Just Like Riding a Bike....it all comes back

Well, well. I'm wearing makeup again. Not that I haven't worn some but until recently my repertoire was eyebrow pencil, a bit of eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. Quick, easy and basically invisible.  Laura  would comment regularly that it looked like I had nothing on my face at all.

Sigh.

In the last month, my interest in putting "stuff" on my face has increased considerably, largely if not totally, due to Laura's Mary Kay mini-franchise. I've spent way too much on "products" for healthier looking skin as well as makeup galore. I must admit that my skin is looking and feeling better for the extra attention. In 2011, Mary Kay's  care-of-the face regimen is so much easier than it was some twenty fine years ago when I experimented with her product line. So, a shout out to Mary Kay. Good luck with your sales, Ms. Laura. I'll be a good customer for you.

As for makeup, I'm playing around with eyeliner after many, (many) decades The pencil tip style (dry) is everywhere and frustrates me beyond belief. I can't get the right touch and it ends up smearing and looking weird. Back in the day, in high school, I used a liquid eyeliner and made serious tracks with pristine accuracy. A skill well mastered, applying the thin stripe on my upper eyelids was a snap. Following my intense foray with lining eyes as a teen, I gave it all up for a simpler look.

Until now.

I found me some bomb liquid eyeliner from 24/7 Urban Decay today at Sephora. I'm sorry Laura, I should have ordered the MK brand from you but I couldn't wait. I craved the stuff with great urgency and bought "brand X" as your Grandfather would say. This is slick eyeliner and the coolest part of the entire experience was that the technique, long buried by the passage of time, came right back. Oh, so sweet. How nicely that slim line of contrasting color rolled off the teeny, tiny brush. Ever purchased a color called "smog"? I never thought of smog as being a good thing but as a color, I guess so.

Just like riding a bike; it all comes back.

Back in the Day.....

A great idea percolated into my consciousness today, built on the frame of a single thought leading to the next and then the next. Isn't this the way these mysteries unfold?  I suppose very creative people experience this wonderful excitement on a regular basis. I do not and this makes what happened today all the more significant.

I drove along 5th Avenue in downtown Seattle on my way to the E.R. to spend the day with my Dad who took sick with a febrile illness today. My thoughts focused on things medical; like the modern efficiencies of our hospital's emergency facilities. The next thought took me to the norm of professional "back in the day"; not just 30 years ago or 15 years ago but even 5 years ago. "Back in the day", the concept of remembering and revering the way things were in that great place we call the past. All that changed (the operative word); the processes, the cultures, the styles, the beliefs, the way we did things and the ways we thought. And, the adjustments we made, myself individually and the profession collectively struck me as enormous and furthermore important.

Have I completely lost you?

In the midst of all the musing I thought about a 16 year old girl considering a future in medicine to the almost 57 year old seasoned physician,  I thought....wow, all these snippets of memories, my experiences, my fears, my achievements, my failures..... all the bits and pieces that make up the whole.Perhaps these are of little interest to readers. Perhaps they will be. What's important for me is the writing. The memories need to become words on a page. They must.

In a moment, the idea gelled. A blog, an over the shoulder backward look, written as single posts but part of  complicated whole. I envision nothing chronological, more of a crazy quilt. Also, nothing specific about patients; we medical bloggers must protect confidential information. Nothing overly sentimental. These swirling, every recurring memories need a forum. I know what to do: Blog.

The title...Back in the Day. A personal retrospective.
Ahead of the Wave remains intact, my present moment.
Back in the Day honors the past. Stay tuned.

Not the Tuesday I Expected

The phone range at 7:15 this morning; a call from the lead caregiver at Dad's adult family home with an update on Dad that didn't sound too good: fever, chills, tachycardia, and weakness. Wow, I thought; I just talked to him last night and saw him Sunday afternoon. Sure, he's frail and generally on the decline but I wasn't expecting him to get sick so fast. I know better; this fall of course happens all the time in elderly folks. Even though I know, there's denial. Always.

Long story short: I spent the day with Dad at the hospital; first in the Emergency Room and then upstairs in his hospital room. He's going to be O.K. My powers of discernment between "sick" and "really sick" are pretty good. By noon with a few bags of IV fluids and a dose of IV antibiotics, he looked much better. He hadn't wanted to come to the hospital in the first place but despite his stoicism, I think we were right to insist.  Hopefully he'll be on the mend in a day or two and ready to head home again.

None of the things on my "to do" list, including the yoga class, blackberry picking, and checking up on the Arapahoe house, got done today. I did drive to his home to retrieve hearing aids, glasses, and partial dentures and bring them back to the hospital.I did sit by his side and offer comforting words and translations right up by his ear. By 4 PM, he acknowledged that I'd been there all day by saying "Wow, Kitty Kat, you should get on home."  I took his advice.

