You really are what you eat

I have a confession. This past June, I was a little stressed out about this whole move to a new city - start a new job thing. Therefore, as I am oft to due in a time of emotional turmoil, I turned to french fries. I am not going to lie and say that I have eaten perfect for the last four years, but I will say that my strays from the straight and narrow road have been minimal - and usually involve french fries. I had gained about 10 lbs back from the original 60 that I lost, but overall, I was doing okay. I always had plans to lose another 20 (I never got to my "perfect" weight the first time), but overall I was comfortable with my body.

This particular stray was different from the rest. It set off an emotional trigger somewhere in my head. I didn't stop with my one trip to McDonald's. I began a three and a half month tribute to eating crap, and believe me in a city known for less than healthy food, I had plenty of opportunity. I am not sure why I didn't stop. The light bulb moment finally came when I needed "real" clothes two weeks ago to wear to clinic, and struggled to find something that fit. I stepped on a scale - something that I had steadfastly avoided since moving here - and was appalled.

Needless to say, I am back on the straight and narrow. This is where my frustration comes into play. Now I am a little frustrated that the weight comes off at my age a lot less slowly that it goes on. (I know metabolisms slow down, but I am starting to think that mine is on permanent sabbatical. ) I am also a little frustrated that I let things get to this stage - 5-10 lbs is one thing - 20 lbs is quite different - particularly at 5'2".

However, my biggest frustration is my memory loss. I so easily forget how normal feels. When I eat as if I actually went to medical school and took a nutrition class, I don't just feel "healthier" - I feel better. It is easier to get out of bed in the morning. It is easier to go to the gym. I take the stairs at work on purpose. I have better skin. I sleep better. I all around have more energy, and with my schedule that truly makes a difference. How could I forget this feeling and settle for feeling like the crap that I was eating? I am supposed to be smarter than that right? Well, I am feeling good again and have lost 5 lbs - slower than I would like, but I'll take it. I still have a ways to go, but am confident that I will get there. I have even run twice this week. Stay tuned for updates.

P.S. Blessed and Happy New Year for my friends to which that statement makes since.

Explanation please

Okay - I really don't understand guys. I mean quite honestly they make no sense. The source of my latest confusion - guys flirting. I have complained to most of you in the past about how I seem to attract the most male attention when I am post call. There seems to be something about my the purple bags under my eyes, unwashed hair and day old scrubs that really turn guys on. It has never failed in all my years of surgery that I get way more male attention post call than not. I have explained this in my head as guys like the vulnerable look. I have seen myself post call - the kindest thing than can be said for me is that I look in need of help.

Now, it is starting to happen to me when I am not post call, but SO not trying to look cute. Take this morning for example. I was up late last night watching the debate and post debate spin, so at 7:30 this morning when I woke up and could not go back to sleep - I decided to head to Starbuck's for a nice pumpkin latte. I threw on sweatpants, long sleeve shirt and a baseball cap. I think I ran a brush thru my hair, but would not swear to it in a court of law. I was not dressing to impress - I wanted a cup of coffee and a scone. As I leave my building two different men I pass on the street say hello. Not uncommon back home, but no one here in Philly speaks on the street. No one is that friendly. When I get to one of the four Starbuck's within two blocks of my house I order my drink and scone and then become engaged in a 5 minute conversation with the cute barista while he is warming my scone. I sit at a table by the window with a newspaper when another customer asks to see my sports page. This ended up turning into another flirting session.

Don't get me wrong - I am not complaining that cute and in 3 of the 4 situations younger guys flirted with me today. I am not that stupid. What I don't understand is why no guys ever flirt with me when I make an effort. Until recently, I would have argued that I have relatively cute taste in clothes and can pull a look together that looks fairly presentable, but maybe not. Maybe I am one of those women who belong on What Not to Wear and just don't know it. There has to be some reason that when I look horrible guys want to talk to me, but I can't attract any man under 70 when I try. Am I missing something????

Maybe I do have a problem

So we all know that I LOVE to shop. I shop for many reasons. I think first and foremost it is a stress reliever for me. When I am in a store looking at pretty things, I can forget whatever is wrong in my world for that amount of time. I shop for companionship. Some of the best times I have ever spent with my girlfriends involved shopping. It is not all about the shopping itself, but it is the fun of spending time with your friends. I shop for sport. I get a thrill with putting a really cute outfit together at a bargain. Regardless of the reasons I shop, I at least recall what I buy - or at least I thought I did.

