Another random post.

Can I just start this post out with this photo I took of Isaiah with his pediatrician recently?

She has excellent bedside skills and I just LOVE the way she talks to my child. She always treats him like the visit is all about HIM and not ME because it is about HIM and not ME.

And.

She knows that I'm a doctor but she never treats me as if I need the Cliff Notes version of the well-child visits for my children. Besides, with all that focus on the kids and not me, there's no time to be worrying about me and whether of not I feel insulted by too much information. Which, for the record, I do not.

She also doesn't call me "Mom." Which I have decided that I appreciate now that I'm on the other side.

Anyways. Just wanted to start with that. Kind of cool to watch people who are good at what they do.

Yup.

What's going on? Hmmmm.

I was walking through the hall at Grady today. This nurse that I don't know personally said to me, "You must be busy this week. I was looking for a new post today."

"I know! I'm slacking," I replied.

"Yeah, I guess that hair mane-ifesto you wrote earlier this week left you exhausted. That was a long one! But a good one, though!"

And I laughed out loud because that statement made me happy and touched me, too. It was also funny that she called me out on such a long post. (She wasn't the only one.)

Yep.

So the thing is that usually someone or something reminds me of a lesson I learned at Grady or somewhere. Then I write about it. But for whatever reason, I don't have a clear idea of what I wish to write about tonight. So this will be an aimless random post. Or "mindspacing" as my friend Jameil calls it.

Yeah that.

So where to go next?

Oh yes--this:

Sculptures in the Hartsfield Jackson Atlanta Airport.

They have some beautiful sculptures from all over Africa in the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta Airport. You should peep them if you aren't in a hurry and want to get a good walk in instead of the train. I didn't get the artists' names, so forgive me for that.

Moving right along. Oh!

I've told you before about how I don't eat any cheese except for mozzarella and provolone. Okay, I do eat cream cheese and can live through ricotta when it's nestled into a very tomato-ey lasagna. Otherwise, that's it for cheese.

Why? Very simple. It smells like feet. Well, specifically toe jam inside of stinky feet.

Um, yeah. So most cheeses I take a pass on.

But fresh mozzarella? This I can roll with. In fact, a fresh caprese salad is one of my favorite things in the whole wide food-planet to eat. And any chance I see one on a menu somewhere, I order it.

Well. A few days ago I had a hankering for some beefsteak to-MAH-toes nestled beside some buffalo mozzarella and basil leaves. Oh, and drizzled with balsamic vinegar. And this hit me while strolling through my neighborhood Kro-gzey (also known to others as Kroger.)

So I bought me some of those juicy beefsteak to-MAH-toes and the rest of the trimmings and trappings for my very own caprese salad. Sure did. And was so proud of it that I asked it to pose for this picture before being devoured by yours truly.

Such a ham, my salad. Look at her posing for pictures like she's in some fancy-schmancy restaurant or something.

You know what really made this good? The tomatoes were sweet and ROOM TEMPERATURE. Random query: Am I the only one who doesn't like cold tomatoes on my teeth? Matter of fact, I don't like biting into cold foods period. But especially tomatoes because they're sweeter at room temperature.

Yep. Enough about the tomatoes.

Hey!

We had new interns in the clinic last week and this week, too. Super cute. It's so amazing to know that in just the blink of an eye we'll be hugging and saying good bye.

Sigh.

That reminds me. I got a text message from one of our recent residency graduates, Rob B. He is in Boston doing a fellowship in critical care and pulmonary medicine and I was especially happy to hear from him since I was working in the clinic where he was assigned for the last three years. What's funny about Rob is that he is super bright and funny and an amazing doctor -- yet very stoic. I was his preceptor in his continuity clinic every Thursday morning for three full years. And I had him for a full month as his ward attending at Grady during his training.  So my point is. . . I got to know Rob quite well.

Which isn't unusual for my relationships with a lot of our learners.

I found this old iPhone clip of him teaching as a second year resident on the wards. He was teaching EKGs to the medical students on our team--even though he was so mortified when he caught me filming that he stopped. The students with him (Ania and Emily) were on their first ward month in Internal Medicine as new clinical rotators. . . and both of them are now somewhere in their first month of Internal Medicine residency.

How cool is that?

Yeah.

So anyways. On his final day of clinic, I was on the wards and had come by to cover the lunch hour. When I walked in, one of my colleagues told me that Rob had been waiting for me. A few moments later, he came into the clinic and sat on a stool facing me.

Now. If you know this guy, you know that I expected him to crack a joke or say something witty but appropriate for a not-so-mushy good-bye. And seeing as one our going laughs was always about how Rob was an "ICU" kind of guy and how he'd rather be dragged over broken glass than be in his weekly continuity clinic, I was preparing for a good parting one-liner.

"I just wanted to say thank you," he started. His face was serious; there wasn't even a trace of whimsy there. Then he went on to tell me exactly what our working together meant to him and his career. Rob's expression did not waver in the least. His words were careful and genuine.

I looked at him for a beat and immediately saw him eagerly taking his first patient in the clinic three years before. My mind wandered back to us rounding together during his first supervisory month and me watching him getting his feet wet as a teacher and leader.

And that? That, when combined with him sitting in front of me all serious and grown up, was enough to start the water works. I cried right then and there and thanked him for teaching me so, so much. Because I am certain that he taught me just as much if not more.

And I knew I'd miss him.

Today I did. So I was really happy to receive that text message sharing that he was well.

Hmmm what else?

My car is sick. Not in that "do not resuscitate" kind of way, but enough to be in the "hospital." That kind of stinks. Harry says it's because I only wash my car every three months. To which I protested quickly, "EXCUSE ME, sir, but I do not get my car washed every THREE months."

"Oh, my bad--FOUR MONTHS."

