Good news...

...comes in two's.

1) Jen is safe!
Well, safe is relative. Probably not as safe as if she were sitting in my living room in Nashville, but safe nonetheless. She had moved to an upstairs apartment and then to a fellow teacher's house in a different neighborhood after the prison break only blocks from her house. And her school organized an evacuation of its staff today to an area near the Red Sea. The last post from her mom was that it was still TBD if they would leave the region entirely or just stay put at the resort. I say this like I can't believe it, but didn't we know God would deliver her all along? He is so good, all the time.

2) I'm a winner!
OK, this statement is a) not as big and b) not as factual as #1, but humor me. A former med student of mine (now an intern) and myself wrote an abstract based on a case presentation we saw last year. The details would bore all you non-medical people, but let it suffice to say that I believe we had only the 6th case of documented vancomycin-induced DRESS syndrome and the ONLY case of DRESS syndrome followed by development of psoriasis. Trust me, that's rare. Big time stuff, no? All that to say this... Our abstract was actually accepted as a finalist to be presented in the national ACP competition at the annual meeting this April. But wait, it actually gets better. In San Diego! Whoa, better still. Vandy is paying for the trip!

Can I get "Woohoos" and "Amens" all around? Thank you, thank you very much.

Close to home

Sorry, but I don't have any funny anecdotes or self-righteous indignation today. But I do want to ask for your prayers for my best friend Jen. You see, she moved to Egypt two years ago to teach at an American school there. Her mother, some other friends, and I were terrified, but she was oh so excited. And she's had a great time travelling the world and whatnot.
Until this week.
Thankfully, she moved over the summer from to a fairly suburban area. Her old neighborhood is swarming with protestors right now. But even so, she lives across from a mosque, which brings some undesired action to her street. I haven't heard much from her what with the shutdown of the internet, but her last post commented that she's moved to an upstairs apartment because of gunfire in the street.
I've been confessing with my mouth that I trust the Lord will keep her safe and then asking Him to help me overcome my unbelief.
Please pray for Jen - for her safety, for peace, for wisdom and discernment about what to do, especially in regards to if and when to consider evacuation.
I'll keep you posted.

Let's make a deal

So I'm back on Team Failure. The hours are long, and you wouldn't believe some of this stuff if I told you. But I can't tell you. Because of HIPAA. But let's not dwell on that. Let's tell you a story that won't get my license revoked. I called in a vascular surgery consult overnight on call, and because I happen to know the vascular intern in my non-hospital life, he had to be nicer to me than usually occurs betwixt medicine and surgery in the wee small hours. So we texted back and forth about my guy throughout the night, and he asked for some help with blood pressure meds on one of his guys. My guy really needed an operation and (believe it or not) had no other medical problems for which he could possibly be shunned by a surgeon. So I did the unthinkable and decided to attempt a reverse dump - sending a patient to surgery. My attending said I'd never make it happen.
Ring, ring.
Intern: Hey, Beth.
Me: Hey. So my guy's doing great, except that he needs that giant aneurysm fixed.
Intern: Yup.
Me: I mean, BP's great, heart rate's running 60 to 65, and he's the only 74-year-old man in the world with no other medical problems.
Intern: Yup.
Me: So, how'd you feel about taking him on your service?
Intern: (Pause) Yeah, we'll take him. As a trade. You take that other guy.
Me: Done. (Click) Hey, Dr. D - they took him!
Dr. D: Impressive.

You see, "that other guy" is the one with the jacked up BP who I'd been helping with overnight. My fellow had been seeing him as a consult and had told me he wanted to offer to take him onto my service this coming week. But the intern didn't know that - he thought he'd dumped a trainwreck on me. I, on the other hand, felt like I got something for nothing since I was gonna end up with that other guy anyway. We made the exchange the next morning. And you know what? All those changes I made on call had taken effect, and my new guy looked awesome. And I quote, "Better than I've felt in ten years." So I discharged him the same day. And my original guy? Still sittin' there. With a giant aneurysm.
May this day go down in history.

