Nine Months

At nine months, Sam is a very active boy! 

He likes to:

- crawl all over the house

- pull himself up to standing

- cruise around the couch

- swing at the park

- splash in the tub

He eats finger foods and puree:

- potatoes, carrots, broccoli, okra, zucchini, green beans

- banana, melon, berries

- chicken, tofu

- yogurt, cottage cheese

- Cheerios

He says:

- "ma" or "mama" which seems to mean more or food

- " uf" which may mean up

- "caw" for the crows

He can:

- clap, wave bye-bye, stretch by verbal cue (see video)

- drink from a sippy cup

Catching up!

Sam demonstrates his cruising ability:

Some last pics from Atlanta

 Welcome to Seattle!

Some of the bounty from our garden:

The Kitchen

 Welcome to my room!

Enjoying watermelon on July 4th:

Bathtime!

Now all he has to do is start washing his own hair:

7 Months... 7 teeth!

Some of the recent Samurai action (did I mention there's been a lot of it?):

Month 10 of Intern Year

Recently, I had to write a 1 page narrative for my Transitional Year program regarding an experience this year that will change the way I practice medicine:

          In the middle of the night, the light comes on in my room and I open my eyes to see a white-gowned women entering. She approaches me with tourniquet in one hand, dragging her phlebotomy cart with the other. I’ve never been an easy stick and getting pricked in the middle of a well-fought bout of sleep is frustrating. I’m so groggy, though, I hardly even feel it before I’m out again.

          Sometime later, I’m being ushered into the bathroom by my nurse. She carries my iv and foley bag as I try to lower myself down on the toilet, the bottom half of my body still prickly and waking up from the anesthesia. With care, she deflates the cuff and I feel the foley pulling from some unfamiliar place. I can hear the clots of blood fall into the water below me. “Just take your time,” she says, “it may be awhile before you can get your urine moving.” I can’t believe I’m sitting on a toilet with this complete stranger; it is so… personal. Yet, everything about her is reassuring and caring. The way she moves around me, quietly, calmly. In the dark of the night shift, I never learned her face, but I will always remember how her afro, silhouetted by the hall light, reminded me of a halo when she entered the room. 

          Just a day before, I had never been a hospital patient: no stitches, no ivs, and certainly no foley catheters. I am surprised myself when, after 19 hours of labor at home, I feel reluctant to go to the hospital. “What will it be like?” I ask my doula as I crawl around the floor of the candle-lit room, lean over a yoga-ball and breathe deeply through a contraction. My husband rubs my back. She smiles, evidently appreciating the irony of a physician asking her what the hospital is like. “Well, first of all, it will be very bright and people will be running around, helping you get settled. It’ll be awhile before you can turn off the lights and have some peace.” I play it over in my mind: lights, nurses, bloodwork, doors opening and closing. I feel my uterus tighten like a band squeezing around to my back and I feel a dropping sensation in my pelvis. “OK. It’s time to go.” 

          Six hours later, I’m sitting on the OR table, curling my back “just like a shrimp” as I’ve seen countless other women do before. The contractions are happening more frequently now and though the pain is getting worse, I feel terrified of having a needle stuck in my back and a scalpel cutting my abdomen. “Next year when you’re doing these, you’ll be able to tell your patients what it’s like,” says my anesthesiologist. And it dawns on me: I’ve never been able to put myself in my patients shoes because I’ve never been a patient. My lower half quickly goes numb and I can’t even move my legs. The doctor and nurses grab hold of me and move me into position. All I can do is relax and give in to letting them care for me.

Intern year...not quite over

Frick-a-frack!

It's my last free weekend until at least the end of June and I get called in to cover for someone who's sick.

This intern I'm covering for has a so-called gastrointestinal bug. Conveniently, he happened to have the day off today, too. Is this a three day weekend that he's calling in "sick" for? I like to think the best of people, but I've got a weird feeling about this one...

And it's not just for tomorrow. No. It's an overnight shift. 30 hours. There goes my beautiful, relaxing final weekend at home with Sam. Kyle's out of town. Thank God for Beth and Steve-- Sam will be enjoying his first sleep-over sans parents.

Grrrr... sometimes I hate being in a profession with such responsibilities....