Wine A Little, Hug A Lot

As soon as we confirmed I was pregnant and by that I really mean: as soon as I finished taking nothing short of 7 or 8 different brands of pregnancy tests (while Mr. Dr. was on call so he didn’t think I was crazy) all resulting in some kind of positive result, feint or not, I knew I wanted to find a creative way to tell our families.  We also knew we wanted to wait until we had our 1st doctor’s appointment so that we could make sure we weren’t hallucinating and to make sure everything was looking OK in the beginning.  We were actually really lucky and heard Baby L’s heartbeat at the first visit!  It was strong and fast which was a great sign.  After that 1st appointment it was a bit surreal.  All you want to do is tell everyone and I mean everyone, like even the grocery store cashier, but you can’t.  Well you can if you want.  And some people do.  But we wanted it to be special and memorable for our families.  We also were very careful about being public with the news until much later.  Every couple is different and feels comfortable at different stages.  That was just what we wanted and how we did it.

So about 8 weeks into this whole thing away we drove to meet my family at our parents’ beach house.  I remember the whole ride down talking to Mr. Dr. about how nervous I was to tell them.  It’s my parents’ first grandchild and my siblings’ first niece/nephew.  I was excited but also just nervous because it was such big news to share.  We arrived late Friday night but luckily everyone was still awake.  I wasted no time and told them that we had brought them each a little something.  Each couple opened up their gift and then there were tears, screams, laughs and lots and lots of hugs.  We spent the next 36 hours with my family sharing in the excitement before departing early Sunday morning only to drive 6 hours back up north to see Mr. Dr.’s family.  Driving through 4 states along the northeast and spending a total of 12 hours in the car between Friday night -Sunday is something I would only recommend if there is a realllllly good reason for it.  A baby announcement counts in our book.  But I will not be partaking in any activity like that ever again anytime soon.  We arrived mid-afternoon and shared the exciting news the same way with a gift for each couple.  The hugs and excitement, again, filled the room.

Wine Label Pregnancy

Each couple received a bottle of wine with a personalized label.  I created the labels online and printed them myself.  We bought our favorite Montepulciano bottle from Trader Joes (the wine store clerks had been missing me), peeled off the original labels and glued these on.  Now come February (or March?!) everyone is supposed to bring their bottle of wine to NYC so we can celebrate together after the birth of Baby L when they come to visit.

My idea for telling Mr. Dr. wasn’t quite as creative but I had limited time and resources.  I pretended he had gotten a package so when I walked in the door from work there was this white box in my hand that had his name on it and was addressed to him.  I told him the doorman gave it to me downstairs and that someone had dropped it off for him.  Real story: that morning I put together the box and took it down to the doorman with strict instructions not to give it to Mr. Dr. when he got home from his 24 hr call that morning.  I didn’t want to leave it for him in the apartment because I wanted to be there when he opened it and I wanted it to be a surprise.  My plan was to walk into the apartment that evening as if it was fresh off the press when I arrived home so he wouldn’t suspect anything.  I think it worked pretty well.  Here is what was inside.

Box for ChrisI wrapped up each part so he opened up the items in a certain order.  1st was the Baby Ruth bar, 2nd was the card and 3rd were the tests I took that morning.  He obviously figured it out as soon as he opened the candy bar but it was fun to watch him go from a look of confusion when I handed him the box to pure excitement once he began to see what was inside.

If you know us, and you guys should probably know me well enough by now, announcing our baby news the way we did was pretty fitting for us.  And I must say, everyone loved it.  I almost forgot.  We also stopped on our drive back up north and got Mr. Dr.’s grandmother a fresh bouquet of pink & blue.  We figured a bottle of wine wasn’t as appropriate for Grammie so we quickly had the florist in the local grocery store whip up a bouquet of pink roses, blue hydrangeas and of course, baby’s breath.

Grammies FlowersWe had so much fun announcing the news to our family and friends, and continue to feel overwhelmed by the love and support from everyone who has sent us well wishes, cards and congratulations.  We are really, really lucky and so is this baby.

