Sunday, January 31, 2010

Celebrity Collage by MyHeritage

I spent 2 days trying to find my "Celebrity Doppelganger" because I LOVED looking at everyone elses. I rarely buy into Facebook fads (for those living in the dark ages, the current FB trend is to post a profile pic of a look-a-like celebrity), but this one was irresistible to me. I mean, it is really funny when people get it dead on...

...anywho. I resorted to trying this My Heritage website, which after multiple attempts, this is the best I got (though none of them work). Just thought it was interesting. I think I will [unfortunately] have to stick with Ricki Lake. And yes, I just came up with her out of the blue; I really cannot retrace the thoughts that lead up to that revelation.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010


Though I'd choose the life of a 3rd or 4th year, doing rotations, any day over classwork, the classroom had it's perks. Or one perk, I should say: camaraderie. Medical school (not unlike college swimming) is so time-consuming, and miserable and tough at times, that only the people experiencing it with you can truly help. I had forgotten how nice it was to feel that validation; to know that I have chosen the right path, and we all have to get through these next few years.

The group of girls that I bonded with all went separate ways after 2nd year (though, I guess technically Leslie and I live in the same city, but she's in Bonnor, so it might as well be out of town...) This weekend, we all came back. We talked about our experiences, good and bad, our future plans, and let's not forget, class gossip. I cannot even describe how wonderful it was to see these girls, see how far we've come, and to be reassured that not only will it all end, but we will be happy with our decision to pursue this career.

Now don't go getting the wrong impression. I love what I am doing. I feel happy at the end of everyday. The same as when I was swimming. But that doesn't mean that the day wasn't mentally or physically challenging. Guess I am just a glutton for punishment.

Monday, January 25, 2010

I thought the car window was cracked open...

...nope. It was Brock. Whistling in the backseat. Have no idea where he came up with this one, as Matt and I are not in the habit of whistling on any kind of consistent basis.

You have to listen VERY carefully.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Winning the Race

The particular approach I have chosen for determining my future career as a physician, is not unlike the approach I used in choosing a spouse. First, and foremost, do I enjoy their company? If yes, proceed, if no, stop right there. Second, after spending a significant amount of time with them, do I still enjoy their company? If yes, proceed, if no, stop right there. Now, that I have had enough time to observe, what annoying habits do they possess? If these habits are tolerable, proceed, if one of them is not, stop right there. (I don't care what wonderful, amazing characteristics they possess, reality is, we live in a society that leans on the negative side, so it's the bad or intolerable habits that produce ultimate demise.)

So, now that I know: 1. I enjoy their company, even after many hours, days, years, etc and 2. Their "bad" habits are tolerable. I can safely reason that long term survival as a couple is very probable. And I truly feel, anyone can find multiple people (or medical specialties) that fit these criterion. So, there is one more question you must ask to not only solidify the final decision, but to guarantee a partner that will make life far more wonderful than just tolerable. A question that will demonstrate why you would rather live life with someone else and deal with all the compromises rather than fly solo. And that question is: do they inspire you? If yes, proceed, if no, try again.
Thus, upon using the aforementioned standards, it appears that my worst fear is materializing: Obstetrics and Gynecology is winning the race. This has been my favorite rotation, by far. Everyday I leave the hospital invigorated, instead of exhausted. True, the creation of life [should be] inspiring for anyone with a pulse, but looking beyond that incredible aspect of the field, I am left with daily procedures and surgeries that I find to be very tolerable. I am frustrated with my lack of skill and the fact that I don't know more, as well as curious to learn all the in's & out's of the field. At this point I find OB/Gyn tolerable and inspiring, all that's left is more time to get to know it.

Why is this my worst fear, you ask? Residency for an OB/Gyn compared to say, a Pathologist, is a tidbit more rigorous and time consuming. And I REALLY love my family.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Silent But Deadly

For all you mothers out there, or possibly even pet owners, or just the child or toddler experienced, you know what I mean when I say silent but deadly (and no, I am not referring to the passage of gas.) When your kid is playing about the house, lots of noise and the sounds of destruction are actually reassuring, albeit a bit stressful. It is when they go silent that you truly worry, perhaps even panic. The last few silences, I have found Brock doing a number of things, some things acceptable, some things not so acceptable. For example...

Pretending to blow out an unlit candle sitting on the dinner table while we are sitting there with him. Unacceptable: Taking out every single tissue in the Kleenex box and pretending to blow his nose.
Acceptable: [ABOVE] Sitting in his now favorite gold chair, which he will fight the dogs for possession to the bitter end, playing with a tape measure. (I know, probably not an acceptable toy, but after pinching his fingers a couple times, he seems to have the hang of it.)
Unacceptable: [BELOW] Standing in his favorite gold chair, and playing with the window blinds.
Acceptable: Collecting electronic items, such as unplugged computer and phone chargers, camera flashes, memory cards, old cell phones, empty lens boxes, etc. into a pile on the computer room floor. Unacceptable: Throwing my personal cell phone away in the trash. Nor standing on the swivel, computer chair to type on the Mac keyboard.

