Taking Aim

Battleship communications tower

Let go of the anger and the hurt so it does not destroy you, too.

Big, fat tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, running down her cheeks. Her voice changed as she tried to talk around the lump in her throat. 

“But mommy, I’m going to miss all of my friends! Jackie and Bennet and Katie and all of my teachers…”

I wrapped my arms around her even tighter.

“I know, bug-a-boo, but we don’t know if your school is going to be there much longer and we need a plan B for just in case.”

“I miss my principal!” she wailed.

Changing schools at the start of a school year is hard. I remembered. But doing it suddenly like this mid year was going to be that much worse.

My son wiped tears from his wet face. “I am really going to miss my teachers.”

“I know, hon.”

You need to show a more charitable response.

They gutted the school in front of the kids. During class the teachers had to take down all of the wall and window decor. Furniture was moved. Locks were changed. The beloved principal was fired without warning while she was on vacation celebrating her wedding anniversary.

They’d promised nothing would change for the first year. It was November. Not even three months in.

Parents showed up and cussed out the new owner’s representatives. I rescheduled some patients and went up there myself to check on my own kids, to check on the teachers. Hollow eyed, people wandered about and spoke in hushed tones, shellshocked. 

Be a good steward, not just of your money, but also of your love. Give freely…

There were rumors teachers were being fired or resigning.

“I’m here for the kids. I will stick it out for the rest of the year no matter what. I can take a beating when it comes to those kids if need be. If THEY will let me…”

Meanwhile, the new owners refused to communicate with the parents or the teachers. The kids were left in a scary limbo. Friends were pulled out of classes and transferred to other schools with no opportunity to say goodbye.

Choose to show love when it is least expected.

I could not sleep. When I did sleep it was fitfully, dreaming nightmares that they were taking the kids and not letting us have them back.

The nightmare has been running for four days now in my brain, and it won’t shut off. I am struggling with what my response should be. The brain does crazy things under stress. How do you express that much anger, hurt, and betrayal in a sane way so that the person who did it can really understand? 

Would they understand?

Let my love for them show through you.

We tried out a new church because I will be transferring my kids to an Episcopal school and I wanted them to understand chapel. 

“Mom, why are they kneeling?”

“Mom, why did they take the book out into the aisle to read from it instead of up on the platform?”

“Why did he touch my forehead?”

It was part of the adventure. New church. New school. I found there was comfort in the symbolism and ritual.

“Come up to the front and get one of these crosses for your family then get one of these envelopes with $5 in it and use that this week to show kindness to someone else in a bold and daring way. Don’t just stick it into the Salvation Army donation bucket. DO something with it.”

And then I knew.

My response… 

Do something unexpected.
“It is not your fault what the new owners did to the kids and the parents and the staff. It was wrong, though, and I cannot keep my kids in this school. I do want you to know that I wish you luck as you try to repair the damage done to the relationships here. It is going to be a long road back.” I handed the new director a small gift bought with that $5 and gave her a hug. 

And then I walked away. 

Forever.

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Rushing Past

NYC subway

After every single electronic health record update I am left feeling betrayed. Is it the EHR company’s fault? Is it the healthcare system’s fault? I don’t know and I no longer care. I am just so tired of feeling ambushed. It never feels anything gets better or more useful. 

Just different and harder. 

They took away my layout colors, the nice neutrals. Instead there is garish pink and mint green and even deep blue sea creatures. An octopus in an electronic health record? Really? Do you know how disconcerting that is? 

Yesterday the patient summaries would not print until hours later, after the patient left. Used to be that referral information printed out with contact numbers for the specialists we were sending patients to so they could call instead of waiting to hear from an office that may or may not call them. That information is not on the summary anymore. Do you know how disruptive that is when you have a full day of patients scheduled back to back? 

And then there is all of the minutia… buttons changed, orders switched, WTF?

Mayhem. 

Insanity. 

