Things I wish I knew before starting med school with kids

1. That tired drinking out of a firehose analogy...unfortunately true. I remember being appalled when I read that med students study multiple hours a day on top of going to class. I foolishly thought on my days that end at noon (Monday and Friday) I can pick my daughter up from preschool / go to the gym / twiddle my thumbs. Instead, I am thankful for an afternoon with no class so I can hole up in the library and study. The endless studying is not death, falling behind is.

2. Wearing a half-face respirator during anatomy lab makes me look like Bane from Batman. But hey, that's a pretty good trade-off for formaldehyde-free breastmilk. And the puzzled looks I get when people see the lingering lines on my face after removing the mask -- extra giggles.

3. The lactation room is the mecca of multi-tasking. Pumping can be accomplished while eating, studying, napping, crying, making phone calls, etc. Bonus points for attempting three things at a time.

4. Whatever makes your life easier, and if you have the means, do it. Examples include ordering food, dry shampoo, a breast pump car adaptor, skipping a bath or two for the kids (hey they could have dry skin?).

5. GET YOUR CHILDCARE SITUATION FIGURED OUT AND SET (x10000000)

6. You will be older than some of the MS2s-MS4s, the same age as some residents or even attendings. Bless your eye cream and good genes, although four years of this will probably negate all of that.

7. Saying no is okay.*
"Want to study together at extremely-far-from-my-house coffee shop at extremely-inconvenient-hour?" - No.
"Want to go rage after block exam and stay out all night?" - No.
"Want to join a thousand interest groups and shadow everyone possible in the hospital?" - No...maybe second year?

8. *It is also okay to say yes.
"Need help?" - YES!

9. Your classmates will be amazing people who have done amazing things. Everyone is incredibly supportive and no one is trying to sabotage you unlike the undergrad premeds.

10. And now, a visual representation of your life:

still smiling though!!! 

Introducing Myself

Hello! I'm Jay. I've been hanging out here and commenting for a long time. I used to blog on Two Women Blogging (don't go looking - you won't find it) which shut down about three years ago. I've written under my real name for HuffPo and NYT's Motherlode. Last June, my essay about my father appeared in Pulse (do you read Pulse? You should!).

These days I mostly write narratives for hospice patients. I was a primary care doc for 20 years; for the past six years I've worked full-time as a hospice medical director. That means I see patients in our 10-bed inpatient unit, do a lot of home visits, attend three IDG* meetings weekly and take weekend call with our palliative care group. We have fellows and residents and med students so I do a fair amount of teaching, too.

My daughter, Eve**, will be 16 in January - she could tell you precisely how many days it is until that momentous occasion. I love having a teenager. I'm sure you'll hear more about that. I've been married nearly 31 years to Sam** and you'll hear more about him, too.

Thanks to KC for founding and maintaining this great site and especially for inviting me to join. I'm delighted to be here. Now if I only had something to say....***
____

* IDG = Interdisciplinary group, also called IDT (interdisciplinary team). The IDT is the core of hospice work and consists of nurses, social workers, chaplains, aides and doctors.
**The names have been changed to protect the mother.
***I'm really not worried about that. It's more likely I won't be able to shut up.

MiM Mail: Am I crazy?

I am a 31-year-old, hospital-based speech therapist in TX who will apply to medical school in 2016. As a newlywed several years ago, we found out my husband is gene-positive for Huntington's disease. Obviously it's a devastating diagnosis, but, fortunately, no one in his family has shown any symptoms prior to age 65.

I have always wanted to be a physician and my husband has been incredibly encouraging of my dream. We completed preimplantation genetic diagnosis with IVF and have 4 healthy embryos.

Now I/we have been hyper-analyzing when to implant. I've thought about everything from this January to M4. If we shoot for Jan/Feb/March, I could have nearly a year with my little one before med school starts. But I could look pregnant during my interview. Should I wait to ensure acceptance? Am I crazy to consider pregnancy now?

I would love your opinions!

MeriAnn

First outsourcing of help

Well, I have done it.  After years of considering this, I have made the decision to hire a cleaning lady.  I have always felt perfectly capable of doing my own dusting/vacuuming/etc. but the time has come that I feel it is too much of a burden with not enough reward.  I feel so so guilty about the money it will cost, but I know it is a small price to pay for extra hours with my family, or just some time to relax instead of clean.

