I want more.

I love art, and one of my very favorite mediums is music.

Of course I can’t carry a tune with a five gallon bucket, and I’ve always been too impatient to learn to play any musical instrument with any sort of skill. But I love searching for and finding, or just by chance hearing that Perfect Song that pumps me up, makes me laugh, soothes, or expresses exactly how I’m feeling at the perfect moment. (I was lucky enough to discover The Black Keys during Gyn Onc last year – Yes, yes I have been living under a giant media-deprived rock – irregardless, fairly certain that was the essential factor in surviving until the next rotation.)

My brother and I have developed a habit of exchanging mix CDs of these Perfect Songs we find since I started med school. We send them to each other as gifts for birthdays, Christmas, and at random intervals just because we’ve accumulated enough of them or one of us really needs a new infusion. I’m not exactly sure how he feels about them, but not being a big accumulator of ‘stuff” myself, they are some of the most useful, meaningful, very best, and really my favorite of gifts to receive. (I’ll never forget my study buddy’s horror second year when he introduced me to the Drive By Truckers with “Nine Bullets” and “Gravity’s Gone”. I was busy falling in love with a new band at the time, but it still managed to register. Hah.)

So, my contribution to the Intern Welcome Basket this year was a mix CD. Initially I asked for input from friends for songs for the Perfect OB/GYN mix CD, needless to say the majority of the suggestions were not fit for general public consumption, but did give me a good idea of what the general population thinks of our specialty (and let me just say: #1. Yikes!! and #2. Really guys???!!). Luckily I have headphones or the radio on most of the time when I’m on my way into or out of work so I heard a lot of those Perfect (and not necessarily X-rated) Songs over the course of intern year and I ended up compiling a list of songs I thought embodied the ups, downs, and in-betweens of OB/GYN intern year.

I made a bunch of copies for the interns and one for myself, and listened to it constantly until a couple of weeks ago when in a fit of 5 am, sleep deprived, pre-coffee frustration/irrationality I tried to fix my car’s CD player by cramming two CD’s in to try and make the mix play. (Yes, yes I realized then, and still do, what a terrible idea this was, and have to reassure that I am a much better MD than user/fixer of technological equipmentry. Much better. I swear.)

That being said, here’s the mix:

  1. First Day of My Life – Bright Eyes
  2. Portions For Foxes – Rilo Kiley
  3. Help I’m Alive – Metric
  4. Blackout – Breathe Carolina
  5. Land Down Under – Men At Work
  6. Let’s Talk About Sex – Salt-n-Pepa
  7. Push It – Salt-n-Pepa
  8. I Wanna Be Sedated – Ramones
  9. Over My Head – The Fray
  10. I Need A Dollar – Aloe Blacc
  11. Breathe – Anna Nalick
  12. Paradise – Coldplay
  13. Some Nights – Fun
  14. Everybody Hurts – R.E.M.
  15. Hold On – Alabama Shakes
  16. Keep Your Head Up – Andy Grammer
  17. Do It Anyway – Ben Folds Five
  18. My Body – Young The Giant
  19. Girls Just Want To Have Fun – Cyndi Lauper
  20. I Love It – Icona Pop

I haven’t heard any the of interns’ reactions to the CD, or if they even actually got their copy as I was in the middle of my South American Medical Mission Adventure when they were supposed to have received it, but I really miss being able to play that CD. There is a Perfect Song for everything I am needing or feeling on my way into or leaving work if I can’t find it on the radio.

I just finished my first rotation of second year on L&D and the song I most listened to on my way home, and most wanted to hear before I completely ruined my CD player was #18. The lyrics of the chorus played through my head most nights as I walked out and drove home after the ruination anyway, “My body tells me no oh, but I won’t quit, ’cause I want more….’Cause I want more!”

It was, hands-down, the best rotation of residency so far.

I was exhausted most days, after 12 to 15-ish hours of non-stop L&D action – high-risk, high-volume, 5000 deliveries per year, one resident on at any given time and responsible for pretty much everything action – and I loved every minute of it.

I think, I have found my calling, and I absolutely loathe leaving it, even for an out-patient “vacation” rotation (followed by another Gyn Onc rotation, the very contemplation of which makes me nauseated even though, rationally and logically, I know The Worst Rotation Ever was primarily due to the The Most Giant A-Hole Chief Ever, so I’m going to not think about it until approximately 5 seconds before it actually starts).