Happy Cocktail Friday in honor of Baby L!

Preggatini Anyone?

The word is out and we can officially shout it from the rooftops.  I’m pregnant!  Mr. and Mrs. Dr. are going to be parents.  We are so excited to finally share this news with my blogosphere family.  It’s a funny thing.  I have felt so guilty because I know I have been keeping this huge secret but it’s the best secret so at the same time, I haven’t felt that bad.  It’s one of those secrets that people understand why you keep to yourself so for that I am thankful.  I feel like I have so much to catch you all up on because – surprise! – I am already in my 2nd trimester.  Pretty hard to believe.  But Mr. Dr. and I wanted to be super duper sure all was well before we made our news public.  I guess that’s what happens when you are first time parents.  Parents…crazy to think that is what we will be after only having them all this time.  Ugh.  After only worrying about a fetus in my belly for 16 weeks I would like to give a shout out to any and all parents out there because my goodness do they deserve credit.  I have already experienced that “worry” that parents have and I am exhausted, and Baby L hasn’t even made the debut yet into the world.  This is going to be a long 18 years.  Who am I kidding – my mom still worries about all of us so nevermind, it’s going to be a long rest of my lifetime, ha.

I’d like to partially blame the creation of Baby L on the reasoning behind why I have blogged a bit less this summer.  I write honestly and openly so keeping such a big part of our life on the hush has been hard for my writing since all I have wanted to do is have a glass of wine…and a martini…and a beer to celebrate.  Have you noticed that Cocktail Fridays have been less frequent?  Even if you haven’t, I can assure you they have and it’s because I haven’t wanted to live the lie that I have been cocktailing to my norm this summer.  All for a good cause of course.  What will we do with the name of the blog?  Shall I temporarily change it to When Life Gives You Medicine & a Baby…make Mocktails? or When Life Gives You Pregnancy…make a Preggatini?

One of my dearest friends sent me the cutest gift after I told her the news. Take a look.  This will hopefully give me some good blog material to report on over the next 6 months.  Momjito anyone?

Preggatinis I will follow up with some exciting posts about how we told our families and how the last 4 months have been in preggo land.  Mr. Dr. and I couldn’t be happier to expand our family and I know that there are lots of doctor’s wives mommas out there to get the best advice from so feel free to start dishing that out…now.  For now, I will leave you with a picture of the first maternity shirt I was given.  I can’t wait to sport this sucker around NYC this fall.  Courtesy of my sister-in-law.

Ice Ice Baby Maternity Shirt

Mr. (Dr.) Right

Linking up with Medical Mondays (a day late but that’s allowed because it was a holiday yesterday).  I can’t believe it’s already September.

Now I know we all love our significant others and think the world of them. I am typically a believer in keeping it on the hush rather than shouting it from the rooftops in an effort to not make those less fortunate feel bad if they don’t have a great beau.  So here is a warning: please note what follows in this post might make you gag as I brag about Mr. Dr. for a minute.  I am going against my better judgement so skip reading this one if you don’t care to be enlightened.  Here it goes.  I sometimes think he is too perfect.  Let me list the reasons why.

1. The scholar-athlete awards he received in high school and college are countless…like excerpts of them from papers and online couldn’t all fit on a spread of a scrapbook I made him years ago.
2. In the first month I met him, he got a ‘B’ on a paper and set up a meeting with his professor to find out why he didn’t receive an ‘A’. Come to find out, it was his first ‘B’ ever in college.
3. He never got grounded in high school for being a rebellious party animal. (Was I the only one?? It’s normal to experiment and get in trouble for things like that in high school right?) He claims he never drank at a party until college.  What a sober saint.  My parents would have had a much easier 4 years if he was living under their roof circa my high school days.  While I was stellar in many areas of life growing up and almost always the perfect child, I also excelled in pushing the envelope with everything and succeeded in boiling my parents’ blood a few weeks (at least) out of every year.
4. He is the best gift giver ever. From Legally Blonde Broadway tickets to Louboutins and weekend getaway trips, he has always been pretty creative and on point.  I might say that the gifts have gotten slightly less unique over the last 2 years but I blame the lack of preparation time residency has allowed. And maybe, just maybe he is saving it all up for a big 3-0 surprise.
5. He likes to cuddle.  Not only that, when I don’t want to cuddle, he willingly (most nights) gives me 75% of the bed and in turn sleeps on the edge of his side of the bed because he knows I have a little fear that I might fall out of the bed if I don’t sleep practically in the middle.  The bottom line here is that we need a king size bed.
6. He likes to drink as much as I do.
7. He likes to eat as much as I do.
8. He watches chick flicks because deep down he likes them, and he watches all of my guilty pleasure TV.
9. He is more driven than my 2006 Toyota with almost 100,000 miles on it.  The boy has ambition like I have never seen.  I hope our kids pick up that trait.
10. He loves me.  A lot.

