Run, run, run

I'm coming off of another 18 day stretch of call, and has it been a wild ride. Most of the time, even with the unpredictable schedule I've come to expect, it isn't very often that I have a true, chaotic dash to the hospital to tend to an emergency. I know about most labors when they are early in the process, and can mentally prepare to leave for the hospital at the appropriate time. By the same token, most surgeries are planned well in advance. Of course, babies have a way of surprising even the most prepared, and they seem to have conspired against me in the past few weeks.

Emergency Dash #1 - Sunday afternoon, approximately 4 pm. I was out with CindyLou, Bean, and Mr. Whoo at the park, enjoying the weather. I answered an outside page from a husband, worrying that his term pregnant wife (OtherDoc's patient) had been in pain for 8 hours, and was now spotting. Of course, they were told to head straight to the hospital, and I pondered, loudly, why anyone would ever need wait 8 whole hours to make that call??? Just go, already!

As we rounded up the kids and were preparing to head out for ice cream, I received a "911" page from Labor and Delivery. Sure enough, the woman from the phone call had just arrived to triage...completely dilated. No time to change out of my sweaty workout clothes or to drop the family at home, we sped directly to the hospital. I dashed into the room, introducing myself, and promising that I was not some random person off the street in workout gear. Luckily, they believed me (or were so desperate that they just didn't care *who* caught the baby at this point), I made it just in time to catch the crowning baby boy, a mere 45 minutes after I had first received the page from the woman's husband. After all was finished, I joined my patient family in the parking lot, and we all went for some much deserved ice cream.



Emergency Dash #2 - Wednesday morning, 3 am. Awakened from a dead sleep, my groggy, sleepy brain was immediately doused with the equivalent of ice cold water as I saw the "911" page from labor and delivery. I dropped my glasses and the phone before being able to return the page. When I did get in touch with labor and delivery, I found that one of my patients had arrived in triage. She claimed that her water had been leaking since about noon the day before, but she came in because she was having pain. She was completely dilated, oh, and the baby was frank breech....and back down.

If ever there was an "Oh Shit!" moment, this was it. I think I got to the hospital in about 10 minutes flat (it usually takes 15), and the whole time I was on the phone with labor and delivery, checking fetal status, talking to the OR, and arranging for the patient to be in the operating room as soon as I arrived. The poor family medicine resident that had been up on L and D "just in case" she delivered before I got there (truly a nightmare, as a back down breech delivery in an inexperienced operator's hands would almost certainly lead to a head entrapment) offered to scrub with me. We did a true, stat cesarean section, complete with the nurses pushing the breech up from below. Luckily, the baby perked up nicely, despite a very bruised posterior. We got into the uterine arteries on both sides, due to the low position of the breech and extremely thin lower uterine segment, but were able to control the bleeding. Mother and baby boy ended up doing just fine, but I think I may have aged 5 years that night.

Emergency Dash #3 and #4 - I'm including these stories because they were eerily similar to one another. Both women were inductions, both in the same labor and delivery room, both on the same day, one week apart. Patient number #3 was an induction for post-dates. She had a very rough delivery with her last baby, and was leery of hospitals and interventions, but she had gone to 42 weeks, our agreed upon "exit point." She provided me and the hospital with her very simple birth plan, and everything progressed very nicely. She was 4 cm dilated at 11 am, and she decided on an epidural for pain control, as the narcotics she received at her first delivery made her have unpleasant hallucinations. I was at the office, seeing patients, when I got the call from labor and delivery. Her nurse had just come back from lunch, and as she went to check the patient. When she parted the labia, she saw the baby's head! Patient #3 was feeling *nothing!* She was fast asleep! I navigated lunch rush traffic as best I could, and, thanks to her excellent epidural, made it in time to deliver the baby boy at precisely 1:03 pm. She pushed exactly twice. Once for the head, once for the body. No tears, no pain, no long hours of contractions. She and her husband were thrilled, as was I.

Imagine the eerie sense of dejavu, when I had another induction, exactly one week later, in the same room. This time the induction was for IUGR, and the patient was a first time mom. Her induction progressed very smoothly, as well. At 11:30 am, I called to check in on her progress. Her labor nurse had just checked her, found her to be 4 cm, and medicated her with IV pain medication. Imagine my surprise, when a mere hour later, I got a call from the same nurse...she had just returned from lunch and was preparing the patient for an epidural. She checked the patient, as she was feeling pressure, and surprise! She was 9 cm and feeling very "push-y." It was yet another zig zagging race through town, at the lunch hour, where I seemed to catch every single light and get behind the *slowest* drivers on the planet. It is time like these that I wish I could have some kind of special "Ob/Gyn" flashing light to put up on my car to get people to move the heck out of the way!! I made it to the room, where she was trying with all her might not to push. I checked, found her to be completely dilated, and she proceeded to push. She delivered a healthy, if small, baby girl at precisely 1:03 pm. Weird, right?? Kind of cool, though.

Emergency Dash #5 - Yet another Sunday, about 6 pm. I had just arrived home after taking CindyLou over to the neighbor's for a playdate. We were just sitting down to the dinner that Mr. Whoo had prepared, when, you guessed it, I got the "911" page from L and D. This time, one of OtherDoc's patients, a G13P11 (that means 13 pregnancies, 11 babies) who had been wanting homebirth, arrived at the hospital. She stated her water had been broken for a week, she was 34 weeks pregnant, and "the baby just wasn't coming out." She was 9 cm when she arrived on labor and delivery. Fortunately, Sunday traffic isn't nearly as bad as lunch traffic, and I was there in time to help the resident deliver the little 34 weeker. The delivery was the easy part. The hard part came in the way of a retained placenta and post-partum hemorrhage (a risk in those grand multips). Thanks to cyto.tec and a banjo curette, we saved her a trip to the OR. Both mom and baby needed antibiotics post-delivery, probably due to her being ruptured for so long, but both went home a mere 4 days after delivery.

So, that's what I've been up to for the last few weeks. Freaking out, growing gray hair, and aging myself by leaps and bounds. Luckily though, all these moms and babies did well, so it was worth it. To say nothing of the other things swirling about, old job, new job, selling the house, looking for rentals, etc. I feel like I've been running a marathon, minus health benefits and sense of accomplishment. So, what have you been doing these days?

Dear OMFH

I'm writing you this letter because I know I'll never get to say any of these things in real life. You are a major contributing factor to why I am leaving this practice. This, I am certain, is no surprise to you. You are the *worst* office manager I have ever had the good fortune to know. From the beginning, you have viewed me as a threat to your husband (and to you) and have treated me as such. Your sabotage is blatant. From telling patients that they were not *allowed* to transfer to me, to conveniently *not billing* for procedures that I have done, to blatantly attributing payments meant for me to your husband...trust me, I know what you have done.

You don't know shit about running an office. You couldn't manage personnel if your life depended on it, and you let the inmates run the asylum. You say it is "inconsiderate" of me to make patients reschedule an appointment when they arrive 30 minutes late (without calling), yet is perfectly considerate (in your opinion) to let patients wait 3 hours to see your husband's nurse, as he is off at the hospital for another delivery. Oh yes, and it is also very *considerate* of patients to tell them they need to transfer to another office if they want to see me as their physician. Totally ethical. It is abundantly clear that the *only* thing you care about is money (really, $6000 window treatments and a new Mer.cedes every 6 months??) It is no wonder that your husband works like he does: 1) he needs to support your inordinate spending, and 2) I am sure he'd prefer to steer as clear of you as possible. You think that you are my boss, and can tell me who I have to see, but let me assure you, you have no power over me. I'm sure it gives you great pleasure that you are the one that makes the call schedule, and you relish not putting out the new schedule until half of the month is already over.

You treat my nurse, who is the best freaking employee in that office, like she is dirt beneath your feet, all the while claiming to be a "good Christian." You kiss the ass of the employees that sleep on the desk, shop online during office hours, and shirk their responsibilities. Your hypocrisy sickens me. Your faux concern is laughable, and I cannot *wait* to be rid of your fake, bitch ass. Every physician that interviews here, I am telling to steer the eff clear of you and your "office management." If the hospital had any idea how much money you were costing them, perhaps it would motivate them to grow a pair and fire your ass.