There is a grieving process that accompanies every update. It starts with hope, shock, disappointment. Then the classic five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally there is acceptance. I am a small fish in a big, big ocean and what I or my patients need means nothing. Someone else decides for me, for them. Maybe that is the meaning of those blue fishes on the background? Swim with the group or get eaten by the octopus…

The “updates” rush past whether I want them to or not. I can do nothing to stop them. 

Adapt and accept or die.

This morning I want to hide in my bed and not go to work. I am exhausted already. But I can’t. People depend on me to put on a brave face and muddle through. 

So endure I will, secretly seething inside.

Music to My Ears

River in the fall

“Your son has a lovely boy soprano voice. I would like for him to sing a solo at the Christmas program….”

“Mom! I get to sing! In front of everyone. She said I have a gift!” He beamed as he scrambled into his seat. 

I reread the note several times over the rest of the evening. My kid is special! Isn’t that what every parent longs to hear? And yet there was part of me that felt sad. Music might very well be the thing that takes him away from me. 

He is so brave, getting up in front of people to put himself on display like that. I would have been paralyzed by the prospect at his age. 

“You know there are boys choirs that travel all over the world,” I offered tentatively, imagining his sweet face singing Ave Maria on television. 

He loves music so much. He is playing piano in second grade at the level I was at when I was in junior high. It comes naturally to him somehow.

“I want to share my gift, Mom, but I don’t want to be away from you and dad.” He started to tear up. “I like being with my family…”

More than anything else, more than hearing that someone thinks my child has the voice of an angel, what I am most proud of is that my kid feels loved enough that he wants to hang with his family. 

He will spread his wings and fly off soon enough but he knows that he will always have a safe place to come back to. Well. At least until he turns 18. That is how I know that all of the difficult choices and sacrifices I have made are worth something. 

My kid feels whole.

That is the best gift of all. 

Owed

Refurbished part of the Ellis Island hospital

The VA medical system in the US is a shameful mess, not worthy of our veterans.

If we expect someone to lay their life on the line to protect our freedom and the freedom of others all over the world, we have a responsibility to provide for their medical care and that of their families even after their service in a way that is on par with the quality of care received elsewhere in the country. 

Instead there is corruption, waste, deception. Veterans die waiting for help. I have seen the effects of poor care.

Let’s stop ignoring it and do something about it. You want to do something meaningful for Veterans Day? Write to your elected officials and demand change.

Thursday Thoughts From the Throne

Bones at the American Museum of Natural History in NYC
At first I told myself I would NOT write a grumbly post-Halloween post. I held off for a good whole week and a few days but here I am on the toilet stewing about it still and so I feel compelled to just spill my guts, literally and figuratively…

In case you were ever unsure, an adult taking their dog trick or treating is NOT cute if the adult is collecting candy, not wearing a costume, and there are no kids around. If you are an adult who does this, stop. Go ahead and dress up your dog or pup or hamster or whatever pet you can coax into a costume without getting your eyes clawed out and feel free to take a walk through the neighborhood. Show off. Just don’t go begging for candy. 

Second, rollling an infant around in a stroller asking for candy is on par with the pet thing. Sure, they are cute. Feel free to walk around and show them off. But trying to roll a stroller up my front steps is dangerous and we both know that bag of snickers and gobstoppers is not for anyone but you. Buy your own damn candy!

Kids with two bags collecting for a mysterious “ill” sibling…. yeah. If your brother really got sick and you want to do something truly noble, share your own candy half and half. THAT demonstrates love and sacrifice and I won’t be left wondering if that sibling really exists or not as you giggle while walking away with your two heavily laden bags.

And lastly, if you are a kid who shows up at the end of the night when my candy is running low, you may very well end up with a sucker or a box of Nerds because that is all I have left. You don’t like that? Don’t throw the candy on the ground and mutter some expletive as you storm off. I just gave out over 2,000 pieces of candy and you not liking the fact that I am out of chocolate reflects poorly on you, not me.

Ah…. Now that feels better!

Changing Times

Fall colors on the water

I love the fall. I love the colors, the pumpkins, the hint of cooler weather. I love the baking, wearing sweaters, fires in the fire place. I do not, however, love the time change.

