Together Feathers

I work 80-100 hours a week with these people. And all I want to do on my day off is be with them.

You make a family.

We had to work the next day, on a 30-hour shift. About noon a text page went out that said, "Thanksgiving Part 2?" And we all ran upstairs, in our scrubs, to heat up the leftovers. Together.


You want us to take care of your kids, because we are a team. Together, we are better.


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Now playing: Andrew Bird's Bowl Of Fire - Sovay
via FoxyTunes

All of My Days

On a very busy night, in a very busy hospital, I admitted a curly-haired little girl for dehydration. Or, at least that was the cover story. She had some chronic medical problems that were a lot to take care of, and so, somewhat conveniently before her mom was set to go out of town, she got dropped off in the Emergency Department. I truly don't blame the mother for wanting a break, and our hospital somewhat encourages this behavior. "Hey! Drop your kid off here and NOT on their head or out a car window!"

When she finally got up to the floor, the nurses gave her a bath and dressed her in an over-sized hospital t-shirt. She plopped down in her crib, put her thumb in her mouth and settled in to her new home.

I walked back and forth past her room many times that night, because just beyond her was a child who was getting very, very ill. I needed to be in his room frequently. Every time I walked by, the little girl was happily playing with her doll, like she had been entertaining herself for years. She didn't cry at all, and no one heard a peep from her that night. It bothered me that she wasn't sad and didn't seem to notice that she was all alone and should be scared. Her neighbor, on the other hand, screamed bloody murder when I walked into the room, and tried to bite me as I dragged him out from under his dad's chair.

Around 4am, when I was just sure that I could not be nice anymore, and I had to go lie down for at least a half a second, I popped back in the room to check on my little dehydrated peanut. She was lying in her crib, eyes wide open, thumb in her mouth. I unzipped the crib top, and lowered the railing. The rattling sounded like opening a lion cage or something. She wasn't bothered, and calmly let me listen to her heart and lungs, just blinking. And being alone. She looked and sounded great. I started to put the railing on the crib back up, when she popped her thumb out of her mouth.

"Hold you?" she said, in the most quiet, precious way.

"You want me to hold you?" I whispered.

She sat up, and nodded, reaching her thin little arms up in the air.

I picked her up, IV lines getting tangled with my stethoscope. She settled into my chest, lying her head on my scrubs, reaching her little arm around my neck and patting it, like she was trying to soothe me. She popped her thumb back into her mouth and closed her eyes.

And we both stood there, for a long while, being held.


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Now playing: Alexi Murdoch - All of My Days

The one where I kill Ralph

The problem started very innocently. My cat, The Great and Powerful Phoebe ("fee-bee"), started showing some interest in one of her 200 unused toys. A little stuffed mouse with an opening in the top to insert catnip. Or Ferrero Rocher. I came downstairs one morning to find the toy in the middle of the floor. Phoebe looked so proud (I'm a real cat, now!).

A mere two days later, it happened. I heard her JUMP off the couch (she weighs about 16 pounds, it makes the whole house shake) and run towards the door. I peaked around the corner to admire her new pretend play capabilities, and much to my horror, she was standing, teeth poised, over a real, live rodent. I didn't get a good glimpse, secondary to the hysterical blindness caused by my shrill screaming. I jumped on a kitchen chair, screaming and immediately called a friend. Still screaming, I tried to convince him to come over and exterminate. His wife tried to calm me down, which angered me to no end. I NEED HELP! MAYDAY! I AM LOSING IT!! I still am not speaking to her because of this.

Four little feet jetted across the living room, followed by my slow, obese cat. More screaming ensued. After three phone calls, 45 minutes of kitchen-chair-standing and one minor heart palpitation when it scurried over my running shoes, I worked up enough courage to tiptoe across the kitchen chairs, grab my keys and leap out the back door. I escaped. Then I picked up 10 of the most powerful, killing machines I have ever purchased. Well, mostly ones with a lot of plastic so I didn't have to actually SEE the critter, once captured.

In one of the most difficult moments of my life, I carefully baited and set each trap in mousey hot spots. Phoebe, breathless and asthmatic at this point, sprawled out on the rug and watched.

The next morning, sadly, all of the traps were empty. I went away to work, with baited breath, and a Gladiator mouse arena in my apartment. The mice had to die, but special Phoebe had to be protected from the traps as well. It took much thought and planning, the killing did.

I arrived home, and excitedly checked all the traps. My most prized trap, in the mousiest area...was MISSING! Let me just tell you, don't Google 'missing mouse trap.' I then became quite certain that I had both a mouse problem, and a mouse/mousetrap-eating snake problem. More screaming ensued, as did a call to my landlord. However, it was late, no one was home, and I simply put out another trap and went to bed.

You guessed it, ANOTHER trap went missing. One absolutely impossible to be reached by The Great and Powerful (wheeze, wheeze) Phoebe. At that moment, I was absolutely one hundred percent convinced that somewhere, in my house was a 3-foot rat with two traps attached to its fleshy white body. I called my landlord again and demanded that someone come over. Now.