So, yes, mission accomplished, you have run me out of town, but you won't have another physician in my place to screw over and to split your overhead. As for your humanitarian shortcomings, "Judgement is mine, sayeth the Lord." I'd be making atonement, if I were you. Here's hoping that you get *everything* that you deserve.

Most Sincerely,
Dr. Whoo

To Get to the Other Side

There are times in life when everything seems to fall right in to place, and then, there are times like now. I can see the shimmering oasis of a new life, just on the horizon. A better call schedule, closer to family and friends, a chance to work in a collegial (not competitive) environment, more time with my precious kids and husband, and a chance to grow as a physician. Between the oasis and where I stand, however, is a treacherous, rock-filled, rapid river, swirling and threatening my ability to ever reach the opposite shore.

Obstacle #1 - Our house is on the market, and we have shown it at least a dozen times. Yet, despite positive overall feedback, not a single offer. I don't mean to boast, but our house is a beautiful house. I love it. I was ready to buy it the second I walked through the front door, and I can't believe that everyone else that sees it doesn't feel the same way. We never thought we would have to sell this house. Maybe we should have thought about selling it before we bought it. If we don't sell before we move, we'll have a hefty house payment, along with any rent payment we need to pay in Newville. This alone will be a financial strain.

Obstacle #2 - Mr. Whoo has yet to find a job, nor procure an interview in Newville. Granted, he has only starting looking in earnest recently. However, he is looking for work in the finance world, which isn't the best place to be seeking employment given the current state of our economy. We have been fortunate that he was able to quit his job last fall when our family really needed it, but now we worry that the employment gap may cause an impetus with new employers. Plus, without an additional income after the move, there will be more financial strain on our family. (See Obstacle #1)

Obstacle #3 - My current place of employment is not letting me go without a fight. There have been veiled and outright threats of lawsuits and damages and liabilities for me leaving earlier than my contract had mandated. There is also the matter of giving back a portion of student loans paid by the hospital. The fact that we would have to pay back was not unexpected, however, the amount that we calculated is about half of what the hospital estimates. We are procuring the services of a contract negotiator and a lawyer, who seem to believe we have a case for inducement, but I'm having angina just thinking of it. Not to mention the fact that, if the hospital's calculations are correct, they want us to pay up in less than 2 months. Add more financial liability to the swirly, cold, and fast water.

Obstacle #4 - Emotionally, I am wrung out. I am completely exhausted, and barely hanging on by my fingernails to make it to the date I indicated I was leaving. Being on call, continuously, with only 4 days off per month (plus vacation time), has left me completely burnt out. I find it hard to drag myself to work and muster compassion for my patients. They deserve better than the doctor I am right now. My health, mental and physical, is suffering. The remainder of my contract is a mere six months, and by finishing it out, I can alleviate much of the financial burden of the above obstacles...for the price of my very sanity. I want to cry just thinking of it.

So, I sit here on the bank, pining for the oasis, and unsure how to navigate the obstacles that lie before me. Oddly, I am reminded of the "old school" computer game, "The Oregon Trail." When faced with a river, you can try to ford the river, float the river, or hire someone else to help you across. Right now, I am pining desperately for someone to throw me a life line, or at the very least, a strategy for surviving these treacherous waters. The best advice I can relate to our readers is to know what you are getting in to before you sign a contract. There is no such thing as a perfect job, and if it seems too good to be true, it, in all likelihood, *is* too good to be true. Caveat emptor...and pass the caulk.

*cross posted at Mothers in Medicine

Revenge of the Pregnant Women

Oooooweeeeeeooooo. Scary, huh? Well, to a poor, unsuspecting, newly-recovered from the flu Ob/Gyn, it is the scariest prospect around. You see, for the first time (and I do mean, the very first time) in 4 years, I was oh-so-fortunate to have an entire 3 weekends off...in a ROW! The audacity! The outrage! Ohhhhh, and the payback. You see, 2 of those weekends were included on my vacation, which was less vacation, and more "how much activity can you cram into 10 days?" This was spent in the southerly regions and in Newville, the site of our pending relocation. The third weekend was Easter weekend, by some stroke of luck, I was able to convince OMFH to grant me the holiday off, to visit with Mr. Whoo's family in the Great White North. Easter weekend marked the beginning of the the Whoo Family's dalliance with "The Flu." It started with Bean, quickly moved to me, and took out CindyLou later on in the week. Mr. Whoo is the only one left standing, and he's starting to get that characteristic hacking cough. Surely, I thought in my fever-fogged brain, out of all that glorious time off, some of my patients would deliver in my absence. Much to their delight (and my relative dismay), they did not. Other Doc, throughout the whole of my vacation and time off, did not deliver a single patient of mine.


Instead, they all waited for me. So this week, between popping Day.Quil, Ny.Quil, and Mot.rin, I have been exceedingly busy. The day that I returned from vacation, I had an induction for post-dates (41 weeks and 6 days). She had received cervical ripening overnight and actually was really contracting well. About 5 minutes after I hit the floor, she SROM'd the thickest meconium fluid I had ever seen, this was followed by a 10 minute trip to the 60s for the fetal heart rate. I checked for a cord, couldn't find one, tried everything possible to get the kiddo to recover, and eventually went down for an emergent cesarean. The baby was out in less than a minute, and needed a little transition time, but ended up doing very well. Not the best way to start the morning. After finishing up the paper work and talking to the family, I saw a familiar patient roll up to the nurse's station...in obvious distress. She was supposed to have a repeat C-section later that week, but, she was in labor today. Back we went to the OR, where I delivered a 9.5 pound baby boy. I finally made it to the office that day around 3 o'clock.

The rest of the week continued in a similar fashion. There was a severe IUGR baby, born to a couple that struggled with fertility for a very long time. She was only 37 weeks, but the baby was measuring 32 weeks. We had watched the growth for the last few weeks, and it had steadily plateaued. The patient received only cerv.idil, but quickly labored and delivered a healthy, 5 pound baby girl. The placenta was incredibly calcified and quite small, so I felt confident the correct decision to deliver had been made. Unfortunately, there were a few inductions, one for preeclampsia and one for post dates that ended in late night cesarean sections. Both moms and babies did well, but I hate to have failed inductions. It makes me feel as if I have failed those patients.

Oh, and then the "weekend" came. My first weekend back since vacation, and, let's face it, I was already dragging from a busy week and a lingering illness, and OtherDoc had a similarly bad week. There were a million patients to round on, and about half a million circs (my favorite! Not.) I got the first call a little after midnight about patient at term with SROM. I had a little hope, as she did not want an epidural (score 1) and was only 2 cm when she was admitted (score 2!) Between my sick kids and being paged every hour from patients and from labor and delivery, very little rest was had between her admission and the call telling me that she was 8 cm at 4:00am. I arrived at the hospital right as she was beginning to push. Blessedly, it was a very nice, smooth delivery. No tears and a healthy baby. I'm sure my patients didn't appreciate being rounded on at 5 am, but I certainly wasn't coming back later! I did my umpteen circs, rounds, discharges, and spent the rest of the day trying, unsuccessfully to catch up on rest.

In the late afternoon, another "rule out labor" came in to triage. She had not changed her cervix, but she was post dates, and I decided to keep her for observation. I communicated several times with the nursing staff before I went to bed, and was assured she was "doing nothing." I took a Ny.Quil and was in bed no later than 10:30. Imagine my surprise when I received a page at 3:30 am telling me she was completely dilated. It was an all-too-familiar dash to the hospital in the middle of the night. I arrived, broke the bag of water, and she pushed out a beautiful 8.5 pound boy over an intact perineum. Once again, it was circs at 4:30 am, and rounds at 5 am. I have spent the rest of the day trying to recover. I am just now starting to feel human again. I really can't keep up this pace. I hope that I have done sufficient penance for my time off, and that the pregnant ladies are merciful tonight!

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Whoa! I just blinked and a whole month was gone! Sorry to be MIA for so long. You have heard it all before. Get the house ready to sell, try (yes, I said try) to leave the old job, try to arrange things for the new job, take the family to the extremes of the North and South for back to back vacations, oh, and you know, work a full-time, 4 days off/month job. Makes it difficult to blog, ya know?

