Anxiety Disorder

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."  Philippians 4:6-7

Do not be anxious.  This was the message at church this morning.  Do not be anxious.  It was not the first time I had heard or read this verse, but the conviction was thick today.  And the reason may surprise you; it surprised me.

You might think that having two children under two and a more-than-full-time job would be a good excuse for a case of anxiety, but I can honestly say that isn't usually something I struggle with.  Control.  Pride.  Selfishness.  Those are more me.  Therefore, today's command to "not be anxious" should have been easy.

Instead, the message began with a sentence that resonated in my head (and still is - hence the blog): "Anxiety is not a condition to be managed, it is a sin to be repented of."  Never, and I mean never, have I thought of anxiousness as a sin.  And when this statement landed on my ears this morning, I was sure Scott was wrong.  That can't be.  Afterall, I've been managing people's anxiety as a diseased condition in my clinic nearly every day.

No joke.  Rarely a day goes by where I'm not treating someone for Generalized Anxiety Disorder, or Panic Disorder, or Adjustment Disorder, or Bipolar Disorder, or Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, or Subtance Abuse Disorder, or Social Anxiety Disorder.  There have been so many patients, that I'm getting pretty good at making the diagnosis within moments of walking in the room.  The way they figit.  The way they try to answer questions thoroughly, correctly, quickly.  The way their eyes beg for someone to help them.  Anxiousness seems to ooze out of the pores of those who struggle with it to the point it hangs like a fog clouding the room.  It's hard to miss.

Scott went on to read the verse above, and I found it harder to argue with him.  Just then, he layed on an extra layer and put my profession in the hot seat.  "We turn to doctors [uh eh, me] to numb us, instead of God to heal us."  (I'm paraphrasing.)  Ouch.  Have I been the enabler?  Have I been hindering my patient's true healing?

I'm caught between a rock and a hard place.  Part of me still wants to argue that it is a biologic condition involving the imbalance of neurotransmitters in the brain that can, and should, be treated with medication and therapy.  Yet this new part of me is whispering: it's sin.

I wish all of my patient's knew Jesus and knew the peace which transcends all understanding.  And I wish I knew where to go from here.  What to think.  What to do.

Harnessing the Whirlwind by Jason (the husband)

Susan asked me to guest blog because she's running out of good ideas.  Just kidding!  She's been trying to get me to blog for over a year now and I actually started one last summer but in my mind I knew I would never write at a high enough quality to make it interesting.  The funny thing is, I always enjoyed writing.  In fact, not a lot of people know this about me but I started as a journalism major but couldn't handle the parameters of the job and downright shallow expectations of the profession.  I was worried my personal blog would be filled with KC Royals statistics and random Husker thoughts.  Believe it or not, I will admit Susan might be right.  After all, she is a doctor and she's pretty smart so maybe I do have something interesting to say (or not). 

The real reason I never blog is because I fool myself into thinking I don't have time.  Just the same as I do about reading the Bible daily (working on this), calling my family members (I really am sorry...), and washing the dishes (probably not going to change).  However, I am excited to do this...and I am not a "phase" person who changes their likes/dislikes often, usually I stick with something I am excited about. 

Sometimes, I feel like life goes way too fast - the coach in me likes to use cliches, anecdotes, and comparisons so bear with me.  One minute I have hair on my head (not my back) and driving my 1988 Honda Prelude with a freshly printed license around Omaha and a few minutes later here I am without hair on my head, driving to a real job, and raising two children.  How did it all happen?  Where did the time go?  Often, when people ask how things are going I tell them its been a whirlwind.  Not the answer they want to hear as most people prefer a simple "good" or "fine".  That's right - I compare my life to a blast of wind that's here and gone, sometimes in a few blinks of the eye.  There's nothing you can do to prevent it, but I think maybe you can soak up parts of it while it's present. 

I heard a sermon a few years ago that pleaded with us not to wish our lives away with anxiety and countdowns to the next big thing.  Since hearing that message, I have made a concerted effort to enjoy the little events, big moments, and the beautiful (don't tell anyone I actually said/typed "beautiful") things in life.  Susan is phenomenal at capturing these with the camera, but I capture them in my mind.  

