The Start of Something New

In a less than a week, I will be a full time university student for the first time ever. I'm 27, I've been married for over 9 years, and I have an 8 year old son and 5 year old daughter, but somehow this milestone still feels enormous.

My husband and I are both transferring to the university after many years of on and off attendance at our local community college, interrupted by marriage and child birth and sudden medical issues with our youngest child. He is a criminal justice major and I am biological and physical sciences major, working steadily to complete my premed requirements. Last semester he and I alternated nights in evening classes during the week, and on Saturday I spent the day in Biology II. Add in his full time job and my volunteering at the hospital, and we were like two ships that passed occasionally to hand off the children and their information and we generally managed collapsed into the same bed at night, except when KayTar (my youngest) was sick and demanded his place in the bed.

This semester is promising. He is able to complete the remainder of his degree online, and I am finally able to take day classes. We may have some semblance of a normal family life for a few months! KayTar will be starting Kindergarten, which means both of our kids will be in school for full days. KayTar has a slew of special medical needs (that are mostly well-controlled at this point) and gets sick frequently, but my mother has agreed to keep her when she is home sick from school. She knows how to tube feed her, check her urine for ketones, test her glucose levels, and administer her medications. She knows her favorite books and television shows. She is one of KayTar's favorite people and I know they will be fine. And yet? I'm nervous and I feel a little bit guilty. I've been KayTar's primary care giver, in sickness and in health, ever since we realized things were not quite right with her. Stepping away from that, even in a small way, is going to be a bit of an emotional adjustment for me. KayTar is already excited about spending her sick days with my mother!

Our schedule is still a little bit wild; shared drop off and pick up from the kids' school, driving to and from downtown to get to my school, volunteering at the Children's Hospital, volunteering at the local free clinic, volunteering at the kids' school, shadowing physicians, baseball and cub scouts for BubTar, dance and twice weekly therapies for KayTar, along with interspersed appointments with her various doctors...hopefully we don't have any ER visits or urgent surgeries this semester like we did last semester! It is going to take a lot of teamwork to make this work, but I think it will be worth it. Wish us luck!

Peptic ulcers notwithstanding

Much like I feel like I deserve an award for bringing my two young children to IKEA and returning home with the same two children, so do I for finishing my 15th letter of recommendation for fourth-year medical students each Fall.  Sure, some letters are easy:  those whom I know well and can share insightful anecdotes about basically write themselves.  But, then there are the students who I know less well, or worse, have reservations about, where the objective is to write the most positive letter I can without lying. After writing fifteen letters, it’s hard to sound fresh and engaging. I’m just hoping to use the correct pronouns consistently.(1) Then, after I send that last letter off to the Dean’s office, I’m left looking around for the man with the medal who is supposed to say, “Thank you for your service, Ma’am. Here’s that medal I promised you.”

Like being a mother, being a clinician-educator is full of thankless tasks.  There are no trophies for remembering to buy enough diapers so your child doesn’t have to wear swim diapers (again). There are no engraved plaques for having a one-hour feedback session with a student who is not performing at an acceptable level, but doesn’t agree with that assessment. There’s not even a blue ribbon for winning first prize in “Guess what this abstract finger painting is of (Hint: not your first instinct),” or “Pin down the last evasive attending that needs to give their input before the final grade computation.”

Yet, I’ve also found that, like mothering, being an educator means you do these thankless tasks out of love. Because your job and who you are is why you do what you do. You know that they will grow up and, at some point, hopefully, appreciate the time, the patience, and the energy you put into everyday. And, even if they don’t ever say “Thank you for ruining your body forever by having me,” or “Your investment in me made me a better doctor,” deep down inside you know you made a difference.

The labor of love that is parenting and educating is one and the same: at times painful, occasionally the cause of a peptic ulcer, but, in the end, unbelievably rewarding.

Still, more awards (or medals) for both jobs would be nice. A girl can dream.


(1) NB: some to all parts of this post are written tongue-in-cheek. Please do not send hate mail or actual medals.