It isn't for lack of material, that is certain. I have a million ideas rattling around my skull, but no ability to focus in and write. Shall I write about how my current job in Whooville is giving me hell about trying to leave my contract early? Or shall I write about how difficult it is to tell my patients that I am leaving...especially the pregnant ones, due after I am supposed to leave? How about writing on how I managed to not eat pasta for the entire of season of Lent, and still managed not to lose a single pound? (Oink!) Or how we still haven't sold the house and I am freaking out? Maybe I should write about how big my kids are getting, almost 5 and almost 2, and how I feel like I've missed out on so much. It isn't anything you haven't heard me bitch/moan/whine or complain about before. I know I have to get back in the blogging "saddle" again, but I am unsure of how to start. What do *you* want to hear about?

Oh, and happy Tax day. Heh.

Cleanin' Out My Closet

With all due respect to Em.in.em (who I strangely love), it is not as interesting as he makes it sound. We are T-minus 3.5 months and counting from the big move from Whooville to NewCity. Mr. Whoo has been a packing machine (watch him get down), and we are getting ready to pack the first of our P.O.D.S. in anticipation of the move. Unfortunately, the closet has been begging and pleading for our mutual attention. We have been fortunate enough to be blessed with a home with a large master closet. Well, I guess I mean blessed and cursed, because every damn thing that does not have a home ends up in our spacious closet. Oh, shit! Company coming? Shove it in the closet. Stacks of paper with no where to put it? The closet sounds like a good idea! No time to deal with it now? Put it in the closet. And so on, and so forth for 3+ years and counting. Except now? We need to show the house, awesome closet and all. Not to mention the fact that we need to pack, and, my lord! Do we really need all of this *stuff*?

So, for the last few days, we have been working on the closet. I have been forced to go through all of my clothing, hanging on hangers in the closet since 1991. I am not kidding. There were clothes in my closet that I wore in high school, and I have the yearbook pictures to prove it. To me, this begs the question...why in the *hell* am I holding on to these clothes? For one, there is no hope in hell of me fitting into my old high school clothes...ever. And, even if I managed to get back down to 110 pounds soaking wet, would I really be wearing a flowered shirt from The Limited? Really? (Does that store even exist anymore?) I took the plunge, made some hard (ahem) choices, and managed to purge more than half of my closet in favor of donations to Good.will. Going through the clothes was kind of therapeutic and fun, in a way. I finally parted with the cute gray skirt I would wear out on chilly nights in college with tights, and the sundry "dressy" skirts I would wear to my sorority chapter meetings. There were a lot of good memories in that closet, and, hopefully, the clothes that I donated will go on to a new owner (someone that can actually fit into them) and be a part of their memories. I feel a bit anthropomorphic, thinking of my clothes this way, but hey, I am the girl who cried about packing away stuffed animals because I thought they would miss me (damn you Veleveteen Rabbit book!)

I am finding that the more of the clutter that we pack away, the clearer my mind becomes. I have loved visiting the past by sorting through old clothes and sundry items stashed in the closet, but I have also felt comfortable leaving them behind and moving on to better things. I feel good about moving forward, and I am happy to be getting closer to a new life...one closet at a time. I hope you all are well...Happy Friday the 13th!

Why I Do This

Lately, for me, all you have been hearing is bitch, bitch, bitch about how this or that sucks big hairy balls (can't wait to get the misguided google searches on that one). So why, you collectively ask me, either outright or in your minds, do you put up with all that you do? Why not quit and become a garbage collector or something? This list, my friends and frenemies, is why:

~ Bringing babies into the world is, quite simply, awe-inspiring. I love it. It is so special and intimate, that moment when a family is born (and re-born), and I feel privileged to be a part of it.

~ I love helping women. Women are way too busy taking care of every one else to worry about taking care of themselves. It is good to have 15-20 minutes to sit and listen to women, and make suggestions on how they can better care for their own needs.

~ I like to *fix* things. I am, at heart, a fixer. I want to change things for the better, and being an Ob/Gyn allows me to do this more often than not. I find this infinitely satisfying when I can make things better through surgery or medical treatment.

~ I enjoy the continuity of care that being an Ob/Gyn affords. I love being able to deliver multiple babies for the same patient, and then be able to take care of their Gyn needs once childbearing is over. I like the lasting relationships the field can foster.

~ I like to do Gyn surgery. General surgery, to me, was overwhelming, but Gyn surgery affords me the ability to do a variety of cases in a limited area of the anatomy. The perfectionist in me enjoys the focus on one organ system, but there is always good enough variety to keep it interesting.

~ Procedures are fun. Not just surgeries, but colposcopies, LEEPs, IUD insertions, polyp removals, and endometrial biopsies are all very enjoyable, and the results are often immediately evident. Highly satisfactory.

~ There is a limited amount of pharmacology. For me, it is pretty much antibiotics, hormone replacement or suppression, birth control, anti-inflammatory meds, the occasional hypertension or diabetes med, and some anti-depressants. I loathe polypharmacy, so I enjoy the clean and simple pharmaceutical profiles that Ob/Gyn provides.

~ The patients. That's right, for all that they do to drive me crazy, it's the patients that keep me coming back for more. Be it the infertile woman that I helped to conceive, or the anemic, miserable woman whose ills were cured by a simple procedure or surgery, or even the chronic pain patient who got the correct diagnosis, treatment, and subsequent improved quality of life. I do this for the patients, plain and simple.

~ At the end of an exhausting day, I feel that I am making a difference and an impact for good in people's lives. That fact makes the unbearable actually bearable.

So, look, I love my job. I love it. For all of my whining, I wouldn't do anything else. I hope this answers the questions out there. Thank you for listening.

**cross posted at Mothers In Medicine

"Blah"ging

Wow, I just went fifteen days without even thinking about blogging! Maybe that is because I have delivered 12 babies in the last 2 weeks, including my second set of twins for the month. I am very happy to have attended 2 twin births this month, both vaginal deliveries, one without an epidural (go mom, woo!). February has been filled with post-dates patients and big babies (though none coming close to my recent 11 pounder!) It has also been filled with more C-sections than I would like to have, but I guess my good run of vaginal deliveries had to end somewhere.

The word is out that I am leaving the hospital. The feedback that I have gotten overall has been really positive. By that I mean, people seem sad to be seeing me go, but they aren't being jerky about it. Most people are very understanding of my family and call situation, as well as the reason why I am leaving. It's nice to know that I will be missed by the staff and the patients, for I will surely miss (most of) them. We have been showing the house sporadically. Let me tell you, getting the house "show ready" with two messy kids and (let's face it) two fairly messy adults is a serious challenge. After every showing I get this huge surge of hope that we will finally sell the house. And then? Nothing. I know it is a bum market right now, but the thought of carrying this house payment with us after we leave is daunting. So much hinges on whether or not we sell the house. Will we buy or rent in NewCity? Are we looking for temporary or more permanent? CindyLou will be starting Kindergarten (!!!) in the fall, so we are trying to find the area in which we want to settle in the "right" school district. So much uncertainty is fairly uncomfortable.

The licensing process is dragging on and on, but I think I have it all pulled together. Now I just have to get it all submitted. I don't know how anyone could fake being a physician and get a medical license. I can barely get all the bases covered, and I am totally legit! I just can't believe how much I am being nickeled and dimed to death on all of the various and sundry fees. I've decided that New State will be our final destination for the duration of my medical practice. I cannot fathom going through the licensure process yet again.

Mr. Whoo, CindyLou, and the Bean are all doing great. The Bean is 18 months old. (Can you believe it?) He is such a little sweetheart. His language has really taken off since he got his tubes put in last summer. He loves books, and will sit in your lap, snuggle, and read books for hours! He idolizes his big sister, and while he cannot say her name yet, he calls her "sissy" in the most adorable way. CindyLou is a stellar big sister, and, at times, is very much a little mommy to the Bean. She is so smart and curious. She drives crazy with her constant jabber sometimes, but I suppose this comes naturally. Both Mr. Whoo and I often got the admonishment of "Talks too much!" on our progress reports and report cards! Mr. Whoo continues to be the best husband on earth. I don't know where our family would be without him. I feel so lucky to have such a wonderful partner.

