About last night

Oh, guys. Yesterday seemed to go so well, and then last night happened. Rounds went quickly, and we made some progress on discharges. Traffic wasn't that bad. Elle at her dinner voraciously. Everything sounds great, right? Except the part where I decided to make beef stroganoff for dinner.

And sliced open my left index finger with my shiny new Wusthof knife. So I stopped chopping and held pressure while Nick chopped. And then I kept holding pressure while he ate. And I still kept holding pressure while he took my snickerdoodle bars out of the oven. And while he (yes, he actually did this) fed me my dinner. And then, a mere 2 hours later, I admitted defeat and went to the mini St Luke's ER here in Pearland for my first ER visit ever. Ninety minutes later, I found myself the proud owner of 4 brand-spankin' new stitches. Here's a funny thing... turns out the ER doc who sewed me up is married to one of the eye doctors to which we frequently refer our patients, so we had lots of things to chat about while he worked the needle and thread.

And it finally, finally stopped bleeding. So now typing is a little awkward, but I'm on my way to good as new. And that's all she wrote.

My stupid mouth

Oh, my mouth is gonna get me in trouble. Way back in the day, I was quiet and shy and hardly talked. It was better that way. But as the years go by, I just get louder and more, well, direct with my opinions. My father used to tell me my mouth would get me in trouble, the way I just flat out said what I thought. And I remember thinking he was crazy because I didn't do that. Well, I didn't back then, but maybe he could see the future because I sure do now.

So I've been letting my real feelings show a little too much on consult service rounds, and I decided I was gonna reign it in this week. You know, be more professional as a good example to my residents and students. And then, not even 10 minutes in, I made a face. And everyone knew the face meant I disagreed with what the other people had done, so it wasn't really any better than actually saying the thing I was thinking.

This isn't just limited to work, though. I've had multiple people comment to me in the last few months how with Beth, you always know what you're getting or just what I'm thinking or what I really truly feel or blah blah blah. My neurotic mental jury is still out regarding whether that's a compliment or a criticism. And I can't find a verse in the Bible where it mentions the fruit of the Spirit of calling it like you see it. So I'll keep working to rectify my desire to be kind and benevolent with my belief that you don't do anyone any favors by beating around the bush or sugar-coating stuff. Feel free to let me know how I'm doing, but be warned that opinion may earn you an earful from yours truly.

And that's all I got for today. I've got a couple good work stories, but adequately de-identifying the involved parties would kill the punchline. Sorry. Until next time, cyber-friends.

The new flamingo shoe game

I was getting dressed last weekend for a girls' night out dinner last weekend, and I walked out in my navy leopard print silk tunic with the maroon skinny jeans and two different shoes. Well, the same shoe, actually, just in 2 colors - royal blue and teal. As per the usual routine, I asked Nick which shoe looked better, in a "it doesn't match it goes" sort of way, one leg at a time. Nick paused to ponder his response; you see, he's learned that if he answers too quickly I'll fuss at him for just saying something and not even thinking about it. So now he fakes it by pausing for a few seconds. But anyway, while he was "thinking,", Ellison jumped up and ran over to me and grabbed the toe of my teal shoe.

I think she wants me to wear the teal one.

Ellison then starts yanking on the teal shoe. I kick it off so she can hold it.

Hmm, seems like she really likes that shoe.

Child of mine then takes off running into my bedroom and throws the teal shoe in the closet.

Or maybe she really doesn't like that shoe and wants me to wear the blue ones. Looks like Nick might be in luck. I might have a new contestant to play Bethie's flamingo shoe game. And he thought he wanted all boys.

One. More. Day.

In residency I used to tell myself I could anything for a month, and I always did just that. Well let me tell you, this last month has surely tested whether I've still got what it takes.

This month I...
Raised my voice, just a little, and just a few times.
Faked it till I made it.
Never guessed, looked it up.
Carried a toaster into the hospital.
Won a battle with a consulting attending.
Laid awake at night worrying if I'd hurt somebody.
Passed on my 4 rules to survive residency and the nickel-dime-quarter-dollar approach to right heart caths to a captive audience.
Got to work at 5:45 and/or stayed there until 8:00, more than once.
Started getting comments about my baby belly.
Kinda sorta almost missed a few moments (well, mostly people) from my residency.
Wore lipstick one time.
Rambled during morning report to give the resident a reprieve from a verbal pelting.

So all said and done I'm surviving so far. As long as the last day doesn't get me. And then I will have exactly 334 days until I do it all over again.

Hump day, take 2

Sorry guys, I don't know what happened to that last post. I promise I wrote it, but Blogger just ate it. So here it is, again.

This Wednesday wasn't just any hump day. It was October 16, which is the exact middle of October. And that matters because the exact half-way point of October is the exact half-way mark for my time as a general medicine ward attending. Thirty-one straight days of work is proving to be a brutal task, so I'm looking for any excuse to celebrate. In honor of the occasion, here's the first funny work story in a long, long while.

My residents and I walk into a patient's room, where said patient is rifling through a bag of pill bottles.

Me: Whadya doing?
Patient: Nothing. Just looking.
Me: But why do you need your pill bottles? Remember, the nurse gives you all the pills you need while you're here. Were you taking extra pills?
Patient: [awkward pause, deadpan face with sidelong gaze] Noooo.
Me: Would you tell me if you were?
Patient: [same facial expression] Yessssss.
Me: So then what are you doing with that bag of pill bottles?
Patient: Looking for a Band-Aid.
Me: Why do you need a Band-Aid? Are you bleeding? If you're bleeding we need to know about it.
Patient: No, I just wanted one.
Me: But why?
Patient: [still that same expression] Just in case.

Oh, well. In that case. Why didn't he just say so? I was too amused to ask the obvious follow-up question.... what endeavor has he planned that he anticipates will necessitate the use of a Band-Aid? I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Since when is tired back in style?

So this hasn't quite been a week of Mondays, but it's certainly been a week of early days. Early, early days. Way back when, when I was just a young whipper-snapper intern, one of my residents used to roll in for rounds about 15 minutes before the attending showed up. (She could get away with this because the other intern and I had our stuff together.) She told me it was because since intern year she'd implemented a rule that she doesn't wake up before 5:00 am. I remember laughing ruefully, thinking that day would never come for me.
And then it did. Not in residency, and not first year of fellowship. And definitely not right after Elle was born. But sometime last year, I sort of unofficially decided I wouldn't get up before 5:00 am anymore. Because I was too old and too far in my medical training to do that again.
Ha. Then came being an attending. I thought my new boss lady status would earn me a few extra minutes of shut eye, but that just hasn't been the case. So I've been up at 4:30 two days in a row. Bleh. This morning, I pre-rounded super early (before the residents were even there) and actually crossed paths with multiple surgeons. That's how you know you're there too early, if you see surgeons outside the OR. Fortunately, tomorrow is Saturday. So while I still have to go in (just like every single day of this incredibly long 31-day month), at least I have the power to set the time for rounds.
Good night. No really. Good night. I'm getting in bed.

My inaugural session

So I've officially been a medicine attending for a week now. And can I just tell you, it's weird. Just so weird. And a lot of work. I mean, I sleep in my own bed now, but these are still some long days. And even though the faces are different, the problems and politics are just the same. No stories of hilarity quite yet. Mostly just lots of feeling incompetent because I don't remember as much as I'd hoped I would. And that's not fishing for compliments; it's the truth. Somewhere around 6 or8 months ago I went from being a better medicine resident than rheumatologist to the other way around. Now if it doesn't involve prednisone, I feel like a fish out of water.
Thankfully I've only had a handful of panicky moments when I really, truly have no idea what to do. Like this one. Last weekend on rounds a guy was still having fever despite our treatment, and I didn't know why. So we made a change. And the same thing happened the next day. So we made another change. And I laid awake that night in bed, wondering what on earth I would tell them to do the next day if he were still febrile because I literally couldn't think of any rational test to run or medication to add. I couldn't think of anything to bluff my way through it or even who to consult for help. I mean, his problem seemed so obvious, and the plan was appropriate. Why wasn't he responding? Who was the real attending, and when was he gonna show up and tell us what to do?
So I woke up the next morning and found the attending when I looked in the mirror. There is no rescue. The buck really does stop here. But you know what? I got to work, and that guy's fever was gone. Thank goodness. Eight days down, 23 to go.

