Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Monday, August 02, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Day 26
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Day 24
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Day 19
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Day 16
Day 15
Friday, July 09, 2010
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Day 11
Monday, July 05, 2010
Sunday, July 04, 2010
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Friday, July 02, 2010
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Day 6...Happy New Year
lunch with Regina between office hours!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Day 5
wife! There's a wife in my apartment!
It's all coming together....slowly but surely....
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Day 4
O'Keefe would say...that's all you need....
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Day 1
It's a gray and breezy Saturday morning, which made the walk to Starbucks in Little Italy comfortable....actually needed my Flatbush sweatshirt. The grayness actually makes the fact I have to study for the next 48 hours straight a little more palatable. Justin should be making his way around here sooner or later....
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Blogger Block...
I can't put my finger on it, but I feel like I'm caught between the generation that kept "journals" and "diaries" for one's own edification and self-loathing and the new breed of online exhibitionists who feel the need to let every human being with a working set of eyes and vocabulary know what he or she is wearing, eating, thinking, smelling, tasting, reading, feeling, buying, selling, or looking at. I have a Twitter account collecting cyber dust, a Friendster account that dates me in the early 2000's, a MySpace account that makes me feel like the creepy old guy hanging out with high schoolers, and a Facebook account with 401 "friends".
And yet I find myself increasingly keeping things to myself. It's not that I don't talk (believe me, folks around me can attest to this), it's just that I don't feel any desire to commit any of it to paper, or emails, or anything that could be construed as documentation. I say this with some degree of sadness, because I would love to one day look back and maybe write a memoir, or pass along something meaningful to my kids, or even simply reminisce, but I am realizing more and more with each passing day that my memory truly sucks. It's atrocious. I don't know if I'm squeezing things out with the mass of knowledge I've had to accumulate over the last 8 years, or the fact that I'm decrepit and old at the tender age of 31, but some of my most reliable memories and stories are becoming fuzzy, at best.
So, going forward, I'm hoping to start anew in San Diego. Oh yeah, by the way, I'll be heading out to San Diego for my Maternal-Fetal Medicine fellowship. That's about the biggest news I have since my last post. That's not to say I haven't had a shitload of fun and excitement navigating the SS Ballas through the shark infested Bermuda triangle that is residency.
It's just that I'm having a hard time remembering it right now.
Onward and upwards, I guess...
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sunday ho-hums.
Not much to really talk about these days. Seems to be the running theme to my days. Working on yet another exciting chairman’s rounds.
For those of you not “in the know”, Chairman’s Rounds is defined by Webster’s dictionary as the “weekly ritualistic public browbeating of residents in front of faculty, fellows, and residents on details both large and small, with conversation oftentimes derailed by their red-faced former giant iron cowboy chairman”
Or, more accurately depicted in the photo below from an actual Chairman’s Rounds a few weeks back...
Oh, and in case you were wondering how I’ve been doing since Regina left, let me present it as a graph of my testosterone levels as a function of time...
Overall, though, I think I’m doing pretty well...
Like the Beatles said...I get by with a little help from my friends....and relatives.....total strangers........a six pack of Bass.........a poorly grown beard.......Dr. Wackett in the Emergency Room.......the little Korean ladies at the laundromat that do my laundry.......the internet...........and Skype......
Cheers.
Jerry.
For those of you not “in the know”, Chairman’s Rounds is defined by Webster’s dictionary as the “weekly ritualistic public browbeating of residents in front of faculty, fellows, and residents on details both large and small, with conversation oftentimes derailed by their red-faced former giant iron cowboy chairman”
Or, more accurately depicted in the photo below from an actual Chairman’s Rounds a few weeks back...
...luckily, the resident survived. It turns out, ob-gyn faculty aren’t really great shots.
Oh, and in case you were wondering how I’ve been doing since Regina left, let me present it as a graph of my testosterone levels as a function of time...
Overall, though, I think I’m doing pretty well...
Like the Beatles said...I get by with a little help from my friends....and relatives.....total strangers........a six pack of Bass.........a poorly grown beard.......Dr. Wackett in the Emergency Room.......the little Korean ladies at the laundromat that do my laundry.......the internet...........and Skype......
Cheers.