This cleaning lady was referred to me by a coworker, and I was secretly hoping that when she came to meet, I wouldn't like her, or feel that she would do a good job.  But I had such a good feeling about her and all that she said she would do... Clean the windows???  Vacuum under the couch cushions??? For me, this is a one time per 6 months kind of cleaning (please nobody judge)!  After she left, I asked my husband, "Have we really gotten to that point in our lives?"  I am turning a blind eye to the money, and I know it's worth it, I know it's worth it... is it worth it??

Our foremothers

Foremothers? Maybe it's not even a word. I was trying to find a term like forefathers.

I often think about the women who have come before us. As I walk through the halls of our medical school, I see class photos from decades past with 1 or 2 women amongst a sea of male faces. I often wonder whether they had children during their training or afterward, or were they 'discouraged' from getting married or having children? How did they function as female doctors and perhaps mothers in a world that was probably less understanding than what we face today?

I would bet they faced great hardships--particularly sexism beyond what I can comprehend. They may have anguished over pregnancies they had to hide, grieved over the lack of child care options, and struggled to satisfy unrealistic expectations of their employers. And just maybe they dreamed about us--the women who would follow them--and hoped our lot would be easier.

It reminds me of a female doctor from my mom's era who didn't tell anyone she was pregnant in medical school then didn't show up for a test one day.  Yep, she had her baby and came back to school within a week!

I am forever grateful for the trails our foremothers blazed and admire their courage. They are true heroes to me.

MiM Mail: Advice for an ex-husband of a MiM-to-be

Hello!

Being a father not interested in medical school makes me a somewhat non-traditional reader I imagine.

I am ultimately writing for advice. I read a number of great posts on your blog, but I am coming at this from a different direction and was hoping one of you would be able to point me in the right the right way.

My ex-wife is a brilliant woman in her Junior year of her undergrad and planning to start applying for medical schools. We have a good co-parenting arrangement and try to do our best by our three boys (4, 5 and 7). I am no longer in the medical field but do have 8 years experience as a critical care paramedic so I can appreciate both how talanted she is and how hard her road is going to be. She is going to apply locally but is also looking at the Virginia area due to family there. I am willing to consider relocation if I can find appropriate work (I work in IT in a rather specialized area).

My question is, how can I best approach the subject of custody? I don't want to take the kids away from her by any means (she is a fantastic mom!), but I am concerned that raising three young school age boys while attending medical school will be overwhelming. She can accomplish anything she sets her mind to, but even she can't accomplish *everything*.

My initial thought is to offer/ask to take the custodial role, freeing her up to apply herself 100% at school while still affording the boys a stable home life and predictability in routine. I don't know for sure how she would receive this, but suspect she would at least be willing to consider it. Then again, as a divorcee my ability to mis-read her intentions is a matter of public record. : )

There has to be a mutually beneficial way to handle this situation that benefits all of us, and I am looking for advice on where I could look for information. I have looked at some of the schools websites for information on family services offered by medical schools but it's hard to find in a lot of cases.

If you have a moment, would you be able/willing to point me in the right direction, or even offer some insight from your own experiences?

Many thanks for your time!

Life in between my notes

Instead of doing notes this weekend I:

• made a fall collage with Zo using leaves and clippings from free magazines
• went on a date night with the hubby during which we ate amazing food and had delicious lavender mojitos and then both almost fell asleep during the movie (don’t go see the new 007: Spectre, it sucked!) and remarked countless times how we wish we had just stayed home and caught up on the Walking Dead
• caught up on the Walking Dead with the hubby. (spoiler: Glenn no!!! and geeze how does Rick run soo far in those cowboy boots and tight black jeans, I’d have blisters and chaffed thighs!)
• listened to Oprah and Deepak’s day 6 and 7 morning meditations. It’s beautiful but I don’t quite know how to pronounce the meditations.
• washed clothes and then folded them with Zo. Who knew 4 year olds were such excellent folders?!?
• made amazing pumpkin chili (check out http://www.popsugar.com/food/Pumpkin-Chili-Recipe-35890481)
• am thankful that after finishing this post I’m just going to go to bed and it’s only 10:21pm and I’ll start the note writing again tomorrow morning at 5am. Only 38 to go!