Mr. Dr. prides himself on doing ‘the right thing.’  In fact this has actually caused disagreements between us in the past.  He is the guy that takes favors and asks for none in return, always raises his hand when someone is looking for a volunteer, goes above and beyond even when it’s not necessary because ‘it’s just the right thing to do’ so he says.  Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy doing the right thing.  I just do the wrong thing probably 50% of the time so I think it balances out fine.  We aren’t perfect.  But he seems to be inching closer towards it than me.  Except when his stubbornness comes out.  Then he goes from hero to zero.  Or when he forgets that the dishwasher is right next to the sink.  Or when he doesn’t call people back for days.  Or when he procrastinates.  Or when he eats cans of tuna right before I get home – ugh – I can’t stand that smell.  So obviously there is an “annoying things” list that I have developed for him but that comes with almost 10 years of knowing someone.

Sometimes it’s just nice to sit back and send some kudos to the way of our hardworking suitors and remember why they are our Mr. Right.  And lucky for me, the “annoying list” contains all things we can work on.  Good thing we have a lifetime together to do it.

America’s Favorite Pastime

Fun little fact for those who don’t know.  Prior to this whole medical career Mr. Dr. played some baseball once or twice back in the day.  It’s hard to believe it’s been so long since that time in our lives but boy was it different.  Sports has been a huge part of both of our lives, hence how we met back in undergrad.  Fortunately for him, he was able to fulfill his dream of playing professionally.  I think every little leaguer has this dream but few can make it a reality.  After that exciting career stint he moved onto medicine.  Well, really it started during.  He was studying for MCATs while in season because he is no dummy and knew it was a long road ahead if he wanted to pursue doctorhood once his baseball career was finito.

Looking back on it, at the time I know I didn’t I appreciate the fact that he was so diligent about starting the process when he did.  I can’t imagine having started medical school any later than when we did knowing the path we are on now.  We were so young, silly and dumb when it all began we really had no idea what was ahead.  Correction.  HE knew.  I am sure when he was applying to medical schools he mentioned orthopedics as a field of interest.  But I just knew him as a baseball jock who liked biology and got way better grades than me.  I didn’t really listen to the 10 year surgery track plan.  I heard 3 letters: NYC.  Mumbling came after that and away we went on our adventure.

Well our new adventure did not require me sitting in the bleachers for 3 and ½ hours while simultaneously working on my tan during baseball games.  He only got up to bat every other inning so I was able to spend just as much time people watching, eating hot dogs and drinking beer as I did watching the game.  I got to watch him work 3 and ½ hours every day when he had a game.  That was a fun aspect of his job while he was employed by baseball.  It’s not like I can venture into the call room and cheer him on as he answers pages or go into the OR and clap every time he picks up the scalpel.  My cheerleading now is pretty much capped for in-home support only.

I always wondered what it would be like to be the wife of a pro baseball player.  The traveling weeks at a time would suck but couldn’t my husband just fly me to every game so I could sit in the wives section for the away games?  I think that seems reasonable.  In the off season he would always be around.  In the Spring we could live in warm, sunny Florida for Spring training.  If he got traded we could experience a new city together.  Who cares if I got a littttttle bored at the games.  It was fun to watch him jog around in his cute uniform.  Plus, ballpark food is the best.  Hospital food stinks, and scrubs and white coats are not the sexiest uniforms.

