Memories, Lessons, & Dreams

I should come here more often.  I'm sitting in the library.  It's quiet.  It's thought provoking.  It's peaceful.  That's not exactly the same description of the house I left a few minutes ago.  I left a screaming, fit-throwing 2 year-old and his clingy, crying, little brother.  Don't worry, I left them in the hands of my capable husband who already had his getaway time this morning to the gym.  My introverted personality needs this quiet to recharge.  To think.  To learn.  To reminisce.  To dream.

Ahhh.  Quiet.  deep sigh...

I find it fitting that I'm in the library to write this last piece for the year.  Can you believe that another year is gone.  In a few weeks I'll be starting my LAST year of residency.  Wow, <enter cheesy cliche here>!  Here are a few thoughts from the year  past and the year ahead now that I actually have the quiet to let my brain go there:

MEMORIES:

• I'll always remember meeting B.C. and her daughter in the ER.  We got her diabetes and pain under control, then started to care for her daughter's pregnancy, and then diagnosed her son with cancer.  Talk about highs and lows.  They are still always smiling, and I'm always happy to see any of them on my schedule.  It's an easy reminder of why I love Family Medicine.
• Who could forget those terrible call nights.  The post I've had the most comments about has been: "10 Reasons to Not Call your Doctor at 2AM."  It's my least favorite part of the job, but it does make for the best stories.
• Cemented in my brain is the lunch time meeting in Dr. Fruehling's office when he officially dropped the bomb that the clinic wouldn't be recruiting me for the sake of salvaging the residency program.  Even though nothing he said that day was "news" to me, it still left a wound that I'm still trying to figure out how to heal.
 

LESSONS:

• God answers prayers.  He is faithful and good.  When I need a little reminder I still go back and read My Little Firecracker and 619 Arthur.
• Believe it or not, I've also learned that I canNOT actually do it all.  I will never be Martha Stewart + Rachael Ray + Beth Moore + Dr. Oz + Michael Phelps.  There are only 24 hours in a day.  An hour of studying is an hour I'm not swimming.  A morning reading my Bible is a morning I'm not at the hospital rounding.  A weekend with Jason is a weekend I'm not with the boys.  I used to think that I could sleep less and schedule more.  Now I've come to terms with sacrifice.  I'm not willing to sacrifice time with my boys for time with my hobbies, so this summer may be my last triathlon for a while.  I'm not willing to sacrifice my marriage for my career, so I've come to terms that I'll probably be the doctor referring patients to specialists for issues because I didn't stay on top of the latest and greatest treatments.  I just can't do it all.  And that's okay.
   

DREAMS:

• I'm still working on my 30 by 30.  I've gotten some accomplished already, and I'm working on a few of the bigger ones.  For example, we did pay for some one's dinner at the "pancake store" (aka Perkins), we took the boys camping, and I'm on track to finish the Bible in the next year.
• We intend to have my student loans (all $112,704-ish) paid off, in full, by Jason's 30th birthday: May 14, 2014.  Feel free to keep us accountable and ask how we're doing.  Actually, please do.
• I dream less tangibly, too.  In the next year, I hope to have a job that will be fulfilling yet yielding to the rest of my life.  I hope to start planning for the next little Newman.  I hope to read more and write more because I actually really do enjoy it.  I hope to see the success of my husband in his career.  I hope to have happy, healthy, (and well-behaved) boys.

Well, I'm not very good at ending things.  And I'm usually the one saying "good-bye" twice when I end a phone conversation.  I end all of my emails with "Thanks!" even if it isn't really relevant to the conversation.  And I still haven't figured out when to hug vs. shake hands vs. walk away when I leave some one's house.  So, I apologize for ending this awkwardly, too.

P.S.  I really should come to the library more often.  :)

Camping

I guess you could say that we are always up for a challenge.  Last weekend was the Zlomke family campout, and we didn't want to miss it... again.  So we hauled a car load of stuff, our two boys, and a tent to Fort Kearney for the weekend.

We may be up for a challenge, but we aren't totally nuts.  Instead of the Thursday through Sunday extravaganza for some, we came just for the Saturday and Sunday.  Trust me, that was plenty.  We had a blast, but we were EXHAUSTED by Sunday afternoon.  So exhausted that we ALL took a 4 hour nap when we got home!