This morning as I was getting ready for work, I walked into my closet for shoes. Clinic day - so I had to actually wear real clothes. I was looking for black heels and clearly saw in my head my black heels. I flew past two boxes labeled open toe black heels, several pair of black heel sandals, and saw the box labeled black heels. Imagine my surprise when I opened the box and saw a pair of shoes that I would have sworn that I had never seen. I am not kidding. Not only do I not remember wearing these shoes, I have no idea where or when I might have bought them. They were wickedly cute, and look like shoes that I would buy, but I honestly can not recall buying them.

I have never fogotten shoes - I can vividly describe my shoes at a moments notice. I have forgotten clothes before - but usually when I see them I have the "oh yeah" moment. I remember where or when I bought it. (Usually involves some great sale and my friends Kris or Jackie.) This is the first time that I can not conjure any memories. Maybe I have reached the point of my addiction where I am having black outs. I wonder what else I may have bought that trip? I guess rehab is next for me. Oh well, I will be like Britney and avoid it for now. I have a Presidential debate to watch.

Post Call

I am just getting home - post call and last night sucked. So, here is as good as I have - although my Wild Words from Wild Women calendar is incredibly situation appropriate at times.

"There are no shortcuts to anyplace worth going." Beverly Sills

Move over Gracie - I need a nap

I have never been a napper. I started sleeping through the night at an early age according to my mom, but even as a baby I didn't like sleeping during the day. I was the kid that always got in trouble during nap time in school. I didn't want to miss anything by going to sleep, and if I was awake why couldn't I talk to everyone else right? My teachers failed to see the logic in this, but I think I was just ahead of my time.

In college, most of my friends would take naps in the afternoon. Jackie could sleep 18 our of 24 hours and still complain about her schedule. I didn't get it. I always had other stuff I wanted to do, and didn't want to waste any of my precious time sleeping. Even during my surgical residency I wasn't a big napper. When I would get home post call I would force myself to stay awake until 7 or 8 and then just have an early night. I always felt that sleeping during the day just throw off my schedule.

Well, my body seems to have decided it has some nap catching up to do. During the past year, and particularly the past 6 months, I get incredibly and sometimes inexplicably sleepy in the middle of the afternoon. It seems to have nothing to do with how much or little sleep I get. When 1 or 2 o'clock rolls around, I start yawning and looking for a blankie. I can indulge these strange cravings on the weekend, but it is a little hard to take a nap in the middle of my work day. They frown upon snoring in the operating room. Aging is weird. Hopefully, like the terrible two's this is just a faze that I will outgrown. In the meantime - scoot over Gracie, Aunt Tammy needs a nap too.

Perfect Fall Day

Fall has come to Philly, and let me tell you it is fabulous. I decided yesterday to turn off my air conditioner and open my windows. Therefore, I was awakened this morning to the sounds of the city waking up with a crisp and cold bite to the air. I snuggled into my covers and listened for a while. It is amazing what you can hear in a city if you really listen. Once up, I had a quick breakfast and then headed out. I dropped off some dry cleaning and decided to walk around downtown. The weather was perfection defined. It was cold enough for long sleeves, but not uncomfortable.

I was wearing my Obama t-shirt and ended up having quite a few interesting conversations. I may have finally hit on how to get people in this town to be friendly on the street. I picked up some coffee and heated to Rittenhouse square (Central park Philly style) near my apartment. They were having a fine arts festival and I was able to spend some time walking around looking at some truly amazing paintings. If only it were a year from now and I had a house - I would have spent some serious dough on wall art.

After finishing the festival, I walked across the street to Barnes and Noble. I truly LOVE book stores. I may have my mother to blame for my bad eyesight, inability for a truly flat stomach, and big ankles, but she made it all better by giving me a true love of reading. I smile just walking up and down the aisles looking at the books. I ended up buying the latest book on Oprah's book club - The Story of Edgar Sawtelle.

Now, I end up reading a lot of Oprah's book club books. She likes slightly more depressing books than my personal taste, but many of them have been quite good. I have never actually bought the book that was currently on the list. It just seems so drone like - you know I never want to be like everyone else. However, she made this book sound so amazing I couldn't wait to see for myself. It is only available in hardback, and I never buy books in hardback - mostly because I read so much that it would be cost prohibitive, but also because I actually like the ease and portability of paperback. None the less, I bought it and several other books that will probably take me years to actually get around to reading, but I am living for the life I wish I had not the one I am living.