Cheers to a week of chaos

This past week was pure chaos. Our nanny of three weeks did not show up Monday morning. Nor did she show up Tuesday or Wednesday. It is now Tuesday the week after and I have yet to hear from her despite multiple calls, texts and emails. I'm not quite sure what happened. At first we were worried and imagined the worst, but a little social media sleuthing revealed she is alive and well, but decided to take a vacation and just doesn't care about coming back. I'm shocked that people act like this (I mean really, are you ever going to give my keys and carseat back?!), but I'm over it. This isn't the focus of my post, but rather, the amazing people in my life that rally and always seem to help make things work out. I am a little late to the thankful train, but I am very very thankful for...

My husband who handles chaos like a pro and always reminds me we're on the same team.
SK for being as patient as a 4 year old can possibly be while watching me stream respiratory lectures. She was very confused as to why I don't learn about mermaids in school and suggested that I bring this up to the administration.
SE for sleeping 9-10 hour stretches at 5 months (bless you) and being the happiest, smiliest baby ever.
My amazing mom who jumped on a plane as soon as she heard about our nanny nightmare.
My kind classmate who volunteered to switch spirometry labs with me so I could work out alternative childcare plans.
The timing of this chaotic week...at least it was the week before Thanksgiving break and now we are all together celebrating with family and friends.

Happy Thanksgiving all (even you, former nanny).

MiM Mail: Making residency safer for pregnant residents

Mothers in Medicine! I am seeking your advice/expertise on the difficult subject of how to treat pregnant residents. A little background: I am a chief resident at a busy anesthesia program that takes frequent and draining 24 hour calls in the OR. Those calls are such that, most of the time, the call room is a distant fantasy. I am also a mom to an active preschooler and pregnant with #2. All was going well until after a particularly exhausting 24 hour call, when I started having frequent, regular contractions at 20 weeks. I had to take several days off work and (thankfully!) things calmed down. I'm now trying to ease myself back into the OR call rotation.

My question for all of you who have been through a resident with tough, frequent 24 hour calls or night shifts... how did your program handle pregnant residents? I've heard from friends at other programs about policies that were put in place to limit calls because so many pregnant residents were going into preterm labor. Other programs limited night shifts for the same reason. Obviously, these changes put strain on non-pregnant residents. Was there widespread resentment to enacting such restrictions?

Amazingly, I'm the first resident to be pregnant at our program in over a decade, but I know there are many women behind me hoping to do the same. I'm hoping to find some common sense changes that can be made to keep pregnant residents working, but in a safe way for mom and baby.

Thanks in advance!

Welcome to Topic Week: Being Thankful

Welcome to our MiM Topic Week! Posts from regular contributors and readers will be spread out over the next week. We hope you will join us in reflecting on this topic as we explore being thankful from our different perspectives and experiences. Thanks for reading and being part of this community.

Scroll below to find the posts.

It Takes a Village

It’s a good day to be thinking about gratitude. I just got the results of my Pediatrics boards and, mercifully, I passed. Like many things in the life of a working mommy, the whole boards process felt fragmented, stuffed into the crevices of an already packed schedule. I studied in stolen hours, early in the morning, late at night, during E’s naps, during quiet moments on call. There existed the dream of reading the textbooks cover-to-cover, mastering the seemingly random landscape of dysmorphisms and eponymous genetic syndromes, committing to memory, not for the first time, the detailed physiology of the nephron. Instead, I did as many practice questions as I could and read all the explanations and made a stack of index cards that I only had time to review once before the test. Studying certainly helped, but what carried me through the process were my patients, the hundreds of people whose stories constitute my fund of knowledge. The symptoms they had, the way their bodies looked and felt under my hands, the labs and images I reviewed in an attempt to understand them, the medicines we prescribed, the way things turned out. All the babies whose birth weight I guessed just before putting them on the scale. All the toddlers who scribbled, babbled, stooped, and recovered during their well-child visits. How do I remember Hurler’s syndrome? I remember A, from my first year as a clinical student, and his mother who carried him everywhere in her arms even at the age of seven, because she could not afford a wheelchair. In the boards review study book, they used phrases like “coarse features” and “macroglossia,” but I just remember his face, whose beauty became more apparent to me over time, and all the grief and tenderness in his mother’s voice as she sang to him, more effective than any medication at calming his agitation. I can only hope that what I have given is somehow proportional to what I have received.