"Get it right, dude." I showed him, didn't I?

Yeah, so pray for the Volvo. And wash your car if you haven't.

Hmmm. . .oh yeah!

Why did Zachary walk up to me with his shirt off flexing his abs and asking me if he had a "SICK-PACK?"

A "sick-pack?"

0_0

I will so be using that as a joke on someone in the very near future. I'm not sure who, but somebody who thinks they have a six pack will find out that it just might be a "sick pack" instead.

Oh yeah.

Worse than that, Isaiah referred to one of his body parts as his "nuts." Then later that night he referred to those same anatomical parts as "balls."

Owner and operator of Camp Papa? You got some 'splainin' to do. Ah hem. Yes, you do.

Mmmm hmmm.

What next?

My friend and fellow Grady doctor, David M.,  took this picture of me when we had dinner recently. And by dinner I mean Mexican beers and tacos. But something about this photo makes me happy because I was laughing when he took it and because we had a good time that day.

Oh! Guess what? My grandmama is turning NINETY in exactly one week! How cool is that?

My mama with her mama!

My grandmother lives in Tuskegee, Alabama and loves being at home. So much so that it is very unusual for her to leave to go out of town or anywhere requiring a whole lot of hoopla. Which, if you ask me, is her license after living this long.

So for her birthday, she made it clear: NO PARTY. NO HOOPLA. And no leaving her house.

Capisce?

So a comprise has been developed that I will report next week. And truthfully, I could just as easily tell you now since it is very unlikely that my grandmama is on-line reading blogs.

But. You never know.

No, you do not.

It meant a lot to me when my grandmama came to my wedding. To some of you, this might seem like a no-brainer, but for those who know my grandmama, it wasn't. It's a big deal for her to leave her home. Well, I take that back. She leaves but not often and definitely not overnight.

But on the weekend of my wedding she stayed. She was at the rehearsal dinner, in the hotel, and at the wedding. She even hung around at some of the reception before going back to her hotel room.

Which reminds me.

I married the BHE when I was thirty-three. This means that I attended and participated in a lot of weddings prior to us jumping the broom. I stood in a lot of packs with hands up trying to catch bouquets.

Which sucked.

Something about the whole bouquet toss thing used to be a bit humiliating. I know. That's mean to say. But it's how I felt. So I always knew that if I ever got the chance to get married, I would not subject my single friends to this horrid little tradition.

Nope.

Instead, I did what a lot of people have started doing (which I assume since I got the idea from a wedding magazine.) An anniversary dance where married couples danced and were picked off the floor by years married. And the last couple standing would be the recipients of the "tossing bouquet" and the garter.

Our cousins on the BHE's side won. Ann and her late husband Pete. And that process was sweet and touching and endearing.

But the other thing I did was not typical. At least I don't think.

I saved my "real" bouquet for my grandmama. And, similar to Rob B., my grandmama is very stoic. Not a crier at all.

And don't you know when she received that bouquet she cried and cried? My older sister took it to her in her hotel room during the reception and she described it all in full detail. And couldn't even tell the story without crying.

So, yeah. That was a special memory with my grandmama. She's a really special lady, too.

I remember a lot from our wedding day. I'm so glad that I do, too. The advice I always give people who are planning a wedding is to pay attention. Take in the people, the energy, the day. It may be the last time that many of the people you both love are all in one place celebrating.

For us, several of those people have already departed, too.

Yep.

What else?

The hair salon was pretty chill today. The peach cobbler man didn't come today but a different guy came and just said he was the "food dude." Which was fitting since he was a dude and he sho' nuff had some food. Fancy food, too.

I was taking a cat nap under the dryer so didn't take a picture or get his story. But I did open one eye long enough to chuckle at him saying "food dude."

Heh.

Hey speaking of the hair salon. . . am I the only one who feels like they have lost like ten pounds every time they get a haircut? This has not been a good body image week for me. Haircuts help me with that. Don't ask me why.

"Mane-ifesto." That was a pretty funny play on words now that I think about it again. Ha ha ha. My friend Julie J.M. said that my Hair Ye post was -- and I quote --

"A downright Dickensian treatise. You, my dear friend, have just accomplished the hair equivalent of Roots."

Even my Grady BFF Lesley M. didn't finish the whole post. I guess Roots was kinda long, huh?

Ha ha ha.

ten pounds lighter

Yup.

So yeah. . .even though the salon was pretty chill, we did have some good conversation. Today they were talking about this thing that this actress named Nicole Ari Parker came out with called the "SAVE YOUR DO" gym wrap.

Maaaaaan. . . . please.

It's this hair wrap thingy that is supposedly made of something that wicks moisture away from your scalp to keep you from turning into the Fresh Prince of Bel Air after you go to Spinning class.

Lawd.

Well. Let me just tell you that if the sistas in the salon serve as any kind of focus group on this product, it's a fail. But if the YouTube videos are a focus group, Ms. Nicole is making some moo-lah as I type.

But the salon peeps had this to say:

"If you sweat in your head, ain't nothing saving your do from being a don't--I don't give a damn if it's patented or not!"

And the salon church said a resounding AMEN.

Even the "food dude" was laughing.

So, I'm just kind of wondering if any of the working out sistas with hair of the kinky persuasion have tried this so that I can report back on it. Since I'm not a head-sweater, I'm not a good person to try it.

(And since I vowed to never spin again.)

I wonder if the Surgeon General is aware of this? I'm just saying.

Yawn.

Okay. That's all I got tonight.  Be easy.

***
Happy Thursday.

Unfortunately. . .now playing on every iPod and iPad in my house . . . . .The Kidz Bop version of "Dynamite"--just picture Zachary breakdancing and you might as well be right here in my house. Good luck getting it out of your head.