MiM Mailbag: First intro to medicine

first of all i want to say i love all of your stories. they inspire me to go through school and achieve what each and every one of you have achieved.

i have connections to a hospital and was told that i could shadow a doctor. i was given pretty much free reign as far as my choice and i'm supposed to tell them what i'm interested in and they will arrange who i shadow by what i tell them.

well, i'm interested in obstetrics...but i have a feeling that might be kind of awkward to shadow. other than that i have no real preference.

so my question to all of you lovely ladies is this: what area of medicine do you think would give me the best experience? this would be my first intro to medicine and i want to pick something that would be a positive experience and that would be able to show me a basic "day in the life of".

thank you!

Why I loved having a nanny

I've made no secret of the fact that Melly was a nanny-baby, and it's a decision that I'm very grateful that we made. We loved our nanny.

For those of you struggling with the nanny vs. daycare question, as I was, I wanted to share a post I wrote on High Heeled Mom about the pros and cons of having a nanny.

Seeking inspiration for inspiration

We have a new first year class staring in two weeks. A colleague asked me to suggest something they might read about a physician to provide inspiration. We agreed that books about heroic doctors going to dangerous places were not suitable, but I couldn’t come up with anything else. I also realized that most doctor-heroes—at least the ones who inspire others to write about them—are men, often men motivated by religious faith or medical missionary zeal. The women doctors who have fascinated and inspired me all come from the pioneer period, when just going to medical school was itself an act of heroism. For this class, in which women are the majority, those kinds of accounts would likely seem quaint at best. Who inspired you? And who do you think might foster the spark in the class of 2014?

MiM Mailbag: Having kids during med school

Hi Mothers in Medicine,

I love, love, love the blog and use it as a nice way to procrastinate from studying when I need a break. It's medically related, so that makes it okay, right?

I thought I would submit a question with something I am struggling with in hopes that I can get some advice from all the mommy-doctors out there.

I'm currently a rising 2nd year and I would like to have my first child while still in school. However, I am battling with the timing of it all. I realize that the entire process of parenting doesn't necessarily work out as planned, and that we may not conceive immediately, but ideally I would like to conceive in November so that the baby would be due in August since I would like to take off a year to stay home with the baby and the natural break in the summer would be perfect for that.

So, my options are either have the baby between second and third year, or between third and fourth year. I found my passion this summer while shadowing, so I know without a doubt I want to be an emergency medicine doc.

Here is my assessment of the two options for 'baby having'.

Between Second and Third year-

Pros: natural break in curriculum between class and clinic medicine, when I do start back in 3rd year I will be still be sharp in 4th year during my ER rotation for a rec. good letter, starting family sooner (28 instead of 29 if we wait a year)

Cons: Being preg. during 2nd year when the courses are tough, being pregnant while trying to study for the boards (I've heard 'pregnancy brain' can really affect your memory), and being very pregnant (7~8mos) while actually taking the boards (bathroom breaks?), having a 1 year old during 3rd year rotations when time is limited and not your own


Between Third and Fourth year-

Pros: Not worrying about how pregnancy may have effected my board scores, having 4th year coming up which is considerably lighter than the first 3 years of medical school

Cons: Since I would be off an entire year between 3rd and 4th year, I'm worried that I may be rusty on my clinical skills and I really need to impress during the ER rotation which is during 4th year, Being pregs during 3rd year and how this may effect those grades which are more important than preclinical grades.

I realize there is no "right" time to have a baby during this training process, however, I was wondering if I could have some insight from women out there who have been through it and have children now. Obviously, I have no idea the amount of energy and time a child needs, so from women who have been through this arduous process of medical training and know what it entails to be pregnant and to be a mother, what would you do if you were me?

Many thanks in advance.

MiM Mailbag: CRNA or MD?