Brock, decidedly, grows in spurts and this 13th month of his life has proven to contain one of them. This has it's advantages, one being he tends to have a few 12-14 hour nights, as opposed to his usual 10. He then eats ravenously, thus helping me in my continued weight loss endeavor, by consuming most the food off of my plate. Another being, he wakes up one day and is infinitely more amusing. As you may have seen in a few of those examples I mentioned above. It astounds me EVERY time. I know I have said it before, but he literally wakes up a different baby. He now engages in imaginative play pretty frequently and seems to have a specific goal in mind while playing. Such as stacking blocks, or piling Little People, or filling the trunk of his tricycle. He also imitates much more frequently, as depicted by his habit of picking up a stethoscope and wandering about the house with it around his neck [ABOVE]. Wait, nevermind, who walks around the house with a stethoscope around their neck!? I sure don't! Again, guess he's a natural. But truly, he does mimic Matt and I quite frequently, which is adorable, hilarious and endearing all at the same time.

He knows how to turn on all the television sets with in his reach, he knows how to turn on and eject the Playstation, as well as the stereo at his grandparent O'Laughlin's house. He can climb onto just about any chair, or piece of furniture for that matter. Getting over the gates and his crib are only a short matter of time, I fear. Which brings me to a couple of the disadvantages to this growth spurt. For about 3 days, right around Christmas, all his 12-18 month clothing were finally fitting well! His pants were staying up, the shirts did not appear to be umbrella's any longer, and size 4 shoes were perfect, no more tripping on the slightly over-sized toe. And now, it looks as though he is wearing capris and 3/4 sleeves in zero degree weather! I have to shove his shoes on, to the point that he starts to whine. But all the 18-24 month clothing was designed for chubby babies, not 22.5 pound 32 inchers... Ahh! It is so hard to keep a growing child in style these days.

All in all, every phase gets better. I never think he can be cuter tomorrow, than he is today, but he always manages it somehow.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

OR #6

I show up yesterday, my first day of OB/Gyn rotation, at 7:10am for a 7:30 LAVH BSO (Hysterectomy). I would say I am minimally anxious, despite this being my first experience scrubbing in for a surgery, first time meeting this particular doctor, and first time at Overland Park Regional. Though everyone is extremely friendly, they don't know how truly inexperienced I am and just begin rattling off instructions; here's the locker room, over there are the shoe covers, here are the caps (do I wear the shower cap looking thing or the tie one that most male surgeons don?) And thus, probably due in part to downing my coffee in less than 20 minutes, the slow descent into panic begins...

...I am whisked by the doc to the OR. He tells me to grab a mask, so naturally, I pick the same one he uses, and quickly tie it on my head. He then shows me the soap packets and we begin to scrub away, 20 rubs on your palm, 20 on the pack or your hand, 20 in between each finger, HALT. He stops and says, "Oh, you have to take that ring off". The ring he is speaking of, is my right hand ring that Matt gave to me as a gift for my 21st birthday. A ring that has not been removed for 5 years, and not for lack of trying. Believe you me, I have spent countless hours freezing my hand, lotioning it up and rinsing it in soapy, cold water all to no avail. I had even tried the night before, knowing that this would be a likely request, but hoping it would slip past the doc when, yet again, I was unsuccessful. "Well," I utter, "I have tried on multiple occasions to remove this ring, but I can't, it's been on here for five years." His response, "Well, you have to get it off." So now really in a panic, I begin twisting, and turning, and soaping my finger, and SUCCESS! It comes right off! I am blown away. If you need ring removal, go borrow some of the soap with iodine from the hospital, because apparently it's magic (or maybe I had scrubbed away enough layers of skin, or maybe it's the freezing weather combined with my anxiety, or maybe it's the 13lbs I have lost...or maybe it really is a miracle.)

With that process done, we proceed into OR #6 to be gowned - which is a stressfull process in itself. Your are sterile, you cannot touch anything or anyone, it's amazing how hard that really is. We then begin on the procedure. The doc is explaining everything he is doing, but in my mind, I am thinking: "Don't touch anything, don't get in his way, oh man, he bumped my arm, I'm in the way, what are we looking at? Please don't ask me any anatomy questions...oh, that looks just like it does in the book, how is he not puncturing the bowel? This is amazing. I love technology..." He then snaps me out of my awe-stricken state, to ask me to hold one of the devices. Naturally, I grab it and I am bent over this person, holding this contraption with all my might, refusing to move even a millimeter. I don't want to be blamed for any mishaps. After a while I am getting a bit tired, but have no idea who I would ask to relieve me from my task and I am not even sure my task is still needed. So, I just stand there and begin to sweat. As I am slowly getting overheated, the mask is suddenly very claustrophobic. I had decided early on, that I had tied it entirely too tight, but once sterile, you cannot touch anything above your chest or below your waist. I didn't know anyone by name, besides the doc, in the OR, so I couldn't very well ask them to adjust it. Leaving only one option: I just have to tough it out.