Unanticipated consequences

So one of the other fellows kindly offered me a single piece of chocolate from her bag of goodies this morning. It was delicious. But as soon as I finished it, a craving for chocolate of monstrous proportions came over me. So I had some chocolate frozen yogurt as soon as I got home after lunch (moment of silence for my last half day). But that didn't do the trick. So I grabbed the chocolate syrup out of the fridge and made myself a nice tall glass of chocolate milk, which helped for a couple hours.

I decided it was time to pull out the big guns.

Any guesses?

I know it might be hard to tell from the photo, but this is a hot fudge brownie sundae.* Now that's better. So... what's for dinner?

*Time is of the essence when warm brownie, hot chocolate sauce, and cold ice cream are involved. I couldn't dilly dally over the photography here.

Trick question

We ate at Texas Roadhouse the other day. It was delicious, as always. A pair of giant cow horns mounted on the wall caught Elle's attention.

Nick: Yeah, those are horns. From a cow. What does a cow say?
Elle: Moooooo,
Nick. Yup. But actually, those are from a dead cow. What does a dead cow say?
Elle: [blank stare]
Nick: Ha. Yup, that's right. A dead cow says nothing. Good job.

Too rich for my blood

Since our move is only two months away, I toured a few area daycares this morning. Now I'm not gonna name names, but I am gonna tell a story on one of them.

I knew I was in trouble when the lady had me sit in an overstuffed (real) leather chair by the aquarium while I waited for the director who would give the tour. I really knew I was in trouble when I had to stifle laughter several times just while reading the little new parent information packet. I tried counting the instances of "empowered" but lost track. In the section about communicating with your child, it actually said if your child is absorbed in an activity, you shouldn't interrupt her; rather, you should wait for her to finish before you speak. Um, beg pardon?
Then the tour commenced. The rooms were much quieter, more somber, and frankly more... beige than the rooms at the other places I toured. I'm sure this was to promote an environment of thoughtful learning or some such nonsense. Can't you just picture my child screaming, tearing through those hallowed halls? I can, and I don't think they'd find it as funny as I do.
My visit fell at lunchtime, so she showed me the toddlers sitting down to eat. With classical music playing in the background. All sitting quietly at the table, which was covered with an actual tablecloth. With a (glass) vase with flowers in the middle. All the kids had their home lunches (all hot meals, of course). I didn't even recognize most of the food (too snooty and/or ethnic); only one kid had chicken nuggets on his place (I love chicken nuggets). And the best part...I'm not kidding you... A teacher was pouring a little girl's milk into (no seriously, I'm not joking) a miniature glass goblet. For real. 
So my kid is a daycare baby, and I think she might be a little too... scrappy for the likes of these folk. There was apparently an episode the other day where another little girl snatched her blanket just as lunch was ending, right before nap. Elle took her down in a furor of tears and spaghetti sauce and emerged the proud victor and rightful owner of her blankie. I don't know if that sort of behavior would get her past the screening assessment required before enrollment. Whatevs. We'll just take my baby and her savoie faire to some place that will appreciate her for it.

A few big hits and a let down

Whew! Life is busy busy busy for Bethie lately. We're in the midst of contract negotiations for a (potentially) fabulous house. I actually started working at my (less than) glamorous job. And I co-hostessed a (no doubt about it) legendary baby shower for Meagan last weekend. And my rheum boards are just under 2 weeks away. Eek.

So how about a little culinary break? I meant to take pictures. I really did. Sorry.

Out of the park good:
1) Strawberry cupcakes with orange cream cheese icing
The first time I've made a strawberry cake that really, truly, actually tastes like strawberries. Thank goodness HEB carries freeze-dried strawberries because I couldn't find them at any other grocery store. My other option was to buy a lot of Special K with Red Berries and pick out the red bits.
The icing was really good, but I think it took some of the glory from the cupcakes. Next time, I'll do a plain vanilla cake to put the icing at the forefront or plain cream cheese icing to let the strawberries have their 15 minutes of fame.

2) chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake
I made mini-cheesecakes in a muffin tin. I think it would be better as a full-size cheesecake because I couldn't fit all the cookie dough bits into my allotted 30 mini-cakes. Layering them into a full cheesecake would give a more optimal dough to cheesecake ratio, methinks. And when you make this (which you should), I recommend a chocolate crumb crust. I made them both ways in testing, and you just need to trust me on this one.

3) Mediterranean phyllo dough pizza
An oldie but goodie that dates all the way back to med school. Basically, it's layers of phyllo dough brushed with butter/olive oil with mozzarella + Feta + parmesan sprinkled in between and piled on top along with thinly sliced cherry tomatoes. Cheese + butter + roasty tomatoes = yum.

Eh, it's ok
1) PB&A
So there's this great restaurant in Nashville, Bread & Co. They make delicious artisan breads than they then fashion into delicious sandwiches. And the cookies. Oh, the cookies. What I wouldn't do for a white chocolate toffee cookie from B&C right now. I took Angela there when she visited me, and it was good enough to make it into both a blog post and a scrapbook page. But my favorite was always the PB&A, which is cranberry-pecan bread with peanut butter, honey-cinnamon cream cheese, and thinly sliced Granny Smith apple. HEBs cranberry walnut bread is good but frankly just doesn't compare. And my cream cheese wasn't sweet enough. So this will be attempt #1 at re-creating my old favorite. I'll toll the bells to let you know if I ever pull off a good copy.

Happy munching, and I'll see you again sometime soon. Or at least soon-ish.

The sweet spot

Well, guys, I'd planned to do this post last weekend, but when Saturday afternoon rolled around, my heart just wasn't in it. What was supposed to be a fun and exciting final weekend of ultimate freedom before starting my new job turned into a grumpy, headache-y, stressful mess. I mean, nothing awful happened, but it just didn't meet the expectations I had in my head, which were admittedly lofty.

But believe it or not, all my Saturday hopes and dreams just showed up a little late, rolling in on Tuesday afternoon. I started my new job yesterday, but it was a little anticlimactic since apparently my office isn't fully set up for me to see patients just yet. So I got all the glory of my new badge (F is for faculty!) but none of the anxiety of seeing my first patient in two months. And since orientation ended a bit early, I still scored some afternoon chill time with my favorite baby. And then Nick and I met our realtor to do a second showing of a house that I think is just perfect for us: a little worn, definitely in need of updating, but on a big corner lot in the right school district. When I close my eyes I can see how beautiful we'll make it. And then to finish it off, fajitas at Pappasito's under the guise of stalling until rush hour traffic died down but really just because we've been in the mood for them ever since noticing their sign last week encouraging you "in queso emergency stop here."

So yesterday was as good as it gets here in reality. And don't worry; I'll keep you posted about the house status. But watch out; if we get it, my Pinterest explosion will begin anew.

Po-tay-to, po-tah-to

You may have been asking yourself, "What has Dr. Bethie been up to for the last 12 post-less days?" Well, folks, I've been doing a lot of things, but none more important than pondering this new revelation about mashed potatoes.

Mashed potatoes are meant to be bad for you.

Many of you know I exercise and eat just healthy enough to support my dessert habit. I drink diet soda. I buy low-fat sour cream. I even recently started making sweet tea and lemonade with half Splenda. But after months (nay, years) of making quasi-healthy mashed potatoes (less butter than I want, using 1% milk, going scant on the salt), I've changed my mind.