As for me? I'm getting through one day at a time. I am still 2 steps forward and 2 steps back (Paula Abdul reference completely unintended, sorry!) with respect to weight loss. I still find myself turning to food for comfort at the end of a long, hard day. I keep seeing everyone with whom I went to high school and college (via facebook, mostly) all looking so fit and well rested, I veritably seethe with envy at times. I look ten years older than I actually am, not to mention 50 lbs heavier than I should be. I know better times are on the horizon; I just need to quit making excuses. Any way, I just wanted to check in and let you know that I am still alive and kicking! Now I just have to figure out 2 snazzy posts for MIM before next Friday. Hmmm....

Is Mercury in Retrograde or Something?

Hello all, what a crappy week it has been. Is anyone else having "issues" this week? My week actually started out on a pretty good note. One of my patients, pregnant with twins, began to develop preeclampsia. We made the decision to augment labor (she was already contracting and 3 cm), and late in the evening I got to do my first vaginal twin delivery since residency. I was nervous because I am used to doing twin deliveries in the OR as a "double set up," just in case there is a need to emergently deliver the second twin by C-section. In Whoo Hospital, there are no ORs on the L&D floor, so the deliveries are done in the room, and, should an emergency arise, you have to go down several stories to the OR. In a situation where minutes and seconds are precious, this is a daunting thing, especially as the night wore on and I realized that she would deliver in the dead middle of the night (aka skeleton crew time). Luckily, it was the smoothest twin delivery I'd had or seen in a long time. The first baby had no complications on delivery, the second baby stayed vertex, we broke the second bag of water, and baby number two was born about 5 contractions and 2 pushes later. Both babies and mom did wonderfully well. It was truly an amazing experience, and I was happy to be a part of that.

After that, though, it all went downhill fast. Of course, due to the middle of the night delivery, I got very little sleep. Therefore I overslept, and was later than I wanted to be getting to the hospital. Waiting for me there was a consult for the ever dreaded "pelvic pain." Before I get roasted about pelvic pain, let me emphasize that yes, it exists. Yes, there are gynecologic causes. Yes, it is not always supratentorial (all in the patient's head). But this patient definitely had supratentorial pelvic pain. She was already on a cocktail of narcotics and benzodiazepenes, and she spoke of severe excruciating pain in the calmest of voices, her pulse at 60, blood pressure at 90/60. Her exam was completely normal, as were her labs and imaging studies. She blithely asked me to "go ahead and do a hysterectomy while she was "here" (IE admitted to the hospital for pneumonia)." I blithely declined, set a follow up appointment in the office, offered medical suppression for her cycles (got denied), and asked her to sign a medical record release to obtain information from her prior ("out of state") physician.

Already in a *fantastic* mood by this point, I proceeded to the office. Where my right hand woman, SuperNurse, had slipped on the ice in the parking lot and (unknown at the time)broken her leg. For a while she tried to walk on it, but we all finally convinced her to go get xrays. So then, I was stuck with NotSoSuper medical assistant, who may well be the laziest person on the face of the earth. Any one who has worked in an office knows that the nurse who assists you can make or break the flow of your day. This day was definitely broken. The afternoon dragged on with the most draining kinds of patients around including such hits as "every organ system bothers me, can't you just wave a wand and fix it?" and, after a "routine" annual, a 20 minute nervous breakdown over the (unfounded) perception that her female anatomy was somehow horribly disfigured, and she wanted vaginal reconstructive surgery, not one but two Op.rah inspired "natural hormones" consults, and, last, but certainly not least, a patient with known cancer, sent to me by her radiation oncologist for a "skin tag" removal, that I am almost 100% certain is a vulvar carcinoma. Good times, good times.

Then, after a long, hard day already at 5pm, I log on to the internet to learn that one of my friends that I knew from middle school, high school, and college had taken their own life, and leaves behind a small child. I was shocked, then dismayed, and am still very sad over the whole thing. Just terrible news. Mr. Whoo had his community service club meeting, so I kid wrangled alone for bedtime and bath time. Exhausting. To top all of the rest of the day off, after being unnecessarily snarky when I had meant to be funny, I had a misunderstanding with one of my friends, feelings were hurt (I believe on both sides), and now I am getting the technologic freeze out which isn't very pleasant, either.

I am still struggling with the license application for obtaining my medical license in New State. So far I am out almost $1000 in various fees and I haven't even submitted the application proper (which will be $5000 +). We haven't sold our house yet, we haven't begun packing, I'm still over weight and not losing, despite my best efforts, and for extra fun, I have decided to cut all alcohol consumption for the month of February. Oh yes, and I am on call this week and all weekend long. So yeah, my week has pretty much sucked! How about you all? Am I the only one?

So, Anyway

Where were we? Oh yes, my gigantor baby story. VM has been my patient since I started practicing here in Whooville. I delivered her first baby shortly before the Bean, so imagine my surprise (and hers) when she came to me last spring, pregnant with her second child. VM had gestational diabetes with her last pregnancy, but it was very well controlled with diet. This pregnancy was a different story. We tested early, and began the diabetic diet and teaching very quickly, but her sugars waged out of control for a good 2 weeks. There were some ups and downs with her insulin control, but we finally struck a good balance. She remained well controlled for the remainder of the pregnancy...on paper, any way. Long about 36 weeks, VM's fundal height began to measure larger than her dates by more than 2 cm. (2 cm above gestational age or 2 cm below are considered in the "normal range.") The ultrasound revealed a fetal weight extending into the 90th percentile.

Due to her early gestational age, we decided to observe the fetal growth and aim for induction of labor at 39 weeks (the week after Christmas). All progressed merrily, with an ultrasound at 38 weeks predicting an estimated fetal weight of 10 pounds 7 ounces. "Ha ha!" we laughed. How *funny* that would be if it were *true*? In the back of my mind visions of shoulder dystocias danced in my head, but I kept repeating the mantra that "Macrosomia is not an indication for induction." over and over until the voices were quashed. VM presented for induction of labor for insulin dependent gestational diabetes at 39 weeks and 2 days. She received ce.rvi.dil overnight, and pit.ocin was initiated in the morning. Her previous pregnancy had been a spontaneous labor at 38 weeks, and had lasted a little over 4 hours. By 10 AM, VM was comfortable, with a good epidural, and she was *frustrated* that the baby had not been born already! I reassured her that induced labors were different, and that this baby was probably just a wee bit bigger than her last (8 pound 3 oz) baby. Right about noon, she began to feel the telltale "pressure." Sure enough, she was complete and at +1 station. She had no discomfort at all, and not much urge to push, so we turned back the epidural and let her "labor down." Nearly 30 minutes later, VM was ready to push. I remember that she was laughing, because she couldn't feel what she was doing. What she was doing was pushing like a champ. She laughed/pushed for about 4 contractions.

Then, the head completely crowned....and I just about died. It was a very, very, large head. The delivery was very well controlled, but the head just kept coming and coming and coming. I made eye contact with the nurse, and, mirrored in her eyes, I saw my own concern. She maneuvered the patient into McRobert's and prepared for suprapubic pressure. We wouldn't need it. The anterior shoulder slid under the pubic bone with only the slightest pressure. I think I actually breathed again once I felt that shoulder deliver. I lifted the small toddler, erm, baby into the waiting arms of her mother, and she cried and the baby cried with her. There was a very small second degree laceration that was easily repaired. The head circumference as 16", and the weight was 10 pounds 15.7 ounces. VM asked if she could "get credit" for having an 11 pound baby. "Without a doubt!" I said. So that is my eleven pound baby story; the largest baby I have delivered vaginally. (The largest by C-section was 13 pounds, ack!)

SO, what is the moral of this story? Well, I think there are a few things. For one, sometimes, despite all of the talk of ultrasounds being incredibly inaccurate in the third trimester, your baby *is* as big as the ultrasound says it is. But second! Even if your baby is ginormous, and you have to undergo a god-forsaken medical induction, you can still have a smooth, successful delivery. And third, as a physician, it reinforces to me that it is always best to prepare for the absolute worst, while trusting the process, and hoping for the best.

