2008. A year in review.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Cliche, I know, but no better over-used line from a novel could better sum up my year or how I feel going into 2009. This past year flew by, like they all seem to do these days, dotted with events and emotions of such extremes that they seem to have left me plainly in the middle. Neither here nor there. Not high or low. Just....as is.

Weddings and divorces.

Births and deaths.

Enthusiasm and exhaustion.

Birthdays and funerals.

Good intentions and poor follow-through.

Social upheavals and financial meltdowns.

Moving forward and looking back.

Excitement and fear.

I started the year newly engaged, having popped the question December 10th, 2007. In true Jerry-and-Regina style, we gave no plans nor expectations for a wedding date, gift registry, engagement party, baby shower, or estimated time until we moved into our very own house in the ‘burbs with 2 cars and 2.2 children. After 7 1/2 years, no one in either of our families was surprised. We ended 2007 with the beautiful wedding of two dear friends, Katie Howard and Rob Hart, in Providence.

2008 couldn’t have started on a higher note.

And, for the most part, things were going swimmingly. Regina’s long and arduous journey through the medical school admissions process finally came to fruition with her acceptance into St. George’s University in Grenada (more on that in a bit). The resident year came to an end in June with the presentation of my first ever Resident Research Project and our annual fancy-pants formal as part of Resident Research Day 2008. With new interns came a newfound sense of purpose and whole new set of good intentions. As third year residents, we found ourselves thrust into the role of chief residents during our months of night float given that our fourth year class was shorthanded. The antepartum time bombs were now ours to manage gingerly, being both chief and intern on a service of one with a rotating cast of perinatologists whose plans would vary based, seemingly, on the either the alignment of the stars or Dr. Quirk’s mood. Gynecology would bring most of us our first forays into hysterectomies, myomectomies, and oopherectomies with nothing between us and major blood vessels except for a gloves, a scissor, and a nervous attending on the other side of the table. And for the first time ever, we would be getting an elective month to do with what we pleased...within reason, of course.

My first call as chief on July 5th remains legendary. Two bleeding previas, one cesarean hysterectomy, one ruptured brain aneurysm, two vaginal deliveries, a c-section for twins, an attending with preterm contractions throughout, and a brand spanking new intern that spent more time managing the labor floor than I did. It was an apparent omen as my subsequent calls would continue in very similar fashion. My second year white cloud was apparently blown offshore by some hurricane-force third year wind that left behind an ominous black cloud of doom that has left few attendings unharmed. The poor attending who suffered July 5th returned from maternity leave and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw it was me she’d be sharing her first call back with. To this day, all we can do is laugh about it.

Oh yeah, I also found the time to turn 30. Yippee. I’m banking on this whole “delayed gratification” theory...I just hope I’m not too rickety or hobbled to enjoy it.

Interspersed with work was a smattering of engagements and weddings. Liz and Johnie, Don and Marla, Jasmine and Jak, Rich and Ceci. It was contagious. Even my niece tied the knot. Granted, she’s not THAT MUCH younger than me, but still....it just sounds like I was lapped. Not be outdone, Regina and I put together our own version of wedding-in-a-bottle, complete with an engagement/bachelor/bachlorette/rehearsal dinner and wedding ceremony in a 36 hour period. We were married on November 22nd in a small, short, and blissfully uncomplicated ceremony attended by two good friends, two wonderful children, and Rev. Deb in a quaint, unassuming office complete with a picturesque waterfall poster. Seeing is believing.

In the background, through all of this, was the never-ending-ever-present Election of 2008 and the economic nosedive. I don’t have the energy or motivation to rekindle that roller coaster ride in any kind of detail, so instead, here is Wikipedia’s take on the Election and the Subprime Mortgage fiasco. Bottom line, in my opinion, thank God Bush and the Grand Ol’ Party of old, crusty white guys were sent packing...at least for now. Just like hemorrhoids and bad pennies, they have a way of coming back. But hopefully, Sarah Palin’s 15 minutes is up for good.

On a more personal level, throughout all of this was my dad’s failing health. He had been battling refractory anemia and worsening dimentia for a few years and had taken a turn for the worse in early December. After a week of hospice care at Calvary Hospital he passed away on December 7th. I got the call from my mom at 8:30am while signing out the board on Labor and Delivery after one of my usual hellish calls. It was a strange feeling. I had no idea how to react. He had been sick for a long time, it was “expected” as some would say, but at the same time, every memory suddenly started flooding my mind. My ears started ringing. My mom was inconsolable. The following two weeks were a blur. Funeral arrangements. Viewings. Church ceremony. The burial. The pouring rain. Luncheon. Family and friends from all over and all different periods of my life coming together in a way I wasn’t ready for, but thankful ultimately was thankful for. My father was one of the happiest and gentlest men anyone could ever meet. We had little in common throughout my life on the surface, but looking back (isn’t that always the case?) I see how much of what I did and what I do was engrained in me watching him work endless hours, seemingly effortlessly, in whatever capacity he was needed. Son. Father. Brother. Husband. Union Worker. Jack of all Trades. His story is mazing, and my hope is to eventually translate all his memoirs he kept. What’s past is prologue, and I feel an even greater sense of responsibility to make good on my dad’s sacrifices.