It happened when I made mashed potatoes for a new baby. Well, not for the actual baby but for a dinner to take to his parents. Since these potatoes were destined for someone else's table, I went all out. Lots of butter. Cream. A generous sprinkling of kosher salt. When I did my final taste test before packing them up, I decided that is how mashed potatoes are meant to be.

And that's all there is to say about that.

Was that thunder?

This pre-story factoid is very important: We had a nice thunderstorm a few days ago, so Elle played in the rain for the first time and loved it. (Refer to the picture of her in her adorable boots from my last post.)

Earlier today she was sitting on my lap while I read her a story in the big comfy chair in her room. It was nearly lunchtime, so my stomach growled. She looked up and over her shoulder at me and held her arm out, palm up. "Is it rain?"

No, baby girl. Mama just needs a cookie.

These boots were made for walking

So Target takes all my money. Case in point: I was strolling past the shoes on my way to the shampoo aisle and spied these adorable baby cowboy boots. Now does Elle need boots? It depends on your definition of need. I held off for a few days, but in the end I caved, as you and I both already knew would happen. So there we are, me and Elle, in the shoe section. I pick up the pink boots (with sparkly pink stars on the side) and show them to her.

Me: What do you think?
Elle: [big smile]
Me: But the brown ones would be more practical. I mean, they'd go with more stuff. [hold the brown ones up to her, too]
Elle: No, no. [pushes brown ones back to me]
Me: So you want the pink ones then?
Elle: Ping. [points and gives emphatic head nod]
Me: Alright, kid, you don't have to twist my arm. Pink it is.

And you know what? She wants to wear those things everywhere, with everything.

Brand new pink boots!

"Helping" Nick put on his shoes since she's apparently an expert now.



Playing in the rain, popping bubbles.

Maybe I should go back and get the brown ones, too. Hmm, tempting.

Back from the dark side

I was in WF last week with my mom, sister, and aunt. Ellison had a grand time, mostly because she was the center around which the universe revolved (even more than usual). I had fun because we ate a lot. A lot. The best part? Homemade ice cream, the old-fashioned way. Laurie was a champ and cranked pretty much the whole time with Mom assisting. And Ellison refilled the ice, one tiny cube at a time.

In case you were wondering, I was inside (=air-conditioning) making the hot fudge sauce. Delish!

Laurie and I worked off part of those calories with a way-too-early morning run. Well, I worked off part. Laurie worked off all with her seven mile (eek!) haul. Crazy girl is training for a half marathon. I know... my sister gets up at 5:00 am and runs nearly 20 miles a week. Invasion of the body snatchers?

Elle's favorite part of the weekend was probably the pool. That kid will cling to you like she's drowning when you're out in the middle, but there's nothing she loves more than jumping off the edge into your arms. And yes, that is my 1980s Pound Puppies beach towel on the chair in the background.

Thanks to the letter D for Dairy Queen and Auntie Laurie (who flew to Houston rather than Dallas for the sole purpose of riding an extra 4 hours in the backseat as Elle's entertainment) for making this trip possible.

Re-kindling my addiction

So I'd been doing a good job of not letting myself think about buying a new house, but that's just gone to pot over the last week or so. My Pinterest, which had gone untouched for months, is now overflowing with paint swatches and chevron-striped walls and lamps and on and on. I know I'll get carried away because that's exactly what happened in Nashville. Which resulted in this...

Which after much loss of blood, sweat, and tears (does Nick look like a man who cries?) resulted in this...

And my computer is now getting unhappy about so many photo uploads.

The big decision with which I'm struggling in my head right now is if I want lots of bold colors everywhere again or if I want more sophisticated and neutral (gray is really in right now and I'm loving it) with a few touches of demure color. Nick says I'm getting way ahead of myself, which is right. Which was the point of this exercise in looking back at the old house, to distract me. Which clearly didn't work. So I admit defeat, and I will now head back to Sherwin-Williams.com and debate greige versus twilight gray versus Renwick beige. Come find me if I'm not done in a few hours.

So happy together

Remember way back when? Back when Nick and I were brand new, and all of you thought we were crazy?

 

And remember when we took the plunge and got married? And you supported us, even though you still thought we were crazy?


 

And remember when we really were crazy and decided to have a baby?

 

Well it's been 8 years, and we're still at it. I love you, Nicholas Scholz! Happy anniversary to the perfect man for me!

 

When Bethie's away

Jen was foolish kind enough to offer to watch Elle overnight so Nick and I can go "away" tonight in honor of our anniversary next week. Most of you know her and know that she is not only a very experience early childhood educator, she is a kid-person extraordinaire and knows how to handle herself around a toddler. Even she appreciates detailed instructions on feeding my child since it can be such a nightmare. For your entertainment, here are the actual instructions I've written for her tonight.

Ellison’s Dinner: A How-to Guide for Intermediate Level Caregiver

Water in blue/pink cup in fridge. If you notice she consistently refuses to drink, try switching to milk (purple cup in fridge); she knows which cup holds what and has been preferring milk sometimes.

1) chicken nuggets: on plate in fridge

**remove the pouch from the fridge during this step and leave on counter (out of her view) to warm a bit
-microwave 15 sec, flip, then 15 sec more
-hand her a whole nugget, one at a time
-usually eats 2, may eat all 3
-if she starts ripping into little pieces, take away big chunk until she eats the little bits (will happen oh so slowly)
 
2) alphabet spaghettios: bowl  with orange lid in fridge under nugget plate
-microwave 20 sec, stir, then 5-10 sec more
-offer her a small bite on a fork, just let it touch her tongue to get a taste
-once she’s done making faces, reoffer the same bite (probably with success)
-keep offering small bites
-your discretion if you want to let her hold the fork; if you do, I recommend removing her shirt first
-small but existent chance she’ll totally refuse this; if so, move on

IF SHE TOTALLY REFUSES THE NUGGETS AND SPAGHETTIOS, CAN MAKE HALF A PB&J
-PB and bread in pantry, low-sugar strawberry jam in top shelf in fridge door
-cut the half in half and offer her bites; ok for her to hold if she wants

3) mango: small bowl in fridge under spaghettios
-offer her each chunk on a baby fork
-she can hold the fork to feed herself once each bit loaded
-even smaller but still existent chance she’ll refuse this; if so, move on

4) pouch: leftover spinach+raspberry by this point on the counter

-she’s been preferring to drink straight from pouch lately
-she can help hold pouch, but I don’t recommend letting her go it totally alone
-if she refuses cold pouch, can open new one (second shelf up on left under bread)
-put any unconsumed pouch in fridge

By now she may be full, but if she’s still going…

5) yogurt: in tiny Tupperware on top fridge shelf

-she can hold the spoon once it’s loaded
-if she’s already a mess, you can let her feed herself independently for comic relief, which you may need by now

6) cheese cubes: plastic baggie on top shelf

-she can feed herself, no more than 2 cubes in the mouth at once

Anyone wanna come over next weekend to babysit?

Proud moments in parenting

Yesterday I was putting Ellison into her car seat so we could go to the grocery store. She loves going to any type of store - riding around in the cart or her stroller, waving at strangers, eating crackers, and sipping from her big-kid straw cup. It makes her feel very cosmopolitan I think. But yesterday she didn't want to get strapped down in her (still rear-facing, sad sigh) car seat.

Me: Elle, you gotta get in your seat.
Elle: No.
Me: But, Elle, you have to get in your seat so we can go shopping. Don't you want to go shopping?
Elle: Shus? Shus?! Shus! (=shoes)

Yup. She's already growing up right.

Terror in the bathtub

Poor Ellison will be so embarrassed if she ever reads this someday. Sorry, kid; you just make it so easy.