Well, I think everything culminated in that moment. I can't tough it out, my mask is suffocating me, what if I drop the device!? And then, the ear-ringing begins. Oh crap, sweating + anxiety + ear-ringing = fainting! I give in and say, "I am getting a little light-headed". Immediately, everyone responds in an orderly, calm fashion (guess they've done this before) and I am whisked away to sit in a chair - while still remaining sterile. But the ball is rolling and the tunnel vision sets in, so I say, I need my mask off, and to get out of the room. I am de-gowned as I leave, and the nurse remarks "goodness, you ARE covered in sweat, and going white!" She finds someone to babysit me as she rushes back into the OR. I continue to sit on a hospital bed in the hallway, with my head between my knees, kind of amazed that I didn't fully pass out, because it was a close one, but really angry with myself at the same time. If I had just asked for relief when I knew I needed it, I would have saved myself this episode. I wasn't even queasy. Yet here I am, in that club of med students, who passes out in the OR. Darnit. I hate being typical.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

New Year, New Hair

Brock's first professional haircut was entirely too stressful for me, and not because of any sentimental reasons, purely environmental. I have vowed never to travel to Olathe, Kansas EVER again (ok, Taco Via being the one and only exception.)
As I hope I have conveyed by this point, Brock is a highly active, very squirmy, independent (nice way of saying stubborn) baby. Needless to say, trimming his hair has been a challenge. I did not foresee any normal stylist having any better luck, so I sought out the kid hair specialists. You know, the places that have fire trucks or ponies for chairs? The exact kind of place I typically despise, because they are over-priced, obnoxious and in locations like Olathe; but I realize there is something to be said for experience. So, with my sister in tow, we make the trek all the way out to "Shear Madness", only to encounter a completely backed up highway, and then, unrelated to the highway mess, a huge wreck. Then in order to get into the shopping center where this establishment was supposedly located, we had to take at least 4 left turns, getting stopped at multiple, 5 minute stoplights only to find that this place does not exist. At least not to the naked eye. So we venture to the 4 other neighboring shopping centers without luck. And finally settle on "Fantasic Sam's". I need not mention there are at least 10 "Fantastic Sam's" with in a 5 mile range of my own house, no need to travel 20 miles to one..., in conclusion, I still ended up having to hold the kid in my lap while trying keep a death grip on him. We got hair all over me, my new boots, and Brock. And they didn't even have a lint roller. Ahhh!

Friday, January 1, 2010

2010. As busy and funfilled as ever:


May 22:
Kathleen & Pat {Saysoff}
Andrea & Matt {Soles}
Lara & Vince {Bennett}

June 12:
Susan & Jon {Aguirre}
Julie & Jerod {Eller}

June 26:
Anne & Mike {Wind}
Emily & Charles {Bush}

July 16:
Lauren & Brad {Cockrell}

August 7:
Emmy & Marty {Rice}

September 18:
Cami & Eric {Shaumburg}

October 9:
Emily & Brad {Griffith}

June 4, 2011:
Lauren & Tommy {Houts}


Congrats to...
...Kirk and Jessica MIddleton on Harper born January 7th.
...Kelly & Tom Boling on Trey born March 9th.
...Jerod & Julie Eller on Jude born March 17th.
...Meaghan & Brian Hagenhoff on Teddy born June 1st.
...Justin & Lauren Torpey on Kevin born June 17th.

...Angela & Travis Price on Riley born June 25th.
...Ryan & Ashley Toma on Addison born June 23rd.

...Jim & Lisa Stuart on Janie born June 23rd.
...Ashley & Brian Ascencio on Lainey born July 12th.
...Charlene & Jason Butcher on Brandon born August 26th.
...Courtney & Patrick Vogtner on Anna Grace born September 30th.
...Catherine Rieke & Jason Pettus on Alice born September 23rd.
...Vanessa & Joe Harris on Marley born October 25th.
...Whitney & Robby Arthur on Bobby born October 30th.
...Us on Curtis born November 5th.

...Beth and Chris Ingram on Finn born November 6th.
...Anna & Blair on Baby Johnson due in December.

...Megan and Pat on Baby LaBuhn due in February 2011.
...Emily and Mark on Baby Rademacher due in March.
...Kim and Keith on Baby Placke due in March.

*I kind of feel like I am missing something/someone if you feel left out, for some reason, let me know!