That's what I said today to the man in the Subway lunch line who asked me what I thought about the Supreme Court upholding the Obama's signature health care law.
You know. The one that will grant millions of Americans better access to health care and improve overall public health? Yeah. That one.
He said it kind of smug-ish and confrontational-ish. Which annoyed the crap out of me.
Then when I gave him my response he returned it with a snort and a half upturned smirk.
Yeah, he did.
I started to bite and entertain that smirk. I started to go in on him and ask him how much his Brooks Brothers suit cost him and also how many times as a child he'd seen somebody cook up some crack cocaine in the same kitchen his mama cooked dinner in. I wanted to ask him how many grocery stores were in his neighborhood and, if there was one, what was the ratio between it and the liquor stores. I wanted to talk to him about how much money--no wealth--his family or even his friends' families had that went waaaay back to, like, I don't know. . . a time when people worked for free to help with attaining said wealth.
But I didn't.
Instead, I just turned away from him and said, "Hey Marcus! You doin' alright today? I'll have the turkey on wheat--six-inch!"
Because that snort and that smirk were enough for me. Yeah, it was.
Look. I am not trying to get all political on this blog. Not today I'm not. Like him and some others, I make decent money and like keeping my money in my pocket just as much as the next person. And. I'm fortunate enough to have a job with benefits that affords my family health care.
Yet.
I realize that my position in life is only a little bit hard work and a lot of bit being blessed to be born when and where I was to the parents I have. I think poverty and poor health choices are complicated as hell. Way more complicated than just telling somebody not to get the crispy fried chicken sandwich over the grilled one. Or admonishing them to get water instead of sweet tea.
Look. I'm a Grady doctor. And I know that it isn't as simple as some want to make it. I also know that a whole lot about a whole lot in this country is messed up and unfair.
Messed up. And unfair.
And can I just say that I find this image above both disturbing and disappointing on more levels than I can even begin to impart here? Good, because I do.
So what do I think about all of this, Mr. Upturned-Smirk-on-Your-Face-in-Subway?
I think you and the people holding these signs need to come down to Grady Hospital so that you can meet a few people who tried to make good life choices and got sick anyway.
I also think that next time you order that ham sandwich combo in Subway, you should get the baked Lays instead of the regular ones, the six-inch instead of the twelve-inch, the wheat bread instead of white, and that you should go easy on all that mayonnaise and oil.
You should also hope you never lose that job that your badge indicated you are lucky to have--but if you do--and you keep on ordering like you ordered today in the Subway lunch line--things just might work out in your favor, too.
The one in the short white coat is Katie N. She had just finished presenting her first patient ever on the Internal Medicine service.
And she did a fantastic job.
The two interns flanking her are just two days away from being big time upper-level supervisory residents. Can't you tell? I just love how non-interny they look in this picture.
Some people call that "swagger."
I also love how proud of herself she looks. Because she should have been.
This was my favorite moment on rounds today. Hands down.
On rounds today: Maureen M., M2, hears her first real, true, certain S3 gallop
Back to the Bedside
Don't say you hear it
if you don't
Don't say you see it
if you can't
Don't say you're with me
if you're not
Don't
Just say
I'm not sure
or even
No, I don't
hear it
see it
get it
Then
We'll go back to the bedside
and listen again
and look again
and ask again
and get it better
and get it right
together
Why?
Because someone is counting on you
somebody's mother
somebody's father
somebody's child
all of them are counting on you
to hear it
to see it
to get it
for sure
Or at least
almost sure
This means
they're also counting on me
to make sure you do
You hear me?
You see me?
You with me?
If not
I'll explain it again
and show you again
and again
and just maybe
again
Not for me
or even for you
but more for them
the ones who are counting on us
So, please--don't
Don't say you're a burden
to teach
because
you're not
Not to me
My only real burden
is when I can't
or worse
when you don't want me to
~ K.M. 6/27/2012
***
Happy Wednesday.
P.S. Maureen really did hear those heart sounds. . . AND she came on her own time during summer break to round with me--because she wanted to.
This woman is one of the hardest working people I know.
This woman is one of the most humble people I know.
This woman is one of the strongest and most bad-ass people I know.
She sure is.
And if I didn't think she'd punch me in my arm--HARD--I, like, would tell you that she won not two but THREE major awards this year at our institution. I'd gush all about how she was publicly recognized for it today and how I got eerily close to the pre-ugly cry since I was so proud of her. I mean, if I didn't think she'd turn beet red, I would TOTALLY, like, say that one of those awards was, like, the super-teacher-of-your-whole-hospital award and that the other was like the super-educator-of-the-whole-department-of-medicine award.
