So I was deep cleaning my kitchen the other day and had a total friends moment. Shocking I know ;) But this was literally my fridge. Thus I feel completely justified in my lack of grocery shopping. It's clearly just a waste of money. LOVE this show!!!
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Relax
Today I am going to do nothing. I'm not going to check a single blood pressure or look at a single monitor or hear a single solitary beep (be it IV pump, cardiac monitor, call light, or other) for the next four days. And that is fabulous. I slept a glorious ten hours and I'm planning on maintaining a horizontal position as much as possible, eating some powdered donut holes, drinking some yummy herbal tea, and watching some TV Thursday. Maybe I'll even pull out the scrapbook stuff. And tomorrow I'm going to lunch with some great friends, and going for sushi and other shenanigans later. Saturday marks the beginning of hockey season for me --go Thunderbirds :) It's going to be a glorious 4 days of not having to save any lives. Selfish? Perhaps. But glorious none the less.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
I Live For Gameday!
I made it through my second year in a row of not living in New York City on September 11th. It still seems weird. And I still miss it. I miss the spirit of solemn remembrance that blankets the city. I miss seeing the phantom lights where the towers were. I miss seeing Lady Liberty and thinking of what she's meant to so many through the years.
September 11th is still a day I will never forget. It still is a day I spend in humble gratitude to our military forces, fire and police officers that afford us the life we have. It is a day I am particularly grateful for the life I have been given the opportunity to lead. It is a day I am honored to know many of the Men who have served abroad to protect our way of life and to afford that opportunity to others, and I am grateful for them.
Today instead of ground zero remembrances and lights that shoot from near-hallowed grave site grounds, I celebrate in a different way. A way that I feel is perhaps more appropriate. I have these memories in my mind and will keep them always. But today I not only remember the day, the people, and the events, but I celebrate the spirit that those things fell for. I spent the day with my family. Playing games, eating yummy treats, chasing kiddos around in laughter. I spent the evening at my alma mater. The place from which I gained an education, two degrees, and so much more. I put on my gameday gear, full of Aggie pride and watched my Men in Blue kick some ass on the football field. I sat with my wonderful and amazing family (and thousands of our closest friends ;) ) at Merlin Olsen Field at Romney Stadium in Logan, UT and watched the sun set over the rim of the stadium behind my majestic mountains while watching some good old football. I love my family, I love my life, I love my country, and I love my men and women who serve and protect us so that I can love all of these things. And because of them, as it says on my new t-shirt... I live for Gameday! And I love my Aggies!!!
disclaimer: I'm on a different computer and I can't make the photos be in chronological order... so they're backwards --grr.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Switching Gears
In my travels I've had the opportunity to meet many wonderful and amazing people. One of my all time favorites is a friend named Graham, pictured above at my farewell to NYC party. Graham Walker, ER resident extraordinaire ;) He was a 2nd year intern at St. Luke's in Manhattan where I worked two summer's/fall ago. Amazing person, amazing friend, amazing physician. And extremely great with words. You can follow his words blogs and general information here, here, or here. Oh, and did I mention, he's brilliant? In particular today I am reminiscing about a 'note' he wrote and published to his Facebook account almost 2 years ago today. It was entitled 'Reboot' and you can find the link here. The words are as follows.
"I'm always amazed at how much the ED can just keep going after some code or major trauma or absolute train wreck. Not just at how we physicians can mentally re-orient ourselves: 'Current task over, return to other patients now,' but the entire department. The housekeepers keep housekeeping, the nurses keep nursing, the techs keep teching; the controlled chaos returns after a sudden eruption of hell breaking loose.
"This is especially true and eerie after a death. Someone utters, 'Time of death eleven thirty-seven,' and it's like you've just rebooted our minds. We return from whence we came, doing what we did before, but now maybe a little sadder, a little more downtrodden, and a lot more behind. We whisper something to ourselves, pausing for a few seconds to grieve, and keep moving. Try to save the next one.
"A couple hours later, the body has been packaged and removed and the room is completely cleaned. Fresh. A new patient sits in the gurney, dangling his legs off the edge of the bed, wondering when he's going to be seen. He has no idea what just went on two hours ago in the exact same place. You briefly make eye contact as you walk past the room. Ignorance is bliss.
"The room is back to how it always is, with nothing left but your memories of what just happened. How you broke the poor woman's ribs at 100 beats per minute. Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. How you stuck sharp things in her mottled, edematous frame. How before all this, you stuck the tube in her throat and figured things would start turning around once you controlled that airway. And then an hour later, how you ran through your differential one more time, everyone straining their brains as if there's some obvious procedure or drug or incantation you must just be forgetting that instantly resurrects the dead:
What?
Am?
I?
Missing?
You sigh. And then you call it.
