Ascension Day

So I went to the Dr. Lounge for lunch. Their pizza is sooo good. I just discovered it last week. Already had sausage, sausage and veggie, and veggie. Their veggies are fresh and amazing. My brother Michael told me it was because all of the restaurants are so slow coming out of shutdown that mass servers, like hospital cafeterias, are getting the best produce around.

Today was cheese. I sat down next to Ali, an excellent and very friendly GI interventionalist. He told me about a girl he once worked with from India who was a strict vegetarian. She told him thank goodness for pepperoni pizza, it was what she lived on. He kind of did a double take, wondered if he should inform her of her error, and decided to tell her that pepperoni WAS meat. She thought it was sliced peppers or something? I wondered whether she was sad about all the meat she had eaten and he told me she was more sad about not getting to eat pepperoni pizza anymore.

We were on one end of a table full of hospitalists. One was telling a story about a husband and wife across the hall from each other who had COVID - he was taking care of them. The wife went home earlier, the husband had not yet been discharged. He walked in one morning and the husband was dressed up in a tie and jacket and was in the middle of a Zoom meeting for work. He didn't have time to talk to the doctor during the meeting. Needless to say, he was discharged that day.

Then my other good friend Eric, also a hospitalist - he and his kids live in the house that Mike and I lived in on North Spruce street years ago - told another story. He was taking care of a woman 90 years old who slipped in the tub when her 60 year old daughter giving her a bath left the room for a minute. He ended up getting into good relationship with the daughter, who was preparing for her upcoming wedding at the Capitol Hotel and enjoyed describing her wedding dress. He asked who she was marrying - she said, "Well, you know him." Eric wondered how. "He's Squidward." Turns out the voice actor who is Squidward graduated from Central High School and has made tons of money throughout his lifetime doing lots of voice acting. How cool is that? Eric pulled out his phone and showed me a picture of the wedding, you of course know the theme - the cake had a pineapple on the top and a video he showed me played the SpongeBob SquarePants theme song. Everyone was dressed formal and nice. I even caught a glimpse of the famous groom.

Ascension day is celebrated the 40th day after Easter Sunday, so it varies from year to year. It commemorates Jesus Christ's ascension into heaven according to Christian belief. Most people aren't aware of this day, I've found - I polled quite a few. The Bible says that Jesus promised the disciples that they would soon receive the Holy Spirit, and asked them to remain in Jerusalem until the Spirit had come. I just copied that from Google.

Despite some snafus, we are doing relatively well with testing - I'll save some entertainment in that arena for another day. Numbers are still good at Baptist. As of yesterday (5/20/20 - I just love those days where the day matches the year - it's thrilling to write) we had 16 inpatient positives, and 2 patients on the vent. I'm sure the Arkansas data is easy to find somewhere so I won't repeat those numbers. I'm headed to my favorite place on Earth, Eureka Springs, for the long holiday weekend with my husband. New place - a cabin on Beaver Lake. I can't wait. I think I'll have a bonfire. With lots of accompanying food and drinks, of course. Happy Thursday. Much love, E

*Cross posted at my blog - www.gizabethshyder.blogspot.com

Licking the Spoon All by Myself

Salmonella aside, there is nothing better than licking the spoon after making a chocolate cake. Or scraping the buttery sugary creamy deliciousness left from a batch of chocolate chip cookies. The sweetness is made that much greater when it's quiet. When I know that everyone in my little family is tucked in, safe, healthy, sleeping, peaceful. 

This whole stay-at-home ordeal really through our family for a loop. My ever so short, but so needed, 8 week maternity leave was punctuated by quarantine, Zoom school, limited groceries, and the fear that the post partum anxiety and depression I battled the last 2 pregnancies would return. The support of family around and the bliss of the newborn smell that enveloped me the first 4 blurry-yet-grateful weeks suddenly evaporated. We were thrown into the scary, ever changing, fast moving, unrecognizable vortex with the rest of the world. Now, 2 months in, we are finally finding our footing. 

