Time.

So you know that thing where time seems to stop and you really wish it would speed up? It's the feeling you got when you were supposed to be asleep the night before the first day of school when you were a little kid. You're a little bit nervous, but mostly excited about what the future is going to be like. You're also irritated that the darn numbers on the clock seem to be taking more than 60 seconds to change.

Yeah. It's been one of those weeks. One of those months, actually. I guess it's just going to be one of those school years....

Blueberries

What do you do when you've over-estimated the number of blueberries two people can eat? Make cobbler of course!



Hungry? Try making one for yourself. Check it out here.

Are we there yet?

Wishing it were November because Spencer has that month off...
Wishing it were December because then I would be done with my masters...
Wishing it were March because then it would be match day...
Wishing it were May because then we would be graduating...
Wishing it were June because then we would be heading to residency...

What are you wishing for?

The Post in Which I Make You Consider Your Mortality

I recently had the chance to read Atul Gawande’s most recent article “Letting Go” published in the July 26th edition of The New Yorker. In it he attempts to answer the question “what should medicine do when it can’t save your life?” The article chronicles the end of several terminally ill patient’s lives and the unwillingness for modern medicine to let people die at home surrounded by loved ones rather than chained to hospital beds by invasive tubes, ventilators, and health care professionals. He examines the true nature of hospice as a beacon of shinning hope that allows patients to be home to the end and extends the quality, not quantity of life.


As young American in my mid-twenties it is difficult to imagine dying. Sure, I’ve been sick and my mother might even relate to you the countless sleepless nights she spent worrying over my health when I had that season’s flu or the especially awful case of mono I endured during my senior year of high school. But I have never really, truly been close to dying. I don’t know what it feels like to be told you have cancer and that you only have months to live. I haven’t lived long enough to see my friends wither slowly in a nursing home and I’ve been fortunate that my grandparents have been able to avoid that fate thus far. My grandpa died quickly of a series of strokes and my grandmother passed later after a long battle with cancer that she lost in the home of her eldest son under the care of hospice. But even at my young and healthy age, the “medicalization” of death scares me.


Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for scientific advancements in the field of medicine. I have a love of research dating back to the “experiments” I conducted as a kindergarten on my pet worms. The love carried me through a slew of AP science classes in high school and through the successful completion of a Neurscience BS in college. After college, while my classmate chased the call of medicine, I chose research and became the clinical research coordinator. I even said in the interview for my first job that "I don't really care how I'm involved in research, just that I am involved in research that will help make a difference in people's lives." Shortly after that, I started my Bioethics program and my eyes were both metaphorically and literally opened.


I have stood by the bedside of the critically ill and listened as the hospital’s ethicist attempted to mediate between patients who are ready to go and doctors who aren't ready to let them. I have heard the reluctance of family members to let their loved ones “give up” and choose options that would shorten their life, but ease their suffering. I have read news articles about those who commit suicide rather than let their medical condition cause them to lose themselves or suffer immeasurable pain. I have studied the “right to die” movement. Throughout it all, I have sensed the desperation felt by parties on all sides of the equations. The doctors, unwilling to “fail” a patient by “letting them die,” continue to push treatments that often cause more harm than good. The patients, who don’t really know any better because they have never been told they have a choice, blindly following until they are but a shell of their former selves.

I spend each day working hard at an educational medical facility attempting to ensure that scientific research improves medicine so that it can not only extend our lives, but extend the quality of our lives as well. But, I hope when it's my turn to go I will do so with dignity. I don't want to spend my final days on this Earth stuck in some sterile ICU and I don't want to blindly try treatment after treatment just to buy a few extra days, weeks, months, whatever. When it's my time, I hope I go quickly with my mind intact. I hope to keep living life until there is no more life left to live.

And I hope that by posting this somewhat disturbing (and hopefully thought-provoking) post, you will also consider how you would like to leave this world and what role medicine will have in your final days. Please, I implore you, tell your loved ones what kind of medical interventions you want. Tell them how far you are willing to go to stave off death. Name your power of attorney and make your advance directive. Decide now while you are still in control. Update it often as you have time to think about the impacts of your decisions. Involve your family, close friends, and Heavenly Father. Talk about dying now before you are actively doing it. Though difficult, I truly believe that talking about these issue now will help save your loved ones grief in the future.

Goodbye Monsieur le Soleil.

When we moved to Milwaukee, it was August. I remember it especially well because it was unusually hot and sticky for Milwaukee, rained all the time, and made moving a real chore--especially since we were moving into an un-air conditioned apartment. I was also struck by the by the number of people that seemed to revel in the great outdoors--even in all that heat. I wondered how they could stand it and retreated to the quite cool of my bedroom (complete with window-box air conditioner). However, after living here for a few weeks I no longer marveled at the blistering heat, but at the dramatic decrease in sunlight we experienced.

At the peak of summer, Milwaukee gets about 15.5 hours of sunlight. By the end of July, we're down to just 14.5 hours. By September--a mere 13 hours which really starts to be noticeably. By the dead of winter, we get just under 9 hours of sunlight. That is extremely noticeable. Especially when you consider that Utah and Virginia get about 9.5 at their low. However, Milwaukee also seems to get more cloudy days per year since it is always snowing so that loss of 1/2 hour really starts to take a toll. In fact, I distinctly remember last year when the weather reporters kept a running total of "days without sun." I think we were up around 50 days in a row or so when the clouds finally parted and let a little light through.

And so, with those facts on my mind (and the fact that every morning for the past week has seemed oddly sunless), I began to bid farewell to the delightful embrace of sunlight. I will enjoy it as much as is humanly possible until it fades, but for now: Goodbye monsieur le soleil. You've been a swell pal this summer. See you next year.

Welcome, August!

Yesterday we welcomed August with gusto because doing so meant the end of Spencer's involvement with surgery in any capacity other than anesthesia. Today Spencer headed off at a much more reasonable time (6:30AM) to start his month in anesthesiology. He'll be working at Froedtert this month which means less commute time and the potential to work with my old boss. That'll be fun! :s

This month is also the start of his last 3 rotations this calendar year (he has November/December off to interview), and it's the start of his last 8 rotations as a medical student!. Just think, in about 9 and 1/2 months we'll both be graduating and preparing for the next journey--residency. Crazy! Where did the time go?