Occasionally, when I am driving to work at 6:15 AM in the pitch dark I think about those moments.  The walks in the evening with Susan and the boys, the smell of firewood burning in the distance as the leaves turn orange (or brown - since I am supposedly color deficient) and crispy, eating chocolate chip ice cream with Susan while the boys sleep in the other room, taking my brothers to the pumpkin patch on a perfect fall day, enjoying Husker games with family who don't mind me complaining and then cheering, and listening to music that doesn't have words (thanks John Williams Pandora website). 

When I look back on this time in my life and feel really busy, I don't want to recall: the nights Susan was on call and I was mad about having to cook (i.e. order pizza and pack the boys in the car), the fact that I ignorantly took 6 graduate hours while starting a new job 25 miles away, getting really frustrated at work, constantly changing diapers...all of which is, a.k.a. the whirlwind.  It's important to slow it down and revel in the things that are actually important that won't always be here (like my hair, the Prelude, and somewhat in-shape body that could complete a triathlon were at one time). 

The historian and man in me is constantly thinking about legacies, particularly what makes people great, remembered, loved and admired.  History tends to remember people who made unpopular decisions, went against the grain, took risks, and made wise/rational decisions, and carved their own path (which probably explains why I am obsessed with Lewis & Clark and the pioneers).  In this busy world, it's easy to get trapped believing there isn't time and you can't enjoy but I will prove you can enjoy life regardless of what is bogging you down.  I am bound to not allow busyness, my job, and other factors out of my control determine my fate.  

I have been convicted to do this, and encourage anyone still with me at this point, to slow life down whenever possible and enjoy the best part...the present...because it's a gift.

Susan - thanks for letting me disrupt your incredible blog with my harangue.  I am not convinced you are right yet about this whole blogging thing but it felt good.  Oh yeah, rest assured I will not bore you in the future with exciting topics I had originally planned, such as: my rationale for dropping David Akers from my fantasy football team in Week 7, why the Royals should sign Alex Gordon to a long-term contract, or why people are way too critical of Taylor Martinez. 

Psalm 3:5

"I lie down and sleep;

I wake again, because the Lord sustains me."

There hasn't been one single, measly occasion in the last three months where my eyes have stayed closed for the entire night.  If it's not one thing, then it's another.  If it's not my pager, it's my baby.  If it's not my baby, it's my toddler.  If it's not my toddler, it's my cough.  And if it's not my cough, it's my mattress.  It's for this reason that I've slipped back to being the caffeine addict I swore I would never be again.  I think coffee in the morning and Diet Coke in the afternoon is a heavenly way for the Lord to sustain me.

On Call

Back by popular demand, a breakdown of a "typical" day on call.

SATURDAY

• 5:30AM - Feeding Griffin
• 6:30AM - Owen's up
• 7:30AM - Finishing charts from yesterday's clinic (Hate, Hate, HATE our electronic charts!)
• 8:30AM - Laundry
• 9:30AM - Showering and donning scrubs for being on call on a Saturday
• 10:30AM - Jason out replacing our stolen car stereo
• 11:30AM - Page from the ER for an admission (my call isn't supposed to start until noon, mind you)
• 12:30PM - At the hospital for the admission
• 1:30PM - Back at home
• 2:30PM - Answering a steady stream of pages, but at least I'm home.
• 3:30PM - Surprise tour of our house for Grandma.  Too bad I refused to do my usual Saturday clean because I'm on call.
• 4:30PM - Diagnosing & treating a nonverbal nursing home patient with a past medical history a mile long over the phone with a care taker who constantly reminds me that she has been gone for the last week so she doesn't know the answer to my questions.  Why did you call again?  Then asking myself why their primary doctor asked them to call the on call doctor (lucky me) today with an update.  What do you expect?
• 5:30PM - Back to the hospital.  Someone decided today would make a good birthday.
• 6:30PM - Wishing I spoke Spanish to speed up this H&P.
• 7:30PM - Made it back in time for kick-off.
• 8:30PM - Refreshing my knot tying skills using the shoestrings of my mom's tennis shoes between football plays.
• 9:30PM - Back at Labor & Delivery.  No, my patient wasn't ready yet.  I'm needed to assist with another patient's C-section.
• 10:30PM - Done in time to catch the last two minutes of the "you-didn't-miss-much" game.
• 11:30PM - Back again.  My laboring patient is almost ready, and I can tell the baby's heart rate is making the nurse nervous by the hurried tone her voice.