Everyone who interacted with Dad today ended up with a smile or a chuckle. He's such a likeable person.  The stuff he says, the expressions on his face, his absolute outward acceptance of all that's going on is only part of the charm. He's seemingly unaware of how delighted people are to meet him. He never complains, is polite, and goes with the flow; "the perfect patient".  All the attention seems to perk him up; somewhat of a bonus if he's got to be ill and in the hospital, I suppose.

We'll see how he's doing tomorrow. I think he'll be better and perhaps ready to come home.

(Some) Mondays are So Sweet

Oh my, what a wonderful day!  Monday. Monday. Monday.  This day, carries a shroud of doldrums for many as the start of the traditional work week. But, not for me. Monday is my day off.

Today is particularly sweet as the official close of a a seven day "on call" roll; a time of frenzied ups and downs, a breath here and there, dozens of phone calls, and hundreds of decisions big and small. Do this, do that, coupled with a healthy dose of questioning: did I make the "right" call considering all the variables and choices?  Go with it, get behind the decision and move forward, monitoring for a need to shift gears and move in a new direction. Change, volatility, change, uncertainty, change, surprise, change and unpredictability. By week's end, I feel ready to bask in the glow of no more responsibilities, at least for awhile.

Last night, pumped on caffeine, I was wired until after eleven but knowing I could sleep in today I didn't care. A last buzz of the pager at 5:30 AM reminded me the work continues consciously or unconsciously until the clock slips past 8 AM. Back to sleep until the bright morning sunshine and the low rumbling of the recycling truck awakened me several hours later. Sweet, sweet sleep and then the realization that there's nothing on the agenda today except for things of my choosing.

I liken this feeling to banging my head against the wall; it feels so good when I stop.

Never Goodbye; Until We Meet Again

This is the last picture of my Mom and me together, taken on her 93rd Birthday a year ago today. We celebrated at the adult family home with cake, ice cream, punch, popcorn snacks, and live music. My brother, John flew up from Houston as a last minute surprise. Memories from that day swirl around in my head as I remember small snippets of conversation, stray thoughts, the orchid plant someone brought, the silver watch I gifted Mom, and the singing of "Happy Birthday"

Did I consider this celebration of her birth might be the last?  Did I consider the photograph above might be the last of us as mother and daughter?  No. In the moment those thoughts vanish. Gratefully.

This week thoughts of Mom consume me; her death like a raw edge all over again. I miss her embrace, her warm smell, her love. In those final months of her life, I often wondered if she recognized me as her daughter. Sometimes I would ask her when her face was blank, far off somewhere, consumed by another reality. She would say, "Yes, of course; you're Kitty." Nonetheless, I wondered about an erosion of our deep connection as mother and daughter. Her essence, her living soul and presence hidden and no longer. She died before she actually died.

Years ago at Christmas, she gave me a small, wrapped box with a gold bow and dangling heart. The gift was never to be opened; unwrapping the package would destroy its message and intent. Mom scoured catalogs for interesting, unusual gifts; I became the recipient of dozens. This one in particular speaks to my heart today, what would be her 94th Birthday were she alive.

The underside of the box contains the real message of the gift. It reads:

"This is a very special gift that you can never see, The reason it's so special is it's just for you and me.

Whenever you are lonely or ever feeling blue, you only have to hold the gift and know I think of you. 

You never can unwrap it. Please leave the ribbon tied, Just hold the box close to your heart; it's filled with love inside."

I love you, Mom. I miss you so much today.

Hey, Mr. Boo!

A very nice patient of mine has quite a talent with the craft of woodworking. Several months ago she asked me about my cat, interested in his color, markings, and his eyes. She said, "I'm going to make you something."

Although Mr. Boo, as we call him, is not as svelte as the cat shown here, the facial expression makes me smile and think of his adorable mug. She caught the color of his green eyes perfectly.  The rangy
tabby now sits atop our mantel and brightens my day.

A lovely gift dear friend. Thank you!

Bye Bye Sauv Blanc

I haven't had a migraine for 5 days. I also haven't had a drop of alcohol in 5 days. A connection?  I'd say so.

I do enjoy my glass (or two) of Sauvignon Blanc, especially on these wonderful summer evenings. Predictably, I will pay for the pleasure. I thank my lucky stars for imitrex which I take way too often to combat the headache that follows. I get 12 tablets a month and I buzz through them. When I hear about people who use them one or two times a year, I stand in awe. Ingesting so many of these vasoconstrictors can't be good. But. They. Work.

I feel better for not imbibing and love being headache free (5 days is a long time without a migrain; if I make it more than a week, a record will be broken) so will plan to stick with the no-alcohol-tonight plan for the meantime.

Cheers!  My Red Bull tastes so good instead.