Thank you all...

...for your support. You guys make me want to cry! Don't worry, I'm not going to stop blogging, nor will I change the way that I blog. I value this space, and I certainly value all of you, whether you agree with me or not! So, thanks again for all of the kind words. I was beginning to feel a little persecuted! Coming up...Dr. Whoo gets her first day off in 18 days, relocation woes, and an 11 pound baby (!). Thanks for reading!

Commentary

There were a couple of comments from sarai on my last post that were rather lengthy, so rather than leave them in the comment section, I am posting them both here, in their entirety, along with my response. Italics are sarai's words, and the regular text words are mine

It can be very hard for the patient however, after having the doctor be wrong numerous times over the years with drastic consequences to your life. I don't watch Oprah, and the articles you mentioned irritate me, but yes, I do look for reputable internet sites, and before the internet was available, I researched.

sarai, I realize that your postings are coming from a place where you have been burned by the medical profession, but I certainly do not believe that physicians are anything more than fallible human beings who will make mistakes. That was not the point of the post.

That doesn't mean that I approach the doctor like I know more, and like I expect them to act as my puppet. But if I go to an OB appointment and say my baby isn't moving as much, and I am concerned about placental insufficiency, for example, I DONT want to hear "you're baby is moving just as much, it just doesn't feel the same because he has less room". Excuse me, doctor, YOU are not the one that's actually pregnant here, DON'T tell me how much my baby is or is not moving. YOU are not the one that will have to live with a dead child if there is a stillbirth (which the medical world is completely unable to understand how to prevent) I and MY HUSBAND ARE.

I think you are misunderstanding me. I *do* appreciate an informed patient. As I stated before, I practice collaborative medicine, not paternalistic care. I take my appointment time with patient to educate them and talk about treatment options. I even have a list of reputable internet sites on which to research information. That is completely different than someone coming in (or better yet, just calling the nurse line) and telling me that they have already diagnosed themselves, and now would like me to prescribe this medicine or order this test for them.

Again, I know that you've been hurt, but I am not the doctor that didn't listen well enough to you when you knew something was wrong, so please don't cyber yell at me. Just because I may vent my spleen on anonymous blog about things that irritate me about patients does not mean that I quickly dismiss them or am rude to them, quite the opposite actually. I take my patient's complaints seriously and act quickly on alarming symptoms. The dismissive attitude you are attributing to me does not apply in real life. You only see the seedy underbelly of my brain here.

You doctors don't always know how many times in person's life a previous doctor missed something important and the patient paid a heavy price. The doctor may have done nothing wrong, they may have met the standard of care, but to the person living with the consequences, it just doesn't matter, and they will do anything they can (watch Oprah, read really stupid Reader's Digest, surf the net) to try to make sure they get more observant care next time around.

Yes, as I said, "we doctors" are not omniscient. I did already know the patient about whom I posted, and have been doing her GYN care for 3 years now ( and each time I did her pap, her small speculum was warmed and lubed). She is not new to me or my practice. My care of her has been as observant as can be. Doctors are human, we do our best, and sometimes, despite our best efforts, it just isn't good enough. It sucks, and we try hard so it won't happen, and it bothers us perhaps more than you will ever know.

As a nurse, I've seen term babies stillborn, (decreased fetal movement, doctor ignored, or minimized), diarrhea was actually Ecoli, which turned into HUS, by the time treated (after being sent home 3 times) kid had stroke and ended up needing kidney transplant, a "viral upper resp infection" was actually a bacterial pneumonia, doc wouldnt believe patient couldn't breathe well 'cause sat was OK, vomiting and increasingly decreased LOC was actually juvenile onset diabetes (also sent home a few time before ER doc figured it out -- kid almost died.) This may be why some people are reading articles and trying to advocated more vigorously for their own care. I know I am. Even as I feel sincere empathy for you as I see the look on your face when you see my internet sheets........

See above, and there are even term stillborn babies where there were *no* warning signs. No decreased movement, no pain, no bleeding, sometimes babies just die. We do everything we can to prevent it, but despite our best efforts, babies still die. Yes, there are physicians that dismiss patient concerns, or miss pertinent signs, but we are not all the same person. Advocating for your own care (what you are talking about) and telling the doctor what to do and how to do it (what my post was about) are two different things entirely.

And here's something that just kind of bothers me about your blog, which, BTW, I otherwise enjoy reading.........it's judgement both from you and commenters, about women's birth choices.

Well, I can't speak for my commenters, but part of my job is to regard "women's birth choices" with my own clinical judgement. That's my job. If women come to me for care, they are, in fact, asking me to use my clinical judgement in their care.

If I'm reading your blog right (and correct me if I'm not), the "ideal" expectant mother in your practice wants to go into labor naturally, not mind being past due date, and not object if you feel at the last minute she needs a crash c-section. Moms who want to be induced (God forbid a week or two early) prefer a c-section straight off, or "insist" on a "happy vaginal midwife birth" even if things don't go according to plan are subjected to the eye roll.... Kind of a tall order, Dr. Whoo.....

I don't know if there is a "right" way to read my blog, so who am I to say who is "reading it right" or "reading it wrong?" I do think that you may perceive my words in a more malicious way than they are intended, and this is probably only highlighted by your bad experiences. I vent on this blog when things get tough to take, a safety valve, if you will, so that I do not blow up in the presence of an actual patient. There is no actual eye rolling going on in the presence of my patients. No matter their circumstances, personality quirks, or clinical needs, they are treated fairly and equally.

Loosely speaking, my "ideal" patient (as you put it) doesn't exist. My guidelines for delivery, elective or otherwise, are dictated both by the standard of obstetrical care, my clinical judgement, and the individual aspects of each patient. What I expect of my patient is a relationship of mutual respect and trust. Those are things that must be earned...by both parties. There is no "laying down the law." There is a give and take that is natural in these kinds of professional relationships, and quite honestly it doesn't merit many blogging entries because it is so routine. I don't think that you understand, you only see so much of me here.

One thing I did NOT NOT want with my first child was a crash c section. Either a vaginal birth, or a planned section, didn't care which. Of course, doc wouldn't do a c-section just because I wanted one, so we had a crash vag delivery with vacuum, (baby crashed too late to get c-section) where I got to experience watching my firstborn be revived, separated for her for hours after birth while she stabilized, and was so sore and torn up that I didn't want to have sex for months and months, and still deal with stress incontinence since that delivery well over a decade ago.....but because I didn't go to med school I didn't get to decide what would be better for me. I would like to argue, both as a nurse and as a mom which was physically better for me -- ugly vag birth or planned c-section. Yep, I'd choose c-section. Sorry.

I'm sorry that you had such a traumatic experience, and that it still haunts you. There is no way to predict when something like that is going to happen. Crash deliveries of any kind are heart stopping, but it *is* the physician's decision, in that moment, what will lead to the best outcome for mother *and* baby. If there is a terminal deceleration, and the baby is on the perineum, it is much more likely you will get a better fetal (and maternal) outcome with an assisted vaginal delivery.

I'm sorry that your bottom got torn up, and you had to undergo the trauma of seeing your daughter (successfully?) resuscitated. But, if I'm reading correctly, your baby survived. If your physician did what you wanted them to do, what you *perceived* to be "physically" better for you, and did a c-section, your baby's brain could have been deprived of several additional minutes of oxygen, with possible disastrous consequences. Whose fault would it be then? Yours? No, it wouldn't, it would be the physician's fault, who let the clouded judgement of an overly involved party (read, you) make the call. Instead of a torn up bottom, you could have hemorrhaged and required an emergent hysterectomy, precluding any future deliveries. Would you take the responsibility of zero future fertility, just because you *wanted* a surgery? Or is that the physician's responsibility? So yes, when you put your medical care into the hands of your physician...in that critical moment...you may not get to make that final call on what you *think* may be best for you. That is what a physician is there to do.

The recovery from next delivery was even worse, crash section, nobody's fault, but if I had it to do over again, possibility of crash section or planned section, well, I'd choose planned every single time. The crash carries psychological scars --- many of them. If you are lucky, you get to go to sleep and miss your baby being born. If you are unlucky, you have to stay awake, with no one talking to you, while your baby gets CPR. and your husband is God knows where. Physically, its a lot harder, too, and wound healing is not nearly as good than it is when the surgeon has time to take his time.