SUNDAY

• 12:30AM - Healthy baby boy!  (& no tears = no repair = done faster)
• 1:30AM - New patient in the Emergency Room needing to be admitted.
• 2:30AM -  Suggesting constipation treatments to a clinic patient.  (Yes, constipation at 2:30 in the morning.)
• 3:30AM - Emergency Room phone number is back on my pager for yet another admission.
• 4:30AM - Wishing again I spoke Spanish.  And wondering why it takes 5 minutes to answer "on a scale of 1 to 10 how bad is your pain?"
• 5:30AM - Rounding on my other patients.
• 6:30AM - Still trying to get used to a new hospital system.
• 7:30AM - Came home to a smiling Owen in our bed next to a sacked out Daddy.  Jason must have been having as much fun as me in these early morning hours.
• 8:30AM - Ahh... call over = time to sleep.
• 9:30AM - Feeding Griffin.
• 10:30AM - Staring at the back of my eye lids
• 11:30AM - Slept right through church even though I had full intentions of going.
• 12:30PM - Up
• 1:30PM - Typing this blog.  :)

30 by 30

Time flies.  I got a message on Facebook reminding me that my ten year class reunion is just around the corner.  Yikes!  I'm getting old.  In 30 months, I will turn 30.  Can you believe it?  Unlike some people (not to name any names, *cough* Jason *cough*) I've never dreaded a birthday.  Adding one to the number I fill in the age line doesn't make me nervous.  And I'm not especially flattered to get carded when I order a margarita.  What I do dread, however, is waking up as a 30 year old wishing that I would have done more in the years before.  With that in mind I decided to do something cliche.  It's so cheesy, I almost am embarrassed to share.  I made a bucket list.  Yep, a bucket list.  30 things to do in the 30 months before I turn 30.  In no particular order.

1. Complete an olympic length triathlon.
2. Pay for a stranger's dinner.
3. Have my eyebrows professionally done.
4. Go on a cruise.
5. Leave a $20 tip.
6. Color my hair.
7. Send a letter to a friend by snail mail.
8. Read the entire Bible.
9. Do a cartwheel.
10. Eat a hot dog at Coney Island.
11. Go fishing with Jason.
12. Write to someone in political office.
13. Finish a crossword puzzle without cheating.
14. Donate blood.
15. Take a good family photo.
16. Play a song on my violin.
17. Make a snow angel.
18. Go on a fast.
19. Wear a bikini.  (Notice that I didn't say "in public.")
20. Take the boys camping.
21. Watch "Star Wars."
22. Save someone's life.
23. Learn a yoga pose.
24. Eat a taco from a shady street vendor.
25. Send someone flowers.
26. Go on a 30 mile bike ride.
27. Skydive.
28. Intentionally watch a sunrise.
29. Plant a tree.
30. Have a 30th Birthday Party!

A New Do

Ok, I'm a doctor not a hairdresser.  I know.  But it can't be that difficult to cut hair, can it?  I'm sure I did really well on my scissor lessons in kindergarten.  A+, no doubt.  And if I can save $10 or $20, then it's totally worth the risk to try my hand as a beautician.  Well, maybe...

To set the stage, imagine a curious, doll-faced toddler running around the living room in his denim jacket and khaki pants.  As cute as can be.  The only possible flaws on his sweet face being the white, crusty business under his nose, the lunch remnants on his cheek, and pencil straight, light brown, wispy hair curtaining over his ears.  Surely it's the hair obstructing his ear canals that would explain why he doesn't always hear me say "No, Owen, get off the table." or "Owen!  Gentle.  He's just a baby."  Therefore, a good face scrub and little trim was clearly necessary.