Until I am happily running up and down your hallowed halls again L&D………..


The Daily Something: Working With Med Students

I love working with med students.

I remember very well what it is like to be a med student, and I cringe at all the horror stories I hear about how residents treat med students badly. Especially on L&D rotations. That is total crap. Med school is hard enough without someone taking out their frustrations and residency-related rage on some poor med student who is trying to learn, who we have a responsibility to teach, so they can go out and be a competent resident themselves soon. And hopefully not scare them out of a career choice just because we were an A-hole to them.

But I don’t love working with them because it’s my responsibility to. I actually enjoy the responsibility of teaching, of watching their knowledge expand before my very eyes, their brains soaking it all up like hungry, impressionable sponges. I love that they love that I make at least half an effort to teach, and include them as much as I can, if my evals from this year are any indication anyway. (They were awesome, literally, the biggest self-esteem boost I’ve had in my medical career to date, reversing at least some of the damage Intern Year has wreaked. Forget the diplomas, I may have those evals framed.) And fine, I love working with them because, frankly, I love having a buddy to hang out with in the trenches (so to speak). When we’re working all buddy-cop style, and I’m rambling on about how great OB/GYN is, I remember myself, and when I’m trying to make it fun for them, it always ends up being more fun for me too.

And also, of course, every time I work with them on L&D call it is invariably A Night Of Firsts. With the last med student, it was The First C-Section. I had them scrub in as third assist (this being The First for them, and all). It was a challenging repeat, the baby was (for lack of a better term) a Big Fella, and I got to be primary. So, I was too busy during the actual surgery to pay much attention to how the med student was faring (aside from the fact that they were right there with suture scissors and bladder blade at appropriate intervals, and didn’t appear to be faltering or swaying in any I’m-totally-going-to-pass-out-right-now sort of way).

Afterwards, when we left the OR to put in the post-op orders, I finally remembered my buddy and asked, “Oh yeah! Hey, So what did you think of your first C-section?!” To which my (completely reserved and apparently introverted up to this point) med student compadre replied, “What. Just. HAPPENED in there???!! OH MY GOD!!! There was just…like…stuff….coming out everywhere!!! And then, there was…like…a BABY!!! And it came out…and it was all, like……….”

(Best reenactment I could find of what the med student did at this point.)

(Best reenactment I could find of what med student compadre did at this point.)

I stopped, watching this graphic reenactment, and then I laughed. Really, really hard. For awhile.

I have done, or scrubbed on so many sections at this point, I forget what it what must look like to people who haven’t. There is a reason why it’s is my favorite surgery. Triple-bypass-multiple-transplant-sterotactic-robotic-Whipple’s got nothin’ on us. I mean, I’m always highly aware of this, but med students are Awesome for (graphically) reminding me of it.

I love working with med students.

How do I love thee L&D?

I had such a great weekend of call on L&D. Once again, I left so I tired I had to call someone to keep myself awake on the way home, but wishing I could just be on L&D until residency is over. And pretty much forever after that.

How do I love L&D? Let me count the ways……..

1. New Dads on Postpartum wearing hospital footies, pushing their babies around in their little hospital cribs, up and down the halls, every so slowly, ever so carefully. Stopping every few feet to ever so delicately adjust a blankie, or a onesie, or little baby hat.

2. Nurse Grumpy’s baked goods. I’m going to have to find a new name for her, because she is showing signs of slowly, infinitesimally, warming up to me. Probably because every time I see her I run to the lounge to look for the brownies or cookies she invariably comes with, and then return to lavish her with praise for being the Goddess of All Things Baked she most assuredly is (she is also a d*mn good nurse, but I’m usually too full of baked amazingness to get to all that).

The BEST chocolate chip cookies in the WORLD. I start drooling every time I think about them. Not even kidding.

The BEST chocolate chip cookies in the WORLD. I start drooling every time I think about them. Not even kidding.


