Vacation Tidbits

As I unpack, do laundry, and scramble back to work, I leave you with a few quirky stories from our week at the beach:

On the first night, I got up in the middle of the night to use the restroom. I didn't have my contacts in or glasses on, so I groped my way through the dark bedroom to the bathroom. I saw something scuttle by the shower door. Through my blurry/sleepy vision, it looked like a two-inch long...bug...or something. OH MY GOODNESS, what if it's a roach and this place is infested? It was a very nice condo, but you never know! Oh NO, we have roaches! Big, prehistoric ROACHES!

I scrambled back to bed and shook Jack awake to go in there and investigate. He let out a man-shriek and yelled back that the "roach" was just a "lizard." PERFECT! I love sleeping with salamanders! It was a baby, just a tiny lizard, but STILL. I don't like creatures that aren't invited.

On the third night, still festering about my growing list of responsibilities at the hospital, I found myself unable to sleep. Earlier that day, I received a request from the Muppet system CMO, asking me to spearhead a systemwide grant proposal. Yikes! The system CMO kind of scares me and totally intimidates me, so I actually did lose sleep over it. Growing weary of my tossing and turning, Jack finally asked me what the problem was. I told him that I couldn't stop my brain from spinning. He told me to count sheep. I told him I was too busy counting meetings. Clever, eh?

Every morning after my beach walk, I sipped my morning coffee and nibbled my bagel on the huge porch that overlooks the bay (and sunrise). Every morning, the same sneaky gull (?) visited me and inched increasingly close to my bagel. I named him Lender and repeatedly chased him off with a pool noodle:

On the last full day, SkyBlue and I went parasailing. Oh, did I mention that my folks went on vacation with us? We had a great time, made phenomenal memories, and best of all, no one killed each other. One of Mom's greatest fears and wildest dreams was to go parasailing. Except that the weather didn't cooperate, delivering high winds most of the trip (thank you, Ida!). On Friday, the winds subsided enough to allow us a safe flight. After the bone-jarring boat ride out to the Gulf, the skipper informed us it was far too dangerous to fly over the Gulf. So we turned around and went out to the bay side of the island. Another 20 minutes of jaw-clenching, stomach-churning, gut-wrenching boating, we arrived at our destination. In 20 mph winds (and 4-6 foot seas), we grabbed onto the bar and were hoisted up by the sails. We soared higher...and higher...and higher until I really thought we were going to snap off the rope and sail on to The Great Beyond (it's next to Bed, Bath, and Beyond).

The Skipper left us up there, teetering on the bring of No Return, for a good 25 minutes. While this was a phenomenal bang for my buck, I couldn't help but imagine what I would look like if I barfed from that high up in the air. The wind would dramatically swing the parachute to the right, dropping as we swung to the left, a wonderful recipe not only for adventure, but for an upset stomach! Graciously, he coiled in the rope and we landed without incident. Wrapping myself in a towel, he told us that we went nearly 800 feet up. 800 FEET! WAS HE CRAZY! No wonder this was our view:

More vacation stories to come when I finish digging myself out of the inevitable, inescapable pit of work to be completed for work tomorrow.

Winging It

Last week during Leadership Forum (our monthly leadership meeting where we detail events, criticisms, and success stories to all supervisory staff in the hospital), I got put on the spot. Big time. Elvis leads the meetings and during the "Quality" section of the meeting, he walked over to me and gave me the microphone, asking me to talk about a few of our quality initiatives and how those particular initiatives were accepted at the IHI conference in December.

Not used to being put on the spot in front of 200 people, I grabbed the microphone and, well, talked. I shocked myself with how confident my voice sounded (I was standing under a speaker). The first few thoughts were difficult and I had to work to be coherent. Then it just came to me and I knew what to say next. I spoke for a few minutes. The group applauded and I sat back down.

That was it? Unprepared, unrehearsed public speaking isn't too bad, I guess.

I liken it to running. Anyone who runs knows that the first mile or two is usually the hardest. Once you plod through that first mile, it gets much easier and your body knows what it's supposed to do. For me, speaking (well, unprepared speaking!) is like that. The first few thoughts string along until I find my groove.

Usually, when I present to any size group, I come prepared with a powerpoint, a laser pointer, and my best suit. I have just enough coffee where I'm alert and "on," but not shaky or fast-talking. There's definitely a science to being prepared! This speaking experience made me realize that maybe, just maybe, I can wing it a bit.

Newest Visa Bill

Second mortage in Chicagoland....$950/month.

Gas and maintenance for obscene mileage on my car...$180/month.