'Time of death, eleven thirty-seven'
Reboot"
I love this. There are many things that you just have to experience to truly understand. The way that the workers in the ER are like the closest of close-knit families. But I think that even if you don't really get the 'reboot' post in the same way us ER peeps might, you get the gist. Last night at work after coding a patient intermittently for 2 hours and starting him on every drip known to man, the code was called. The doppler had been used to attempt to hear any discernible traces of remaining pulses in the soon-to-be deceased man. The ultrasound is brought in to confirm that there are no remaining traces of cardiac activity. The code is called. Reboot. New patients are waiting. As are those that were waiting while we were breaking ribs and drawing blood and pushing fluids and medications.
So I went to see my new patients. Medications were ordered on a patient 18 weeks pregnant who had urticaria of pregnancy. As were fetal heart tones. I grabbed the doppler, taking a moment to appreciate the irony of what the machine was last used for. I wheeled it into the room, gooped on the cold cold jelly and placed the doppler to the patients pregnant abdomen and heard a solid rapid thump thump thump thump thump. Humming along at a healthy 148 beats per minute. I left it there several moments longer than necessary. I love listening to fetal heart tones. I just think it's amazing. To hear a happy healthy baby's heartbeat while it is in an innocent blissful place doing nothing but growing fat and happy to make it's debut into the world. And it was especially reassuring at that moment. The circle of life and all that. The very machine I had used not ten minutes earlier to confirm the death of one man, was at that moment confirming the healthy fetal life of another. Reboot indeed. Life goes on. I have the greatest job in the entire world!
"I'm always amazed at how much the ED can just keep going after some code or major trauma or absolute train wreck. Not just at how we physicians can mentally re-orient ourselves: 'Current task over, return to other patients now,' but the entire department. The housekeepers keep housekeeping, the nurses keep nursing, the techs keep teching; the controlled chaos returns after a sudden eruption of hell breaking loose.
"This is especially true and eerie after a death. Someone utters, 'Time of death eleven thirty-seven,' and it's like you've just rebooted our minds. We return from whence we came, doing what we did before, but now maybe a little sadder, a little more downtrodden, and a lot more behind. We whisper something to ourselves, pausing for a few seconds to grieve, and keep moving. Try to save the next one.
"A couple hours later, the body has been packaged and removed and the room is completely cleaned. Fresh. A new patient sits in the gurney, dangling his legs off the edge of the bed, wondering when he's going to be seen. He has no idea what just went on two hours ago in the exact same place. You briefly make eye contact as you walk past the room. Ignorance is bliss.
"The room is back to how it always is, with nothing left but your memories of what just happened. How you broke the poor woman's ribs at 100 beats per minute. Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. How you stuck sharp things in her mottled, edematous frame. How before all this, you stuck the tube in her throat and figured things would start turning around once you controlled that airway. And then an hour later, how you ran through your differential one more time, everyone straining their brains as if there's some obvious procedure or drug or incantation you must just be forgetting that instantly resurrects the dead:
What?
Am?
I?
Missing?
You sigh. And then you call it.
'Time of death, eleven thirty-seven'
Reboot"
I love this. There are many things that you just have to experience to truly understand. The way that the workers in the ER are like the closest of close-knit families. But I think that even if you don't really get the 'reboot' post in the same way us ER peeps might, you get the gist. Last night at work after coding a patient intermittently for 2 hours and starting him on every drip known to man, the code was called. The doppler had been used to attempt to hear any discernible traces of remaining pulses in the soon-to-be deceased man. The ultrasound is brought in to confirm that there are no remaining traces of cardiac activity. The code is called. Reboot. New patients are waiting. As are those that were waiting while we were breaking ribs and drawing blood and pushing fluids and medications.
So I went to see my new patients. Medications were ordered on a patient 18 weeks pregnant who had urticaria of pregnancy. As were fetal heart tones. I grabbed the doppler, taking a moment to appreciate the irony of what the machine was last used for. I wheeled it into the room, gooped on the cold cold jelly and placed the doppler to the patients pregnant abdomen and heard a solid rapid thump thump thump thump thump. Humming along at a healthy 148 beats per minute. I left it there several moments longer than necessary. I love listening to fetal heart tones. I just think it's amazing. To hear a happy healthy baby's heartbeat while it is in an innocent blissful place doing nothing but growing fat and happy to make it's debut into the world. And it was especially reassuring at that moment. The circle of life and all that. The very machine I had used not ten minutes earlier to confirm the death of one man, was at that moment confirming the healthy fetal life of another. Reboot indeed. Life goes on. I have the greatest job in the entire world!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Don't Stop...
Today I believe in...
*Cleaning my house like I'm expecting royalty ...or my mom ...although I'm expecting no one but myself.
*Sweeping the pine needles off my 4'x6' deck so I can sit outside in my camp chair ...with myself.
*Cooking a gourmet meal ...for myself.
*Using chopsticks and the fancy dishes for a tv dinner ...with myself.
*Getting up and ready for a day with myself, makeup and all.
*Falling asleep in the middle of the day while at the park reading a great book.
Because I'm worth it. It's never JUST me, it is me. Simply, beautifully.
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