Hi, I'm looking for advice from mothers in medicine. I am a biology major, in my senior year with a 3.9 gpa. I also have a 2 and 3 year old. I'm debating whether to pursue medical school or CRNA. Even though these paths are separated only by 2-3 years, I am leaning towards choosing CRNA because of having a family. I fear that the medical school and residency experience will be too great of a sacrifice of family and time. Can you offer any advice? I am worried that I will regret my decision, regardless of which one I choose. If I choose CRNA, I will regret not achieving my own personal best or ultimate fulfillment. If I choose M.D., I may regret losing countless hours with my family along the way. This of course rides on the assumption that the CRNA route, although comparable in measurement of years, will be much easier in terms of time invested (hours of study, etc.) I would really appreciate some insight from those who have chosen the M.D. route and may be familiar with that of CRNA and could make a comparison or at least shed some light on how manageable medical school and residency are with young children, and if you believe that you would do it again if you had the chance to turn back time.
Thanks you so much!

C.C.

Mommy/daughter day

I wasn't working today, so I took Melly to a local pool. She really, really likes that pool. But it's not heated, so I mostly just sit in the water and slowly turn blue.

While we were "swimming," I ran into a one year old girl with her nanny. I was chatting with her a bit, while she bounced the baby around.

Me: "She looks like she likes the pool."

Nanny: "Yeah, she does. But her parents can't take her in it because they're both doctors and don't have time."

Me: "..."

Nanny: "Well, I guess they could take her on the weekend maybe."

I was tempted to say something, but I didn't.

Anyway, for the first time in over three years, I have a day off during the week to spend with my daughter. It's heaven. It's what I've always wanted. Except I'm not sure what the hell to do with her all day.

Last week it was too cold for the pool, so things really got crazy. We went to this tiny park nearby and acted out the following scenario:

Melly: "I'm Supergirl. You be Superman. I have to rescue you."

Me: "I'm Superman. Help me, Supergirl! Save me!"

Melly: "Here I am to save you!"

Repeat x 10 million

After less than an hour in the park, I was ready to shoot myself in the head. We ended up fighting a lot and I eventually just plopped her down in front of the television.

This week was better. We had the pool, we did laundry, then we drove to the supermarket and bought cookie ingredients to bake cookies from scratch. It was actually really fun till Melly decided she wanted to eat all the cookies immediately and stormed off to her room, declaring she didn't like me anymore.

Those of you who spend days alone with your preschoolers, what do you do to entertain them? I don't want to take any long excursions because she hates the car, but there must be something we can do to entertain ourselves all day. Maybe more recipes that are mommy/daughter friendly?

Easy Bake Oven

I'm not much of a cook.

I could fill you with stories - like how I accidentally read the wrong page while trying to bake the Christmas Rum Cake when I was home for break from college, and ended up mashing the ingredients for two different cakes (the other one was strawberry, I think), necessitating an extra trip to the grocery store on Christmas Eve. Or the time I attempted Chocolate Mousse for a supper club and wasted three cartons of eggs. My final mousse had the consistency of chalky pudding. Or the time I was cooking dinner at an evening shift at the home for people with schizophrenia in college, and ended up almost setting the kitchen on fire trying to follow one of my client's recipes for home fried potatoes. Or the time I decided to bake chocolate covered peanut butter balls with my daughter for all of the teachers at her school for Christmas, and I got the wrong kind of chocolate that wouldn't solidify unless it was refrigerated (not to mention that I forgot peanut butter wasn't allowed at the school, so me and my cold peanut butter balls were ushered frantically out of the building the next morning by a teacher's aide - you would have thought I was trying to smuggle cocaine into preschool). Luckily the temperature was in the twenties, so I enjoyed all the peanut butter balls myself as they sat happily in the front seat of my car over the next week.

When I went to pick out a birthday present for my daughter Sicily's 7th birthday last March, I thought the Easy Bake Oven was just the thing. I remembered having one when I was little, enjoying baking tiny brownies, and decided it would be perfect for me and her to do. I would create fond memories with her, baking tiny desserts that required little to no cooking ability.

It's now August, and the Easy Bake oven has sat unused in a cupboard for months. My daughter pulled it out this morning.

"Hey mom! I think I'll finish this sock puppet on another day." She pulled out her sewing kit from Ramona this morning and made a wonderful sock puppet with a lime green sock, a button eye, and hair made from the cut off fingers of an old mulberry-colored mitten. They end result was fabulous. My only assistance was threading the needle in between YouTubing barracuda attacks with my son Jack. "Can we do the Easy Bake oven?"