The medical path – and especially the parent-in-medical-training path – has been much harder than I expected and when I reflect on this path I chose, gratitude isn’t always right there on the surface. But when I opened the Boards score report, it was right there. I looked up from the computer and the first thing I saw was my spouse. I thought to myself, “How can a person be so steadfast in the support of another?” I am in awe of it. I was the one who first brought up the idea of having a baby in my last year of medical school, before starting residency. I spelled it out to her over the Formica table in our then-kitchen – how we would have an infant while I was taking 24 hour calls and working long days, how it would be an insane juggle. She said, “That seems like it’s going to be really hard.” But it felt like the right time. We gambled and got a jewel, our daughter E, who is infinite light and delight. But it has been harder than hard. Over the last three years my spouse has done breakfast, drop-off, and pickup almost every day, dinner and bedtime too many days, whole weekends, whole weeks, whole months, sick days, unexpected call-in days, holidays. She gives our daughter what I wish I could be giving her when I’m not there, and so much more. She gracefully bolsters me in my mommy role even though I spend less time with E, when I can imagine a different person laying claim to the “parent-who-knows-more” position. She keeps us well-fed, keeps our household functioning, and through her eyes, I feel beautiful and powerful every day. She does all this while navigating her own full career as an artist and teacher. She has sacrificed some of her own creative and career advancement over the past three years so that I could forge ahead. I know it is painful for her at times – not what she signed up for, even though she did (good love isn’t as simple as they say) – but her loyalty and support just keeps shining and it lights my way and keeps our family warm.

So there are many layers to the gratitude I am feeling on this, the first day of the rest of my professional life. Gratitude to my patients, who are my teachers, who have accepted my inexperience and given me the gift of their trust and allowed me to participate in their lives in a profound way. Gratitude to my spouse, for EVERYTHING. Gratitude to my parents, which is a whole essay in its own right, the YEARS of patient attention and thoughtful decision-making, late night high school research paper crisis management and SOS babysitting saves, self-sacrifice and deep concern for my well-being. Gratitude to my friends, who have stuck with me through long silences. Gratitude to my colleagues and attendings, for saving my ass and helping me find my voice and for caring so much and taking great care of patients and teaching me by example. The African proverb “It takes a village to raise a child” has become so cliché at this point as to have almost lost meaning, but I’m thinking today about the village that raised me, and no words of gratitude are adequate. I will have to thank them by trying every day, with the best of myself, to be of service to the world.

Not the last...the first

I am thankful for many things as I reflect on a tumultuous year.

I am thankful that a program that didn't even exist yet became available to me last year enabling me to move back to my hometown for fellowship.  I didn't know that only months after I accepted the position I would discover that my mother's breast cancer would come back all over her body.

I am thankful for a supportive fellowship program - colleagues, mentors and my mothers doctors all in one.  I am thankful that they are on my team, and on her team.

I am thankful that my daughter can go to "grandma's house" multiple times a week.  I am grateful that they are buddies now - both at a loss if they haven't seen each other for more than a day.  I am so grateful for this time.

I am grateful that my husband who has been stifled in his career by the location of my residency is now managing a large group and doing a job he loves.  This move has been good for all of us.

I am grateful for impromptu dinners with my siblings, my best friends, who I haven't been able to hang out with for years.

Most of all I am thankful that when I feel tears well up as I realize that this Thanksgiving and this Christmas may be my last with my mom, I can instead focus on the fact that it is really the first -  The first Christmas my sweet baby girl gets to spend with Grandma.  The first Christmas that I have been able to spend with my entire family in 13 years.  I am thankful for first - with a mustard seed of hope that this will be the first of many.

I am thankful for family and the sweet gift of each day we get to spend together.

How It Could Be, How It Is

Genmedmom here.

I was in the grocery store last week, which is rare because at this point in our crazy two-working-parents-with-two-small-children lives, we have everything that can be delivered, delivered, and this includes groceries. It's seriously saved us about three hours a week, ordering our "big shop" right from a cell phone, and having it all magically appear early Saturday mornings.

But, that week, I'd ordered on the fly and, of course, forgotten a few things, plus an item or two had been out of stock. So, in an unexpected free hour on Tuesday afternoon, I found myself wandering our local Big Food Store.