Mr. Dr. is lucky that he picked two professions he wanted to do in his life, has completed one and is working his way to achieve his second.  Baseball required hours, days and years of practice but every day baseball players can improve on the field.  Surgery requires hours, day and years of practice and like the sport, surgeons can improve every day in the operating room.  I suppose the biggest differences are he doesn’t get to play in dirt and run around a diamond when he does something great.  Rather, he plays inside of people’s bodies and gets to run around the hospital like a chicken with his head cut off.  He doesn’t stand outside and play catch with a little hard ball.  Instead he stands inside a fluorescent room and plays with little hard bones.  He doesn’t focus on lifting the dumbbell to get big muscles in the weight room.  Now, he focuses on lifting the knife to fix the wears and tears of others’ big muscles.

It’s funny how life has evolved for him thus far.  Recently, we went to the Home Run Derby because it was held in NYC this year which was awesome.  We had a great time and Mr. Dr. loved being back in familiar territory to witness such a cool event.

Homerun DerbyWe even got to see Pit Bull perform.  It was a fun night out.  Maybe one of these days we will get Mr. Dr. back on the diamond and see if he still has some of his own home run mojo from back in the day.

Pit Bull

One Day It Will Be Us

It’s been an exciting summer for us.  We have had a couple of weddings, a couple of fun events, some great outings and best of all, this first 3rd year rotation has allowed us to have ample quality time together.  This year was our first year attending the residency graduation dinner.  It was at a beautiful venue on a boat that sits anchored on the east river.  Mr. Dr. was working but they send someone in (usually a fellow) to relieve those that are on call for the evening for a few hours because they want the entire program (years 2-5) to be there.  It was a tad bit stressful since he had to rush to and from the hospital, to and from home, and to and from the event.  They really don’t make it easy for these slave laborers.  Amidst the rushing we only managed to lose one cufflink.  Perhaps it was the bow tie youtube how-to-tie video that he was watching en route to the venue that distracted him.  Luckily, thanks to him being on call, our dine and dash sentiment didn’t leave much time for anyone to notice that one tux shirt cuff was being held together by a paper clip that we graciously received from the hostess upon arrival.

Attendings, residents and their closest family attend this black tie affair.  I didn’t know what to expect but one immediate feeling I had was that I was glad they included the significant others on the invite.  Although it’s an event honoring the 5th years that are graduating, it really is a milestone event for all of the residents.  It’s always in June which means graduation for the 5th years, but another year done for the others.  Besides the extra fluff that they throw in to make it cheesy and ceremonial, the room is filled with hope for all of the junior residents.  Knowing it will be each of them in a year, 2 years or 3 years from that moment warms everyone with a good feeling for those few hours.  And not to mention, gives the significant others a moment to sit back and remember that one day it will hopefully all be worth it.  The sense of accomplishment that you could hear as each 5th year resident stood up to say their thanks and show their pride was endearing, motivating and rightfully so, emotional.  I am looking forward to inching one step closer to that being us with each upcoming year.  After a nice sit down dinner, they have the presentation of diplomas, slideshows (its ortho so they keep it light and entertaining), speeches and awards.  It’s just long enough to fit everything in and short enough that your eyelids don’t get too heavy while sitting there.

Here we are in our lobby as we were rushing back upstairs so he could change back into his doctor clothes and be swept away to overnight call.  I had realized I didn’t snap any photos and it’s certainly not often we get dressed up like his and her penguins.

Residency Dinner

Mr. & Mrs. Sitting In A Tree…K-I-S-S-I-M.D.