At first I hemmed and hawed about how we didn't really have time and it would take too much effort.

"Please mom? I don't remember who got me this, but I'm really excited to use it. You can even pick out what we make first."

I felt guilty at the months that had gone by. "I got it for you." I looked at the clock - only 9:30 a.m. Her dad wasn't coming to pick her up for lunch until 11:30. "OK. Let's figure this thing out."

Luckily, my dad set it up with the proper bulb back in March so it would be ready to use. I plugged it in, thinking the 15 minute warm up time would be too much to prepare the mixes. I was wrong. While Sicily was back in her room making her bed, I asked Jack what he wanted to make. "Chocolate chip cookies."

When Sicily returned, Jack convinced her that I decided on the chocolate chip cookies. "Come on, mom, don't you want to bake a cake?" I told her if the cookies worked out OK maybe we could do both.

I found the recipe and we poured the tiny packet of powdered mix into a bowl. I prepared butter and paper towels to grease the tiny pans and made a little plate of flour for shaping the cookies. I read 3/4 on the amount of water to add to the mix, and realized after pouring less than half of 3/4 cup of water into the mix that it was way too much. I consulted the recipe and quickly realized my mistake. 3/4 of a teaspoon, not 3/4 cup. Oops. We started from scratch with a new mix.

After Jack and Sicily each made three cookie dough balls to place in their pans, I grabbed the plastic pan holder and attempted numerous times unsuccessfully to shove the pans backwards into the oven through the cooling rack. Finally Sicily said, "Mom, maybe it goes in this way?" I told her that wasn't likely, it was probably a design flaw, and searched out the instruction booklet. She was right.

8-9 minutes later (isn't that the same time it takes for regular cookies?) we had tiny conglomerated flat cookies that looked like they weren't fit for our snake. Sicily looked crestfallen, but I assured her that looks aren't everything, and they probably tasted OK. She and Jack happily devoured their cookies, and we moved onto the cake.

Once again, the amount of water to add was negligible, but the consistency didn't seem right, so we added a little drop by drop (I felt like I was back in Chemistry class doing a pH lab titration). The frosting was similarly difficult. Sicily became angry when Jack ate all of his frosting, so instead of a two layer cake we just made a tiny cake sandwich with a chocolate frosting center and I found some tube icing and sprinkles in the cupboard to decorate the top. The entire process took about an hour longer than if we made a regular cake, and the end result was paltry. Despite liberal greasing by Jack, the cake came out of the pan piecemeal like a uterus in a laparoscopic hysterectomy. Jack took two bites and wandered off to his room to play. Sicily cut the half dollar-sized piece of her cake into three pieces - nibbled one, gave me one, and gave the other to her dad when he arrived.

While we were waiting for the second layer of cake to bake in the oven, Sicily was enjoying the last bites of her cookie flatbread and absentmindedly cleaning the flour from the table with a baby wipe (Love them! Still use them! Make-up remover to counter top cleaner!). "Mom, isn't this just wonderful? Isn't it the most fun you've ever had? Can we do it again soon?"

A better cook might me more successful than myself with the Easy Bake Oven. But as Sicily smiled up at me this morning with cake batter and cookie dough spattering her mouth and cheeks and flour dusting her nose, I had no regrets on the money I'd spent for her birthday present.

The last diaper and other things I do and don't miss...

My baby is turning 4 (years) tomorrow. Soon there will be no massive car seat, just a booster. Got me thinking about the other things that end or go away, and those that I miss but don't miss.

The last clean emergency use diaper, in the trunk, glove compartment, bag.
The last dirty diaper (emergency use?) in, well, you know where it goes.
No more potty seats (yay) but still helping to wipe their bottoms...

But on to another theme. With losses and transitions I find a happy and a sad. Good bye to pumping (yay), breastfeeding (awwww).

Last power outtage where we have to worry about losing all the stored frozen breastmilk in the freezer (yay), but still threw out lots and lots of chicken nuggets.