Jerry.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
4am on Labor and Delivery
For the first time in two weeks, there has been about a half hour here on Labor and Delivery where we actually have nothing to do. The midwife TOLAC in room 1 is about to become an official VBAC. Cara's managed to admit and deliver three women vaginally so far tonight and I got to section a set of twins. I even updated Shelly's antepartum signout and sent it on its merry way to 5 East as not to disappoint her like I did yesterday. All that's left to do is a cerclage at 6am.
An apology for those who read that paragraph and translated it to "blah, blah, blah vaginal blah, blah..." Unfortunately, keeping a blog as a resident pretty much ends up revolving around work. As do most things these days, especially being on nights. So, to help out a little for my non-medical, non-obstetrical friends, I'll try to provide definitions in the forms of links wherever necessary. As an example, here is the above paragraph with explanations:
For the first time in two weeks, there has been about a half hour here on Labor and Delivery where we actually have nothing to do. The midwife TOLAC in room 1 is about to become an official VBAC. Cara's managed to admit and deliver three women vaginally so far tonight and I got to section a set of twins. I even updated Shelly's antepartum signout and sent it on its merry way to 5 East as not to disappoint her like I did yesterday. All that's left to do is a cerclage at 6am.
There, much better.
So, as you may have read over at Regina's blog, tomorrow is the last day and night I get to spend with her until the end of May. She leaves early Wednesday for Grenada to begin her med school adventure at St. George's University. Words can't begin to explain how excited I am for her. She is going to rock ass and take names. In a way, I'm jealous of her in that if-I-knew-then-what-I-know-now kind of ways where I go back in time and get to redo medical school with a little more perspective and lot less agita. At minimum though, I have a built in vacation spot over the next two years on one of the prettiest islands in the Caribbean.
But let's be honest, I'm probably going to be a train wreck for at least a few weeks. My fellow co-residents, friends, family, local Starbucks baristas, and the bartender at the Country Corner have all been put on notice. If you happen to notice a large, sulking, bearded, homeless-looking man wandering the streets of Stony Brook, Setauket, Port Jefferson, or anywhere along the Long Island Expressway over the next month or so, just do me a favor and slow down and make sure it's not me. I may very well have lost my keys, forgot where I parked my car, or may be looking for a natural land bridge to Grenada.
In any case, just pick me up and drop me on the 8th Floor at Stony Brook...chances are I'm supposed to be there.
Wish me luck.
And don't forget to wish Regina luck and follow her adventure at
http://notesfromspiceisland.blogspot.com/.
Regards,
Jerry.
An apology for those who read that paragraph and translated it to "blah, blah, blah vaginal blah, blah..." Unfortunately, keeping a blog as a resident pretty much ends up revolving around work. As do most things these days, especially being on nights. So, to help out a little for my non-medical, non-obstetrical friends, I'll try to provide definitions in the forms of links wherever necessary. As an example, here is the above paragraph with explanations:
For the first time in two weeks, there has been about a half hour here on Labor and Delivery where we actually have nothing to do. The midwife TOLAC in room 1 is about to become an official VBAC. Cara's managed to admit and deliver three women vaginally so far tonight and I got to section a set of twins. I even updated Shelly's antepartum signout and sent it on its merry way to 5 East as not to disappoint her like I did yesterday. All that's left to do is a cerclage at 6am.
There, much better.
So, as you may have read over at Regina's blog, tomorrow is the last day and night I get to spend with her until the end of May. She leaves early Wednesday for Grenada to begin her med school adventure at St. George's University. Words can't begin to explain how excited I am for her. She is going to rock ass and take names. In a way, I'm jealous of her in that if-I-knew-then-what-I-know-now kind of ways where I go back in time and get to redo medical school with a little more perspective and lot less agita. At minimum though, I have a built in vacation spot over the next two years on one of the prettiest islands in the Caribbean.
But let's be honest, I'm probably going to be a train wreck for at least a few weeks. My fellow co-residents, friends, family, local Starbucks baristas, and the bartender at the Country Corner have all been put on notice. If you happen to notice a large, sulking, bearded, homeless-looking man wandering the streets of Stony Brook, Setauket, Port Jefferson, or anywhere along the Long Island Expressway over the next month or so, just do me a favor and slow down and make sure it's not me. I may very well have lost my keys, forgot where I parked my car, or may be looking for a natural land bridge to Grenada.
