Acute-on-Chronic Parental Pride.

a·cute

   [uh-kyoot] : sharp in effect; intense; sudden

chron·ic 

  [kron-ik] : constant; habitual; continuing over a long time or recurring frequently

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My parents are chronically proud of us--that is, their children and grandchildren. They have no problems showing an entire iPhone folder's worth of photographs of their offspring to perfect strangers--or even YouTube videos in case that isn't enough. But, yes, the word for it is chronic because just like some longstanding medical condition this feeling for them is constant and habitual. And fortunately for us, it has continued over a long time.

Sometimes a person comes into the clinic with an intense and sudden pain. We call that kind of presentation acute.  Acute--like the definition describes, can be sharp in its effect. . .and kind of like the angle you learned about in 9th grade geometry, it has a swift incline. When we're talking about pain, that delineation between acute and chronic is important because it totally affects how we see it . . . .and how we treat it.


Pride for your kids is kind of like that, too. It can certainly be acute, depending upon the situation.


Sometimes in medicine, we see a patient who has a chronic or longstanding problem like . . .say. . .a bad case of sciatica. (Sorry to keep using pain as an example.) On some days--just out of the blue-- that normal undercurrent of pain gets much stronger. . . .more sharp in its effect. We have some medical jargon for that kind  of scenario, too. We call that kind of symptom "acute-on-chronic."  That's when you already have something but then your symptoms get a little added umph to them on certain days. 


Pride for your kids can be acute-on-chronic, too.


Stay with me. I'm going somewhere. . . . I promise. . . .

Yesterday I got to do something that forty-somethings rarely get to do. I got to make my parents acutely proud. So intense and sharp in its effect that my father broke down and cried. So sudden and strong that my mother came very close to exploding. But since my parents are already chronically proud of us, this was more of the acute-on-chronic type of pride. Which if you ask me, is something that deserves its own category.

Emory held its 2012 commencement exercises yesterday. This is a big day in these parts, and we have the traffic jams all around the Emory Village to show for it. Over 4,000 degrees were conferred altogether if you count all of the schools. Fortunately, only 130 or so of those were doled out at the School of Medicine ceremony.

me and Lisa B.

Okay. So first, I have to say this:

Our final "mean mug"

Antoinette graduated yesterday! And. . . guess what? I got to hood her! And look, this was a huge deal to me because you have to recall that I have known her since her very first day of medical school when she was assigned to my small group of medical students. So yes. Ant, my soul survivor from Small Group Alpha, received both her Doctor of Medicine and Masters of Public Health diplomas. . . . and I was the lucky person waiting on the other side of the stage. What an honor it was to be the first to hug her when they announced her name as DOCTOR Antoinette! 

And aren't you impressed that I didn't even cry?

Now. . . of course you can see from this photo how acutely proud this made me. Or rather it was acute-on-chronic pride. 


Yeah, that.


Which makes sense, right? I mean, she was getting a terminal degree and all. I know her parents felt an even greater sense of elation and perhaps some wistfulness, too. Because like I said . . . these hyper acute parental pride moments become fewer and more far between the older children get. So parents cherish them all the more. . . and they take lots and lots of photos to savor the moment for as long as they can.


At least they should.


Perhaps this is one of the toughest parts of seeing kids grow older. Less of those dizzying acute parental pride moments. 


Maybe? Maybe not.


Anyways. After we marched into the ceremony and assembled in the faculty seating on stage, I noticed an unusual sight right away:  My mother. I looked over at my colleague, Lisa B., who was sitting beside me and said, "Uuuhh, okay. Why is my mother at the Emory Med School commencement?"  


And Lisa, who is the world's worst liar, looked over at me and tried her best to look doe-eyed and innocent. "Your mom? Why would your mom be here? It's probably her Doppelgänger." 


Probably her Doppelgänger? Hello. It's my mom. Tounces. Shugsie. Cheesing with all thirty-two teeth showing and sitting on the fifth row.


"It's definitely my mom. I know my mom when I see her. I'm kind of freaking out. Why is my mom here?"


And Lisa just looked at me and then reached out to squeeze my hand. 


A few moments later, I saw a smooth brown head peeking out of the crowd--right next to the lady who looked curiously like my mother. Unless there was also a Doppelgänger there for the BHE, it was official that both my mother and my husband were sitting in the audience. At the Emory University School of Medicine graduation. Wait, huh? Last I checked, I'd already received my medical school diploma sixteen years before.


So I lean into Lisa B. again and say, "Uh. . .okay. The twin of my mom is sitting next to the extremely hot twin of my husband."  And her face just turned this very darling shade of red. Her eyes also started to water as only a true friend's eyes can in such a moment.


Deep breath.


The next part was surreal. A man -- who I am now lucid enough to acknowledge as the president of the Emory Medical Alumni Association -- goes to the podium and begins by first greeting and congratulating the graduates. After that he prepares to announce a major teaching award given by the Alumni Association each year called "The Evangeline Papageorge Distinguished Teaching Award."  I happen to know just how big a deal this award is because a few years ago, the very friend who was sitting beside me (Lisa B.) was bestowed that very honor. In preparation of my obnoxiously effusive email to our colleagues and friends, I did some data mining about the history of the award. 


And let me just say this: It's kind of a big deal.

"The award honors the legacy of Dr. Evangeline Papageorge, a graduate in the class of 1937 who was a beloved teacher and administrator. This coveted award is given annually at the School of Medicine diploma ceremony to a faculty member  'whose intellectual luminosity has generated the greatest excitement about learning among students and colleagues'."

Intellectual luminosity? Uh, yeah. That's kind of a big deal. Such a big deal, in fact, that when someone wins it, they often notify their family to be present. 


That or their Doppelgängers. 