So you may not know this, but little kid bathtub squirty toys accumulate mildew and gross stuff inside after a while. Then when you squirt them, out come little clumps of mildew grossness. I try to keep tabs on the offending toys and remove them from the rotation, but tonight Elle snuck one into the tub. So she's happily playing, playing, splashing, squealing with delight, and then all of a sudden... sheer panic. Kid starts crying and scootches (Blogger just tried to autocorrect that to "scotches" - yeesh, leave me and my made-up words alone!) to a corner of the tub, scrambling in an attempt to climb out. I can't figure out what's wrong, and then I realize there are little blobs of floating mildew from this particular toy. And she's pointing at them and screaming and crying, etc. So I pull her from the tub and partially drain it, waving the offending tidbits toward the drain, all the while assuring her that mommy will get all the scary little brown spots and the tub will again be a safe haven of wetness momentarily. So I put her back in, and within 15 seconds she sees one tiny little goomba that I missed and repeats the whole process. And she is freaking out. It's actually quite hilarious. I wish I'd captured it on video.

But what makes this story soooo funny (and so embarrassing to this child of mine) is that just last night, she pooped in the tub. [Sidebar to anyone contemplating bearing children: Bathtub poop will happen. I'm sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news, but it's true. I recommend strategizing early. I opt for rubber gloves (the medical kind), but I think a tiny little fishnet like you use in an aquarium would also work well.] And that didn't bother her at all. She was quite surprised and confused when I whisked her out of the tub. Her look said, "Farewell, dear bath, I hardly knew thee." And tonight it was all I could do to get her back in the tub even once I'd fully drained and refilled it. She would rather have gone to bed soapy than get back in, but fortunately I'm still bigger than her and can always win no matter what.

And that's the story of Ellison and the bathtub.

PS I do indeed clean the tub after a poo incident, so please don't be afraid to shower at my house should you ever find yourself an overnight guest at the casa de Scholz.

Battle of the sexes: Maintaining financial equilibrium

Hi again. As you may recall, I've been away for the last week in sunny Florida. But I'm back now. Jen and I had a great time, and my week away was such a great treat just after my forever graduation. A conversation we had in the car (there were many, it was a 15 hour drive each way) prompted this post. I first present to you, paraphrased, a conversation between Jen and her husband Chile.

Jen: I'm so excited about my vacation to Florida!
Chile: Yeah, it's gonna be a lot of fun.
Jen: And I'm glad Beth gets to come, but I'm sad that you're stuck in Houston working.
Chile: Oh, no, don't be. I'm just so proud that you were chosen from all the teachers at your school to go to this conference. You deserve this week away. Have fun, and don't worry about me.

Nick and I didn't have that particular variety of discussion about my trip, but here's a generic example of a conversation that's happened dozens of times over the last (nearly) 8 years.

Me: So, don't be mad, but I went shopping today.
Nick: Yeah? What'd ya buy?
Me: Um, a pair of heels and a pair of flats. And new skinny jeans. And a silk blouse.
Nick: Oh.
Me: And maybe a dress.
Nick: Mm-hmm.
Me: But you're the one who's always saying how those old brown flats have seen better days. And I always need more jeans. And heels. And I don't like the way the white silk blouse I already have looks with my new skirt so I wanted a new one. And you'll like the dress; it's short. And of course I got everything on sale.
Nick: No, that's fine. There's a couple Blu-Rays I've had on my wish list for a while, so that just means I'm getting some new movies. And maybe a game, too, with all that shopping you did.

Admittedly, the conversation rarely flows in the opposite direction where his spending starts the chain reaction. But sometimes, he responds like this...

Nick: No, that's fine. I bought a couple games off Amazon yesterday, so now we're even.

Learning new tricks

Kiddos, you are not gonna believe what Elle did to me yesterday. I would have told you then, but when I sat down I realized I never published the end-of-medical-training post, so I had to put it up and save this one for today.

Background: When Ellison gets her little paws on something forbidden, I have multiple strategies for removing it from her possession. Some involve tears, some don't. My preferred method is to offer her another equally or more desirable object (remember the eye of the beholder concept - to appeal to her the object can be anything from a scrap of paper to a single Cheerio). She is then (usually) willing to abdicate her claim to the first object in order to receive the second. In layman's terms, we trade.

The actual story: Today I was holding a giant, red, stuffed elephant (long-ago baby gift she's finally old enough to enjoy), talking in a silly voice and making it tickle her. She then ran to her toy pile (let's be honest, it's not a toy box anymore when the stuff overflows into a big heap around it), and grabbed her baby doll. She then held her doll out to me, which I graciously accepted with exclamations of what good hugs baby doll gives. My little booger of a child then plucked the giant elephant from my lap and darted off, throwing a devilish look over her shoulder.

Clever girl.

The end all, be all ending

Stick a fork in me, I'm done! As of 8:00 am, July 1, 2013 all (and I mean all) my medical training is totally, completely, and irrevocably complete. Everyone keeps asking if I'm excited. Of course I am, but it's too bizarrely surreal for me to feel much of anything. What have I been doing with myself so far, you ask? Well, I've been getting up at or before 6:00 am every day because Elle doesn't get that it's summer vacation. In fact, she seemed really confused Monday when I packed her in the car as usual early in the morning, but we ended up at the med center (so I could turn in my pager). She kept looking at me like I hadn't yet realized I'd missed the turn to daycare.

What else? Well, there is this fabulous and exciting trip to Florida with Jen coming up TOMORROW! Yay! And Nick has promised me a graduation dinner. I'm planning to investigate the availability of giant turkey legs from the grocery store for him to smoke, a la rodeo food. And there will be trips to the zoo and the children's museum and much, more more, none of which has anything to do with being a doctor. Stay tuned, but as of tomorrow I'm out for a week. See you on the other side.

Ode to the bladder

Two stories along the same trail tonight, kiddos. One made me think of the other.

1) Somebody pinch me!
The other night I had this bizarre dream. Well, not that bizarre. Just barely past reality. In this dream I was in clinic, and a patient's (adult) daughter was distraught about her mother's pain and how it limited her self-care and how it was just such a drain on her (the daughter) to take care of her (the mother) and couldn't I just please give her mother something for the pain? Like hydrocodone? And the whole time I was trying to tell her how badly I needed to pee and that if she would just let me go I'd come right back and listen to whatever she had to say. But she just kept talking and tried to follow me into the bathroom, and it was terrible. And then I finally woke up and had to pee really, really badly.

2) Boundaries
That dream made me think about this... As a med student, you are trained to follow your resident everywhere. If he/she sees you trailing along, he/she a) knows you're working b) might let you see/do something cool and c) is less likely to forget to send you home at the end of the day. So you just get into this habit of getting up whenever your resident does and following him/her down the hall. Well I've never followed anyone into the bathroom nor been followed myself, but I know people who have. So even though it may seem awkward to you, it's not uncommon (and I do it myself) to announce to your med students when the next stop is the potty. And this latest crop has been really eager beavers, so I've even taken to giving them a play-by-play of where I'm headed in clinic, when I'll be back to the workroom, and whether they need to come. Because if I don't broadcast that I'm simply going to the printer and then to drop the paper off with the scheduler, they'll get up and follow me down the hall like a little brood of ducklings. And there's just not a lot of medical learning to be had during a trip to the printer. So now you understand if when we're together, I ever stand up and proclaim, "I'm just going to the bathroom. You don't need to follow me." It's because I'm just going to the bathroom, and you don't need to follow me.

The time I made a promise I didn't want to keep

The other day I was feeding Ellison, and all she wanted was cheese. Which could frankly be any day of the week because that kid loves dairy. But this was a particular day when she'd already eaten all the cheese I'd cut from the block, and I wasn't in the mood to slice more.