In any case, just pick me up and drop me on the 8th Floor at Stony Brook...chances are I'm supposed to be there.
Wish me luck.
And don't forget to wish Regina luck and follow her adventure at
http://notesfromspiceisland.blogspot.com/.
Regards,
Jerry.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
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
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
Saturday, June 28, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Popping the Question....or, in our case, Confirming the Inevitable...
So after 6 and a half blissful years of togetherness, I finally got around to getting one of those "rings" everyone keeps talking about. I even got around to officially asking Regina if she really, truly, actually, in all honesty wanted to spend the rest of this lifetime with boring ol' me. Of course, leave it to me to keep getting in the way of myself when it came time to finally go through with it.
Surprisingly, the part of the whole plan I was most worried about (transporting the ring undetected from east to west coast) actually went off without a hitch. I stored the ring by itself in my digital camera bag's accessory compartment where I keep an extra memory card and USB cable. That way, it could stay on me the whole time and it wouldn't be too suspicious since carrying my camera everywhere on vacation is the norm for me. The box to the ring was tucked inside one of my enormous shoes at the bottom of my suitcase. At one point, airport security actually asked to see inside Regina's bag at MacArthur before we left while mine went through without inspection. Phew! Talk about close call. How memorable would that proposal had been if they asked me to empty the contents of my camera bag? "Um....girlfriend....will you marry me....?" (As we put our shoes back on beyond the metal detectors...)
So, my plan from the start was to propose at the end of our second day of wine tasting in Napa Valley, California. You have to understand....for Regina visiting Napa was the equivalent of a child discovering Santa Claus is real and being offered a chance to go to the North
Pole. Imagine Charlie and the Chocolate Factory...Hell, imagine me in a chocolate factory. It was that big of a deal. But first, we spent two days in San Francisco. And, of course, opportunities abounded for popping the question.
Our first day in San Francisco, after an amazing breakfast at Kate's Kitchen in Haight-Ashbury, we made our way up the peak of Buena Vista park, where you get a breath taking, panoramic view of the city, the bay, and the Golden Gate Bridge. It was perfect. There was a bench. It was sunny. Not a cloud in the sky.
The birds were singing. The ring was right in my pocket.... And then came the dogs. And the joggers. Two locals. And then a trio of German tourists...all within nanoseconds of each other. I was so annoyed. I didn't realize how much I showed it until afterwards when I was explaining to Regina all the different times I was going to propose that she said "oh...I wondered why you were so pissed off suddenly when people started showing up. It all makes sense now" Yeah. Damn those German tourists.
Next opportunity was at dinner that night at an amazing, all-vegetarian restaurant on the waterfront called Greens. She had been looking forward to this place for months. We had booked it way in advance it was definitely lived up to every expectation. Again, the whole romantic-dimly-lit-fancy-dinner vibe was in full effect....but it just didn't feel right. I can't explain it. Maybe it was the number of people around, or the obnoxious lady behind us ruining the mood by explaining her innermost thoughts to everyone in the restaurant....or maybe it was the fact that I would have had to unzip a dorky camera bag and dig for the ring in order to hand it to her since the nice box it was supposed to come in was still tucked in my Steve Maddens at the hotel. For whatever reason, the moment would have to wait.
Which brings us to Napa Valley.
We made our way over the Golden Gate Bridge and to Regina's version of Heaven, where the clouds are actually rolling hills of endless vineyards and instead of harps we get bottles of perfectly aged Zins and Cabs. I have never seen her eyes glass over the way they did as we passed by the "Welcome to Napa!" sign. Seriously...I was actually a bit jealous. I know that sounds weird, but I swear she was having dirty thoughts about an actual region of the world....or at least it's wine. But I digress....
We were able to squeeze in three wineries in our first afternoon there. The third, Artessa, has perhaps the most stunningly designed tasting rooms in all of Napa. It was literally built into the peak of one of the highest ranges in Napa, affording it some of the most breathtaking views of the entire region. We had gotten there just in time for sunset. It was, once again, the perfect time....except for the fact that it was closing time and the security guard was hovering right behind us waiting to lock the balcony door for the night. Now, I'm sure the guy was a nice gentleman and all, but he just didn't quite fit into the picture. Let's just say it was a bit awkward. Again, I was shot down by fate.