And this is quite funny considering how many "intellectual luminosity" jokes I've cracked on Lisa B. since she won the award in 2009.  But that's okay because I have other awards to tease her about. 

Anyways. . . .ha ha. . .where was I?


Oh. . . so yeah, this gentleman begins reading excerpts of nomination letters about the winner. And these words are extra special because the only way to be nominated is by current medical students. So these were the words of learners. Verbatim. 


The way Lisa was squeezing my hand made it clear to me that just maybe these were more than just words. Just maybe, on that day, those words were about me. My heart was about to jump out of my chest with every quote. All I could think about was the fact that my mother and husband were under the sound of his voice. And especially my mom. And though at this point, I can't say that I was absolutely 100% sure that this was me they were speaking about, I knew for certain that if it was, that what it meant for my mother to hear them was exponentially better than anything I could be feeling.


Exponentially.


And then it was confirmed. He said my name. And people started applauding and my legs started feeling like Jell-o. My heart was pounding so hard that I put my hand on the shoulder of Dr. Felner, one of the senior cardiologists, as I walked to the podium -- just to make a note of where he was in case I had a full on cardiac arrest.


The rest was like white noise. 


As I returned to my seat, I sat there stuck in between two feelings--one of just wanting to run off the stage and hug my mother, my husband and all of my students -- and the other was just wanting to drop my head into my lap and do the full-on ugly cry. Then I thought to myself, "Now if my father had been here to hear that, he would have ugly-cried for every person in the room."  That thought made me smile more than cry.


That and Lisa B. squeezing my hand super-duper tight and hugging my neck repeatedly.


My colleagues were kind and offered thoughtful words and shoulder squeezes. It felt good to receive those affirmations, but especially knowing that one of my parents got to see it in person. And Lord knows that the BHE was proud, too, but we all know that it's different for a parent. It just is.


So this moment was wonderful and just when I thought I could not get any more so, I marched off of the stage and saw -- right next to my mother -- wait. . . huh? 


Gasp.


It was. . . .  my dad. 


Yes. My sweet Poopdeck standing on his feet and still patting his leaky eyes. He had flown in all the way from Los Angeles just to see his daughter get this award. And that? That was like a blast of helium that made me nearly float out of that chapel. 


Wow.


I could see it in their eyes. This was not their regular chronic proud. Yesterday, my father and my mother were acutely proud. On top of the longstanding, chronic pride they already had. Deeply, intensely, acutely proud. It's hard to even put into words.


Lucky me. Lucky us.


Even my brother was there. As busy as his schedule is, yes, he was there, too. Sitting right beside my husband like the brother he is to both of us. And that? You know that made my heart soar even more. Because I know that my dear husband and my sweet friend, Lisa B., had gone out of their way to get those important people there. And it did not go unnoticed. And it never will. Not one single bit.


When I walked outside I made a decision to pay very close attention to this moment. To intentionally take mental pictures in the highest of definition and to allow myself to savor the fine details. And yes, I know that I don't need to win some big award to make my family happy, but still. . . .this was a pivotal moment. Any chance you get to make a parent this acutely proud is pivotal indeed.

Happy Mommy

This picture is so her--so, so her.

The B.H.E.

always by my side

Does the brother hang a suit or what?

Dr. Ant!

Tounces has hugs and flowers for more than just me! Ant is a part of our family so it makes sense.

More Tounces, the smiling mom!

Ant with Jen S.-- she's staying with us for medicine! Yay!

Chatting with big brother, Dr. Will

Omega Men -- Dean Lee (multicultural affairs), The BHE, Poopdeck

We are family.

Marla (SG Beta) and Nate (advisee extraordinaire!)

I felt like I was the one who graduated!

Funny. I initially thought I wouldn't even post about this. I worried that it would be self-important to be telling it on the mountain that you won a big teaching award. But I knew that I wanted to hold onto that day so I went ahead and fought back that "little voice" knowing that I had to write about it. 


In fact, I read my writing mantra first. . . and then did just that. I wrote about it.

With Dr. Lee -- he's the best!

With my Department Chair, Dr. Alexander

with one of my favorite Grady doctors and leadership mentors,  Dr. del Rio aka "CdR"

With Neil W. -- mentorific mentor extraordinaire and celeb on this blog!

With Dean Eley -- my kind of people

It's interesting. Acute things are often short-lived but can make our patients pretty unhappy. Chronic issues can ruin someone's quality of life longterm. And acute-on-chronic eruptions of whatever it is a patient is dealing with can be eerily similar to throwing gasoline on top of an already crackling bonfire--


BOOM!


Unless you are talking about acute-on-chronic parental pride. Then it's the biggest and best kind of explosion you could possibly imagine. . . . .

me and my daddy

BOOM!

Sigh . .  . . yeah. . .like that.


***
Happy Tuesday.

My favorite shot of the day: Dr. J. Felner, prior recipient of the Papageorge Award -- 
"resting his eyes, not sleeping"

To the current and former Emory University medical students who took part in this nomination and who take part in my life every single day~


Words cannot express how grateful and humbled I am. I promise to honor your kind support and work even harder. Remember. . .the relationship between teacher and student has always been symbiotic. . .we need each other to survive. Thank you for teaching me, too. 


Pay it forward--and always keep it human. . . .


Dr. M


TOTALLY playing on my mental iPod right now . . . "Closer" by Goapele -- please listen. . .it's beautiful and so is she.



. . .and if it couldn't get better--Poopdeck left this and went to see his granddaughter (my brother's daughter) receive this--straight A's on the Honor Roll. . . .on the very same day. Talk about hyperacute-on-chronic Grandpa pride! Go Tyler!

(p.s. Sorry for all these weird giant spaces. They weren't for effect! Blogger was punishing me for some reason!)