Way back when…like back to the days of athletic sweat pants and jungle juice…Mr. Dr. and I started “date night” in our relationship.  Date night has really evolved over the years.  Back in college it meant dedicating a night to just each other since we didn’t live together and both had roommates.  We liked to try a new restaurant on every date.  Tidbit: I made this awesome (yes it really was) scrapbook for him as a college graduation/birthday gift and it included receipts, pictures and other takeaways from our date nights throughout college.  Sigh.  That scrapbook still makes me smile.  It sits on the same bookshelf as our wedding album.  We sure have been through a lot together!

Fast forward to the fall of 2007 when he started med school.  Date night sort of fell off the radar.  We were living together for the first time, he was adjusting to school and I was cranking away at finding a job.  Note: Do try to move to NYC with a job locked in.  Moving up here with no job is not the most fun start to a new adventure together.  As med school continued and we were busy in our daily routine chaotic lives we realized something was missing from our relationship.  Date night.  So we resurrected it.  We decided we would make an effort in our busy (or what we thought was busy at the time) schedules to make time for each other on a dedicated night once a week.  All was well for a while.

Well then we got engaged in 2009.  Wedding planning and 3rd year medical rotations took over.  Date nights took a back seat once again.

We got married and matched so we finally had a locked in plan for the next 5 years.  We settled into a new apartment and residency began.  Life became…different.  Hectic was an understatement.  Adjusting to him being gone so much was hard (even harder than having him gone for 2 months in a different state during 4th year med school rotations).  But being in the city that never sleeps with a job that kept me busy I was managing.  I had preemptively warned my family and friends to be on standby 24/7 for when I would need that ‘it’s going to be OK’ phone call.  Mr. Dr. and I quickly realized how important it was to bring back date night once again.  Having a dedicated night to each other took on a new meaning.  It became a must mostly for me to know he is still did exist in the flesh.

So here we are.  2+ years into residency.  Well our date nights have varied to say the least but I am happy to report we still both make an effort to accommodate weekly date night.  Some of them have been spent ordering takeout with a bottle of wine in front of the TV.  Some have been candlelit dinners cooked together in our tiny kitchen.  Some have been BYOB dinners at our local pizzeria or sushi restaurant.  And some have been an impromptu fancy steak dinner where we dress to the nines and make a night on the town out of it.  What I have failed to mention thus far are the date nights that Mr. Dr. misses because he has to work too late.  Those last minute cancels via text are not fun.  Or the date nights that we have planned, reservations and all, except we never make it out of the apartment because Mr. Dr. has come home and fallen asleep on the couch after 5 minutes.  These kinds of date nights do rear their little heads.  But as a resident’s wife I have learned to accept that this comes with the territory.  And that is OK.  Sometimes now just the thought of date night is what suffices.  When before I used to get annoyed that we deviated from what we had planned, now I just hope he makes it through our night without falling asleep mid-dinner.  I know what you are thinking.  Forget residency…how does he fall asleep with a wife as entertaining as myself!?  I often wonder this too.  I mean just the other day my shower singing was bringin’ sexy back for him.  How can one not love my serenading from the bathroom?  I’m sure if you asked him he would agree.

All in all our weekly date nights are my most anticipated night of the week giving us both something to look forward to.  If it happens great.  If it gets cancelled or moved that’s fine too.  If he gets home 3 hours later than expected and I am on my 2nd cocktail, well hey at least he made it home for the 3rd.  The good news is that I appreciate our date nights even more now than ever before.  Time with my Mr. Dr. is something I value and that is certainly something that residency has helped teach me.   Sure we still try for weekly date nights.  But I try not to blink because sometimes that’s all it is before Mr. Dr. is fast asleep and the zzzzz’s win date night.

2nd Year = DONE

check mark

Happy July 1st and Happy Medical Monday.  And most of all.  Happy first day of PGY3 for us.  It’s here.  The end to PGY2 has come.  The final rotation of ortho trauma is complete and although it was a doozy  I could not be happier to have the first 2 years of residency done and under our belts.  And I know I speak for both Mr. and Mrs. Dr. on that one.  It has been a pretty nutty year in the land of orthopedic residency.  I didn’t think that the hours would get worse from intern year…but they did.  I didn’t think his time “at home” in front of the computer or on the phone could increase from intern year…but it did.  I didn’t think the 24 hour shifts were real…but they are.  I didn’t think that Mr. Dr. would ever really get used to functioning on empty…but he did…and he does.