After the bookstore, I picked up a bagel from my favorite shop for lunch and headed home. I had lunch did a load of laundry and then headed to the gym. After a workout, I took a quick shower and inadvertently a short nap. Once I woke up, I grabbed a blanket and headed back to the Square. I spent the rest of the afternoon reading and people watching. Once dusk set in I headed back home and had a nice dinner. I am going to catch a movie on TV and call it a night. All in all this was pretty close to a perfect day for me. Many more days like this, and you may not be able to get me out of the City come July.

My mom was right again

On many occasions during the last several years, my mom has pointed out to me that I have great friends. (Most recently when Bassam and Kris helped my parents move my stuff while I was safely ensconced here in Philly). She feels that often I forget how lucky I am or probably more accurately take for granted what a great group of friends. I disagree, respectively of course, that I forget. However, I may take it for granted.

Therefore, I am making a conscious effort to try to be better. You guys have never let me down. My recent hair debacle is the perfect example. Really great friends will tell you that a horrible cut is really cute when they know that is what you desperately need to hear. Thank You. Really great friends make your crappy job seem more interesting and beneficial. Thank You. Really great friends remind you that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and they even convince you that it is not the train that you secretly know is coming. Thank You. Really great friends will convince you that Mr Right is still out there, and that you didn't miss him one night on call. Thank You.

I am very blessed to have such wonderful friends in my life. I just want you all to know that I do realize how lucky I really am to have all of you to keep me sane.

I have been scalped!

So, my roots had gotten pretty bad - you know trailer-park bad. I had the weekend off, so I decided girl grooming should ensue. I am a slow learner. I ended up blond because I went to have my haircut and colored post call. Yet off I went to the "teaching" salon for my post call hair cut. In my defense - the "different" looks that I got in the past were somewhat agreed upon by me. I would at least in my sleep deprived haze say something along the lines of "do whatever you like". I did not say that this time. In fact, I distinctly recall telling the butcher that hacked at my hair that I was mainly there to get my roots touched up. I really liked the hair cut that I had gotten the time before and only wanted a trim. I asked if she could just take the dead ends off the back, and shorten my bangs.

Needless to say, that is not what happened. I have NO hair left. It is horribly short and I did not want short hair. My issues with short hair are many. First, I have had long hair my ENTIRE life. Shoulder length was a walk on the wild side for me. I only went that short because of Oprah saying women my age should not have long hair. Secondly, I have a very round face. Skinny or overweight, my face is a perfect circle. Circle faces do not do short cuts. A fact touted in every fashion magazine. Third, short hair actually requires a lot of work. I can't wake up late and throw this hair into a pony tail. It isn't long enough to pull back. Also, as an ironic aside, my stick straight hair now has an annoying tendency to curl up on the ends. Without help, my hair does a Jackie-O thing in the back, and curls under in the front. This is not a simple easy to care for cut.

I have considered extensions, but I shutter at the idea of "fake Britney hair". I have already added extra protein to my diet to try to make it grow faster. To be completely fair, I do like the color. It is less gold and shiny which is good for the fall. If I ever get enough nerve to go back for a hair cut - many months from now - I will be finding a real hairstylist. Enough school for me. You should all be thankful that you live far away and do not have to see this atrocity everyday. I have covered my mirrors. I will check back in a couple of weeks.

Happy Birthday to my friend Bree :). She turns 30 today. Welcome to the best decade of your life. (Not sure I believe it yet, but it is what I am supposed to say). All honesty, hope you had a great day.

Man eat Meat world

I was the only girl in my "Intern class" my first year of general surgery. There was another female resident (Buffy - Urology intern), but she had bigger balls than any of the guys. Since I knew no one when I moved to Augusta, I spent a lot of my first year hanging with the guys. Spending "guy time" is a job hazard. I am not a huge fan of action movies, steakhouses and sporting events, but spent a good portion of my first year of general surgery doing those exact things. Luckily, Kris moved to Augusta to marry Bassam, Amy, Jill and Darlene all became residents and I was able to transition back over to being a girl.