Oh? And if I really, really felt like being obnoxious, I'd even blab all about how the OTHER one was, like, the big, bad super-awesome-service award of, like, our whole department.
Which is a really, really big department. For real.
I mean, I would. But I won't because she's so humble that it would mortify her. And get me a scathing text message or two about how I have a REALLY BIG MOUTH.
So I won't do any of that. I mean, noooooo, not me.
Instead I'll just tell her what I hope she tells herself when she looks in the mirror when she wakes up tomorrow morning:
"You are awesome. You are smart. You are a rock star. You are a hero. You are deserving. You are enough."
or if all of that is too much, at least this:
"Yay."
Congratulations, Wendy. It's great to see good things happen to good people.
When you try your best but you don't succeed When you get what you want but not what you need When you feel so tired but you can't sleep Stuck in reverse
~ Coldplay
__________________________________
"Miss Manning! Miss Manning!"
I looked over my shoulder and saw you coming toward me and waving your hand. I waved back. I figured you were just saying hello so I kept walking toward the hospital.
"Miss Manning! Miss Manning! Wait! Wait! Wait!"
Your feet were shuffling quickly behind me. There was urgency in your voice. Once you reached me you repeated my name, more to catch your breath than get my attention because I'd already stopped to wait.
"Miss Manning," you panted and you reached out to shake my hand.
"Hey there, sir." I squeezed it tight and covered it with my other hand. "What's up?"
Your eyes were dancing and your face had a film of sweat over it. Your clothes were unkempt and pasted to you with sweat. There was a nervousness in your disposition that made me worry about you immediately.
"Miss Manning, I'm hungry. I'm hungry. I need some money to get some food."
I was going upstairs to round. But that wasn't the issue.
Something was up with you. Something wasn't right. Your voice was staccato. Your hands were waving and shaking so I could see the burns on your thumbs. The erratic behavior, the jumpiness, and even the pressure in your walk suggested that something else was up with you.
And you weren't a stranger to me, so this wasn't the same as being presented with this request by someone I didn't know. I decided to keep it simple in the interest of time.
"I don't have money. Let me speak to a social worker. Let me--"
"Miss Manning! Miss Manning! I'll wait for you to go get some money, okay? Okay? I don't have my medicine either. I need it. I'm sick. I don't feel good. Please." Your feet kept shuffling. Your eyes bouncing wildly and that film of sweat now coalescing into beads on your brow.
"I won't give you money. You know I won't."
"Miss Manning! No, it's not. . . I mean. . . Listen I promise . . .I promise that I--"
"I don't know what's going on with you. This is making me feel nervous." I registered the security officer standing several feet away from me even though I felt pretty sure that you'd never harm me. But something was up with you that might turn you into a puppet on a string with actions you don't see or want or mean. "Sir? Are you using again?"
"The thing, Miss Manning, is that it's hard. You know it's hard."
"Sir. It makes me sad that you're telling me you want money for food and medicine if that's not what you really are looking for. What happened when you left us?"
I was referring to you leaving the hospital earlier in the month. You shrugged.
So we just stood there staring at each other. I was already late for rounds. It was like standing in front of a giant mountain that needed to be torn down brick by brick. All I was doing was yanking on one, somehow hoping this would cascade the whole thing down.
But deep down I knew. I knew I couldn't fix this in five minutes before rounds. Just like I couldn't fix you in those five days. And we both realize that the only one who can fix you is you.
That made me feel sad. And helpless.
I think you saw that in my eyes.
"It's hard, Miss Manning. Hard to break free." You wiped your face with your hand and shook your head. Then your feet started walking backwards away from me. Like a puppet on a string. "Be blessed, okay? I got to go. I know you care about me, Miss Manning. I do. I'm gon' keep trying to break free. I'm gon' keep trying, okay?'
Keep trying. To break free.
The last thing I saw was you diagonally crossing the street, disjointed like the marionette that you still are.
Still erratic. Still anxious. Still stuck in reverse and not quite ready or able to break free.
***
Welcome to Tuesday.
Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . . haunting words, haunting lyrics. . . please listen.
a thank you note from my patient, Ms. Acquilla Culver
Ain't there something I can give in exchange for everything you give to me?
~ Anita Baker
When I was in college at Tuskegee University, I befriended a woman named Crystal C. Crystal lived in the same dormitory as me and the following year, we pledged sorority together.