When Frank, the maintenance man came over, he laughed and said in all the years he's worked here, he has never SEEN a mouse. Sure, whatever, that's what they all say. He pulled the dishwasher out from behind the wall, as this is where the first trap went missing. I started calling moving companies, to get me out of this expensive rat hole. Frank, belly flat on the floor, pants way too low for my comfort said, "Ah ha. Here's the trap. But no mouse....oh, uh, well, not all of the mouse..." I closed my eyes, threw my arm over my head, just like an old Southern Belle and said "Oh, come quickly, Jesus!" Frank went to move the stove, and I jumped on the kitchen chair, poised and ready for him to find the rat nest with lots of rat babies.

:::screech::: The stove said. I was hyperventilating and drinking vodka out of a mug at this point.

"Uh oh" Frank said. "I was afraid this might be the case. You won't believe who's back here."

"Who? WHO!? Al Capone? Paul Anca? Templeton from Charlotte's Web? My gosh, man! Spit it out!"

Frank reached down to pick something up, and then, sort of cradled it in his hands. "Well, that's a shame. I hate to tell you this, but you trapped your neighbor boy's pet mouse. See the coloring. He's brown, with a white belly. Went missin' not too long back now."

And this kind, loving, gentle Pediatrician said, "Good. Put him in dumpster please."

Liver Lover

Upon returning to the Children's Hospital after a few months away, I was assigned to the Pediatric Hepatology service, where we take care of patients either waiting for a new liver or, more commonly, after they have gotten their new liver.

My first day back, I was very nervous, as I had to pick up some extremely complicated patients, some of whom had been in the hospital longer than I have been a doctor!

I studied their charts, looked up words I didn't understand and actually (oh, I am such a dork) PRACTICED giving my presentation on rounds. Like a medical student :)

That morning, on rounds, I stood up tall, looked the Attending in the eye and gave a stunning presentation, including intricate details about that baby's current medications, past imaging, social and family situation and plan for the future.

When I was done, the Attending scratched his beard. "AND?" he said.

"And? What does AND mean!?" I thought to myself. I just gave a 4 page lecture, what else is there? Did I leave something out?

"AND, Doctor, you forgot to mention that he had a liver transplant. Liver. Transplant. Liver Service. You should probably talk about the LIVER."

Ah. Good point.

Welcome back!

Now playing: Ingrid Michaelson - Maybe

Spirit Slaying

"Someone needs to tell her today," the social worker said, as I gathered my things up off the desk.

"I'm late for clinic," I replied, "and besides, this really isn't even my patient."

But the social worker was as persistent as he was right, and so, running forty minutes behind, I dropped my papers back onto the desk and went out into the hallway as the harbinger to the end of her world.

I took short, staccato steps to the room, and drug her out to the end of the hallway. Away from her husband, but by the window, and a chair. She sat, and I stood, knowing full-well that this was the worst way to do it, but not being able to help myself.

I started saying all the things I was supposed to say--all the truth we'd been holding up inside of us for weeks. The words charged out, tumbling across my lips, spilling down onto the floor, splashing around her feet and filling up the space in between us. I kept talking and didn't even take a breath. I knew, when I saw her eyes, that I had said enough, but I could not turn off the words. They just kept coming. As the tears spilled down her cheeks, the words streamed forth, creeping up to our chests, threatening to drown us.

When I was finished, she was speechless and the letters began floating dead around us, she hung her head. Shame squeaked underneath my wet shoes as I turned and walked away.


Now playing: Sandra McCracken -- Now and Then

Tree Hugger

Autumn is everywhere! Hold the phone. I am 100% sure that just yesterday it was green and sunny, and then I woke up this morning and every tree on my block had disrobed and flung its underthings about in my yard.

I know it's cliche, but cliches often bear truth. There is something warm and comforting about the fact that we glean so much beauty from dead and dying things. Green had its glory days, and we are just certain that absolutely nothing will be better or more beautiful than sticky watermelon hands and barefoot toes digging into hot, sandy beach. But now I see these bright red and orange trees set up like stage props on my street and I wonder if running up to them and wrapping my arms around their bark would be too over the top?

Please. Don't. Ever. Leave me.



Now playing: Ingrid Michaelson - When the Leaves

In Fourteen-Hundred-Ninety-Two

During a session with his speech therapists, I heard one of my patients struggling to come up with an answer. She had asked him a sort of "guess what I am thinking" question, the answer of which was "Halloween." She tried to give him clues, like "It's a holiday in October." and "You might give out candy and dress up in a costume."

But he furrowed his traumatized brown and seemed to ponder this for a while.

So she went on, "Kids really LOVE this holiday!

"Ah!" he exclaimed, as if he had just re-discovered DNA. "You must be talking about Columbus Day! Children really love Columbus Day!"

And even after she told him that the answer was "Halloween," he continued to disagree and delight in thoughts of the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria.

For some reason, I just really, really like that.