Me: Elle, I think you've had enough cheese.
Ellison: Moh! (=more)
Me: No, no. Let's have something else. How about some banana?
Ellison: Moh, moh! (making grabby hands towards the block of cheese)
Me: OK, fine, kid. If you can say the word "cheese," I'll cube some more cheese for you. What d'ya say? Can you even say the word "cheese?" (She never has, so I think I'm safe.)
Ellison: Chis! Chis! (unfortunately, =cheese)
Me: Big sigh. Fine. Fine. I will slice you off some more cheese. But don't think you can make a habit of this, learning to say the word for whatever you want as a way to get it from me.

Fortunately, she hasn't yet learned "chocolate" or "diamonds," so we're safe from utter ruin for a while.

Reading Rainbow

Guys, I got nothing. So here's a filler post. I spent last weekend with Angela and Cassandra for RR5 (that's Roommate Reunion, surely you should know that by now), and we were discussing movies, books, etc. I was rattling off my recent faves (and by recent I mean since residency ended because you know I did zero pleasure reading during those 3 years), and Angela told me to cool my jets and please just put it on the blog because she couldn't remember it all. So here you go. And I'm not in the mood for italics and underlining for titles. Sorry.

1) The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: My last pick for book club. Autobiographical work from a man with locked-in syndrome (stroke that leaves you cognitively intact but paralyzed except for eye movements). Surprisingly not depressing and really prompted me to reflect on how I'd cope with catastrophic illness.

2) The Man in the Rockefeller Suit: Biographical tale of a guy who spent nearly 15 years posing as a Rockefeller. Crazy, just crazy. And so fascinating. How on earth did he dupe so many people? Simply by looking them in the face and telling fantastical lies. And he was semi-recently in the news related to a decades-old murder charge. Intriguing, no?

3) The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake: I was kinda expecting Like Water for Chocolate based on the back cover blurb, but magical realism (supernatural or magical things happening in reality) just doesn't work in English. Creative story but just didn't live up to my expectations.

4) Wicked: I think I was the last to know how awful the book is. Just see the musical, trust me.

5) A Lesson Before Dying: A classic that was on sale cheap one day so I picked it up. I don't even really remember how it ended, if that tells you anything. Overall fine, but I'd read To Kill a Mockingbird or The Help instead.

6) The Devil Wears Prada: More different from the movie than I expected. A little darker, which isn't that surprising. But I think the ending was more satisfying. I even re-watched the movie, thinking I'd like it more. I didn't.

7) The Poisonwood Bible: I couldn't put this book down when I read it. The plot isn't that gripping, but she just made everything seem so real. It's on my to-re-read list for sure, if I ever make it through the to-read list first.

8) How to Talk to a Liberal if You Must: Meagan recommended this to me years (many years) ago, and it just took me forever to purchase and read. Therefore, some of the examples are a bit dated, but it's still hilarious. Well, it's hilarious if you have right-leaning political views. If you're a leftie, please just don't tell Nick.

9) This Present Darkness: My favorite oldie-but-goodie. The juxtaposition of the angel/devil stories with the human plot line was very thought-provoking. It makes you look over your shoulder.

10) The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay: On my nightstand right now, by which I mean for the last 8 months. It's an interesting story and well-written, but just soooooo long. And the fact that I've stopped and started it multiple times doesn't help. But I recommend the first half. :)

Unanswered questions

So sometimes you take care of a patient in the hospital or follow him in clinic, and then he just... poof, disappears. And you wonder what happened to him. Did he fire you and get another doctor? Did he move? Did he, ahem, have a more heavenly disposition? I'd been wondering that about one of my clinic patients just a week or so ago. And then, as fate would have it...
I saw her at my Pearland HEB, tooling up and down the aisles with her family. I don't know if she saw me. If she did, she hid it well. No eye contact, no facial twitch. Nothing. But she looked pretty good in an LGFD* kind of way. And that was it. We passed like two ships in the night without further ado.
So now 1 down, about 6-7 more to go. I guess I need to go trolling the grocery stores of Houston.


*LGFD = looks good from door; often used in mocking to describe surgeons' assessments of their patients

The end is near

Can you I believe I finish fellowship in 22 days 2 hours and 40 minutes? Me either. It's just so crazy that after going to school (pretty much) every day since I was 4, there is no more school. Ever. I just can't wrap my head around it.
But wait, it gets weirder. My job won't (tentatively) start until October 2. Therefore, I will spend 3 months faking my way through stay-at-home mommy-hood. It's almost too good to be true - 3 months with just me and my favorite baby. Here's the rub; I have my rheumatology board exam October 1. So it won't be all fun and games. There will be studying. But mostly fun and games. And hopefully more crafty stuff and baby pictures.
I can't wait!

The thrill of my day

Pre-requisite medical knowledge before you read on: When renal failure patients go on dialysis, they get a procedure to prepare an artery and a vein as the portal for dialysis. Essentially, they sew together an artery and a vein in the forearm, which results in a buzzing sensation over the fistula (where the artery and vein connect). We call that buzzing feeling a "thrill."

Now that you know that, I can tell you this. I was in clinic today, and one of my patients happened to have a fistula in her right forearm, which I already knew. As I was examining her hand and wrist, I noted a weird vibration coming from her wrist. I thought, "What on earth?! What is wrong with her wrist?!" Then I remembered her fistula. Duh. It was her thrill.

Me: Ha, I couldn't figure out why your arm was buzzing.
Patient: puzzled look
Me: Then I remembered your fistula. I'd forgotten about it for a second.

She laughed at me. I don't imagine she often forgets that her arm buzzes.

Rules were made for following

This one's about my kid. Consider yourself warned. Ellison is turning into a typical toddler, testing boundaries and all that. But she's quite the little rule follower. For example, she's gotten used to us taking things away when she picks random stuff up from the floor (like tiny bits of paper or twigs), so she now picks them up and brings them straight to us. The same with the remote. She still goes for it, but once she snags it, she makes a beeline for Nick or me to turn over the prize. And shoes. If we kick our shoes off in the living room, we usually toss them over the edge of the baby perimeter. Now Ellison picks them up for us, carries them to the baby gate, and uses all her tiny baby strength to fling them over the gate into the dining area, safely out of harm's way.

The only place this has backfired is the kitchen. You see, silly mommy (that's me) drops unwanted and/or partially chewed then rejected baby bites onto the floor for the dogs. It's easier than actually cleaning it up. So now Ellison has learned to bypass the middle man and sends the undesirable tidbits straight to the floor all by herself, much to the dogs' bewildered joy and my dismay. I guess it's high time I learned that little eyes are watching, all the time.

Battle of the sexes: My love/hate relationship

As he occasionally does, Nick hasn't shaved all weekend, which always results in teasing back and forth all weekend about how his face will slice me open if I get too close or how I'll bleed everywhere if I kiss him, etc. You get the point. But today I made a confession...

Me: Don't read too much into this, but I need to tell you something.
Nick: Huh? puzzled, kinda worried look
Me: As much as I make fun of your 5-o'clock shadow, it does kind of make you a little bit ruggedly handsome.
Nick: We are well past 5-o'clock shadow here. This is like 3 days' worth.
Me: Yeah, I know. What I'm trying to say is that I like looking at your scruff. But not touching it because it might hurt me. But it's kinda manly, I guess.
Nick: Well, I am very manly. I even just drank Dr. Pepper 10. And you know, that's not for women. Just for guys.

If the punchline to that conversation didn't make sense, watch this and then read it again. Heck, even if you did get it, you should watch the commercial again because it's just that funny.

Sugar high

I've been tasked with producing a few dozen sugar cookies for a friend's upcoming baby shower. These cookies need to be 1) shaped like fleur de lis and 2) Mardis Gras purple and/or green. So I went on an adventure in sugar cookies this weekend in search of THE perfect sugar cookie. I've just washed down the last round of testing with a tall glass of milk, and here's the data.