Since Crystal is from Atlanta and it was only two hours away from teensie-weensie Tuskegee, it was nothing for all of us to pile up into a car and road trip to her home for the weekend. We'd crash all over the apartment of Crystal's single mother, Ms. Acquilla. Lucky for us, Ms. Acquilla never, ever seemed to mind.
Us as college girls--isn't all that hair funny?
a little bit later - Homecoming 2008
With our line sisters on my 40th in 2010--that's Crystal on the right
Over the years, I always stayed in touch with both Crystal and her mother. In fact, when I started working at Grady, I used to see Ms. Acquilla volunteering in the lobby with a bunch of other people. She'd throw back her head and laugh this raspy laugh that was unmistakably her own.
"What are you doing here?" I recall asking her that first time.
"Giving back to Grady. It's given so much to everybody else."
Of course she was giving back to Grady. Because giving was simply her way.
I loved that lady.
One day, Crystal asked me to help get Ms. Acquilla seen at Grady because her insurance had lapsed. She was dealing with some blood pressure issues and also a bit of carpal tunnel, maybe. Crystal acted like it was a big deal. And me? I just said, "Duh!"
So I had the treat of seeing Ms. Acquilla and Crystal one Monday in our clinic. It felt like a homecoming of sorts more than anything else and since all of my residents were busy, I agreed to quickly see Ms. Acquilla myself.
She'd lost some weight. That I noticed fairly quickly, but it wasn't substantial. She'd always been a slim lady so it wasn't anything too dramatic.
"Have you lost weight?" I asked.
Ms. Acquilla furrowed her brow and said, "You know? I feel like I have."
Her blood pressure was no big deal. A little up but an easy fix. The "carpal tunnel" was less straight forward. For that reason, I went ahead and did a bit of a more thorough exam than originally intended.
And so the story goes--a story that many know well by now because I've written about it before--that exam would prove to be a life-changing one.
While facing her and palpating first, her neck, and next, the soft tissues at its base, I found it.
Left supraclavicular region. A firm, fixed lymph node. In a place where lymph nodes should never, ever be living.
Damn.
And so. With my fingertips on top of Ms. Acquilla's clavicle and her eyes looking deeply into my own, I quickly welled up with tears.
"Is it something bad?" she asked.
I nodded.
"What? Bad like cancer?"
And I nodded again.
Then I broke down right then and there and cried. Hard. Because I knew that Ms. Acquilla's raspy laugh had come from years of smoking. I knew that all those years might explain what I was feeling above her collar bone. And that it was bad.
But even worse--it might explain why her hand was so weak and not carpal tunnel at all. Damn. Could whatever this was have spread to her brain, too?
Two hours later, Crystal, Ms. Acquilla and me sat in a clinic room as I confirmed all of that to be so.
It was horrible.
I'll never forget it. I cried and cried as I explained to Ms. Acquilla what this all meant. And she was stoic and strong and tender and easygoing, just like she was when we used up all her toilet paper and left Kool Aid on her counter tops way back when.
"It's okay, baby. What do we do next?"
And her resolve was something I needed and appreciate to this very day. In that same calm way, she pointed out the bright side:
"It's so good you work at Grady. Don't you know that you did more in two hours than another hospital could have done for me in two months?"
I thought about that. She had a point. Her appointment was at 9 that morning. When I felt that lymph node, I told my colleague working with me that morning about it and she called someone in Pathology. That person immediately came up and did a fine needle biopsy and took the specimen straight to the lab to review. Another call was made to the Radiology suite where another colleague quickly got her in for a head scan as well as the chest x-ray that would demonstrate the source of it all right there in her lung.
Lung cancer. In two hours.
Damn.
So yeah. Maybe we did find it out quick, but what we found out sucked. And it sucked more because I loved her and knew her in a deep and meaningful way.
By noon, I had an appointment for her to be seen in Oncology. And according to Ms. Acquilla, they were good to her. So good to her that she always said she was thankful to God for making her lose her health insurance when she did.
Well.
I've told this story before. Not here, no. Ms. Acquilla gave me permission to write about her so I told her story in the Annals of Internal Medicine a few years back. But what got me thinking of this story was me speaking with Crystal the other day on the phone when she reminded me of something I'd forgotten.
"I'll never forget the day I was going to move the car after taking Mama to chemotherapy. Remember? The big 'Save Grady' rally? I didn't even know it was going on!"
And I said, "What?"