3. Compliments from the nurses. There have never been residents at the hospital where I was on call before we started there last year. So there has been quite a bit of confusion as to who we (residents) are, what we do, and where we fit in. And honestly, a fair bit of resistance, and occasionally, the kind of passive-aggressive hostility nurses (Yeah, I’m a nurse too, I know how it works) can specialize in. Part of the awesomeness of last weekend was seeing the change in this dynamic that has slowly evolved since we started. Little things, like getting paged to see patients before the attendings, having gloves on the table before a delivery without having to get them myself or remind anyone of my size, and most telling of all, stopping outside a patients room to slap on some hand sanitizer, and inadvertently overhearing the RN telling the patient who I was, how nice I am, how good of a doctor I am, and how lucky they are that I am the resident on to help take care of them. These are really great nurses, and I understand and agree with the fact that their respect and praise has to be earned with consistent hard work, a good attitude, willingness to be a team player, and excellent and competent patient care. An endorsement like this, from one of them, means more to me as far the kind of doctor I am becoming than any kind of off-the-chart CREOG scores. It’s (really) good to (finally) be part of the gang.

4. Random conversations overheard at the nurses station. They routinely kill me. I never know what I’m going to hear, from in-depth explanations on ‘Vagazziling’ to spirited debates about gun control. The latter of which yielded my personal favorite quote of the weekend from one of my favorite funny girls/nurses: “Fine, if there’s a Zombie Apocolypse, I guess I would use a gun. Actually, forget it, if a Zombie Apocolypse ever happens, I’m just going to let one bite me and get it over with.”

5. Dads at the bedside right after a delivery, with silent tears rolling down their faces, too choked up with emotion to do anything but stroke their wive’s sweaty foreheads and gaze adoringly at her while she cuddles their gooey new progeny to her bare chest.

6. The Ladies In Labor. I had such great patients (I always do, but these peeps were especially, awesome), the labors weren’t all easy and the dynamics weren’t all hearts and flowers, but we all worked hard to manage labors, keeping things moving along, alternately encouraging, cajoling, kidding, coaching and teaching, and the deliveries were all great. To the best of my ability, and from what I heard from my patients, everyone had the best experience possible. And the board was empty at the end of at least one of my shifts. Doesn’t get any better than that.

7. And then, I was in the nursery doing circumcisions and one of the Dads I had met, helping manage his wife’s labor, but missing the actual delivery as I was in the middle of two others, spotted me. I returned his wave happily, and went back to work. Then I heard one of the nurses call me, “NurseMD, someone is here asking for you by name.” “Ahhh, kind of busy here, I’ll come talk to them in a few minutes.” She came over a few seconds later and said, “They just wanted to give you these.”

photo(3)I don’t care how hungry I get, I am saving them forever, and never eating them.

Weekly Update: High Five! Edition.

I started off Monday by walking out of my front door and directly into a snow drift. Where just seven hours previously there had been no snow. Hello blizzard. I slid in my little car (with absolutely no tread left on the front tires, we’re talking like made-the-tire-guy-gasp-in-horror no tread, Safety High Five!) to the main road, and through several intersections before I decided that, even with my crazy-mad snow driving skills honed after a decade-plus of wintering in the Upper Middle States, hitting the interstate to drive 30 miles to clinic would be a Stupid Idea Of Epic Proportions.

So, I slip-n-slided to the nearest Big Giant Hospital affiliated outpost, sat in the parking garage and had a good cry (Yeah, I’m A Big Cry Baby, What Of It? High Five!). After I had (somewhat) collected myself, I Googled the nearest non-blatantly-shady-looking tire place that I could get to without having to go up any sort of incline, drove there, got yet another credit card (Fiscally Responsible High Five!), got some decent (d*mn) tires (finally), and afterwards, I went to clinic. Oh yes, I did.

That night I got pretty much no sleep, for no good reason (because I usually have four to twenty, very noisy, undergrad party animal reasons directly above my bedroom for not sleeping, A**hole Neighbors High Five!), and woke up exactly 24 minutes before CREOGs (the Big Annual OB/GYN Resident Assessment Exam) started the next morning (2 Minute Shower High Five!).

After taking all of the shelf exams (core clinical med student exams most people only have to take once) numerous times in med school, not to mention surviving second year which consisted of approximately 92.7% taking exams, I was not too worried about a little one-day test which included free lunch (Free Food High Five!). Plus, I had been told by pretty much everyone (aside from my program director, of course), not to sweat the test as an intern because the whole point is to show improvement over the four years of residency and kick @ss on the test in third year if I want to do a fellowship. Don’t stress over something in residency when I have 57 million other perfectly good things that I actually need to stress about? Done.