Increased Nexxium usage to mitigate stomach acid brought on by stress...$60/month.

Budget for coffee and trail mix from the hospital cafeterias....$58/month.

Having people actually start to respect me, request that I lead new endeavors, and ask my opinion on administrative matters.....PRICELESS.

Too Crass?

I was sitting in a meeting the other day (surprise!) and for some reason, the speaker in the conference room as cranked to full-volume. The Brahm's lullaby blasted through the conference room, announcing the addition of a new baby to the human family. Many hospitals do this when babies are born; it mitigates the culture of death and sickness and reaffirms life. When I shadowed the birth unit, I got to press the "baby button" as they call it. Three babies were born in quick succession and so I pushed the button three times in a row. Sister Lourdes called up to OB to ask if triplets were born. Um, no.

But here's my question....if we play a song when someone is born, should we play a song when someone passes away? I've had this discussion with The Edge before. She thinks they should play the song "Another One Bites the Dust." We hatched this plan when news broke of that poor computer analyst who died in his cube and no one discovered it until five days later. Then, of course, both The Edge and I will have to work until we're 100 (Social Security won't exist for us), so we'll probably die on the job. When our heads hit the keyboard with a "aefjasilefjilsjdvjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj," someone will know we're dead. Maybe someone in Information Services can monitor unusual typing patterns via algorithm? To announce the poor soul's death, we deduced that the easiest course of action would be a song played over the public address system.

So what are your suggestions? Another One Bites the Dust? Tuesday's Gone? Final Countdown? Where the Streets Have No Name?

SASTS!

Yes, we're still going. I'm not scared by Hurricane Ida Ho Potato.

Affirmation

I successfully cornered Elvis today. I've been a big girl these last few months and haven't asked for any kind of feedback (positive or negative) from the chief execs. I figured that no news was good news and the true test was if I decided FOR MYSELF what I was going to do, then figured out a way to make it happen.

When you're constantly asking for permission, you don't necessarily brand yourself as a leader. In fact, it shows that you're a follower because you're always awaiting direction. Once I figured that out, I decided to DO everything I could and ask for forgiveness later. As it happens, I haven't had to ask for forgiveness and have only received accolades from EVOO.

But I'm starting to feel severely overwhelmed. Like, cracking at the seems, not sure where to start. I took a tally of every project I'm participating in, every team I'm chairing, and every initiative I'm spearheading and I came up with 14. That's an awful lot, especially at this point in my career. I keep telling myself that if I can be an extra set of hands, it will benefit St. Fozzie's and Muppet Corporation.

When I found myself sitting in my office, hands gripping my hair by the roots, I knew it was time to ask for help. I found Elvis and asked for a meeting. He made time for me right then and there.

I blurted out my frustration. I told him about the strange need I have to achieve and that I was about killing myself trying to attend every high-level meeting AND still carry out these 14 tasks satisfactorily. I want to do a perfect job in each endeavor, but I'm running out of hours in the day.

I explained that I was going to drop meetings A, B, and F because I needed to prioritize. I asked for affirmation because I did not want Elvis or EVOO thinking I was slacking or wasting even one day of my time at St. Fozzie's. He then explained that Jim Henson called yesterday, inquiring about my progress and tenure at St. Fozzie's. Elvis said he and EVOO were plotting ways to keep me at St. Fozzie's (despite severe budgetary restrictions). Jim Henson interpreted the fact that they want to keep me to mean I'm earning my stripes. All three of their opinions mean a great deal to me and as much as I avoided seeking affirmation, their support is fabulous.

I have no idea what this all means, but I'm completely thrilled that Muppet Corporate may decide to hang onto me.

Hurricane Ida

Of COURSE there would be a hurricane churning its way through Caribbean waters this week. Yes, please, that's exactly what I need to relax! My mom called me early this morning, feigning tears and unable to mask her urgent need to be reassured that Hurricane Ida would not wreck our vacation. Did I mention that we booked this trip a year ago? Mom kept saying, "You know, there's going to be some freak storm that pops out of central America and ruins our trip!" I kept pish-poshing her and her phone call this morning confirmed my worst fear. This stupid hurricane may well impact my beach time. Even if it misses Florida and sweeps up the Gulf, the winds stir up quite a mess. The beach becomes less and less of an option. Unless, of course, you like being sandblasted.