Agreed, but the point is the same, you cannot always predict these things. You said yourself, nobody's fault. Precisely. Planned surgeries are often more controlled than emergent surgeries...but not always. There are exceptions to every single "rule." Again, I sympathize that you have had such traumatic experiences, but the neither medical profession at large (in general) nor I (in particular) are to blame for this. I didn't have the perfect, ideal, rainbows and orgasms births that I would have loved to have, either, but I was fortunate and had 2 viable, healthy babies. I wouldn't trade that for any "experience."

The reason that patients want to run the show is because THEY have to live with the outcome!!!!!!! Tell yourself over and over and over again, its not about me, its not about me, its not about me!!!! especially in your profession where the stakes are so so high.......

But in order to be safe, objective, and effective the patients cannot feasibly run the show! They can (and should) be involved in the decision making process and development of a treatment plan, and they can consent or not consent, but they *cannot* "run the show." That is what a physician is supposed to do. Run the health care show.

This blog *is* about me! How I feel about the things that I do and that I see. Here, in this little corner of the internet, it *is* all about me. That doesn't mean that I disregard what my patients want. It also doesn't mean that I haven't had to make a decision that a patient was not capable of making on their own.

Maybe they really want to be induced when they know YOU, whom I'm sure they all really like, will be there. Maybe they are tired. Maybe afraid of late 3rd trimester stillbirth. Maybe they are struggling financially and need tax break. Maybe already not able to work anymore and trying to maximize maternity leave. Wanting to be induced at 38 1/2 weeks is not a sin.

Perhaps it isn't a "sin," per se, but it isn't valid medically. There is a lot of research to read about elective inductions, especially prior to 39 weeks. Often the outcomes are less than stellar, both maternal and fetal. Wanting your own physician, or "being tired," or "being afraid," or "needing a *tax* break (!)" are not viable indications for medical procedures that can have lasting impact on fetal and maternal health and well being. Elective induction of labor is associated with higher rates of cesarean deliveries, fetal distress (and dreaded "crash deliveries"), and fetal hospitalization for various immaturity issues.

Take a page from your midwives book. Listen to your patient. Ask questions. Try to figure out what the patient is afraid of. What she values. Try "why is this so important to you?" instead thinking "I can't believe she wants to have her baby by Christmas!" Find out what other experiences she has had with other health care providers. Maybe the last doc that did a pelvic jammed a large cold speculum where the sun does not shine, and she thinks you respect Oprah more than her. And remember, if she wanted a midwife, she'd probably be seeing one, so try to tactfully ask what she wants from your expertise, if you feel like she is treating you like her puppet.

Not to beat a dead horse, because I'm already feeling nuts for defending myself for talking about the way I feel on my own freaking blog, but how do you know that I *don't* listen? You don't know. You don't know me. You don't know how I treat my patients. The last doc that patient had for a pelvic exam was *me*, and I did not jam a cold, extra large speculum into her.

I've found that being a patient and having really horrible medical experiences makes me a lot less offended by my patients. Because if a patient asks me "will the doctor use a small, warmed speculum like it says to in Oprah's magizine?" my first thought is not to roll my eyes, it is to ask, "what has your past experiences with pelvic exams been like...."

Unfortunately, having really horrible medical experiences makes you a lot *more* offended by the things that I say, anonymously, on this blog, and causes you to extrapolate and frame my commentary in a less than favorable light. I hope my response has given you some insight. And truly, for all the snarking on the blog, I never forget that my patients are just people, just like me, with a different frame of reference. Even if it doesn't translate in text, I'm certain it translates well in person. I wish you healing as you attempt to move forward from your painful past experiences.

Really?

It's a new year, it's raining outside, I'm cranky from dieting, and OtherDoc has been out of town for a week. Do I need to provide anymore preface than that? That's right, time to vent!

It's weeks like this that I truly wonder why any sane person would ever consider being in the medical field. Money? Small potatoes compared to other professions. Autonomy? Hardly. Respect? A resounding "Ha! I don't freaking think so!!" I don't know about anyone else, but I am getting sick of hearing about what Op.rah thinks about my profession. This week a patient advised me (and I quote), "Well, Op.rah said to be sure you use the very smallest, um, sepulchre things, and warm it up, too!" Um, did you *really* just say that to me? Really?? Gee, I would have never thought of that without Op.rah's help. Thank you so much for enlightening me, O great one, in how to better practice medicine for my patients. News flash, I know, but I *already* use small *speculums* and I always warm them, too thankyouverymuch. I am already cringing about next week when all the people that watched her s.ex show on Friday call in for urgent, stat libido check appointments. Thanks a heap, O.

It's not just her jumping on the bash physicians bandwagon, though. I see magazine articles and news stories every day instructing people how to "Find out if you have a *good* doctor," or "Things your doctor isn't telling you," or "Medical horror stories, part 374." It makes me physically ill. Like we don't have enough on our proverbial plates, now we have to dispel the media panic surrounding our profession, as well. Why is it that you never see articles about "Accountants gone bad!" or "What your plumber isn't telling you (but should)"? It certainly doesn't help me out when patients come in with printed sheaves of website information instructing me on how to treat their perceived ailment, before I have a chance to take a history, do an exam, or any baseline lab work. It seems that physicians are being reduced to being the "gatekeeper" of health care, instead of the director. "Just shut up and give me what ever test, drug, diagnosis, etc. that I want." What is worse is that we get this from both patients and insurance companies, further restricting our ability to practice our profession the way we are meant to practice. Don't get me wrong, I'm certainly not of the mindset that physicians are omniscient. I practice collaborative medicine, not paternalistic care, but I see the shift even away from collaboration to patient demanded care, and it just isn't right.

This attitude is reflected in the patients each time they call to demand a Di.flucan prescription without coming in for an appointment, over the phone, even if they haven't been seen in the office for 2 years. Or women who delight in paging the physician at 2 in the morning to ask for the list of cold medicines to take in pregnancy because they "lost" the sheet given them in the office, because that's my *job*, you know? It is also rampant in the lay and medical blogospheres. The fear and mistrust of the medical profession is almost painful to read. Sometimes I have to sit on my hands to keep from commenting, lest I perpetuate the "doctors are assholes" perception. Especially in the birthing blogs, where the common thought is that Ob/Gyns are out to fillet every pregnant woman that comes through the door, just because they are evil, scum sucking doctors and not loving, caring midwives. Practicing medicine isn't what it used to be, and I find myself disheartened at the direction our role in medical care is taking. I see my colleagues (and myself) yearning for a job where we can turn off our brains after plugging in our allotted hours of time, instead of taking our work home with us and worrying about people who only see us as drug dispensing/test ordering automatons.

I still have the flashes of what medicine is supposed to be. I'll have a really great pregnancy/delivery with a patient, or I'll do a surgery that improves some one's quality of life, or I'll make a diagnosis that has the potential to alleviate suffering or even save some one's life. It is those few moments that keep me moving forward, doing what I've spent 12 years of my life training to do. Medicine used to be about helping people, but if the changes I see now continue on, medicine will soon be just another "punching the clock" kind of job. If that happens, my friends, then we all lose. Every single one of us.

Holiday Haze

It's almost Christmas, a season that can turn the most placid of households upside down; so it follows that the chaos that exists on a daily basis in our house is multiplied three-fold during this time of the year. Shopping, cards, wrapping (or not wrapping as is our case), prepping the house, and controlling the building Christmas fervor from young CindyLou and keeping the Bean from upending the tree makes day to day life that much more, um, full. Ha.

Labor and Delivery is not immune to Christmas Chaos, either. Every induction slot is filled with patients hoping to check "have a baby" off of their pre-Christmas to-do list, much like the shopping for and wrapping of gifts. To be honest, I'm not really certain how I feel about that. Let's face it, no one, doctor or patient, wants to be in the hospital on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. Doctors hope to spend those rare days away from the office with the people that they love, not in the nurse's station on L&D. Pregnant women with children want to be certain to secure the holiday for their children that have already been born. There are enormous familial pressures for these women to have their babies "home for Christmas." It makes for a lot of soft, elective induction calls, and sometimes, when a patient truly needs to have a baby for medical reasons, it throws everyone's nice, neat plans into a tailspin. I've seen a few of these holiday plans get ruined by a true medical emergency, and while it is unfortunate, sometimes I wonder if it doesn't serve us right for trying to control as much about labor as we do.