I was able to skip this whole "guy time" for the most part when I moved to Nashville. I already had girlfriends there (Kris had deserted me for Nashville two years prior), and we had a lot of really cool NPs and RNs that I quickly started hanging out with there. I have not been so lucky here. I have met quite a few of the nurses - and we do go out to dinner and shopping, but every other women in the world my age is married, so the "new bonding" time is limited. Therefore, I find myself hanging with the guys more and more. Interestingly they are also mostly married, but seem less concerned about losing "home time." This is what brings me to my latest story.

Danny, the first year cardiac surgery fellow on our team had a birthday on Wednesday. Phil, the second year thoracic fellow on our team had a birthday today. Therefore, we decided we should all go out to dinner and celebrate their birthdays. A place and day were picked and off we went. The restaurant was Fogue de Chao. This restaurant for those of you who have never been is a Brazilian steakhouse. I had never been, but heard that it was good. So the premise is that you go to your table and sit down. A waitress comes by and points to the salad bar - an impressively large and elaborate central portion of the restaurant. She then tells you about the coaster system. Next to your place setting is a red coaster that says simply stop. On the other side it is green and says go. You are instructed that once you are completed with your salad course you should turn your coaster to go. Magically and at quite a rapid pace, men carrying large skewers of various meat start arriving at your table. When you need a rest or are truly finished you simply turn the coaster back over.

Let's just say that I am now considering becoming a vegetarian. Too much meat. Don't get me wrong, the food was quite tasty, but it was overwhelming. (We all know how I get with an overabundance of choices.) I was a wimp and turned my coaster after a slice of sirloin, chicken leg and a small piece of fillet wrapped in the most amazing bacon I have ever tasted. The three guys at my table however took this dinner as a personal challenge. I have never seen so much food consumed at one setting in my life - and I am Southern. I still feel full just thinking about the dinner. I really need to get more girlfriends.

Currently watching the weather news. Keeping Texas in my prayers. Hopefully it will not be as bad as they are predicting.

Things you will never see on Gray's Anatomy

Well, it is official - I had one of the worse call days EVER. Now I should explain. Call days can be bad for lots of reasons - pesky phone calls from nurses, sick ICU patients, busy consult service, emergency surgery. None of those things happened to me yesterday - we did do a lung transplant, but I'll come back to that in a minute. I arrived early yesterday morning, rounded quickly on my service and went to the call room and read. I got one patient phone call, but had a quite ICU. Things were going nicely.

I ran to the cafeteria for lunch - had a chicken vegetable medley - less than scrumptious, but would consider passable for hospital food. I went back to the call room and was actually watching some TV. Found out that a lung transplant was coming in so got geared up and went to the operating room. Now things took a decidedly wrong turn.

When I first got to the operating room I felt fine. I had been a little dizzy when I first stood up, but that is fairly normal for me. They had the OR sweltering while we were waiting on news that the lungs were usable, but since I am usually cold it shouldn't have been a big deal. We g0t the news that the lungs are good so we started. Almost immediately upon scrubbing in I start to feel really nauseated. I mean REALLY nauseated. I play all my mental games while I am in the operating room to take my mind off things I don't have time to think about (we all have them - otherwise you couldn't wait 14 hours between peeing). Nothing was working. Finally, I quietly excuse myself from the table and go to the bathroom and throw up. I shrug it off as a combination of the room temperature and my lunch, but need to get back to the OR so don't give it much thought.

Scrub back in and about 15 minutes pass. We have reached a very crucial portion of the case. We are preparing to cannulate the aorta and go on bypass. Not exactly a great time to leave the table. At least that is the argument I have with myself when I start feeling very nauseated again. I break out in a cold sweat and can see stars. I am still trying to hold it together for the cannulation. There is a hole in the aorta, cannula placed - I ask my attending to hold it for a minute. I then promptly turn away from the table and get sick in the trash can. Incredibly embarrassing. Fortunately I have no time to dwell on it. I walk out to the sink, change mask, wash my hands and scrub back in to the case.

This was the next four hours of my life. I would feel great for about 15 minutes and then have to throw up. Luckily, Philip was able to scrub me out once he returned with the lungs and I was able to spend most of this time in the call room, but altogether not the highlight of my training so far. Feeling much better now. Abdomen is sore from the retching, but thankfully nausea has passed. I bet then never show that on House or Gray's Anatomy.

My South

My mom sent me this - it is by a Mississippian named Robert St John



I am always amused by Hollywood's interpretation of the South. We are still, on occasion, depicted as a collective group of sweaty, stupid, backwards-minded, racist rednecks. The South of movies and TV, the Hollywood South is not my South.