Oops-a-daisy

So it's out of the CCU frying pan and into the Heart Failure fire with me. One last anecdote from my last CCU day. I'm sitting at the nurse station, typing my notes, all hyped up that it's my last day. Someone walks up behind me.

Voice: Is anyone here the resident for the CCU patients?
Me: Yeah, that's me. Whadup?
Voice: I just wanted to talk to you about Mr. X.
Me: (still typing, not turning around, assuming it's a nurse) Yes? Whadya need?
Voice: I'm the CT surgery attending, and I just wanted a few studies on him before he goes to the OR tomorrow.
Me: (whipping around, fear in my voice) Oh! OK! What can I do for you?! Right away!

I can't believe I spoke like that to a CT surgery attending and lived to tell the tale!

My achey breaky heart

I've been in the CCU (cardiac care unit - ICU for hearts, if you will) for the last two weeks. I've made a concerted effort not to complain, and today is my last day. But I just can't take these last 22h 58min without venting a little. Here is an illustrative story from my last call. Before I begin, let me inform you that a normal potassium level is technically 3.3-5.1. But the CCU nurses are a wee bit obssessive with keeping it over 4.0. The CCU world positively revolves around potassium.

The time is 12:53am. I've admitted 7 patients, dropped 2 lines, titrated some pressors, and I am tired. I want to sleep. I decide to make a lap before heading to my call room, which means walking the loop around the unit to talk to each nurse about her patient.
Me: Alright, everybody, this is my pre-nap lap. Speak now or hold your peace for while.
Nurses 1-5: Nah, I'm good.
Nurse 6: Oh, doctor. I checked Mr. X's potassium, and it was 3.7, so I re-sent it. And then it came back 4.3, so I re-sent it again. The last one is still pending, so I'll just page you in a little bit to tell you what it was.
Me: Well, I'll be getting up in an hour to check all the potassiums. You see, I have a LOT of potassiums to check. So I'll just look at it then.
Approximately 6 minutes later...
Pager: Beep, beep, beep!
Me: Huh?! What?! What do you want?! Who is bothering me?!
Dial the number back
Nurse 6: Hello?
Me: Beth Scholz.
Nurse 6: Hey, that potassium came back at 4.1 this time, so I guess we're fine.
Smoke and flames pour from my nostrils
Me: Anything else?
Nurse 6: No, just wanted you to know.
Click

Going down?

Remember how I promised you multiple reasons why Tennessee is not for me but then only gave you one?

Reason #3: Awkward elevator conversation

Almost universally,Tennesseans have an unusual reaction to confined spaces, i.e. elevators. They feel the need to engage in either odd or inappropriately personal conversation with complete strangers who happen to be riding the same elevator. We're not talking a friendly "hello" or "Gee, hot outside, isn't it?" That's normal. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked in the elevator if I work here at the hospital. I want to reply, "No, I just wear the white coat to get a discount in the cafeteria because the food's so good." But this one takes the cake. I'm post-call and finally going home after being up all night, and I look it. Bags under my eyes, smudgy mascara, wrinkled scrubs pants, etc, etc. A patient is also riding down, pulling her IV pole.

Patient: What's wrong?
Pause in which I decide whether or not to answer, knowing this can go nowhere good. Ultimately decide I can't pretend she must be talking to someone else as there is no one else in the elevator. Decide on a silent shake of the head.
Patient: You look sad.
Me: Nope, just tired.
Patient: But you look sad.
Me: Nope, just tired. Been awake all night.
Patient: You should smile.
Me: Not now. I'll smile once I'm home.
Patient: But you're so much prettier when you smile.