Now I also didn’t think that after working the longer hours he would maintain the excitement for his job…but he has.  In fact, his excitement for orthopedics has grown and it has been a really fun, inspiring venture to watch.  Hal-eh-lu-ya.  Rest assured he chose the right specialty.  However in full disclosure, there was a point a few months into 2nd year when Mrs. Dr. had to come to the rescue and politely reiterate to a defeated Mr. Dr. that we were not quitting after a couple rough tussles were had in the hospital.  Keeping the eye on the prize was more or less what I insisted so kindly reminded him was our goal.  I of course left out the following statements:

-Are you kidding? Of course there is no turning back.
-Did you forget that large 6 digit number of debt we have lingering over the tops of our little heads?
-Get it together Doc. We are in it for the long haul.
-We (let’s be honest, more specifically I) have not endured 6 years of this medical life crap for nothing.

No no.  I left all of that out and spoke to him like a motivational speaker on her best day.  And somehow it worked.  I was probably a few glasses of wine or maybe even a bottle in but sometimes that’s all we need.  But that was it…only 1 major hurdle to cross.  I use that term loosely as there are lots of hurdles.  But hey – if only 1 major down occurs in 365 days in a field where we have more ups and downs than a roller coaster at Six Flags that is considered a big win.

Best of all, he never ceases to amaze me.  He comes home from work at 9am or 9pm with a smile on his face.  He works hard and puts in the time where it’s due and doesn’t complain.  In fact, he is the one that politely reminds me that whether we like it or not, there isn’t a whole lot he can really have a say in so for now we just have to go with it.  And believe me, I need that reminder.

That is probably my biggest learning from 2nd year.  I can’t tell you how many times I said to myself “just go with the flow.”  It helped me tremendously when dealing with unfair scheduling, long calls, missed holidays, missed events and all of the other crap that goes along with being a resident.  So much of it is beyond their poor, suture sewing control.  I reached the point this year where I understood what it meant to direct my anger away from him and instead out into the air (or into the vodka), because there was not a whole hell of a lot either of us could do about the many frustrations he, and sometimes we, were experiencing.  But as usual, we got through it with laughs, smiles and a few sparse tears.

I’d say with 2 years of orthopedic residency done and our marriage still not only in tact, but happy as can be, those theme parks better start lining up at our door.  The Mr. & Mrs. Dr. ride might just be the next big conquering amusement. :).  Come one, come all.

You Know You Make Me Wanna



Technically wedding season commences in April.  Funny actually, when we chose our wedding date I spoke to a couple that said they had gotten married in April and it was a great month to do so because their wedding kicked off wedding season for most of the guests.  It makes sense for us east coasters.  April-October and really now November is even just as big to say those two joyful words ‘I do’ with your soul mate.  And so I guess it was nice to get everyone excited for the upcoming months of wedding festivities for other friends and family members.  Throw in a tornado and voila, we really kicked off wedding season with a bang 2 years ago!

This wedding season for us has started off quiet which has been a nice change from the last 2 years.  Last year we had 7 weddings, yes 7.  We are just at that age.  Unfortunately Mr. Dr. was also an intern/2nd year throughout the wedding madness.  This = only made it to about half.  50% is a pretty accurate count for things he misses in a year.  So hopefully that increases year over year.  Even if it’s just to 56% this year.  I’ll take it.  Although for June that 50% rings true.  This weekend kicks off our first wedding of 2013 and I am looking forward to spending a fun weekend with family and friends.  I mean really, how fun are weddings??  And when you know the majority of people there, it’s even better.  Mr. Dr. is working so he will miss this one but that’s ok because wedding #2 of the season is next weekend and he will be there in the flesh.  I can’t guarantee he won’t be tired and I am not to blame if he falls asleep next to the dance floor, but I can guarantee that we will be celebrating the end of his 2nd year as much as the nuptials of the bride and groom.