"Remember Kim? Right outside of the hospital doors. And right as I was coming out of the door, they called your name as the next speaker. Remember? It's crazy how the planets aligned for me to be right there as you were walking to that podium."
And then it all came back to me.
That was back in 2007. There was a real, true threat that, due to financial woes, Grady Hospital was at risk of closing. For real. So an utterly amazing group of medical students (yes, MEDICAL STUDENTS!) galvanized a movement that was quite comparable to the SNCC of the Civil Rights Movement. For real.
HealthSTAT -- Health Students Taking Action Together. That's the student group comprised of Emory, Morehouse and some other Georgia health students, too. HealthSTAT is a great organization. Which you TOTALLY should consider giving to if you're ever looking for an excellent non-profit to choose for your philanthropic efforts. This organization is certainly one of mine. Oh--and shout out to this year's president, Kevin S.
But I like, totally digress.
So yeah. HealthSTAT had this big campaign going called "Grady is Vital" and as a part of it, had organized this rally right out in front of the hospital. As a part of it, they asked some students and a few faculty members to speak. The idea was to have us talk about personal reasons why Grady was vital to our community and to us specifically.
The moment they asked me to speak, I knew whose story I would tell.
Ms. Acquilla's.
The HealthSTAT students that day in front of Grady.
And so I did. I stood at that booming microphone and told that entire story and about all that Grady Memorial Hospital did in just two hours to make that diagnosis. I let them know that she regularly volunteered at Grady and I told of the Oncology doctors and nurses and even the pharmacists who assisted Ms. Acquilla. I spoke of how grateful she was and did my best to impart what I felt Ms. Acquilla would if she were standing right there and not upstairs connected to her chemo drugs.
And the planets aligned so that Crystal was there to hear it. And film it. And ultimately show it to Ms. Acquilla.
Amazing.
I'd forgotten all about that until she mentioned it last week. But I'm so glad she did. It reminded me of why I feel in my soul like I was born to work at Grady. Of why it feels divine. . . .almost like my steps have been ordered to this place just as Crystal's were in that moment as I spoke of her mother.
Yes.
Crystal and I were together the night Ms. Acquilla died. In that same southwest Atlanta apartment that we'd overtaken weekend after weekend. Perhaps in that same room even. We'd sat with a few other friends until late into the night as Ms. Aquilla's breaths became shallow and gurgly. I had an early morning so Crystal walked me to the door.
"How much longer do you think she will do this?" Crystal asked.
And I could tell she was serious. "Crystal? I think she knows you'll be okay now. It's been just the two of you for so long that I think she just needed to know for sure that you'd be fine. You were laughing tonight. You seemed okay and my guess is that she heard all that."
And Crystal understood what I was saying. Over the years I've learned that when people are at peace, they are okay with letting go and making their transition. A hard fight happens when they're waiting for that contentment. If they're lucky, they get it.
I wasn't even to interstate 20 when my cell phone rang. She was gone.
Gone home.
Yeah.
The "Grady is Vital" campaign was a big success. Grady stayed open. And Ms. Acquilla outlived her prognosis by over a full year.
She sure did.
And you know? All of this--all of it--is a piece of Grady, too. And it was just as Ms. Acquilla would have wanted it.
"Giving back to Grady. It's given so much to everybody else."
I guess that's why I wrote about her today. To give you a piece of her wisdom, too.
Thank you, Ms. Acquilla.
***
Happy Monday.
Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . . this one is for you, Ms. Acquilla. And you, too, Crystal. I'll always be glad it was Grady, too, and that we were all there at that appointed time to take care of each other.
Ms. Anita Baker spoke to my soul with this song as I thought of you. . . "Giving you the best that I've got."
Well. Last week was a good week. A full week, no less, but a good one. As I mentioned in my last post--I've been making the most out of my time. This week involved a very nice blend of both work and play.
Matter o' fact, I wrote a little top ten about it. Like to hear it? Here it go!
Which reminds me.
Every time I say those words "Like to hear it? Here it go!" make sure you imagine it in the Calhoun Tubbs voice -- not mine, okay? Because that's how I'm saying it. Just saying.
Too young to know who that is? Here you go.
You can thank me later.
Now. I bring you. . .
THE TOP TEN THINGS I DID TO MAKE
THE MOST OUT OF LAST WEEK
#10 -- Welcoming a batch of new interns
I LOVE the beginning of our academic year precisely for this reason. Meeting new interns and imagining how much they are about to grow before my eyes is the cat's pajamas, I tell you.