I'm so out of grocery-shopping mode that I got a little disoriented. In the old days, I'd have my list jotted down, roughly organized by aisle, and I'd zoom through the place in relative ease.

But there I was, bouncing from Snack Foods to Produce and back again because I couldn't find the damn Pea Puffs Babygirl likes. Then, way over to Dairy for the cheddar cheese sticks I absolutely have to have with my apple for lunches, and that you can't order online for some reason, and then back over to Crackers because Hubby texted that we're out of the kids' favorite crackers... et cetera.

Then I was lost, searching for the powdered instant breakfast stuff we shake into the kids' morning cup of milk to make us feel better about their nutritional intake. It wasn't with the Cereals... I saw a couple of young employees standing in an aisle, with bar code reader-things.

Oh good, I thought. People I can ask.

But just as I was rolling near, one of them started griping, loudly:

"Man, I am so ready to get off work. Get me the heck outta here!"

His buddy replied:

"Yeah, work sucks. The whole thing sucks."

I veered away, pretending I hadn't been about to ask them something. I wondered how working in a bright, overstocked first-world grocery could possibly be THAT bad. It was kind of a downer.

I never found the stupid instant breakfast, and I was almost out of free time. I aimed for a checkout line.

The man doing checkout was still scanning items for the person ahead of me, but he looked up, smiled, and acknowledged me, calling out cheerfully:

"Hello! Beautiful shopping day, isn't it?"

He turned back to the shopper and took her coupons.

"Smart lady, you're going to save some money today. You should treat yourself to something special, you deserve it!"

The woman and I exchanged smiles and chuckled. In the space of less than a minute, the atmosphere had gone from Ugh, errands to I can't help but smile!.

Now, I've seen this guy before. He's older, has a thick accent, and he's ALWAYS cheerful. Not in a fake, annoying way. I mean, he's just really genuinely cheerful. He always greets people and says nice things, makes a lighthearted joke or two. He's very efficient at checkout. He also bags items with care. He acts like someone who loves their job.

As I stood in line, I studied him. Given his appearance and accent, I guessed that he was an immigrant. I imagined that he had come from a developing country, and had known oppression, hardship and hunger. Maybe it had been difficult for him to get to the U.S., and then to get a job. He might have a family he desperately needed to support, and so, he's amazingly appreciative of the opportunity to work the checkout counter at the Big Grocery Store, and help bag groceries for harried and distracted moms like me.

Whatever Mr. Positive Attitude's story was, he cheered a couple of people up that day. I truly wish everyone was like him. Imagine that!

And whatever the Griping Employees' story was, their complaining brought me down. It's depressing to think how many people sludge through this life like they do.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I find that I'm sensitive to negativity, I want to run away from negativity. This regardless of whether it's expressed by my colleagues at my own job, or by friends. Examples at work might include the judging of another provider's care, complaining about some administrative issue, or griping about the electronic medical record. With friends it may be grousing about our school system, grumbling about a spouse, or sharp self-criticism.

I think some venting with a trusted confidant, in private, is okay, and even necessary sometimes. Even better if it's with a mental health provider. Emotions can be validated, and a response discussed. You know, "talking it out". This is head-housecleaning. It's therapeutic.

But pointless negativity (aka "Work sucks") is just toxic. It's just pollution. It serves no good purpose. It should be banned. And there's alot of it.

People who have known me over the years may be surprised to hear me saying this. I was kind of the Queen of Complaining in residency and fellowship. What happened? Well, to sum up: in 2006, the years of sheer physical and emotional exhaustion, unhealthy coping, poisonous relationships, and social isolation brought me to the lowest point in my life.

The struggle upwards involved hundreds of hours of therapy with an excellent provider, liberal antidepressants, formulating meaningful life goals, clean living, and meeting my husband.

Through our very different journeys, we've been touched by the pain and hardships life can offer, and we've been witnesses to some true horrors. A twist of fate, bad luck, the finger of God... bad things can happen to anyone. When they do, some people are consumed, crushed even, and yet, others transcend.

I'm thinking of my patients with devastating diagnoses who choose to stay positive. I'm thinking of our family members who have lost children, and choose to go on living and loving. I'm thinking of the people I've known in Central and South America who suffer true deprivations, but choose to hope. I'm thinking of all victims of random violence who choose to forgive. I'm thinking of the immigrants around the world who are being shunned, but choose to go on in search of better lives.