1) "The Best Rolled Sugar Cookies" (allrecipes.com )
With over 5,000 reviewers averaging 4.5 stars, I went for this one first, thinking it would be the one.
The take: Basic ingredients, boasts easy prep and roll-out.
The dough: Kinda bland, made me wish I'd added a teeny bit of salt since the recipe includes none and I cook with unsalted butter. (And I usually cut the salt in every recipe by 50% or more, so I'm used to the absence of overtly salty flavor.)
The roll-out: True to the contributor's word, the dough rolled out beautifully. No cracking, held its shape when cut.
The finished product: Kinda bland as expected based on the dough. And just a little tough. Totally edible, but not the chewy deliciousness I was anticipating based on all those rave reviews.

2) Best-loved Sugar Cookies (Better Homes and Gardens)
When all else fails, I go back to my faithful red and white companion, which Mom gave me when I moved away to college.
The take: Uses half butter and half shortening, bake longer at a lower temp
The dough: Delish. I wanted just to sit with a spoon and eat the whole bowl.
The roll-out: Easy. No cracking or tearing. Firm enough to be cut and handled without warping my hearts but not hard.
The finished product: Very sweet and pretty flavorful for an unadorned sugar cookie. But the dough spread A LOT in the oven (chilled as directed after mixing, rolled/cut quickly and then straight in the oven), which resulted it pretty thin cookies with a lot of exterior crunch. Might work better if baked at higher temp for shorter time like the other recipes.

3) Sugar Cookies (Real Simple)
I've not had the best luck with Real Simple recipes, but I was looking for something different from the others I'd tried.
The take: High butter to sugar ratio.
The dough: So yummy. You can tell they're super buttery. Nice smooth texture.
The roll-out: Ug, rough. The dough went from chilled and firm to warm and smooshy really fast with all that butter. Made my little hearts lop-sided.
The finished product: Very buttery as expected, crunchy on the edge but still soft and crumbly in the middle. Not quite the chewiness I usually like in a cookie but appropriately sturdy for decorating.

4) Sugar Cookies (Southern Living)
Southern Living is pretty much the gold standard for anything involving butter and/or sugar. And don't tell me, "No, Paula Deen is." I didn't think of that until just now and don't want to make any more sugar cookies today.
The take: Lots of extra ingredients including lemon juice and vegetable oil.
The dough: Average. Relatively wet, required more time in the fridge to firm up than the others.
The roll-out: The easiest of all. The dough was nicely pliable, rolled out evenly with minimal fuss. Didn't require nearly as much flour as I expected to prevent sticking.
The finished product: More flavorful than #1, much softer than #2, less crunch than #3. But did spread a bit; the hearts were still recognizable but a bit too round. The most similar to what I remember making with Mom as a kid.

Top left, Real Simple. Top right, Southern Living.
Bottom left, allrecipes.com. Bottom left, BHG

The bottom line... I'll probably go with the Real Simple version and do plenty of chilling between each step since maintaining shape when baked and durability for decorating and transportation are my priorities. However, if I were to do a cookie cake, I'd likely choose BHG since the spreading wouldn't be an issue, and I like just a bit of crunchy outside on thick pan cookies. For drop cookies with buttercream (my favorite), I'd do Southern Living with my mom's buttercream.

Later this week will be adventures in coloring and pouring royal icing. Let's hope my patients don't mind purple and green fingers.

You oughta be in pictures

I haven't done many pictures of Ellison lately, so here's a random smattering of photo-updates.

Ellison's first try at both scooping and feeding her own yogurt. Aiming yogurt at your mouth is not only harder than it looks, it isn't nearly as fun as flinging it all over the table, your chest, and Mommy.

Mother's Day Breakfast for Dinner. Daddy, where's the bacon?

Her first time at the splash pad at our neighborhood park. That's her "whoa whoa whoa this is icy cold but still so fun" face.

You, with the ice cream cone. You're going down.

The Monday that never ends

Guys, I just don't know what's wrong. Nothing about this week has been that hard, but it's been sucking the life out of me. Just lots of little things, I guess. Really sick patients - not dying, just the kind that have half a dozen little issues that all need to be addressed in 30 minutes or less. Spending over half an hour on the phone investigating financially viable infusion options for my patient only to be shut down by the powers that be. My kid pushing me away to hug the daycare worker. Twice. The other guy talking apples when I'm talking oranges and then he throws an apple at my head (figuratively of course). Realizing I'm not as good in the kitchen as I once was and that the finer points of baking are not like riding a bicycle. (Fine, I'll get specific. Instead of custard I got scrambled eggs. And ganache that rolled off my cake into a goopy puddle.)
But I've still got a few good things. Like my precious baby girl, who ran back up to me for another hug this morning. And a handsome husband who still likes my baking. And a handmade gift from a patient. And a best friend who's already heard it all from me but still listens ever so patiently.

And a three day week on the other side of a three day weekend. Sigh of relief.

Oopsie doozie daisy

Sorry, guys. I thought I published a post last week but now can't find it anywhere. Blogger must have gotten hungry and eaten it for lunch.

So today was a Monday with not just a capital M but also a frowny face and a rain cloud. My clinic was just bursting at the seems with really sick and/or complicated and/or challenging patients today. I don't know how it happened, but it was almost more than my little head could take. As such, I'd like to propose a change to the scheduling department.
Normally my day is divided into new and follow-up slots with the new slots being 60 minutes and the follow-ups 30 minutes. Yes, this is a really long doctor appointment (in private practice most people do 15 minutes, 20 minutes tops). No, I don't actually spend that long with people. That's supposed to be time for staffing with the attending and doing lab slips and papers and stuff. But I propose the following... instead of dividing into new vs. old, I'm going to assign slots based on level of dooziness. I will assign every patient a doozie level based on severity of illness, # of medications, other complicating factors, and degree of general expected maintenance. I will structure my schedule to accommodate a variety of doozie factors, with mostly space for low numbers (oh say 0-4), a couple slots for moderate dooziness (maybe 5-8) and a single whoa Nellie doozie spot (9-10). So if you're an 8 but I already have three 6's and a 9 for the day, you'll just have to come the following week. Because if clinic keeps up at this pace for the next 6 weeks, my little head might explode before I graduate. And it would just be a shame after 26 years of school to get this close and not finish because of the rare but documented exploding fellow head syndrome.

Grown-ups say the darndest things

Two funny stories that I heard on the radio today.

1) One station is giving away Taylor Swift tickets, and caller who was the lucky winner just went crazy. Yelling and woohoo-ing all over the place. The DJ expressed surprise at a grown man's enthusiasm for Taylor and asked if he would be taking his girlfriend. The guy replied an emphatic, "No!" The DJ asked him why that wouldn't be the case. He replied, "If I had a girlfriend, my wife would kill me. I'm taking my wife." Heh. Funny.

2) Anybody know the station that does the "Second Date Update?" Some smitten dude or chick who can't get a call-back after a date uses the radio station to contact the person (on air of course) and ask why he/she doesn't like him/her and/or want to see him/her again. Today the dude called it. The chick said she didn't want to see him again because "we just have like totally opposite value systems." I thought maybe he'd made fun of Jesus or something. But oh no. What happened is while they were at dinner (on the initial date that got the whole thing started), the dude told the waitress he wanted to surprise the table next to them and pay the tab; it was a table full of uniformed servicemen. The chick said she thought that was such a waste of money and completely irresponsible. She went on to say that she's all for giving to charities but that she just thought it was ridiculous to pay for somebody's food who you don't even know.
Hmm, kinda like he was doing for you on that date? Ridiculous, I say. He sounded like a sweet guy. All you single ladies should call up the radio station and ask for his number.

The week in review

Last week I...

Ran 3 miles.

Made Elle laugh so hard she fell over.

Spent a relaxing afternoon with my bestie.

Lost sleep over a patient.

Held my baby close because the news on TV was just too much.