So far, they seem like an awesome bunch. Very diverse, very accomplished but more important, very excited about taking care of patients! They were gracious during all of the obligatory blah-blah-blah that we bombard them with in that first week.
Yay.
#9 -- Catching with David M.
David M. is quite possibly busier than President Obama. And out of town speaking more than Mr. President. (He's also equally as easy on the ol' eyeballs . . . .but I--cough--digress.)
I finally pinned David down for some lazy afternoon laughs last week. We LOL-ed until our stomachs were sore. We talked about our professional lives and about our personal lives. And that was cool since even though we are work-friends, more than that we are simply friends. I asked annoying questions about his man-friend that I've rooted for since day one. He asked me about the BHE and heard all about what was new with Team Manning. I asked him what was next for him as the world's greatest HIV-in-black-men expert. He asked me about what I was writing these days.
Then he took a picture and tzujj-ed it all up on this things called "Instagram" that admittedly, I do not understand at all. (Kind of like Facebook, but pictures? Sorta? Kinda? Sigh.)
Anywho. That was a great part of my week because David inspires me.
#8 -- Being serenaded. Sort of.
I've been so many places. I've seen so many things--but none quite as lovely as you. More beautiful than the Mona Lisa, worth more than gold. . . . that my eyes have the pleasure just to behold.
You're my latest. . .and my greatest. . .my latest my greatest inspiration.
Things never looked clearer. Peace within never felt nearer. My burden's gone and turned into a song. Tender as a baby's touch--I needed you oh so much. At last, the Lord saw light.
You're my latest and my greatest--my latest, my greatest inspiration.
I plan to give you all that I have I'll be everything. . .everything you think I am. You make life a joy to live. And I'm thankful--yes, I'm blessed--just to know you. . . .
~ Teddy Pendergrass
Okay seriously?
So this old school song by Teddy P. has obviously been playing on Harry's mental iPod this week because he kept singing it to me and all around our house at the top of his lungs. We subsequently downloaded it and played it no less than five trillion times this week.
I especially love the part where he starts freestyling and crooning out, "You inspire me! You inspire me!"
Because that's how I feel about the BHE. I think I could listen to that throaty, soulful song twelve trillion more times. . . and think I will now.
Seriously? Seriously.
#7 -- Full circle moment.
This picture was taken in 1996 when I was a medical student. Next to me is my friend, Yolanda W., who is also a Grady doctor with Morehouse School of Medicine. (Grady Hospital is staffed by physicians from both Emory University School of Medicine and Morehouse School of Medicine.)
Yolanda oversees the residency programs there and, of course, since we're such good and old friends, we never hesitate to tap into one another for resident education needs. She's super gracious with giving lectures for us at Emory in her area of expertise (adolescent health), so it's a no-brainer whenever she calls on me.
MSOM, last week
Last week, I gave a lecture on medical professionalism to the incoming interns at Morehouse as a part of their resident orientation. My talk was at 9 that morning, and following me on the schedule was the president of Morehouse School of Medicine, Dr. John Maupin.
Okay--let me give you some quick background. Dr. Maupin was the president at Meharry Medical College when Yolanda and I were still there as students. At the end of my lecture, the two of us (Yolanda and me) were standing at the front of the room side by side fielding questions. When Dr. Maupin got up to speak, he looked at us like a proud papa would. His eyes were almost wet with emotion.
"I remember these two as medical students like it was yesterday. What a special moment it is to see them all grown up and giving back."
And he said that like he meant it.
That was a good part of my week, too.
#5 -- Photos from Camp PaPa
'Nuff said.
#4 -- Key Lime Pie and College BFFs
(from Instagram--I'm a fast learn.)
These two ridiculously gorgeous women happen to be two of my closest girlfriends. Joy (in the black) and MarraKesha (in the yellow) went to college with me at Tuskegee University and we all pledged Delta Sigma Theta Sorority together twenty years ago.
Twenty years ago!
Yeah, so being with them is like wearing my Ugg boots and my fuzzy Paul Frank pajama pants--easy and comfortable. No need to censor my words or wonder if they'll think I'm weird. Because our adult friendship has evolved to something much deeper than the already deep sorority bond we shared as college girls.
MarraKesha, me, and (our other line sister, Tasha)
Or even ten years ago.
10th Line Anniversary, 2002
We call each other close friends who found each other through our sorority. And honestly? We love being Delta girls. But that's such a tiny part of the relationships we have forged outside of our pledge line reunions and homecoming celebrations.