Love reading all good books to the kids all the time (and bad books some of the time) , and wondering if daughter is needlessly worried that we won't read to her now that she can read (not true, honey!!)

Didn't realize that with kids (or even just one) comes that last time I'd get to sleep late! But that will hopefully return someday.

Gave away the swing, bouncy seat, and play-yard! More space. Filled with more stuff.

Goodbye high chair. Still some laps!

Goodbye stroller. Still some carrying!

Last day of daycare. First day of Kindergarten.

Last maternity leave. Last return to work from maternity leave.
Last labor.
Last baby.
But very full lives together ahead and of course oh so many firsts to celebrate!

Some lasts are more momentous than others. You just never know. Hoping not to have any last hugs, last kisses, last sharing, last snuggles, last giggles...

What do you and don't you miss?

MiM Mailbag: Experiencing medicine while pre-med

I'd love to hear more about what people did for clinical experience during their premed years. Hospital volunteering? Shadowing?

I'm a non-traditional undergrad student, I'm married, I have two kids and the youngest has special medical needs. I've been volunteering in a pediatric EC for over a year, but I see very little medicine as there is a policy that volunteers can't be present during treatment. My daughter sees about 8 different physicians from various specialties, so I have some exposure from those interactions and the years of testing and treatment we've been though, but I doubt there is a spot for that on my med school applications! I'd love to find a way to experience/observe a little more actual medicine during my undergrad years. Any suggestions?

Adventures in dentistry

Recently, we took Melly to her first dental appointment. I was told that three years old was the age they're supposed to go, so I made her an appointment. She was pretty excited because they hyped up dentist visits at her daycare.

I took her to a large local pediatric dental practice. They had a child-sized dental chair and let Melly pick out what flavor toothpaste she wanted to have her cleaning with (bubblegum was one of the options, of course). They taught her about the machine that sucks water out of her mouth and the little whirly machine that cleans the teeth. When they gave her a little pair of sunglasses so the light wouldn't hurt her eyes, I almost died of cuteness.

One thing I wasn't impressed with was that there was nowhere for parents to sit in the room. There were no chairs around, so I was just kind of hovering over her uncomfortably. I know you surgeons stand in place for hours, but I can't. I finally asked if I could borrow the dental chair that was empty next to me, and the hygienist told me quite snootily that I could, but I'd have to get up immediately if someone needed it. She acted like wanting to sit during this hour long visit was a totally ridiculous request.

The dentist finally came in. He was very young and handsome and I liked him right away. He counted Melly's teeth as I ogled him. I thought to myself, "This is the best dentist's visit EVER!"

Dr. Cutiepie straightened up and faced me. "She's got some decay on her two upper molars."

"What?" I said.

"We can just fill them in for her," he said. "We'll give her a little nitrous gas and she won't feel it at all."

"What?"

All of a sudden, I wanted to throttle Dr. Cutiepie. I despised him. How could my three year old child have cavities? Was that even possible? Dr. Cutiepie was... what? Twenty five years old? He didn't know what he was doing. They didn't even have chairs in this goddamn place. Obviously he was making this up to get money. I don't know what kind of monster would do something like that, but I haven't trusted dentists since two of them tried to high pressure me into getting my wisdom teeth out. (My family dentist assured me I didn't have to.)

The dentist visit ended with the hygienist snapping a Polaroid of Melly and Dr. Cutiepie, which I promptly burned the second I got home.

My parents both had friends who were dentists, so I spent the night trying to figure out what to do. They said if she had cavities, it was better to get them filled. I felt awful. Why did my preschooler have cavities? I thought about her diet and started to blame myself. Maybe I let Melly have too many treats. But we don't give her any candy or fruit juice. Maybe we hadn't enforced toothbrushing well enough (or at all). My husband and I decided to initiate a fascist toothbrushing regimen.

But still, how could a three year old have cavities? I'm in my early thirties and I've NEVER had a cavity. Not even one! And believe me when I say my parents were not big enforcers of toothbrushing.