Confession: Ever since the movie Wedding Crashers I have wanted to crash just ONE wedding to see what it would feel like.  Is that weird?  I think it might be.  I blame Vince and Owen because they make it look too fun.  My next confession is that I secretly hope that never comes true because it’s probably creepy and not cool.  I digress…

This weekend I will be in my hometown, good ol’ Bmore, with fabulous family and fantastic friends.  The good news at this point in the game instead of the “Where’s your husband?” question, I have been to enough events solo that it’s more like, “So he’s working?” and all I have to do is shake my head yes.  Saves me a few breaths.  But despite being unaccompanied by my favorite human accessory, it will be a great time and I’m really looking forward to it.

And then I am rushing home on Sunday because it’s our first year attending the residency graduation dinner for our program.  Mr. Dr. is getting relieved from his shift for 4 hours on Sunday so we can go as it’s pretty mandatory for the PGYs 2-4 to be there to support the graduating 5th years.  Which I think is great by the way.  I will report back on that one.

Cheers to wedding season and Happy Cocktail Friday.

Cold Hard Hospital Facts

June and July are interesting months in the medical world.  Residencies start, families move, school ends, and orientation scares everyone.  Relating to residency, residents are experiencing a ‘first time’ all over again whether they are an intern or a chief.  Every July 1st (at least that is the date in our case – but every program is different) brings a whole new slew of learnings, rotations, tasks, responsibilities and brand spanking new “one step” closer moments, which are obviously my favorite.

I will never forget the first day Mr. Dr. started residency.  I kissed him goodbye in the dark, wished him well and had no idea when he would come home or what he would say his day was like when he did.  When that tired soul did finally walk through the door, I remember thinking he looked like two things: a deer in headlights and confusion.  Sort of like the look you might expect on a 2 year old when they are standing in a room and at that split second realize their parent isn’t standing right next to them anymore.  Confusion leads to utter panic within seconds. That is sort of what I pictured as I watched him describe his day.  I think I asked something along the lines of, “Did you see a ghost on your way home?” But his response, “I ran around the hospital today like a chicken with my head cut off, I have no idea what I am doing and everyone is too busy to teach me what the hell is going on. This is going to be brutal.”  Poor guy.  Welcome to residency you naïve little long white-coated intern. Yes, you have an M.D. after your name now but good luck with the next 5 years.  Cheers though for coming out alive on the first day of understanding what that M.D. means in the ortho world with your body still in one piece.  I felt for him…oh did I ever.  Then I felt for myself.  What have we gotten ourselves into?  Two things have remained true for me since we started.

1. Despite what everyone tells you to expect, it’s probably worse.
2. No one understands residency until they go through it both from the M.D. perspective and the spouse perspective.

Evvvvvvvvveryone tells you all of the residency rumors before you start – how hard the next few years of life will be and blah blah blah.  And while everyone is right about how difficult residency is, there is one thing that a lot of people forget to mention.  For the second half of June and most of July, patients will probably be getting ‘B’ game service without even realizing it! I don’t know about you but I expect ‘A’ game whenever I visit a hospital.  Well folks, those young little newbies in scrubs running around the hospital halls looking like they don’t have a clue are probably not acting if you ever pay a visit in those summer months. Sure they catch on quick – I mean there has to be a reason why they got into residency ;) – but after seeing Mr. Dr.’s first month of residency unfold 2 years ago, I certainly recommend holding off a bit on a hospital visit until after the dust has settled in those call rooms.  Maybe consider scheduling that knee surgery for September instead of July.

Take my advice or don’t take it.  I am just laying down the cold (hm or maybe hot since we are talking summer) hard facts. Beware of the hospital in the mid-summer months or…enter at your own risk.

funny doctor surgery

Sneakers Sneak By The Stilettos

Something you may or may not know about me.  I hate feet.  Maybe because I don’t think mine are the cutest, with my bunions and calluses.  By the time my mom was my age she already had bunion surgery.  Mine have definitely gotten worse over the years but I am in slight denial and pretend they are fine.  They don’t hurt yet so I until then…well they are fine…they just don’t look too pretty.  As I write I am knocking on a piece of wood for that one.  Ugh and those disgustos that have foot sex fetishes…ewww…  Look, everyone is allowed to have their own “thing” but seriously pick a different part of the body other than that which stampedes the cement ground I walked home from work on today.  The only good thing that comes to mind when I hear the word feet is pedicure.  I do love a pampering pedicure.  But who doesn’t?