The test was not exactly a Super Happy Good Time, but turns out all the studying I’ve been doing for the rotations I’ve been on so I have some idea of what I’m doing when I have to treat real live patients, came in handy when I had to answer hundreds of questions about purely theoretical ones as well (Indirect Benefit High Five!).

With the test over and new tires on my car, I was free to spend the rest of the week freaking out about how frigging old I and my (apparently, literally) elderly ovaries are, and how I probably have a better chance of growing a second head than of giving birth some day. Yep, I am on REI right now (Infertility Freak Out High Five!)

Every day I am counseling women (significantly) younger and healthier than myself who just can’t manage to pregnant for no good reason. I know the stats people, and right now (officially in my early-to-mid-thirties), my chances of ever getting pregnant ain’t looking good, and get worse by the day (Who am I kidding? By the second.). The realization of which kind of makes me want to jump up and bust out of whatever stuffy, sterile little consultation room I happen to be sitting in at the time, and immediately get to work on getting knocked up. At least five times a day.

Because I have always wanted to have kids and I still do. But, I am a resident. And the reigning verdict on having a baby as a resident is that you have to: #1 – Be Rich, #2 – Have tons of people just sitting around ready and willing to raise your child while you are at work all the time, #3 – Be a Magical Pregnancy Unicorn who never gets sick, never misses more than 10 seconds of work (this includes your effortlessly popping that little miracle out and seamlessly handing it off to your Nanny Squad who have been on standby in the lounge for the last nine months, between consults), and in fact works harder while all PG, and ever afterwards.

At this point, I am the opposite of rich. As in, if the surgeon general starts putting warning labels on credit accounts, there will be no writing, there will just be a picture of my broke @ss. I don’t even have enough money to buy a used couch, and I have started to pray every time I buy a package of ramen noodles that my credit card won’t be rejected (Glamorous Doctor Life High Five!). Plus, my support people consists of my cat. Who, as far as I can tell, considers waking me up in the morning by sitting on face and hard-core licking her privates to be the absolute pinnacle of supportivity (Hey, It Got Me Out Of Bed In Time For CREOGs High Five!). I’m not even going to address the Magical Pregnancy Unicorn issue. Knowing my luck, I’d probably have a barf bag strapped on like a feed bag for 9 months, 8.75 of which I would probably be on Strict Bed Rest what with my PIH, GDM, VB, MSG, OMG……..(Just Being Realistic High Five!).

I just have to say, that this totally sucks.

It sucks that in this day and age, I and many other women are forced to choose between having a career or having a family. It sucks that I could have stayed a nurse and probably had three kids by now, but no, I chose to go on to medical school and be a doctor so I could do more to help other people, so now, by the time I can (responsibly) have a kid, I probably won’t be able to.

I realize that it was my choice, and after I made that choice my ex-husband said “Okay, then we can’t have kids because you won’t be around to take care of them.” And then divorced me. (Yep, Better Off Without Him High Five!) And then I kept right on going, I suppose the implications of which are now finally, fully setting in.

Because who thought, in this day and age, I would really have to be making the choice to have a career or a family? Obviously, not me. Sure, it was probably hanging around somewhere in the back of mind where I store disturbing things I would just rather not think about (Denial High Five!), but come on! Nahhhh, that will never happen.

Fast-forward five years, and here it is, happening. And regardless of how self-inflicted it may be, it still totally sucks.

Fast-forward to today (Fast-Forward High Five!), and I’m in my own clinic. And one of my very own patients, who I delivered with my very own hands, brings in her baby to get a picture with me. And brings me a picture, which I am instructed to display on my very own Baby Board. It is the very first picture I have gotten to display on my very own Baby Board.

And for the rest of the day, I don’t give a d*mn about choices (Having My Very First Baby Picture To Display On My Very Own Baby Board Is The Epitome Of AWESOME High Five!). I go home and lay in bed and watch stupid TV on Netflix and eat candy for a couple hours, and then I dance around like crazy in my fuzzy jammie pants to a song that makes me feel like me and my (elderly) ovaries are young and juicy and carefree all over again……

And then I go for a long walk, and it’s snowing again, and all I can think about is how it sparkles…..


And I listen to a hopeful song……

And I stay up too late to write a blog post. (On Call All Weekend High Five!)


Me: “And be sure to come back in if your symptoms continue or get any worse.”

Patient : “Oh, don’t worry about that doc. Suffering, is not my bag.”

~ (One totally groovy) LOL

Yet another reason why I love OB/GYN. Working with pregnant ladies and LOL’s.