As an Emergency Medicine resident, I knew that the end of maternity leave would mean entering into the heart wrenching, confusing, and very real work on what others call "the front lines." I feared for the health of my newborn, and cheered the 60 and 90 day milestones that meant his immune system was a little more ready to face the world. I feared for my patients, listening to podcast updates during 2 AM nursing sessions. I devised don/doff plans that include stripping down to my underwear in the parking lot to change before going into my car. I grappled with the guilt of not separating myself from my husband and kids, and grappled with the fear of what I could bring into our house of otherwise strict social distancing. It's still going on, and I'm still grappling. 

But one thing that quarantine has taught me is to let go. Let go of the messy house ( except the kitchen. I held on to that). Let go of completing every homework assignment, or attending every Zoom class. Let go of pajamas until 12, or 2 pm. We have been baking, learning TikTok dances, lots of arts and crafts, and bike riding. I got roller blades for an early mothers day present. I'm nursing more successfully than I did with my first 2. 

I miss the decompression quiet time after shifts, where I used to process the pain, suffering, illness, and rapid fire chaos that ricochets around my head for hours. Now, I stay up later, sleep deprivation notwithstanding, and sneak in yoga and baking sessions at night, after a dream feed, once everyone is asleep. And I always, always, lick the spoon. 

Covid-19 has Ushered in a New Era of Fashion More Suited to Ladies on the Go

I'll admit I was crushed when, the day before I was due to get my every 6-8 week highlight job, they closed the hair salons. How long would it be, I wondered, before I could get my touch up? I bought an at home bridge dye kit from my beloved hair stylist and still haven't taken the time to learn how to use it. I watched my beautifully manicured toes slowly deteriorate. Now all that's left is a couple of spots on my big toes - the rest are au naturel with my distinctly bad hurried nail clip job. I had stopped drying my hair a couple of months earlier and was reminded of how much time this saves me and my curls come out when I am not violently taming them with my Dyson hair dryer. I thought of Linda Hamilton. Not from the first Terminator, the one I saw in the theater with my Dad when it came out but the new, aged, experienced version of Linda - the one where she is in her 60's and her roots are grey and she is beset with substance abuse issues from her traumatic past but is still a righteous badass.

Would that version of me give a crap if my toes looked like they do? If my brown roots are nearing two inches, rendering my dirty blond hair much dirtier? Hell no. All those random bruises and cuts I get from bumping into things - I'm a klutz - suddenly took on a new, cooler significance. I imagined them being battle scars from fighting the evil empire over all this Covid testing - keeping the false Gods with their promise of accuracy hiding their lies and desires to make money off of this pandemic at bay. I started to show them off, be less insecure about having them. Abandoned the desire to get those roots touched up with my at home kit. Also the desire to do my own pedicure - that can wait, shouldn't be too much longer now.

I scheduled a hair appointment today for June 11 - first available that works for both myself and Deidre. I cannot wait to see her - our relationship spans about 17 years and we have become almost like armchair therapists to each other over the years. In the meantime, I'm going to embrace those roots - even Deidre texted me that roots are actually in now. I'm not going to worry about that strange piece of white that is on the cherry red polish left on my left big toe. I have wondered what it is (White out? Caulk? - None of those make sense really) and tried to pick it off to no avail. It no longer seems important, thank goodness. I see a future full of scrubs and roots and not perfect pedi's looking actually much cooler than someone who is perfectly coiffed (although it is fun to dress up sometimes and I will continue to do so if it works for me). Back to 90's grunge, with a lot more experience and know how.

Happy Monday! It's been a while. As I teach my kids, sometimes you have to put on your own oxygen mask first in order to be your best self to others. And if that best self can look shabby on the outside, it doesn't matter, because she shines on the inside. Much love, E

*cross posted at my own blog, Methodical Madness