Personally, I have 2 patients due right around Christmas Day, one of whom has a potentially macrosomic baby, and, since they are both healthy and doing well in all other aspects of their pregnancies, we are not scheduling them for induction this week. I hope they will go into labor without medical assistance. It makes it difficult to make definitive holiday plans, given the unpredictability of my profession. OtherDoc and I try to split up Christmas Eve/Day, and New Year's Eve/Day, in order to get some of that time off with our families. I approached him about doing that this week, and he has not decided which days he wants to take call. I already worked the long Thanksgiving holiday, and I hope he takes that into consideration. I am almost giddy that I won't have to deal with this BS next year, and if I do work Christmas, I certainly won't be working Thanksgiving or New Year's. I. Can't. Wait.

So, I will end this rambling, no point post here. What ever your holiday plans may be, I wish you and yours a peaceful season. I enjoy sharing glimpses of life with you, and hope that you will continue to read here in 2009. Merry Christmas from all the Whoos down in Whoo-ville! :)

Done, done, on to the next one...

Oh, my poor little neglected blog, how I have missed you. I am finally done with the oral boards...at least for this year. All I can think about is of what I should have said that I didn't (and what I did say that I shouldn't!) The exam was over quickly, mercifully, but the more I think, the more morose I become. No matter now, if I fail or if I pass, I shall not speak of it again on the blog. Suffice it to say that I am done and trying to get over it, and now must focus my attention to the holiday that is a mere 14 days (FOURTEEN DAYS!!!) away. I have cards, cookies, and call on tap for the weekend, along with a Christmas and a birthday party. Oh, and online shopping, the working woman's savior.

Our house is properly Christmas-ed, thanks to Mr. Whoo. We have made the the obligatory mall Santa visit, complete with non-screaming children in the picture, a coup! CindyLou is *beside* herself with excitement. It is so wonderful. To see her joy and wonder about Santa and the season does my poor, 3-sizes-too-small, grinchy heart so much good. Bean is fascinated by the tree and the lights, and while he doesn't quite "get" it all, he is loving the experience. Of course, my favorite moment of the season thus far comes from Mr. Whoo, explaining our nativity to CindyLou.

Mr. Whoo: "...and this is Mary."
CindyLou: "Oh! Like 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'?"
Mr. Whoo: "No, more like Mary had a little Jesus."

It was priceless...maybe you had to be there. Anyway, I'm back, and, if the pregnant ladies cooperate (ha), I will try to get back to more reliable posting. Promises, promises. :)

Don't You Forget About Me

Although, I wouldn't blame you if you did. I know it has been over a month. I have a lot of great excuses that you probably don't want to hear right now. The long and the short of it is that I've been studying for oral boards, a lot, and working, a lot. When I'm not doing either of those things, I am lying upon my couch like a slug, it is my only defense (name that classic movie). In the meantime, I will post a link to my most recent post at Mothers in Medicine, and promise to be more present in the blogosphere in the coming weeks. Hope everyone is having a wonderful fall weekend!

In the Middle of the Night

It's time for my husband's annual "man weekend" with his high school buddies. For almost a decade, he and his friends find a cabin in the woods somewhere and behave (I am assuming from the pictures) as 10 year olds...that drink. Junk food, video games, and staying up way too late are part and parcel of the festivities. They look forward to it every year, and I'm happy to have him go. (The wives have a "girl weekend" in the spring, just to be fair.) So when I found out that he would be out of town for a weeknight (when I am on call for my patients), I thought to my naive little self, what's the worst that could happen? Ha. Ha. HA!

So I went about my regular single parenting duties in the evening relatively unscathed. Picked up the kids, got dinner on the table while Bean protested loudly that it wasn't fast enough for him, wrestled two squirmy kids through bathtime, and got everyone tucked in by a reasonable time. Then I prayed really hard that I could make it through the next 12 hours without having to leave the house. The peace lasted roughly 3 hours. The first warning bell came as a page from triage. A 38 weeker, possible early labor, contractions 20 minutes apart. The triage nurse said she was pretty sure the patient was "not doing anything" but we decided to observe her and let her walk for an hour. My second warning came at 1 am. The patient had indeed changed her cervix from 1 to 3 cm. A definite keeper. "Ok," I pleaded with the nurse, "PLEASE keep her comfy and pregnant for the next 5 hours so I don't have to pack my kids up in the middle of the night to come to the hospital." The nurse was fairly confident that the patient was not contracting regularly, and could probably coast until morning. I settled into an uneasy rest...until 2:30 am. I returned the page, thinking that I was going to have to drag in to cover for the patient's epidural. Imagine my surprise and dismay when the nurse answered the phone with "She's 9!"

Shit. Shit. Shit. It was off to the races...throwing on scrubs, rousting the kids up in their PJs, and flying down the highway in the middle of the night. "At least it will be fast," I chanted to myself as I sped to the hospital. I deposited the kids with one of the nurses and stepped into the delivery room just before 3 am. The patient was completely dilated and ready to push. She hadn't even had a chance to get *any* pain medicine, epidural or otherwise, due to how quickly she had progressed. So, the patient started to push, and *then* all hell broke loose. The first push sent the fetal heart tones down to the 30s. Ummm, surely that wasn't right! I placed a scalp lead to get an accurate tracing...still in the 40s-50s. Scalp stim...up to the 60s. Oxygen, reposition, knee chest. Nothing would bring the rate back up. The baby was at zero station. Too far up for vacuum or forceps. We tried a few pushes, but the head wasn't descending fast enough and the heart beat was a slow tick, tick, tick of a baby running out of time. After a quick verbal consent, we called the OR to let them know we were coming down for a crash section. "We aren't ready!" they said. They had another case going and needed to call in a team. "No time for that," I said, "This baby needs to come out now."

We ran the patient to the OR. The staff assembled a rag-tag team of recovery room nurses, opened the crash section cart, and haphazardly prepped. There was no time for a foley or to count instruments. Every second felt like an hour, though only 5 minutes had passed from calling the section to draping the patient. The patient went to sleep, and we got the baby out in less than a minute from the skin incision. She looked like a *million bucks*! She squalled as soon as she left the womb. She was pink! and happy! and had Apgars of 8 and 9! and didn't look at all like her strip suggested. I had truly feared the worst, the last terminal decel that I had seen like that, the baby had anoxic seizures after delivery. Luckily, this baby was great. The collective sigh of relief was audible in the room as I placed her on the warmer. The rest of the surgery proceeded smoothly, and I was happy to let the family know how well she had done.

As for the kids? I ran back up to labor and delivery to find them happily snacking on graham crackers and juice. CindyLou was entertaining the whole floor, and she kept saying how she wanted to be a doctor "just like mommy." (Oy.) We got them gathered together, I thanked the nurses profusely, and drove back home. "I like to go to your work, Mommy" Cindy Lou chirped, "It's still *night time*!" Once at home, the kids went back to bed without a fuss, and I crashed into the best 2 hours of sleep of my life.

The moral of the story? I survived! It could have been the worst case scenario, but we all made it. The kids did fine, the patient did fine, the baby did fine. It could have been a disaster, but it wasn't. I am ever so grateful for that, and never have I been so convinced that I *never* want that to happen again! Scary things do happen in the middle of the night, and sometimes the outcomes are not as good. I'm thankful for the nurses and OR staff that did what they could to make the surgery happen quickly enough. I'm grateful for the compassion the nurses showed to me and my children by caring for them when I had to care for someone else. Most of all, I am so thankful that my kids were able to take it all in stride and go with the flow. They are pretty amazing. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend, and are not bothered by scary things in the middle of the night.