So much more.
Joy's wedding day, 1998
So last night we laughed. And talked.
And split a perfect slice of Key Lime pie.
Perfect.
#3 -- Even MORE BFF time!
I had some absolutely perfect time with my Grady BFF, Lesley M. this weekend, too.
I know! Aren't you just loving all this meaningful friend-time I've been carving out?
So here's what's funny. We met at this super cute and swanky coffee shop in downtown Decatur which is funny since Lesley M. doesn't even drink coffee!
See? But she knows how much I love it so even though she may not admit it, I think she did that just for me.
For over two hours, we sat and talked and listened to one another. We got our "upload" from one another and as Lesley said, "All this does is leave us wanting more."
It was as wonderful as it sounds.
#2 -- My cup runneth over.
Received this from a medical student this week.
And cried the minute I saw it.
Joelle R.? Thank you for getting my quirky way of teaching. Thank you for understanding the "My mama rule" and for providing me with this thoughtful affirmation. Every time I drink from this cup, I will try harder and will teach and role model with more intention.
Thank you for inspiring me, too.
#1 -- Roller Coaster. . . .of love with my favorite Ohio player! Woo-hooooo-hooo- hooooo!
So I bet you are looking at all of this and thinking--HEY! What's with all these get-togethers with everyone except the BHE?!
Maaan, please. On Friday, we had the best date ever.
Starting with.. . . .
Six Flags! Sans bebes! Woo-hooooo!
I left work early and so did Harry. We headed over to Six Flags over Atlanta for some old school fun on roller coasters and log jammer rides.
And of course with ridiculously fattening funnel cakes!
I ate the whole funnel cake by myself since Harry tried to go all health-nutty on me asking if it was deep fried. Uhhh, doesn't he realize that nothing has calories if you paid seven hundred and fifty dollars for it in an amusement park? Hello?!
I kept trying to get these guys to talk to me. But they were steadfast to the rules of staying in character.
"Are y'all, like, ridiculously hot in there?"
And they just did the head-bob thing that character people do. Harry said that was an obnoxious question, that's why they didn't answer.
Hmmmm. Maybe.
He is so over my camera!
Harry demonstrated that he is a winner in more ways than I even realized. He won that basketball on the first try. Go BHE!
We headed to the biggest mama-jamma in the park -- "The Goliath." That sucker was serious business.
And how awesome was it that all of the lines were pretty much non-existent this day? We waited fifteen minutes tops for all rides including this one. So awesome.
The BHE was at his R-MAX (roller coaster maximum) but his wife had a sixth-grader second wind and wanted MORE! MORE! MORE!
When I pointed at this puppy, he had three words for me:
"Aww hells naw!"
With a ten minute line, don't think I didn't deuce him out and go BY MY OWN-SELF.
Mmm hmmm. Surely did.
You can't tell but me and this lady next to me waited in the line to sit in the FRONT row of the roller coaster. She was super scared but I wasn't.
Nope.
So. Much. Fun.
Next? We went to the W Hotel downtown for an Atlanta "stay-cation." Here's the view from where we had dinner that night.
How cool is that?
This is from the swanky pool on the sixteenth floor. There was a DJ up there and everything. We were so crazy-sexy-cool, I tell ya.
The next morning we hung out and were lazy.
Loved this picture of the BHE's ring on the hotel nightstand. It felt so tryst-y and naughty.
Ha.
We finished that morning up with a visit to the hotel spa (Bliss Spa) and after checking out had some breakfast at one of our favorite places to eat (Another Broken Egg.)
And NO, we don't go to spas all the time or pretty much ever unless it involves a gift card or a vacation. But we decided that this was a vacation so we decided to go for it.
So glad we did.
***
Happy Sunday, to all of y'all.
Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . Roller coaster of love by the Ohio Players!
Honestly? I write this blog to share the human aspects of medicine + teaching + work/life balance with others and myself -- and to honor the public hospital and her patients--but never at the expense of patient privacy or dignity.
Thanks for stopping by! :)
"One writes out of one thing only--one's own experience. Everything depends of how relentlessly one forces from this experience the last drop, sweet or bitter, it can possibly give."
~ James Baldwin (1924 - 1987)
"Do it for the story." ~ Antoinette Nguyen, MD, MPH
Details, names, time frames, etc. are always changed to protect anonymity. This may or may not be an amalgamation of true,quasi-true, or completely fictional events. But the lessons? They are always real and never, ever fictional. Got that?