Almost ate a cupcake but then ate a mango instead.

Really, really scrubbed the shower.

Laughed so hard with Nick that I spit toothpaste all over the mirror.


How about you?

Reality check

I was sitting in the resident library earlier this week while a medicine resident and attending ran their list.

Dr. Attending: So what's the deal with Mrs. Jones?
Resident: Well, she's still bacteremic,* but ortho doesn't want to remove the infected hardware in her leg. And vascular won't revascularize* until the hardware's out. And plastics won't graft the wound until she's revascularized.
Dr. A: So why won't ortho just remove the hardware?
R: Because she hasn't been taking the antibiotics they prescribed her. So she's still infected.
Dr. A: But if she's still bacteremic they need to remove the hardware.
R: But they don't want to remove the hardware until she's not bacteremic.
Dr. A and R: Sigh.

I sat in the corner with my feet propped up, reading about TNF inhibitor use in pregnancy and smirking to myself. I remember those days, and I'm so glad that's not my problem anymore. And then a thought slapped me in the face like a cold mackerel... They're making me medicine attending for a month next year, so all the above will very much be my problem again. Sigh.

P.S. Can you even believe they're gonna let me be an attending? Crazy, right?


*helpful vocabulary:
bacteremia=bacteria growing from blood cultures
revascularize=surgery to open up or replace clogged/clotted vessels, usually in the legs

Her mother's daughter

Two stories about my kid.

Story #1: The case of the disappearing chocolate
Ellison's daycare had a class Easter egg hunt last month. All the parents brought little plastic eggs stuffed with candy, and the teachers "hid" them on the playground (=not really hidden at all, just lying around in the open). When I picked her up, the teachers told me how all the kids were toddling around, picking up eggs. But when they looked up, my child had only a couple eggs but a face full of chocolate. Apparently she was the only one smart enough to bust into the eggs and go straight for the good stuff. That's my girl.

Story #2: One sock, two sock
When I picked her up today, she saw me through the door and stood up from the table (where she was impatiently awaiting afternoon snack #2) and ran for me. With only one sock and shoe on. The teacher had her other shoe, with the sock neatly tucked inside. That's Elle's thing, you see, to take off her shoe (usually just one, she likes to save the other for later) and then the sock, and then tuck the sock into the shoe. It seems she is the only child in her class who does this. The others scatter socks and shoes willy nilly all over the place. They thought we'd taught her to do the sock-tuck thing to keep track of them. Nope. She's just type A by nature. Again, that's my girl.

Her cover girl pose. And yes, I let my child chew on paper towel tubes. Don't judge me.

Me and my PTSD

I have to re-certify my ACLS* training for my new hire credentialing. Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, I can do this via a computer program and then just go take the test at the medical school next week. So there's this little program, kinda like the Sims, where I am the puppeteer of the little on-screen code team.
And ya know what? This is giving me flashbacks to all those terrifying nights in the ICU, where I sat awake at the nurse station all night because I somehow felt like if I watched the tele monitors, no one would dare to die on me. Know what else? I still hate coding people. Even if it's just a mannequin. Even if it's just a two dimensional, on screen figment of someone else's imagination. I did my time in the ICU, and I think I did it (mostly) well. But codes make me sooooo anxious. I mean, I can pause this and look up the answer to make sure I don't kill my patient. I mean my mannequin. I mean my virtual mannequin. And it still makes my palms sweat!
Thank goodness for rheumatology. Because even though I'll always carry my code card in my pocket, just in case, I can sleep at night knowing there is no realistic chance I'll ever have to do that again. So a big thank you to all the adrenaline-junkie ICU docs out there. I'll stick to my steroids, thank you very much.


*ACLS=Advanced Cardiac Life Support=coding somebody

Battle of the sexes: The dirty work

I was doing laundry last week and just not feeling in the mood to do so. I got everything dried, sorted, and folded, and then the laundry blahs just kind of hit me.

 

Me: So I'm not in the mood to put the laundry away, which means you're in charge of putting your own socks in the drawer.

Nick: What?! That's not right. How about I make you mow your half of the yard.

Me: But I never spend any time out there. So I shouldn't have to mow it.

Nick: I don't ever spend time out in the yard, so how come I'm the one stuck mowing it?

Me: Uh, yes you do. You spend a lot of time in the yard while you're out there mowing it. So there you have it.

 

Needless to say, Nick was less than amused by my so-called "circular" logic. I say he's just a sore loser.

Up in smoke

When searching for a picture of recently-mentioned freshman self with short hair, I found this photo.

Now here's a story for you. Jen and I did spring break at Padre one year in college. I'd booked us this cheap motel really close to the beach. Then just a few days before our trip, I got an e-mail. They regretted to inform me the hotel had been destroyed in a fire. Hmm, quite unfortunate. The good news is that they booked us into another motel (still motel not hotel but overall nicer than the original). As we trekked to the island, we passed by our burnt-up spring break dreams and couldn't resist taking this photo.

Taking the plunge

Remember those commercials from the '80s - the Nestea plunge? They got nothing on me. Last week, I chopped my hair off. Yes, you read that right. I got my ears lowered, a lot. See exhibit A.

Ellison couldn't care less about my hair, but she really digs my new bubble necklace. It makes a delightful noise when shaken, which she demonstrates for me every few seconds.

What do you think? It's taken me several days to adjust, but I'm finally ready to share my decision with all my e-friends. What do you think? I think it's a great haircut and looks surprisingly good. Fortunately, I can't find a picture from freshman year (everything was still 35 mm back then) when I chopped my hair to a similar length with dramatically different results. (sidebar to Jen - soooo glad we didn't peak in high school) It's taken me years to get the courage to try it again. And while I like it, the jury's still out on whether I like it more than my long hair. I guess I have a while to decide, since I estimate it would take 9 months or so to grow it back out.

Diversifying my portfolio

Because of a scheduling fluke, I had a really tiny clinic this morning. Good and bad. Good for my laziness, bad for business. But really I tell you that to tell you this. In my 4 appointments this morning, I conducted the visit in sign language, Arabic, English, and Spanish. Well, I wouldn't say that I so much "conducted" those first 2 visits as I watched the back-and-forth verbal tennis match between patient and translator.

Only in America, huh?

Loose end potpourri

Various and sundry topics on which I've left you, my adoring public, hanging...

1) working out 5 days/week in January: I came close. I think I missed 1 day. But it was really, really hard. Even though I go into work early so I can leave early, the evenings are still just too short. So I've been on and off the wagon. Lately I'm back on the wagon - 3 days so far this week. I did assign myself an A for effort and therefore treated myself to a manicure as promised.

2) the Shabby Apple: Remember a million years ago when I said I wanted to buy something from the Shabby Apple once I lost the baby weight? Well those pounds have been gone for months (thank goodness), but I never took the plunge. Buying clothes I can't try on just makes me too nervous. But have no fear; I've done plenty of other shopping to compensate.

3) mom's kitchen: Is still not done. Close but no teddy bear. [Sidebar: In 5th grade Mrs. Elmore made us learn a phrase every day {or was it week?} from the dictionary of cultural literacy, which documents the meaning and origin of such phrases as "you can't have your cake and eat it, too." When we got to "close but no cigar," she made a comment that smoking is bad for you and that you can't even win cigars at carnivals anymore. One boy said, "Well then why don't they change it to close but no teddy bear?" He was of course being completely facetious, but it stuck with me ever since.] The back splash might get done next week, and the oven is ready and waiting for the perfect oven-shaped hole to be cut in the cabinet. Soon, very soon.

4) the 30-day challenge: Remember that time I said I would only listen to the Christian radio station for a whole month? Well I made it. But I don't think they're gonna put me on one of their promo ads anytime soon because I am not a full-time convert. I just can't handle all the chipper perkiness so early in the morning. When the traffic girl told me to pack my patience yesterday morning, it felt really good to switch that dial.