I love stilettos, pumps and all other girly shoes that are bad for your feet.  I wear them all the time and prefer to live by the mantra “beauty is pain” when it comes to heels.  I am a woman and therefore, feel entitled to think that way.  But after a long day of standing upright 4 inches with an arched foot taller than my best day in flats, I come home and feel relieved to put on my slippers (which by the way only occurs after I eloquently place my heels back in their rightful space in the closet – this tidbit will make sense after you read the post in full).  Well this got me thinking.  How do surgeons stand in surgeries for 10 hours without tired feet?  Mr. Dr. never complains about his feet being sore.  I don’t get it.  How do they run around the hospital for 24 hours without hurtin’ tootsies?

So then I considered the shoe selection for surgeons.  It seems the most popular in our neck of the Manhattan woods are either crocks or clogs.  He says his clogs are perfect for running around the hospital and standing in long surgeries.  Then again, they are probably too damn tired to even notice what’s on their feet.  I’d like to believe if Christian Louboutin made clogs they would probably be uncomfortable and probably cost a small fortune.  I wonder, though, if the lady doctors and nurses would buy them anyway.  After all, they are women.  And we women love shoes.

True and terrible story:
I got home from work one day and a pair of his old sneakers (that I hadn’t seen in months) were sitting out IN OUR TINY APARTMENT next to the couch.  I looked down and saw a few speckles of red on them.  And it wasn’t the same red as the sole or the Nike swoosh.  No it was a smeared, deeper red on the top.  He wouldn’t I thought to myself.  Oh but he did.  Smeared b-l-o-o-d.  Not a spilled glass of Cabernet, not a sharpie explosion and not a fight with my bottle of nail polish.  Nope, just blood dabbled drenched, infectious sneakers sitting effortlessly next to my crisp, clean light-colored sofa where I spend my calming downtime and

Me: Babe, where did these old sneakers come from?
Him: The car.
Me: Um, is that blood on them?
Him: Oh yeah, when I didn’t have my clogs I had to use these because they were the only old pair of shoes I had lying around that I wanted to use in the OR.
Me: Oh…OK.

Did they eventually get moved?  Yes.  But what the hell made him think that his placement of shoes was A)appropriate and B)normal?  Am I crazy?  Thinking back to it I must say if it was sans the blood on top I would not have gotten so disgusted.  But the bottom line is there was blood, from an OR nonetheless, and it was sitting in my pretty living room.  I have learned to bite my tongue so many times I can’t even count.  So I made sure to express my disgust in a heartfelt, loving way that might get through to him because newflash -> blood drenched/dabbed/speckled/dropped/I-don’t-care-how-much-is-on-it-but-it-is-there sneakers need to stay out of my living space. This reminds me of an Emma saga of “You Know You’re a Surgeon’s Wife When…

I came to the conclusion that while what he did was pretty sick and unsanitary, there are bigger fish to fry so I’m over it.  He knows I was not thrilled and that’s what matters.  I think I had a soft spot because we don’t have a garage or mud room to displace something like that.  We don’t even have a yard where we can sit them (though the balcony would have been a better option).  But hey, he was probably seeing double when he put them there after his long shift.  I’m going with that because he knows Mrs. Dr. would not approve if he was thinking in his level-headed state.  Note: for my future visitors, I have disinfected the area and while I am not certain where the old sneaks currently reside, they are not next to the couch.

Are clogs, crocks and old sneakers the surgery way as far as feet selection for anyone else in the surgical field?  Would love to know…and hear if any of you have shared in a similar true and terrible story like mine.