I was debating between "You're so much prettier when you actually get dressed" or a good ol' fashioned "Shut up" when fortunately for me, the elevator doors opened and granted me relief from my state as a captive audience. Either reply would only have gotten me in trouble. But that's not the point. The point is that this would have been excusable, maybe even entertaining, from a small child, but this was a grown woman! Does she really think it's ok to intrude on someone who is clearly signalling her interest in being left alone by facing the wall and avoiding eye contact? Or better yet, to give advice on image when she's wearing fuzzy slippers in public? So beware, dear reader, of the trap the awaits you in every elevator in Tennessee.

Gettin' my craft on

Let's take a moment to remember December... A month when I had no overnight call, weekends off, and lots of time to do whatever I wanted. And by "whatever I wanted," I mean baking, shopping, and scrapbooking. Aah, those were the days. Let's look at some highlights, shall we?
It's been a while since I've dedicated a page to my furry little pet children, so I corrected that deficit. Dallas was a little hurt that she wasn't included because like the baby of any family, she just can't fathom that anything happened in the world before she came along. But these pictures pre-date her, so she'll just have to wait until my next consult month, when I plan to do a page about bringing her home.
I had saved our moving announcement with the specific intention of doing a page, which I have finally completed. I think I felt pressured to get this done before I design our next moving announcement for the address change back to Texas. This is one of my favorite pages that I've done. I like all the papers so much (giant polka dots make me happy), and I was able to use lots of things I've just had sitting around in my scrapbook box, which made the whole thing feel like a great bargain.

And with that, I finally finished the scrapbook chronicling my fourth year of med school. And when I say finally, I mean that I've been working on it for almost three years now. So now I get to start a new one. Yay! I recently bought a really ugly scrapbook on sale with the intention of re-covering and decorating it. After much debate with myself, I picked fabrics and ribbon and formulated my game plan. After a brief fight with my sewing machine and a much lengthier one with my glue gun, I present my latest creation! I like it very much.

Alright, people. Nothing else to see here. Move along. Time for me to get to work.

P.S.I just updated my blog so that the pictures will enlarge if you click on them. About time, huh?

A Christmas story

I can't believe I forgot to tell you this yesterday! You are gonna love this one. Here goes.

Nick and I definitely deck the halls for Christmas. Indoors and out, we are festive and fun, flirting with but never crossing the line into tacky. My personal favorite decoration is the garland we wrap around the banister up the staircase. I especially like the lights.

Izzy especially does not. She never had a problem before this year, and we've had this garland since her first Christmas. But she has developed dendroselaphobia.** She totally freaks out when the lights turn on and off. You see, Nick set up the little automatic timer thingies on the outlets, so they all click on at 5pm and off at 10pm. So for the last few weeks without fail, Izzy starts acting bizarre around a quarter til. You could set your watch by her. Then she does her wigging out thing for a while and is seemingly fine until the next changing of the lights.

What does she do, you ask? Well, sometimes she shakes all over. Other times she's just really clingy and underfoot. Often she hides behind the big chair in front of the window, tangling herself in the curtains and knocking the lamp off the side table. But the best is the night she (halfway) climbed in bed with us.

The dogs aren't allowed on the furniture or in the bed, and as previously discussed, Izzy is an ardent rule-follower. But I awoke one night to her cold nose on my face. This sometimes happens if I let my face wander too close to the edge of the bed, causing the doggies to think I want their cold, wet nasal attention. But I woke up a bit and realized I was in fact in the middle of the bed, and Izzy was (mostly) in bed with me. I guess she'd reached the point of desperation and needed me to wake up and comfort her. The problem with her plan was that our bed is too tall for her to just climb into, so her back legs were dangling off the edge. I woke Nick up with all my clambering to get her back on the ground, and he didn't think it was nearly as funny as I did. And Izzy didn't think it was funny at all. But she is back to herself now with the lights safely stored away in the basement. Crazy dog.