This is my South:

My South is full of honest, hardworking people. My South is the birthplace of blues and jazz, and rock n' roll. It has banjo pickers and fiddle players, but it also has BB King, Muddy Waters, the Allman Brothers, Emmylou Harris and Elvis.

My South is hot. My South smells of newly mowed grass. My South was kick the can, creek swimming, cane-pole fishing and bird hunting.

In my South, football is king, and the Southeastern Conference is the kingdom.

My South is home to the most beautiful women on the planet.

In my South, soul food and country cooking are the same things.

My South is full of fig preserves, cornbread, butter beans, fried chicken, grits and catfish.

In my South, our transistor radios introduced us to the Beatles and the Rolling Stones at the same time they were introduced to the rest of the country.

In my South, grandmothers cook a big lunch every Sunday, so big that we call it dinner (supper comes later).

In my South, family matters, deeply.

My South is boiled shrimp, blackberry cobbler, peach ice cream, banana pudding and oatmeal cream pies.

In my South people put peanuts in bottles of Coca-Cola and hot sauce on almost everything.

In my South the tea is iced and almost as sweet as the women.

My South has air-conditioning.

My South is camellias, azaleas, wisteria and hydrangeas.

In my South, the only person that has to sit on the back of the bus is the last person that got on the bus.

In my South, people still say 'Yes, ma'am,' 'No ma'am,' 'Please' and 'Thank you.'

In my South, we all wear shoes... most of the time.

My South is the best-kept secret in the country.

Please continue to keep the secret... it keeps the idiots away.


Missing home today.

Time for a Job

Okay - today it is official - I am not sure how much longer I can stand being a resident. I have been a resident for MANY years, turns out too many years. When I thought about adding this extra "super" fellow year - I honestly thought piece of cake - I can do anything for 365 more days particularly if it means a fantastic career opportunity at the end.

I may have made a serious error in judgement. It turns out that a body and more importantly a mind can only tolerate so many years of residency. I reached my peak this AM. Unfortunately for me, I stayed at work all day. I may not have a job tomorrow, but I am not all that upset. This AM when Dr Cooper asked me why I didn't know where his first patient's films were located - mind you no one knew about his first patient but him (he added it late last PM after his clinic yesterday) - I smiled, apologized and went to his office and picked them up off his desk. However, this afternoon, when he was berating me about something for which I had no knowledge nor any responsibility - I lost it. I truly had had enough. I am 35 years old and pretty damn good at what I do - therefore, I find that I am no longer willing to take a lot of crap. As all my doctor friends understand, a LOT of crap taking is required to be a "good" resident. It never would have occurred to me 3 years ago to tell an Attending exactly what I think, but now I struggle to stop myself and did not today. I think that is a sign that enough is enough. I need a job.

Deserve a cookie if I was still eating sweets

Okay - maybe I really have turned over a new leaf. I came home after a really crappy day hungry and tired. Instead of sitting down in front of the TV, eating and making fun of the Republicans - three things guaranteed to make my day better - I changed into running shorts and went for a run. Granted, now that Calla isn't here, I went back to my run walk method, but I did it. I even signed up for a 5K in November.

Of course after my run, I was starved. I really really really wanted chocolate. I settled for a plain baked potato and a shower. My new incentive is the massage I have promised myself if I can drop 10 lbs.

Well, I have been good enough today. I am going to catch the end of Giuliana's speech and see if this Palin girl can actually speak, and yes some poking fun at the Republican's may happen.

I seem to be missing something

Okay - I'll be honest . . . I am missing something. I am sure there is a reason than John McCain selected Sarah Palin, but I can't figure our what it is. I know he needed someone young, and I know he needed a minority, but surely there were young minority Republicans that had less issues. I could really care less that her daughter is pregnant. Although a little piece of me wonders if the religious right would be so understanding and approving of a 17 year old unwed mother is she was a Democrat - can we say "family values".

I am a little confused about what Palin has to offer. She has been outside of the United States less times than I have. She lists as a major part of her Executive experience serving on the PTA - now I have no children, but when did the PTA become such a large organization in Alaska? I know that I am missing something - John McCain is a smarter politician than this choice seems to me. Why her?

Unrelated, Labor Day sucked. Hope you all had a better one. I operated ALL day. Did get a work-out in today, and tomorrow is another running day for me. I can now use my quads again so hopefully it will be a good run.