I had the afternoon off, and I figured it may take the whole afternoon to perfect my masterpiece.  I positioned my little canvas in khaki pants in his chair at the table and got my supplies ready.  Scissors.  Comb.  Water.  Pickle.  M&Ms.  Marshmallows.  We were ready.

I wet the comb, and carefully arranged each hair.  Snip, snip.  I did my best to mimic the motions of the professionals.  A cut here.  A cut there.  I held damp strands between the sides of my index and middle fingers and continued my work.  Hair fell and tickled his nose.  Hair fell and stuck to his gooey marshmallow.  I tousled his hair with my fingers hoping to break up a few harsh lines.  This isn't too difficult, and it would be cake if Owen would sit still.

The pickle was gone, we survived the meltdown that occurred when the last M&M disappeared, and now the marshmallows, covered in hair, had lost their appeal.  Time to call it quits.  As I stepped back to take a look, my nose wrinkled and my head cocked to the side.  Umm...

I tried a few last cuts to even right and left, but it was a tad bit difficult with a full out fit going on in the chair complete with a head thrashing back and forth.  I had to give up.  Maybe I could finish during bath time.  Good thing it's Friday and you have a few days before you have to show your face at daycare.  Good thing your hair grows fast.

The worst part is that, now, every time I catch a glimpse of his unequal edges I wish I was carrying scissors.  Surely I could fix it.  You might be thinking that I should just take him in and let the real professionals undo the mess I've created.  But it isn't that bad, and that would be embarrassing.

Actually, that might not be the worst part.  The worst part is probably that as soon as his hair is back over his ears, I'll likely try again!  Oh, poor little guy.

Back to Work

Back to reality.  September 6th marked my official start to working here in Grand Island.  (Isn't it hard to believe that the summer is over?  Wow!  I still find myself thinking it's August.  Are we really halfway through September?)  These past two weeks have been mostly orienting to the hospital and clinic and welcome reception after welcome reception after welcome reception.  They are very welcoming here.  Last night was our last shindig, and Monday I will start actually seeing my own patients in clinic and taking a shift in the Emergency Room.  I'm itching to get going.

Not only was the 6th my first day of work, it was also the boys' first day of daycare.  Ever.  I'm sure it's no surprise, but I was more of a mess that morning than they were.  I did manage to keep it to a minimum with just a few silent tears slipping down my cheeks and a couple of "they will be okay,"  "it will be okay," self-affirmations running through my mind.  Owen was a little less quiet in his display of dislike for change, but according to report he quickly got over it when enticed with playing ball outside.  

In Omaha, we were so blessed to have awesome family and great friends watch Owen during the day, and although we will miss that, our setup here has plenty of its own advantages.

Getting into the Saint Francis Daycare was another working of God.  They have a loooooong waiting list, so when we got on the list in February they were sure we wouldn't get in by September.  Craziness.  It seemed like we were signing up for some exclusive country club or Packers' season tickets - definitely not a daycare.  At the same time, it made us want it even more.  If everyone else wants in, it must be as good as they say, and I want it, too.  As the months passed with little progress moving up the list, we made other arrangements for the boys.  (Thanks, Heather!)  But then, in the nick of time, reminiscent of our house, I got the call.  It was like the clouds parted again, a bright yellow beam of radiant light came down onto my head, and a collective "aaahhh" sang out from heaven.  We were in.  It was too perfect.  How much more evidence could we get that He will provide more than enough?

Now the boys are 5 minutes from our house and an elevator ride away from my clinic.  I've already spent part of a lunch break in the nursery holding Griffin, and I've peaked out the break room window four stories up to see Owen playing out in the yard.  Not too bad if you ask me!  

I think I'm going to like it out here, and I think they (speaking of those precious boys in red pictured below) will, too.