G waking up bright and early in the tent.

Here are some highlights from the trip:

• Staying up most of Friday night to make Grandma's cinnamon rolls to take for breakfast.  Thankfully, Jason talked me into making a double batch because one whole pan burned.  We still had plenty.
• Jogging with my dad Sunday morning.
• Watching 83-ish year old Papa throw Owen up in the air.  I'm pretty sure one more toss and they both would have ended up in the ER.  One with a broken arm, and the other a broken hip.
• Griffin having a blow-out diaper in the pack-n-play during dinner.  That's what I get for pushing the apple juice (even if it was watered down) to keep him hydrated.
• Dad's awesome pork chops and Jaekeun's Korean food.
• Walking to the Platte River.
• The plethora of bean side dishes at the Litchfield potluck dinner.
• Driving around Saturday afternoon, just so the boys could have some sort of a nap (and so I could get out of an hour reading historical markers at the actual Fort Kearney).
• Griffin finally realizing that swimming is fun.
• The boys each taking a shower in Dad's camper.  If you've ever been in a camper bathroom, imagine it with me, Jason, Owen, and Griffin with a lot of crying and a lot of soap.  At least they were clean in the end.  And Owen was proud to have taken a "shower" instead of a bath.
• Owen's huge eyes when he went to bed in the tent repeatedly saying "I not scared."
• Penny the puppy.

Under the Knife

Health insurance was made for babies like Griffin.  Not quite a year old and he has surpassed Owen's trips to the hospital and medical bills a few times over.  (And don't forget, Owen did "break his foot" when he was 12 months old, so he's not completely naive to the whole thing either.)

Last week, Griffin went under the knife.  I was going to spare you the details of why, but if you're like me curiosity would drive you nuts.  And I don't want anyone[else] going nuts.  So... my all-boy little "G" was born with an undescended testicle.  One nut.  Uni-ball.  Solo.  I know, it's not too glamorous, and he will be totally embarrassed in 15 years if he knew you knew, but that's it. 

After waiting 6 months for it to come down on its own, which obviously it didn't, a trip to the surgeon was next on the agenda.  (Getting that scheduled is another whole story.)  With no sight of it by exam or by ultrasound the planned operation was for exploration of his abdomen.  If they could find it they would do the first of a 2 or 3 part surgery to free up and lengthen the blood supply so in the future it could pulled back to where it belongs.  The other possibility was that it never developed properly in the first place, and they would just need to take it out so it wouldn't become a problem down the round.  I was convinced, for no particular reason, the latter was the case for Griffin.

The surgery was scheduled for two hours on May 29th.  I was thankful that the ball (no pun intended) was rolling, but of course I was nervous for the possible complications.  Of which, the complications I made up in my mind were much worse than what was realistic.  Enter Philippians 4:4-7.

The day came, and Griffin was blissfully unaware of what was awaiting him.  Jason and I planned for a long day starting with a morning with a cranky, fasting baby, an afternoon with nerves and a slow clock, and an evening with a groggy, uncomfortable boy.  After checking in and getting settled in the room, we headed down for an ultrasound.  It was going to be the same as the one he had a few months ago, and I figured the outcome would be the same too.  It seriously never crossed my mind that they would see what they saw.  They found it!  And it was already down near where it needed to be.

It didn't take long for the word to spread to our surgeon.  About the time we made it up from Radiology the Urology resident met us and the surgeon was not far behind.  Surgery plans had changed.  No exploratory surgery needed.  Instead they planned to do the final stage of the surgery: "orchiopexy" is the cool, official name along with a hernia repair.  In an unrelated event, our O.R. time had been moved up half an hour.

The rest of the day went just as smoothly.  They couldn't quite get it exactly where they wanted, but they anticipate it coming the rest of the way on it's own and doubt he'll need anymore surgery.  And not only did we not have to stay the night, we were out of there by 3:30.  Talk about answered prayers!

It has been just a few days, and he is back to his usual self.  If it weren't for some bruising and being unable to take a bath, go swimming, or "straddle" any toys (which, for whatever reason, Jason found really funny), you wouldn't even know he just had surgery.

Despite having a few health hurdles, we know they have been minor compared to what some parents go through.  We are so thankful to be blessed with healthy children who happen to have a few little quirks and blessed to have health insurance.