Because Little Old Ladies, are Awesome.

Reasons #456 and 457 why I’m doing OB/GYN. OR, Fine, if I can’t be doing OB/GYN, I’m going to write about it.

I’m currently on another surgical rotation where, again, everyone thinks I’m pretty much nuts for going into OB/GYN. Until, again, I mention that I’m considering doing a fellowship in REI (Reproductive Endocrinology and Infertility). Then it’s all “Ohhhhhhh, well that’s smart. (i.e. Okay, maybe you aren’t a total nutter.) You’ll have office hours if you do that. Nine to five that’s the way to go! (i.e. Okay, maybe you won’t turn out like that poor sap I told you about who crashed and burned out after two years of general OB/GYN and now does corporate physicals for a living.) Plus, you’ll probably make lots more money. (i.e. Okay, you probably won’t be sued into vagrancy.)”


It occurred to me recently that a lot of this negativity probably, actually stems from the fact that most people who don’t do OB/GYN, just don’t like it. As my current attending puts it, “You either like OB/GYN, or you don’t.” (Or, as one of the nurses in their office put it “They just hate OB/GYN.”)

And when I think about it, I can recall countless non-OB/GYN physicians grimacing painfully as I excitedly regaled them with tales of deliveries, sections, hysterectomies, pessaries, and pap smears before they (pointedly) changed the subject. I particularly remember one internal med doctor I worked with as a nurse who was so excited to be taking another job where they wouldn’t “have to be doing any of those pap smears anymore!” [pap smears, YUCK, written all over their face and inflection]

OB/GYN = Ewwwwwwwwwww......

Frankly, if some doctors don’t like OB/GYN stuff (fine, that’s cool), instead of condemning me for liking it, I think they should be congratulating me. I mean, they have no desire whatsoever to deal with “crazy pregnant ladies” or “all those ER patients with vaginal discharge [shudder].” Well, I can’t wait to “deal” with them. Heck, that’s all I want to deal with. So make both our days, send them all to me, and instead of thinking I’m nuts for wanting (and totally loving) this work, think I’m doing you a big favor, and throw me a frickin’ party.

I’m just saying.

OB/GYN = Party Time! That's more like it.

Which (sort of) brings me to Reason #456.

I read this article yesterday on NPR’s health blog about doctors talking to (or not talking to) patients about their sex lives. From experience, I have found that many physicians are not necessarily comfortable talking to patients about sexuality. For example in first year, before OB/GYN was even a twinkle in my eye, I watched a generalist complete a yearly physical on a young female college student. They did all the exams – heart, lungs, abdomen, pap, pelvic, wrote a script for birth control, and sent the patient on their way. They did not ask one question about sexual partners, sexual practices, STD testing, nothing. I was very surprised and a little dismayed. Last year I heard about a patient who had expressly been sent to an OB/GYN with persistant UTI’s for further investigation of sexual practices and a workup for STD’s. Later the patient presented with yet another UTI, and per the OB/GYN’s note, none of these things had been done. I completely understood the generalist’s frustration as they read the note and asked me “You’re going into OB/GYN, shouldn’t they address that stuff??”

Yes, yes they should.

Sexuality and associated health concerns are a fact of life, and an important part of a patient’s overall well-being that cannot be ignored. I am sure that patients have a hard time talking about such issues, and probably more often than not, the (sensitive, non-judgmental, well-educated, trustworthy) doctor is going to be the one who has to start the conversation so that any concerns can be properly addressed. We need to be better about this, and I for one, am very happy to be going into a field where I will be a (sensitive, non-judgmental, well-educated, trustworthy) resource doing my best to help patients with these important issues.

And, on a lighter note, Reason #457. (Or, a stolen, precious OB/GYN moment that was the highlight of my non-OB/GYN week.)

A few days ago I walked out of a patient room and one of the nurses beckoned me to the lobby where, to my absolute delight, I found one of the patients I’d delivered months ago waiting to say Hi with their baby. The patient had been a delight to work with, I’d spent all day on L&D with them and their family, and when the baby came I had been just as ferklempt as grandmabear.

The baby was spectacular, all decked out in their best baby duds, snoozing and drooling like a little angel. As I exclaimed and made a general fuss over them, the proud mamabear said she had heard I was in this particular clinic and they just wanted to stop by and show me the baby. And then they handed me a thank you card, and I got ferklempt all over again.