For everyone who chooses to say:"I'm going to take it day by day, and be grateful for every sunrise", I'm thinking of you.

We are so lucky, so blessed, and we acknowledge that. In our house, we joke that if we ever won the lottery, we wouldn't change much, because we've already won the lottery. We are passionate about our hard-earned careers. We've been blessed with our beautiful kids. We enjoy a place in a wonderful community.

Is everything perfect? Duh. Of course not. Read my blog.

But our eyes have been opened to what could be, and so, we're thankful for what we have. And we are truly happy.

Family bedtime

Every night before bed, our family of five gathers in our middle child's bedroom. It's dark except for the hallway light that shines in from the open doorway. We pile in somewhere in the darkened room. Maybe on our youngest's mattress that lies on the floor (and will continue to live there until our 4 year old decides his own bedroom is not haunted by The Arm). Maybe on our other son's bed. Maybe sitting on the desk chair. We settle in and start our bedtime ritual.

It's our family bedtime prayer. We start by each saying what we are thankful for that day. I'm often struck by what my children are thankful for: having a house, food, their school, our family, mom and dad. Our daughter, the oldest at 10, sets the example for her two younger brothers by being reflective and thoughtful. (That girl's natural gratitude for everything in her life is a point of immense joy for me and that perhaps somehow, during our many missteps parenting, we did something right.) I enjoy hearing what my husband is thankful for - another window into his day. And I find it therapeutic to think slowly through my day and select what stood out for me. I find that I am thankful for many things and that this reinforces my generally positive outlook on life.

Next, we each say something we are sorry for, or want to do better with next time. We emphasize that there is always something we can do better. The children's responses often involve times that day when they were annoyed or angry with the other. Never any judgment, just sharing.

Then we share one thing we are proud of doing that day. Maybe it's doing their best on a test. Or being a good friend. A piece of art. Another great insight into my husband's day for post-kids' bedtime follow-up. I love hearing what everyone is proud of.

Finally, we name who we each want to pray for. For a long time, our 4 year-old said "Santa Claus" every night and now that has seasonally transitioned to The Pope (formerly pronounced "The Hope") and Wilson, our deceased cat.  Our middle child, 7, tends to pray for large swaths of people - the homeless, people with cancer.  We finish with a prayer that we say together.

I don't know how long this family ritual will hold together. For now it works for us all. I didn't grow up saying prayers or consciously thinking about what I am thankful for. I hope supporting this daily habit gives them as much meaning as it has given us.

Thankful for my American Dream

Isn't it crazy how verbalizing something so simple can be so challenging?  It took me almost a week to figure out how I would write this post... Yet every day, I feel so thankful for all that I have in this life!

When I was a little girl, my family didn't have a lot of money.  We always had food on the table, but I never had the clothes, toys or snacks I wanted.  I dreamed of a day when I could go to the supermarket and pick out whatever suits my mood and just buy it.

The day is now here, and I am living the dream.  If you read over my previous posts, you can see I struggle everyday with some aspects of my life that I'm not thrilled about.  But that in no way shapes what the overall theme is of my life:  I made it, and I'm living the American dream.  Of having a one-in-a-billion amazing husband.  Of having a daughter so sweet and smart.  Of having a positive outlook on life (mostly.)  Of having our health, and not least importantly our mental health.  Of just being happy overall.  Of not counting pennies.  Of buying my daughter the toys I want for her (and the toys she wants).  Of having a new car (seriously, sometimes I drive in my new-ish car, about 3 years old, and I marvel at how I grew up to buy myself a new car!).  Of just living this life the way I envisioned more than 20 years ago.  I may not have the dream job (right now), or a dream house quite yet, but I have a dream life, and for that I am thankful every minute of every day.

In the first Sex and the City movie, Charlotte becomes pregnant and says to Carrie, "Nobody gets everything they want! Look at you. Look at Miranda. You're good people and you two both got shafted. I'm so happy and...something bad is going to happen."  Sometimes I worry about being so overjoyed at all that I have.  But then I remember, it's not that bad things haven't happened to me recently, or that everything has just been perfect.  It's that I still have what I need to make me happy... and eternally thankful, for the health that's been given to me and my loved ones, for the ability to work hard, and for the mental prowess I possess to persevere, and look beyond the losses and negatives that come my way.

A very happy Thanksgiving to all!