I decided to get a second opinion. There was another pediatric dental practice a few blocks away that had come highly recommended. I actually meant to book an appointment with them in the first place, but I got confused on Google Maps because the other practice was only a few blocks away. Why the hell were there two large pediatric dental practices three blocks apart? Who designs this stuff??

The new dentist was older and much less cute, and I was happy. And guess what? It turned out that Melly didn't have two cavities after all.

She had three.

The dentist explained to me that her back four molars came in without any enamel on them. He said she might have been ill when they were growing in or maybe it was genetic. He assured me it absolutely wasn't from anything I did wrong. I later discovered from my father in law that my husband required sealant on some of his teeth when he was a kid. So her cavities needed to be filled and the back four teeth sealed.

I decided to go with the second practice because the dentist was older and could make the Donald Duck voice. Also, he said that we didn't need nitrous, which I thought was bullshit and our insurance wouldn't even cover. We got the cavities filled and Melly was a rock star. Afterwards, she said, "It hurt a little, but not a lot."

Putting it in perspective

I had a rough week, to say the least. My tumor board presentation went fairly well, but I was called out by my attending for a mistake on my epidemiology slide. It was a minor point about the prevalence of a less common type of thyroid cancer than the type I was talking about, but it still wasn't fun being corrected at the podium.

Earlier this week, I found out that a Friday night social event at a good friend's house is not open to me anymore if I have my kids with me. I understand the concept of wanting a childfree space, especially since many of the regular attendants are childless, but it still really stung, especially after the week I've had.

The status conference over the custody of my younger son went better in some ways than I expected, and worse in some ways than I expected. I got to sit with my soon-to-be-exhusband in a waiting room for an eternity, and he spent the entire time doing the Dr. Jeckyll / Mr. Hyde routine that made my life miserable when I was with him. "I hope you're enjoying your rotations...Being a medical student means you're a bad mother...I hope you find happiness...Have fun at residency when you'll never get to see your children...I just want us both to be able to spend time with Z...You never loved me, and just used me as someone to watch your kids when you went to school...(Sorry, can't come up with another positive quote)...My next wife will make lunches for me to take to work; you didn't and that means you didn't love me..." and it went on, up and down (mostly down) the roller coaster while we waited for our paperwork. I left and sobbed in my car, and considered dropping out.

I drove hundreds of miles this week in my car (and my piriformis and sciatic nerve are not forgiving me for that, yet). My rotation site is about 30 miles from my house on the highway, which is fine with me, and I put my older son in a camp at which I was a former counselor. It is near his dad's work and my mom's house, which is even farther from my house, and on ground roads (ugh). I also had to pick up Z from my ex's house, which is even farther away. Yesterday, after picking up Z at the ex's, then driving the opposite direction to S's camp, I turned around again and drove 70 miles from my house to go to the viewing for my classmate who died recently.

My sons came with me to the viewing. She is being buried in her white coat, and we were asked to wear ours. The kids were very understanding about going. We only stayed for a short while, and sat in the back of the room. I briefly paid my respects at the coffin and to her family up front. Z crawled into my lap when I came back to our seats, and I held him and kissed his head. As I sat there and listened to my classmate's mother wail with pain, and thought of her baby in the NICU, I thought how lucky I really am. Danielle wanted nothing more than to be a mother, to hold and nurse her baby, and to be a doctor. She never even got to meet her baby, and now her family is reeling from the sudden, heartbreakingly unfair loss.

In a few years, this shitty week will be a distant memory. I can still hold my sons and kiss their soft hair. I am still (so far) going to achieve my dream of becoming a physician. I still have a strong social support system with loving friends, even though, sometimes, it can be more piecemeal than I would like. I am trying to keep it all in perspective.

(Cross posted at Mom's Tinfoil Hat)

Confess. What's in your purse?

I have a disease. LPS. Large purse syndrome. It's an affinity for massive purses that can double as laptop bags and everyday work bags. But it's also my primary purse. (Please note that this purse is very stylish but still enormous.) When I am forced to take a clutch out for a night on the town, I feel so constricted! There's barely enough room for my phone, a tube of lipstick and a credit card.

