is very thankful.

III. Buttermilk Parmesan mashed potatoes
My concoction is really more inspired by this Cooking Light recipe than actually following it. I 1) soured regular milk instead of using buttermilk 2) used plain Parmesan instead of Parmiggiano-Reggiano 3) used Yukon golds instead of russetts 4) tripled the butter and last but most certainly not least 5) added a clove of minced garlic. But tell you what, cyber-amigos, they were oh so tasty. Way better than the original recipe I'm certain.
No, no pictures of dinner. Sorry, but I can't bring myself to let a perfectly cooked meal go cold while I take pictures. But these are all going into The Book.

I'm hoping this turns into a streak. Nick's birthday is this week, so I'll be making the traditional chocolate cake at the birthday boy's request. However, I'm going to attempt fresh mint-Oreo ice cream to go with it. I'm putting the mint plant through its paces this week, huh? Wish me luck.

Not in Kansas no I mean Tennessee anymore

How I miss knowing and being known. Gone are the days where I could answer a page, "Hey, it's Beth," and the person on the other end of the phone knew who it was and shot straight with me. Now it's more like this...

Me: Hi, this is Beth Scholz with rheumatology.
Other person: Huh?
Me: Beth Scholz, The rheum fellow.
Other person: Uhhh...
Me: I  was paged? I'm the rheum fellow.
Other person: Oh! (the surprised kind) OK. Um, yeah, we have a consult. [Insert long, rambling, boring medical story here.]
Me: OK, be there soon. Sigh, the sad kind.

Back where I come from, it would have gone something like this...

Me: Hey, it's Beth.
Other person: Hey, Beth! I've got that lady with [short but still boring medical story]. Remember her? You actually admitted her three times last year.
Me: Mm, Jane Smith, right?
Other person: Yeah, yeah. That's the one
Me: Ug, back with another UTI?
Other person: But this time she also has [more boring medical data], so we're worried about lupus. The [lots of boring rheum tests] are pending. And by the way, have you baked anything lately?
Me: OK, be there soon. And yes, there's cookies in the library!

But seriously, there's lots of good stuff down here. I just find myself a bit surprised by how much I miss my Vandy peeps. Guess it maybe felt a bit more like home that I thought.

Lost in translation

I was consulted on a patient who is just visiting Houston. She lives in Chicago, so that's where her doctors and all her medical records are. I asked her doctor's name and phone number so I could contact him. Mind you, this is all in Spanish, which I speak (mostly) fluently still. Allow me to translate.

Me: And where does Dr. Smith work?
Patient: Cuconee Hospital.
Me: Cuconee?
Patient: Yes, Cuconee.
Me: Ooooook.

What?! Where the heck is Cuconee Hospital? I really want to ask how to spell it, but we tried spelling things earlier without much success. So I decide to stick to Rule #1 Fake it til you make it and head to Google for some help. Google doesn't know what to make of Cuconee Hospital either. It suggests lots of various spellings that lead to me places in Oklahoma, which is not Chicago. I even try it with a "K" and yet another different spelling I found in another resident's note, all to no avail.
Her doctor has a really common name, but I decide to go for broke and type in "Dr. Smith rheumatology Chicago." And guess what the first search result is?

Dr. Smith, Rheumatology, Cook County Hospital.

Oooooh! Cook County! Not Cuconee. Cook County - say it with a Spansh accent, and you'll get it.

Subtitles would sure be helpful sometimes.

PS I think I may write a strongly worded letter. Blogspot does not recognize "rheumatology" as a word and wants me to change it to "hematology." How narrow-minded.

Happy #6 to us

Well, technically Saturday was our anniversary. But we were be in San Antonio, partying like rock stars for our last Gizmo-less anniversary. I think the official term is "babymoon." Regardless, I was there and not here, so this post is retroactive.
We had a great time. Mostly. Except the part where Nick sustained a major flesh wound poolside. But the hotel room was snazzy (yay 21st floor of the Grand Hyatt), the food was great (more on that in a minute), and we were together (awwww).
But seriously, the food was great. We had our big dinner at Biga on the Banks, which is a trendy stopping just short of pretentious New American restaurant right on the river (but not the Riverwalk). We had a table just overlooking the water, which was perfect for watching the rain fall, which it did for part of the evening. Nick even took a foray into the wild culinary world of elk and quail. A bit gamey, we decided. (No, I don't really know what "gamey" means, but I'm hoping no one will call me on it.) Dessert in particular was fabulous, just fabulous. Nick's choice of mint chocolate souffle tart with fresh mint ice cream took the cake. Oh, twas so tasty. So tasty, my friends.
We also got to see some of Nick's family, totalling 1 aunt, 2 uncles, and 2 cousins. Also quite fun. Pool time at their hotel Sunday afternoon proved much less hazardous to our health as well.
So now we're home. We may not have a rooftop pool, but there were three waggily tails awaiting us upon our return. And a full work week. Here goes.