**the fear of both trees and lights

Procrastination situation

I know, I know. I hear you all begging for the Christmas pictures. I don't know why I've been putting this off, but I have. Actually, I take that back. I do know. It's because every time I sit down at the computer to blog (upstairs), I realize the camera is still in my purse (downstairs). And I'm just that lazy. But not today. Hold on while I retrieve the camera and upload pictures.

.

.

.

Here is the obligatory picture of me opening a present about which I am very excited but you can't see at all. It is the matching serving tray tier to my dishes.

My "big" present this year was an evening out at the Grand Ol' Opry to see the annual Christmas show, which always features the Rockettes. Nick knows how much I love a chance to get dressed up.

Dallas is such a poser. She's the only dog who consistently looks at the camera for photos.

And Jen and I had SO much fun talking and shopping and laughing and talking and shopping and... OK, you get the picture. Speaking of, we made good on our vow to get a nice picture together this visit, which haven't done our last few visits.

And the piece de resistance... Mom gave Nick and me Dicecapades, which is Cranium-like game. Anyhoo, I drew a card telling me to arm-wrestle the person on my right, which happened to be. My. Mother. She's stronger than she looks, and I only beat her because she was laughing so hard she let go.

Looks like I've got some scrapbooking to do!

Merry belated Christmas, and a happy tardy New Year.

Battle of the sexes goes to the movies

Nick and I watch frequently watch movies as a "date night" activity because that's what boring, old, married, couples do. And we usually take turns picking the flick because we have different tastes. Guess that's just what happens when a standard-issue American man's man and a girly girl spend forever together. The conversation usually goes something like this.

Nick: You should pick out a movie.
Me: No, you pick. It's your turn.
Nick: I know. That's why you should pick. So it will be something you like, too.
Me: How about you pick three, and then I'll pick from those?
Nick: (rummage, rummage, rummage) OK. Last of the Mohicans. No Country for Old Men. Star Wars.
Me: Ugh. You always say Last of the Mohicans. It's so boring. I fall asleep every time.
Nick: But you should like it. There's a love story.
Me: No, there's a girl. That's not a love story.
Nick: But the whole premise is that this guy (points to the cover) loves this girl (again points to the cover) and fights to save her from the evil Indians. I mean Native Americans.
Me: Which involves lots of fighting and chopping. No love story.
Nick: So I suppose you'd rather watch Enchanted.
Me: Yes.
Nick: Because that's so exciting for me.
Me: But there's some funny parts. You laugh.
Nick: I laugh at them because they're dumb, not because they're funny. Not like the way they want me to laugh at them.

You see, Nick's go-to argument is to convince me there's going to be even the tiniest sliver of happy-ending romance, and I go straight for the comedic "gonna-make-you-laugh" jugular. And we both know we're lying, but we humor each other. Like today, when Nick picked Tron for us to see at the theater.

Me: What movie are we going to see?
Nick: Tron.
Me: (crinkle the nose and raise the eyebrows) That's the one you wanna see?
Nick. Yup. I bet there's a love story. Muh-wahahahahahaaa!

Is anybody out there?

Hello? Hello? Are you still there? I know, I know, I've been neglecting you, cyber-friends. I think today is a good day to get back in the blogging groove. Let me start by apologizing to anyone who e-mailed, called, or texted me Christmas Day and received nothing but silence in return. It was even more insane than usual for MICU call, and I ignored all of you equally. But since then, I'm doing grrreat! Here's a quick summary of events.
Nick gave me pretty little silver infinity knot necklace. We ordered pizza. I moonlighted. That night was even crazier than aforementioned Christmas call, but the mucho dinero was worth it. Jen came all the way from Egypt. We stayed up too late and caught up on a year's worth of best friend time. Mom came all the way from Texas. We went on a shopping spree. Sprinkle in a healthy dose of over-indulging in candy and sweet potatoes, and I think that about covers it. Lots of pictures and funny stories coming, I promise.
Then I go back to work Monday... the CCU awaits.