The natural consequence of toting such a massive purse is that things go in and they never come out. It's also the cause of me not being able to find my keys floating around in all the debris --I once lost a pair of sunglasses in there for an entire week. It's also becoming heavier and heavier (but imperceptibly so on a day-to-day basis) from the constant accumulation. I'm waiting for my pinched nerve to develop.

The natural benefit is that, if stranded in the wilderness, I could probably survive the longest among other-small-pursed women from the sheer raw materials a la MacGyver.

I thought of this today as my hand blindly searched the cavernous innards of my purse, looking for my pager (yes, amazingly, I still  have to carry one of those), and wondered if my purse (or contents thereof) was just an idiosyncratic collection of me or a sign of my profession (physician), my role in life (MiM) or perhaps my specialty (internal medicine).

So, I took an inventory and found the following (please don't laugh or judge):

• smartphone
• pager
• epi-pen (for me, but not afraid to use it, if necessary, on anyone who needs it.)
• 5 tubes of lipstick/lipgloss
• pink emery board that reads "Mad Housewife"
• a sticker that reads "I voted" in English and Spanish (could this be from the last presidential elections???)
• remote slide advancer
• office keys
• 3 travel-sized body lotions that appear to have been appropriated from 3 different hotels
• ipod nano
• flash drive
• sample of dental products given to me by my dentist at dentist visit 3 months ago, still in bag
• bead necklace made by 5-yr old daughter that I wore to work one day because I promised her
• trash*
• feminine hygiene products
• tin of Wine Wipes ('wipe that wine off your smile')
• wallet
• gum, free-floating and also in a package
• a rock from the beach vacation
• small sand dollar, see above
• toy gold medal from a gymnastics "ceremony"
• business card holder
• prescription bottle with 1 lone spare zyrtec
• a lone nickel
• 2 individual free-floating "fruit snacks"*
• 1 cookies and cream candy egg*
• business card from guy who hit on me in the security line at the airport (politely took it then stuffed it in the bottom of my purse.)*

*removed or consumed during purse inventory process. Okay. I lied. Those fruit snacks are still rolling around in there. Not sure if I have the energy to locate them again.

Okay. Your turn.

Gossip!

I'm really trying my best not to gossip at my New Job.

My residency was all about gossip and rumors. We residents would literally spend hours gossiping and exchanging rumors. One of the residents said something that really stuck with me, which was, "It's really terrible to gossip. Yet it seems like that's all I ever do."

It bugs me though because I've noticed that rumors have a tendency to not be true. Or at least warp the truth. And lead to unnecessary anger and resentment.

For example:

Soon after I came back from my maternity leave, I was gossiping with another resident. He said to me, "I have to warn you about something I heard."

Apparently, there was another female resident in my program who had a tendency to call in sick a lot, arousing the wrath of several other residents. Anyway, two residents were talking smack about her calling sick all the time in front of a female attending named Dr. Goody. And Dr. Goody nodded sympathetically and said, "Oh, I know who you guys are talking about! You mean the resident who just had a baby, right?"

I was SO ANGRY about this. I had worked with Dr. Goody for three months and never once called in sick. I had been back from maternity leave for two months and not called in sick once. I was furious that Dr. Goody would make this assumption about me. She should have stood up for me if she thought those guys were insulting me! What a catty bitch!

When I saw Dr. Goody at senior graduation a month later, she was really friendly and made big fuss over my new daughter. But I was still angry. I figured it was all an act and she didn't really like me at all.

Fast forward to over a year later:

I was chatting with a resident in my class, who was one of the residents who had been badmouthing that other female resident in front of Dr. Goody. Somehow that incident came up, and I discovered that:

1) It wasn't Dr. Goody who had overheard the conversation at all, and in fact, she had nothing to do with that incident.

2) The attending who DID overhear the conversation (and assumed they were talking about me) had in fact said, "You guys are being really unfair! She just had a baby!"

I absolutely can't believe I spent over a year being angry at Dr. Goody for something that had nothing to do with her. At that moment, I vowed to take every piece of gossip with a grain of salt. (Because obviously it's too fun to stop.)

What is your best cautionary tale about why we shouldn't believe the rumors?