Um, I think that's all. But I'm taking requests if you have any burning questions or feel like I didn't give a topic adequate closure.

Bigger is better

On my way home from work today, driving my giant SUV, I was behind a very tiny little car. Not a smart car but the same size. There was a Great Dane dog sticker in its back window. Hee hee, his dog is bigger than his car.
That is all. Carry on.

Dear Dr. Bethie: Non-physician, heal thyself

Dear Dr. Bethie,
I know it's been a while since we've corresponded, so we have some catching up to do. I decided to stop the ibuprofen because it was causing inflammation. I could feel it inside me.
Sincerely,
Not-quite-board-certified in Boise

NQBC,
Ibuprofen is actually an anti-inflammatory. And I'm puzzled by what you mean when you say you could feel inflammation inside you.
Cheers,
Dr. B

Dear Dr. Bethie,
It's hard to describe, but I could just feel it. So now when I have pain, I just take an extra methotrexate.
Just call me "doctor,"
NQBC

Dear NQBC,
Methotrexate is not an as-needed sort of pill. And dose adjustments take about 2-3 months to have an effect, so you're going to be waiting a long, long time to notice the difference from one extra pill.
No, you call me "doctor,"
Dr. B

Dear Dr. Bethie,
And I was reading the awful medication label for methotrexate and thinking that I'd like to use something natural instead. Because, you know, that's safer.
Never mind, call me "crunchy granola" instead,
NQSB

Dear NQSB,
Um, natural is not the same as safe. Rat poison is technically natural, and it doesn't seem very safe, now does it?
Un-hippie as it gets,
Dr. B

Dear Dr. Bethie,
But I was reading on the internet -

NQSB,
Tssst, tssst, tssst. No talkie about the internet. I've enclosed the application for all the medical schools in the state. How's about you apply, do those 4 years, then do the residency for 3 years, then the 2-year fellowship, and then we'll talk again.
That's gonna take you forever,
Dr. B

TGIF!

Am I the only one glad today is Friday? And it was a short week for the Scholzen since we spent a long weekend at  Mom Z's house in WF last weekend. Let me just tell you, that new kitchen is fabulous. Just needs the backsplash, and then it will be something you could put in a magazine. And that's really fun, but it's also a little weird to see the kitchen look different. I mean, it's been the same as long as I can remember. Every dinner, every batch of Christmas cookies, every birthday cake came from that kitchen. A tiny piece of me will miss the blue wallpaper and the silverware drawer that's missing a handle so you have to grab it from the side. But the rest of me can't wait to take Ellison there again and again to make Christmas cookies and eat birthday cake in style.

Speaking of Elle, here's a story. I took her with me to the grocery store this afternoon, and that kid loves riding in the shopping cart. She waves and makes friends with everyone. And she really loves going fast. So on days like today, when the floor is waxed just right and I'm wearing my clogs that slide just a little, I run run run and push her down the aisle and then... slide to a sudden stop. And she loves it. Laughs out loud. Squeals, even. And how can I tell that smiling face no? So I do it again. And again and again. Up and down the pasta aisle. We got a couple funny looks, but what can I say? Just like her father before her, this kid makes me do things I normally wouldn't. Like run and slide like a fool down the grocery aisles, just to see her smile.

A recipe for a great day

I accidentally discovered a great pick-me-up for hump day last week. Follow my instructions carefully and you, too, will have a great day (next) Wednesday!

1) Acquire chocolate by any means necessary. I recommend purchasing from the grocery store, but you could always steal from a baby if you're desperate.

2) Put the chocolate in your work bag with the intention of treating yourself the next day. I recommend Thursdays for this step in order to maximize the effect.

3) Have a really busy next day (eg, Friday) and only eat a couple pieces. Shove the chocolate bag back into your bag, safely out of view of your chocolate-vulture co-workers, while you see your afternoon patients. You can substitute any work-related activity here. The key is to get so busy you simply don't have time to eat your precious chocolate.

4) Forget about the chocolate. Don't look at it, don't listen to the magical aluminum crinkle, and for goodness' sake, don't touch it! Walk away. Just walk away.

5) On the following Wednesday, reach into your bag for your pager (or ID badge, keys, whatever). An amazing (re)discovery awaits you! Chocolate! Savor every bite, giving you just enough energy to get through the rest of the day.

Repeat. I also recommend changing the particular product week to week to minimize tolerance and maximize surprise

The Newlywed Game

I've seen some other blogs today doing the Newlywed Game in honor of V-day, so if I can get Nick to cooperate, I'm gonna do the same. I don't think these are the best questions ever, but I'm too lazy to make up my own at this late hour. Here we go!

Where was your first date?

{MR} Olive Garden, right?

{MRS} Olive Garden

Where was your first kiss?

{MR} Uh, I don't remember

{MRS} Oh, this sounds so bad... Nick's hotel room. Innocent, I promise!

 

Who said "I Love You, first"?

{MR}  Me!

{MRS} Nick

Which of the following breakfast cereals best describes your wife's family's opinion of you when they first met you? Crazy Flakes, Just Right, Frosted Flakes, Lucky Charms, or Fruit Loops?

{MR} Just Right

{MRS} Just Right

Your wife is waiting at the doctor's office. Which magazine will she read? Good Housekeeping, People, Glamour, or Coastal Living?

{MR} Glamour

{MRS} None. I always bring a medical journal.

If she were ordering drinks at a restaurant for dinner for both of you, what would she order?

{MR} her water, me Dr. Pepper

{MRS} water for me, Dr. Pepper for him

 

Which of these does your husband have the most of: sense of humor, sense of time, or sense of adventure?

{MR} sense of humor

{MRS} sense of time

How many pair of your wife's shoes would you say that are not in the closet right now?

{MR} 4

{MRS} 3

What is his ultimate favorite movie?

{MR} That would take weeks to decide. Right now The Dark Knight

{MRS} Uh, Reservoir Dogs?

Which one of you hogs the bed covers at night?

{MR} you

{MRS} yeah, me

 

Who is better at handling money?

{MR} equal

{MRS} not me, so Nick

If you could have a second honeymoon, where would your wife want you to take her?

{MR} Hawaii

{MRS} St. Lucia

What is the messiest room in your house?

{MR} the garage

{MRS} the whole thing

What did you have for dinner the night you got married?

{MR} chicken, and I can't remember what else

{MRS} chicken, beef (no idea what kind), mashed potatoes, green beans (?), rolls, salad, white cake, chocolate cake

How long does your husband spend in the shower?

{MR} 5 minutes

{MRS} 6 minutes

 

Which of the following Valentine's Gifts would your wife prefer the most: a beautiful bouquet of two dozen red roses, you offering to clean the house for a month, or a one hour massage given by you?

{MR} an hour massage

{MRS} clean the house fo sho!

Who is the most patient in your marriage?

{MR} you, no, well, me

{MRS} hmm, we take turns, depending on the situation.

When was the last time your wife went to the dentist?

{MR}3 months ago

{MRS} 8 months ago, eek!

What is your husband's favorite breakfast food?

{MR} pancakes

{MRS} sausage

On average, how long does it take your wife to get ready to go out?

{MR} an hour

{MRS} an hour

 

If you husband could only have one of the following desserts, which would he choose: cheesecake, apple pie, ice cream, chocolate pie?

{MR} chocolate pie, that's not even fair

{MRS} chocolate pie, duh

On average, how much does your wife spend at the grocery store?

{MR} $80

{MRS} $120/week total

Who gets along better with the in-laws?

{MR} me

{MRS} Nick

 

Who was the first person you told about your engagement?

{MR} your mom

{MRS} technically Jen because she helped Nick plan. But my parents are the first people we called.

 

Any questions you want to add to the list?

{MR} absolutely not

{MRS} then I guess we're done here