Running on Ice

Where does the time go
Spinning my wheels
Standing still
It's like running on ice
I only gain a little distance when I fall

How did I become a molecule
In the concrete of this city
Indifferent to my endless motion
In a space too small to see
Nonetheless expected to be
I only get a little attention when I fall

Chorus:
And I'm falling
Falling down
Falling
Falling down

Cursed with reason
In a world so defiant
Without conclusion
This is the story
The story we live out
And it is the moral too
Look at me I'm falling for you

Shaking, crying
Hating lying to myself
I'm tired of telling myself it's OK
To be this tired
This sick and tired of the turns the world takes
And the people that it makes us be

And lately it appears to me that I'm falling down... --"Falling Down" Vertical Horizon

I searched the internet for a complete sound bite/you.tube of this song, because the lyrics, while fabulously apropos to my situation in life, are nothing without the frame of the song. Alas, this song is so old/obscure, it hasn't even an entry! Anyway, 'tis a great song, and it sums up very nicely how I've been feeling these last few weeks. A whole lot of running without a lot to show for it. We have received contracts, had them reviewed, and have all but signed one on the dotted line. Yes, I believe I have found a new job and the start of a whole new chapter in the life of the Whoo family. Hopefully for the better! We have also begun readying the house to put on the market, and begun research on daycares and houses in NewCity. I feel like I can't totally relax until the ink is dry on the paper, yet I am anxious to move forward. It is an unsettling place to be.

My grandfather passed away in the middle of all of it, and I think I am still coming to terms with the loss. Trying to explain death and dying to a four year old, while trying to keep yourself together is quite a task. CindyLou cut straight to the heart with several of her questions. (Why did he have to die? I liked it when he was alive. Are *you* old/sick? Why do people die?) We tried to be as direct as possible with her, but damn, that was hard. I'm also sad for my grandmother, who has lost her partner of nearly 60 years. It breaks my heart to see her try to pick up the pieces and move on. This loss has also solidified in my mind how important it is to seize this day/this moment, for we may not have a tomorrow.

As for day to day life, we seem to have found a nice groove lately. My schedule has been miraculously corrected (and it only took a couple of years of whining, begging, and groveling), leaving me a little more breathing room at the office. As a result, I've been getting out of the office on time, getting more home time with the kids, and am having, in general, more satisfaction in life. It's funny that everything started improving once I had made the final decision to move on...like an abusive relationship or something. It makes you a little wistful for "what could have been," but it doesn't change the malignancy lurking just beneath the surface. I know the best decision for our family is to move upward and onward from here, but we will have fond memories of this place.

Also, fall is here, my very favorite season, and along with it, college football! Yay for cooler weather, changing leaves, and sweaty men fighting over the pigskin! I'm also really enjoying my most recent crop of patients. I have several this month committed to laboring on their own, and not pestering me for induction starting at 36 weeks. Also in the coming month, I will (hopefully) get to deliver the 3rd baby of one of my favorite patients (I got to deliver 1 and 2!) I feel so privileged to play a part in helping their family grow. So, for now, I am happy. Moving forward in life, enjoying my family, and looking forward to better days ahead. Life is good.

Response

This is a response to the scathing comment below from a very "brave" (ha) anonymous poster, 9/3/08, 5:06 pm. Actually, I *am* quite fed up and burned out. It comes with the territory of being taken for granted and treated as less than human. Chances are, your physician(s) are too, whether you get to see it or not. I'm all about patient education, in the office, during normal work hours. Not at 2 am in the morning. Sorry, and I don't think you'll find another professional around who would be happy to "educate" their clients about trivial things in the middle of the night. (Just try calling your plumber to ask them which drain cleaner is best at 2 am, see how far you get.) Again, it's people like you, who seem to think that doctors should be superhuman, that are driving physicians out of the practice of medicine...in droves. Also, anon nasty poster (9/9)that I chose not to publish. I'm glad you aren't coming back, and it is *my* blog, so *of course* it is self centered! Geez. Apparently *some* people don't get the concept of venting!

Annoying Things

I think I've been more than a tad touchy these last few weeks, as I contemplate major upheaval in my career and family life, so maybe I am noticing things that bother me more often. Never the less, I am going to post annoying things that people say and do that really piss me off, since it wouldn't be *professional* to say it to their collective faces.

~ Any referring physician (ER, family medicine, pediatrician, all are offenders) that tells their patient with unexplained lower abdominal or pelvic discomfort and a normal exam and ultrasound that 1) "You must have had a cyst that ruptured." or 2) "You probably have endometriosis."

First of all, sometimes, you can just have pain in a certain area with no pathologic explanation. Some people have pain when they ovulate, or right before their period, or when they move the wrong way, or have sex 3 times a day, every day (yes, one patient referred to me for vaginal irritation and pain admitted to this...hmm, wonder why you are so sore???) Second of all, there are a whole bunch of different things that reside in the lower pelvis, including bowel and bladder, both of which can be causes for significant pain in their own right. Why every woman with low abdominal pain must have a "female issue" is totally beyond me.

It isn't that women with pelvic pain shouldn't be referred, they absolutely should be seen and worked up by a specialist. However, I have found that these two phrases mentioned above are physician code for "I have no idea what is causing your pain, but instead of saying that, I'll scare you into thinking you have ovarian cancer or a chronic disease." Because that, my friends, is what the patient hears, and is scared to death until they come see the GYN, so much the better for all involved.

~GYN consultation in the hospital "for pelvic exam." I kid you not. Apparently I have been doing it all wrong, doing my own cardiac exams and lung exams on my patients when I should have been consulting cardiology and pulmonology. How silly of me! What, the patient hasn't had a pap in 4 years, has a broken femur, can't move her hip, and is on her period? Why *don't* we "just do it while she is in the hospital?" Freaking fabulous idea. Thanks, alot.

~"Annual Exams" that really aren't annual exams. By that I mean, I made an appointment for a routine health screen, but what I really meant was that I just had my pap and breast exam at the health department last month, *however* I think my boyfriend is cheating on me, and I need tested for all STDs, and it has made me really depressed (I think it is my hormones), and by the way, I have no libido....can you please fix me in 15 minutes??

~Referrals for a "dropped bladder" (gotta love that technical term) on patients that weigh 350+. There isn't a surgical procedure in the world that can combat the overall gravitational forces working on those bladders. Never mind that most of these patients also have multiple medical problems, making surgery a veritable nightmare to begin with, and if you mention losing weight to help with their incontinence they wonder aloud why you "can't just fix it?" Oy.

~When men come into the exam room with their wives/girlfriends, etc., proceed to speak for them the entire visit, ask to "look in there" when you are doing the pelvic, and then finally, when you have your hand on the door, reveal that the "real" reason they came was because he thought there was something "wrong with her" because she doesn't want sex as much as (the guy) does. Gee, I just can't imagine why she isn't all over you, buddy. Nice.

~People who tell patients (pardon the poor grammar, but this is verbatim) "Just call your doctor if you have a question, that's what they are there for." (or the variation, "that's what you are paying them for."). Actually, your physician is "there" to provide health care and ensure that you (and, if pregnant, your baby) are well.

They are not "there" so you can page them at 1:40 in the morning (this is an actual call here) when you notice that your right breast is just slightly larger than your left, and you wanted to be certain that was "normal." Also, "you" are very often *not* paying your physician to answer after hours phone calls, and neither is your insurance company. They are answering your questions *for free* on their own, scarce, precious home and family time. (Oh, what, you think that answering ridiculous phone calls are just "part of the job?" Then why do lawyers get to bill by the hour, phone call, and email? Why is a physician's time and expertise any less important?)

So quit thinking that doctors are automatons with no lives, that never sleep, who "deserve" to work for free, and live only for the next breathtakingly inane page about your deep ruminations about your inner workings, You're wrong. And amazingly inconsiderate. If you aren't bleeding, losing appendages, or dying, save your calls for office hours, please.

~Finally, the most annoying thing of all...being on call for the whole. long. holiday weekend. There's nothing quite like having someone wish you a great "weekend off" when you know you'll be living at the hospital and fielding midnight phone calls while every other American in the free world is getting their drink on, living it up with parties, picnics, festivals, and sleeping in. Bitter, bitter, bitter am I.

Luckily for me, (and you, I imagine) a change will soon be coming. And not a moment too soon. Thanks for letting me get it off my chest...oh, and have a great Labor Day weekend. Heh. :)