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
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