Who likes it? That’s what I want to know. And if everyone hates it so much, why the hell hasn’t anyone changed it?!?!!??! Every year we all complain. There are news articles decrying the needlessness of it. And yet, it still happens. 

The dreaded “Fall Back”…

So, the time change alone is bad enough by itself but this year I also forgot to turn back my kids’ clocks so their alarms went off an hour too early yesterday morning. Gah. Who can remember to turn back ALL of their clocks? Worse? It was dark by the time I left work to go pick them up from school. 

Cranky kids. 

Cranky mom. 

For the next few months I will exist in a disorienting cave of darkness, a fugue state of sorts, confined to a building during daylight hours. My brain does not like this. It craves the feeling of sunlight on my skin, the deep red glow of sun filtered through closed eyelids. I find that this matters more and more to me each fall and winter. 

Bottom line? Gaining an hour of sleep is a farce. We don’t get more rest. We don’t have more energy. It is all a sorry pack of lies we tell ourselves every dang year. 

As Long as You have Your health…

Alrighty, here is another reblog for the week just so you know I am not alone in my grumbling and paranoia. Enjoy!!!!

No Facilities

The perfect place and beverage to share some casual conversation.

If we were having a beer, you’d seem concerned about my health.

“Are you in a wellness program?”

“Why, is that a requirement for drinking here?”

“No, of course not. I was just wondering. My company just started one and it looks interesting.”

“I have access to a wellness program, but it’s not direct with our company.”

“Through your health insurer?”

“No, through the organization that provides the health insurance to our company.”

“Hey guys. Just so you know, it’s not like I’m not concerned about your health, but I am here to sell you adult beverages, barbequed chicken wings, pizza or pasta smothered in cream sauce.”

“Hi Cheryl. I’m not sure where this conversation is going, but before he condemns my poor choices, I’ll have a Yuengling.”

“And I’ll have a glass of Meiomi. So, what’s the scoop on…

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Real Terror Is….

Central Park, NYC

“Mommy, there is a fifth grader at school whose mommy had her when she was thirteen! Maybe I will get lucky and have a baby when I am thirteen. Then I will have someone to boss around.”

“Uh. Sweetheart. You don’t want to have a baby when you are thirteen.”

“Why not?” She was incredulous.

How to communicate that it is a terrible idea without tearing down the other girl’s mommy?

“Because having a baby when you are a teenager is generally frowned upon.” 

“Why?”

“A baby is a lot of responsibility. A lot of dirty diapers. Tons of poop. It is also very, very painful. You want to wait until your body is big enough.”

She was undeterred. “How do you get a baby?” There was silence as I pondered whether or not my six year old daughter was ready to learn the specifics about baby-making when suddenly she brightened up and blurted out, “Drinking alcohol. Is that how you do it?”

“Um. Yes? Sometimes?” My mind wandered to the patient who had recently gone on a so called booze cruise and came back pregnant with triplets…

“Alright!” She smiled sweetly at me, finally satisfied that now she knew the secret and then without missing a beat she said, “I am going to drink some alcohol.”

The Apple and The Tree

I don’t usually post on Mondays anymore because the clinic is usually crazy but I did want to reblog this post from Twindaddy at Mental Defecation. Typically I don’t get a ton of people popping over to read reblogs but I would encourage you to hit the link on this one.

Mental Defecation

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, the old saying goes. It’s an obvious statement, of course. Unless an apple tree is at the top of a hill any apple that falls from it isn’t going far at all.

My tree has dropped three apples, so to speak. None of them have fallen far from the tree. To be frank, I’d bet money the genetic engineers of Jurassic Park cloned my “apples” directly from me if I didn’t know better. I can see my likeness in their jokes, their intelligence, their behaviors, and their personalities. But nothing quite dissected how similar we are until I read a short essay today.

I was talking with Baby B about meds and school when he mentioned he’d finished an essay he needed to turn in for English tomorrow was finished. I inquired more about it and found out that the topic he’d…

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