And that is my kind of Pediatrics. I love kids. I do not like having to poke, prod, or otherwise torture children in the name of medicine. And with OB/GYN I get the fun part of Peds, aka the exclaiming and general fuss-making, without all the Bad Guy stuff. (P. S. Pediatrics people you are my Absolute Heros for being willing and able to do the Bad Guy stuff. Seriously.)

Highlight Of My Week. Sniff.

Really, does it get any better?


“So, do you actually, like, deliver the babies or whatever?”

“Well yeah. Sometimes.”


“Uh, because it’s awesome. Why not?!”

“Because….you’re pulling out this…..this….six to eight pound…..Ball of Liability that no other doctors want to touch!”

~ Exchange between myself (assuming you can guess my part) and another (health professions, but non-med student) student earlier this week. (Also, the best “Why the F would you want to do OB/GYN?” quote to date. “Ball of Liability,” just slays me.)

It’s been kind of a rough week. First of all, I’ve been studying my butt off to keep up with my current rotation. By 2 am Wednesday (yesterday? was that really only yesterday?) I was struggling to make myself get through another 68-page NCCN guideline by rounds at 0700, wondering how in the h*ll I’d managed all the (unrelenting, almost 24/7) studying the first two years of med school. And I still have no idea. (Seriously, how????)

And then, of course, it is Match Week. At this point, I am acutely stressed/borderline freaking out about it, and frankly, this is how I would prefer to spend it:

Hiding. And pretending like nothing is happening.

Versus, apparently, Everyone Else In The World:

Everyone Else In The World. Ready to PAR-TAY.

My less-than-enthused attitude about the general party vibe/actual Match Party was unfortunately noted by the Powers That Be which led to:

Major Butt Chewing In The Middle Of Rounds + Gross Sleep Deprivation + Already Moderate Steady State Of Stress → Uncontrollable Tears of Mortification/Anger (aka The Worst) + Ignominious Dismissal From Said Rounds = Current Acute Stress Level With Increasing Chance Of Five-Alarm Freak Out

Now I understand, and am completely cool with Everyone Else In The World chomping at the bit to tear one off the instant they tear open that envelope. More power to ya. I, however, am more consumed with all the implications of The Match, and see that missive as more of a (n almost literal?) Pandora’s Box, rather than an invite to the Kegger Of The Century.

I have no idea where I’ve matched. It could be any of the programs I ranked. Part of me is excited to start the next phase of my career, mostly because I will finally just be doing (hopefully) all OB/GYN, all the time. But right now, the larger part knows that no matter where I match, it means I will be leaving the place I’ve lived for the past decade-plus, and with it, the people I love, behind. I will be going somewhere urban, which will be a huge change from the sleepy little (I’m talking little, like pop. 306. On a good day.) communities and way of life I’ve grown accustomed to, where instead of knowing everyone, I won’t know a single soul. And in the meantime, I will have a Massive Move and a Million Little Pieces of Detail to contend with. Including remembering how to lock my doors again, and learning How Not To Get Mugged.

I wish I was different, but this is how it is, and this is what I am going to see when I open that envelope. I don’t know how I’m going to make myself do it (honestly, preferably after a suitably large dose of Dutch Courage), but I sure as h*ll don’t want to do it in front of a bunch of people I haven’t exactly been BFF’s with the last two years.

As a last resort, I made an appointment with my shrink and asked them what they thought I should do. They advised me to hit up one of my attendings for some benzodiazepines.

I am not even kidding.

........Um.....no (???). And P.S. That is why I pay you $150/hr. So, I *don't* have to resort to such measures.


Instead, I decided to go to my Happy Place, aka L&D. (Reason #476 Why I Know I Have Chosen The Right Specialty – When Life gets me down, I go to Work to cheer up.) As often as possible, every time I had a chance this week. I got in on several deliveries and even got to catch and suture once. (Hence the QOD.) It was so wonderful. Brief islands of blissful engagement to the exclusion of all else, where I focused solely on the patients and the work, and basked in the eventual joys of multiple birthdays.


I’m going to a Gyn surgery first thing in the morning. One last sweet reprieve before I will be forced to face The Match Music. I still have no idea how I am going to get through it. Just that (somehow) I will, and I that am going to be wearing my sweaty, pastel, Just For The OB/GYN’s scrubs when I do.