Finally came the originally planned D-Day. Day two. The day. I was able to slickly get the ring into its box by feigning the need to use the bathroom before we left the hotel. Just call me Double-O-Dorkwad. We had an amazing adventure throughout the valley, dividing our time between private and public tours and tastings at both small, mom-and-pop vineyards as well as the Mundavis of the region. At any given moment I was ready to spring into action....or so I thought. Towards the end of our day, we rushed over to Frog's Leap, one Regina's biggest targets for the trip, in hopes of getting into one of their tours and tastings despite not having made a reservation. Unfortunately, there was a group of 14 booked for the last tour of the day. However, the wonderfully gracious tour guide Erin not only booked us for the following day, but she offered us each a glass of Chardonnay and invited us to walk the grounds ourselves if we wanted to.
It was a beautiful vineyard with a wonderful little garden you could walk through; a quiet, picturesque landscape where one could envision a wedding taking place....or an engagement...if one were actually thinking. Where my head was at that time I still can't explain, but the thought didn't occur to me until we had gotten back into the car. I think I had gotten so caught up in the idea of doing it at the end of our day that it didn't even register at 3pm to get on one knee and ask the question I've been dying to ask for more than half a decade.
The rest of the day was spent trying to squeeze in as many tastings as we could until the end of the day. Our last tasting was at a small place called Malat run by a pair of brothers that have lived in the region since before it was known by anyone outside of the valley. The one brother, Mike, was the person running the tasting and he was a true character. It was good ol', down-home wine tasting that made for a nice change of pace from some of the more "sophisticated" places we had visited, but alas it did not make for the most eloquent engagement scenes.So it came down to the wire, and I was hoping the place we chose for dinner would provide the perfect atmosphere...hell, by this point I was getting less picky about "perfection" and more concerned with asking her before she a) had so much wine that her answer could, in fact, be made under the influence or b) became too tired to even want to stay for an entire meal. We made our way to Yountsville, the center of fine dining in Napa Valley, and chose a place called Hurely's based on Mike Malat's recommendation. The whole evening starts out with us getting seated next to a ridiculously drafty window, causing Regina to visibly shiver within two minutes of sitting down. We ask to be moved and are then graciously escorted immediately to another table....of course this table is now situated between two windows, thus slowly turning the night into a comedic tragedy. Seriously, I was imagining a sitcom laugh track going as the night progressed and I kept clutching the ring in my pocket more and more.
So we begin our meal and now comes the crucial decision of when to do it. Between courses is too risky given the constant flow of bus boys, water-pourers, and our waitress, who will forever be known as Perfect Timing (you'll see why in a bit). Now, waiting until the check is paid is risky too because knowing Regina and how cold she was at that point, she would be up like a shot, getting her coat on and wanting to head to the restroom before our drive back to the hotel. I just didn't want to be like "oh..wait...before you go to the bathroom, I have something to ask you...."
So I decided while we were drinking our coffee would be the time. We get our coffee, the waitress drops the check, and we begin to chat about how this could very-well be the best vacation we have ever taken together.
"Is it the perfect vacation?" I ask slyly as I reach into my pocket undetected and bring the box into my hand.
"It just may be," she replies. "We got to see San Francisco...I'm in Napa Valley...and our trip isn't even half over...."
And before she can say anything else, I place the box in front of her.
She tears up instantly. She knows exactly what was happening. I start to tear up too. My heart is in my ears and I thank God it's dim in there because I know my ears are getting ridiculously red. She opens the box. I swear the glow of the ring hits her eyes and I can see its reflection in them. No words need to be spoken. And then....just then.........
The waitress comes by to see if I had placed anything in the bifold in order to pay the bill.
Like I said...Perfect Timing.
Regina takes one look at her, and in an even-keeled tone that drops the temperature in the room even further, says "we're not ready yet". Seriously, I think the tears in her eyes actually reversed direction for a few seconds and then reappeared once the waitress high-tailed it out of there.
We laughed and continued drinking our coffee as we've done now hundreds of times together. Like I said in the title of this post, it really wasn't much of a question as it was a confirmation. Not that it makes the moment any less important or nerve-wracking (as you can tell from my babbling) but it was a moment only we could have....and for those of you who know us well, it really couldn't have happened any other way....
With that said, I can't even imagine what the story of our wedding is going to sound like......
Keep checking back for details.
Jerry.....and Regina (as editor).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)