Looking forward, 2009 is starting on a pretty down note.

And did I mention Regina going to medical school? I think I did, about 5 paragraphs up. Talk about conflicted. I could not be more proud of her. She has been through the ringer to get this opportunity and I can’t wait to see her succeed. She was made for this, more than I can say for myself on some days.

With that being said, she leaves January 14th for Grenada. Beautiful island. Good program. Two years on the island, then two years back in the states. Breaks interspersed throughout, of course. Still, I’ve put all my colleagues and friends on notice. I may be somewhat pathetic for the first few weeks...if not longer.

I encourage you all to follow her along on her blog: Notes from Spice Island.

I know I will be.

As for my oft-neglected blog, I will try to be more vigilant. This year can only go up, in my strangely optimistic opinion, so hopefully I’ll have more uplifting things to share.

Plus, I’ll get back to my self-shaming Weight Watchers journey soon enough. I promise.

Regards,
Jerry

New Year Resolutions.

I know the subject line is probably confusing to most, and no you are not reading a 6 month old post, but if you read on (or if you’re a resident physician) you’ll understand.

First, some vital statistics:

Date: 6/28/08
Age: 30y 8d
Weight: 311.6 lbs
BMI: 38.9
BP: pending
Current leisure reading: John Adams, by David McCullough; various comic books.

Pretty scary reading so far, eh? The worst part....it’s pure non-fiction.

So I’ve decided to put all this blog stuff to work for me in a variety of ways. First, and foremost, it’s going to act as fiber for my brain. With that being said, a lot of it will probably end up being pure crap to anyone reading it. I apologize in advance for those of you who may find what I’m talking about vague and obtuse. I work in a business where the subject matter is often confidential and sensitive, not to mention just plain gross, as summarized by the most famous line in William’s Obstetrics: “Obstetrics is a bloody business”.

I also apologize in advance to anyone I offend or embarrass in the course of telling these stories. While I’ll try my best to de-identify and change the names of prominent characters and events, in the end I travel within a pretty small circle with a stable cast of usual suspects that would challenge even the best writers to fictionalize.

The second reason for this blog rebirth: shame.

“Shame?” You may be asking yourself.

Yes. Shame.

Let me explain. The “vital statistics” at the top of this post will be the main thrust behind this blog. While certain facts and figures may come and go, the basics (Age, weight, BMI) will not. While I’ve subscribed to the Alcoholics Anonymous method of weight loss known as Weight Watchers, I’ve decided to concurrently subscribe to the 21st Century method of motivation...internet shaming. Now, usually this shaming is aimed at an individual or group in the hopes that he/she/it will change. Such famous, and infamous, examples include shaming tax evaders , sex offenders , and countries that sponsor terrorists. This shaming is a bit different, in that it’s directed inwardly. Now, I know it sounds harsh, and “shame” isn’t necessarily a “healthy” form of motivation for most “rational” people (isn’t it amazing how quotation marks can make any sentence funny), so that’s why I call it “concurrent”.

If you want, we can call it “public accountability”. There...now all you sensitive types can stay on board, I hope.

I’ll try to add some fun vital statistics here and there as well, ‘cause in the end, let’s face it, the internet was invented in order for us to have fun and download porn. And since I don’t have porn to offer, might as well try to provide some fun.

As for the “new year resolutions” subject. In three short days it will be July 1st. To 99.9% of the world, this simply means three days before the 4th of July....which, when you really think about it, doesn’t really mean much to the majority of the world...unless you’re British and still wondering where all the cotton, tobacco, and tea from the New World went. But I digress.

July 1st in the world of medicine is New Years Day. It’s a time of rebirth and rededication. It’s when we in academics welcome our newly minted doctors into the world of ungodly work hours, unending paperwork, and doing no harm (to themselves or others). It’s a monumental day along the continuum of a physician’s life.

For those of us in it already, it can serve as a day to reflect on where we’ve been and where we may be heading. It’s a reference point during a time in life when time, space, and everything in between is blurred by early mornings, late nights, and endless calls. This will be my third July 1st as a physician, and I can tell you in some ways it feels like my first, and in other ways it feels like my 100th. What makes this one a bit more monumental for me is that it happens to coincide with my recently departed 30th birthday.

So I’ve decided to mark this particular July 1st with this little re-dedication to myself. Maybe I’ll end up a little healthier. Maybe I’ll end up a little smarter. Hell, maybe I’ll end up a bit happier.

But at least I’ll end up somewhere.

If you want to come along, I’ll be happy to have you.

Cheers.