Tre chic, aka tres chicas at Roommate Reunion III

Hump day is almost upon us, so it's high time to brag on all the fun I had at Roommate Reunion III. This time around, Angela, Cassandra, and I rented a condo at Lake Travis. It was a bit of a drive but oh so worth it. I don't have pictures. I mean, there are pictures, but I don't have them. Angela used her super fun Instax camera, which is basically 21st century Polaroids. So here's what we did.

1) Eat pizza rolls for breakfast
2) Talk
3) Lay out
4) Eat Puppy Chow while talking
5) Talk while laying out
6) Scrapbook!*
7) Watch girl movies
8) Meet Mason, Cass' baby boy

Sounds like a great weekend, no? I already can't wait til next time! RR 3.5 will roll into Waco for a Baylor-style shindig sometime this spring. Woohoo!

*I'm gonna milk that and make it a separate post later.

Life of (pregnant) Bethie

I thought you might be entertained by a glimpse into my stream of conciousness. I promise I'm not going to over-blog going to try not to over-blog about the whole pregnancy thing, but send me a discrete, anonymous e-mail if anything gets to be TMI. (Mom, that means too much information.)

Earlier this morning, in my closet...
Ugh. This skirt doesn't zip. Double ugh. The buttons on this shirt are about to burst. I'm so fat. No, Beth, not fat. Pregnant. Eh, who am I kidding? I'm pregnant fat. Which is better than regular fat but still means I can't wear that dress today. I feel like I shouldn't be this big yet. I mean, Gizmo is sticking out a LOT. Hope I don't have polyhydramnios [overproduction of amniotic fluid leading to inappropriate uterine enlargement]. Can you even get that this early? Guess I need to bite the bullet and go shopping for maternity clothes.

This afternoon, in the maternity section...
Salesgirl: Hi! Are you shopping for yourself? (Yes.) How far along are you? (Almost 17 weeks.) Oh, wow. You're so tiny. I would have guessed 6 or 8 weeks. Well, look around and let me know if you need anything.
Yeah, "tiny." I'm sure she's learned from experience to guess at least a month less than she thinks. Does she not see the giant Gizmo bulge down there? [sift through a couple racks] But what if she's actually good at guessing? And I do look tiny? That would be nice. But then, what if that means I'm TOO small? Should Gizmo be bigger than he is? Oh no, what if he's IUGR [intra-uterine growth restriction]?! Maybe I should be gaining more weight. Oh, I hope everything's ok on the ultrasound next week. Especially his little kidneys. I mean, what if it's oligohydramnios [inadequate amniotic fluid production]?! OK, Beth, just calm down. I'm sure everything is fine.

In the dressing room...
Ugh. I look so big. Who was I kidding? I'm not too small. It would definitely be too big if anything. Oh, I hope his little esophagus and lungs are ok! And on and on, but I'll spare you.

Being me is exhausting.

No time to exhale

Oh. My. Goodness. Have you ever been just overwhelmed by all the good things in your life? It's a great feeling, no? But still a busy one. As for myself, I'm glad finally to be caught up in a whirlwind of good things and not stuck in a quagmire of trying ones. Starting with my first case conference last week. I've spent my entire fellowship so far (yes, all three weeks of it) stressing out over my HOUR long presentation. Then the day came and went. Just like that. And it went well. People commented but didn't criticize, asked lots of questions, and (best of all) no one fell asleep! But that could just be because I talk so darn loud. Eh, regardless.
And the good things just keep on rolling. Like the mad crazy Still's disease I saw in clinic yesterday.* Like the BBQ we're having at our place tonight with small group friends. And Roommate Reunion 3 (can't stop that train) this weekend. And some of Nick's family being in Texas next week. And getting to see if Gizmo is Gizmo or Gizette the week after that.
Woohoo. It's good to be me today.

*Still's disease is rare. You don't care about the rest. Very good for me, not as good for the patient. But he'll feel a heck of a lot better after a few days of steroids. Yes, Virginia, steroids really do fix everything.

Battle of the sexes: dinner time

Nick and I eat fast. Kinda like he walks fast, and I type fast, and we both make decisions fast. In fact, he's been known to put his fork down on his clean plate, look at my plate with a few bites left, and declare, "I won!"
Now here's an excerpt from tonight's dinner conversation when I finished my bowl of soup first.

Nick: Wow, that was fast. Did you even taste your food?
Me: What? You only have like three bites left. Besides, I'm disappointed in the recipe and didn't feel the need to savor it.
Nick: Yeah, whatever.
Me: And hey, how come when you finish your food first you win, but when I finish first I'm inhaling it?
Nick: I don't make the rules of the games, Beth. I just win them.