Have I ever told you the story of our worst vacation EVER? Jack and I vacationed in Melbourne Beach, FL, after my first semester of grad school. I was so hopped up on stress that I wasn't sure how I was surviving. We rented a gorgeous beach house right on the water, with a back deck that afforded panoramic views of the coast. I could have sat out there for hours. I tried to, until I came down with the stomach flu. On Day 2, when I started feeling better, we noticed a stiff wind rolling in off the water. I tuned in to the news and found that Tropical Storm Andrea was anchored off the coast of Georgia. The low pressure was driving steady 30-50 mph winds for two straight days. Any exploit down to the beach (right below our deck) ended with sand in our faces, hair, and eyes. On the evening of Day 3, the storm finally came ashore, horizontal rains coming through our windows, soaking the floor. It was okay, the storm made it rather romantic.

Then on Day 4, the sun was shining, birds chirping, and lovebugs swarming. It put the Biblical locusts to shame, as literally millions of lovebugs emerged from the wind-stirred vegetation. Beaches were crawling with the bugs and any car trips ended with front bumpers smeared with hundreds of bug carcasses. We couldn't go outside without shoeing dozens of bugs from our bodies. They didn't sting, but it was beyond gross.

On Day 5, I got fed up and was so frustrated that I couldn't relax. I NEEDED to relax! So Jack and I packed up the beach house and headed inland to Orlando. I booked a cheesy theme resort and we spent the last three days of our vacation holed up in a family resort next to a mini golf course. It wasn't even sunny outside; I distinctly remember reading by pool and not needing sunscreen or sunglasses. While we did round out our vacation with a trip to Universal Studios, the trip was a complete and utter bust. I hoped we fulfilled our quota of bad vacation karma and would enjoy wonderful, perfect vacations from that point forward. Well, except for Mexico interrupting our cruise last May because of swine flu. But I got over that one.

So tonight, after running for 12 straight hours, I decided to have dinner at the hospital. I had the best chicken fingers in the world (saturated fat be damned). Then again, I was so hungry that I was about to nosh on a stack of napkins. The thoughts of my approaching vacation have gotten me through a treacherous last several weeks. I even found myself doodling the view (roughly, of course) from our condo's front window that overlooks the bay. I've been doodling palm trees, surf boards, and dreaming of flip flops on my sand-covered feet.

Sigh. And now this. Ida. I don't like you. You're a bad storm. I will you to move west and leave our poor Florida alone!

Three Metaphors

Y'know how some people do their best thinking when they're in the shower? Or while running? Or while meditating or sitting quietly? I get my best ideas when I'm driving 80 mph on some of Indiana's best interstates (okay, Illinois' interstates, too).

I spent 8 hours on the road yesterday. I'm so bone-tired. I usually feel completely exhausted and depleted after corporate meetings. It takes a lot of energy to process the subject matter and participate, especially the areas in which I'm still learning. I hang in there though, and I have to constantly remind myself that when I'm feeling pretty hopeless and overwhelmed, it's usually because I'm completely wiped out.

So during my drive, I had a lot of time to think. I tried listening to a book on CD, but found myself getting very drousy. So I brainstormed my situation and came up with three metaphors.

First, with such exhaustion comes self-doubt. I doubted that I'll be able to keep up this executive pace for another 40 years. I didn't feel I had all the fabric necessary to fit the executive pattern. How could I adhere to a pattern if I don't even have the right fabric? Plus, I have a Scooby Doo print and other execs are usually fashioned from a pasley print.

Then I got to thinking about God's will for my life. What if God doesn't call me to executive leadership, on a long-term basis? What if God IS calling me to executive leadership (trust me, both options scare me right now)? I compared my feelings to an experience I had this weekend. My cousin, Yoshi, and I went jogging out at Notre Dame. The lakes are gorgeous this time of year and there are paths winding around the lakes. Except that during the last storm, most of the leaves fell off the trees and completely obscured the path. We knew the path was there, but we couldn't see it. We kept going, believing we knew where we were going, but we never did see the actual gravel of the path. That's how I feel right now. I have an indication of the path, I know it's under there somewhere, but I just can't SEE it. Yes, yes, I know. It's called faith and I'm working on it!

I feel so beaten-down after those high-level meetings. I need time to decompress and process the material so it makes sense in my head. I compared this to an insane workout. In weight-lifting, you basically tear down your muscle fibers with the knowledge that they will rebuild and make you stronger in the long run. That's what the corporate meetings do to me. They tear me down so I can heal and come back even stronger next time. And it's not as though they demean me or belittle me; they're just so far over my head sometimes, that I really must stretch myself. Sometimes it hurts.

But just as a soothing bath, glass of wine, and good novel help me heal after a killer workout, they also help me heal from corporate workouts.

Going to Gonzo's

Today, I'm going to St. Gonzo's to participate in the Muppet systemwide stroke network meeting. I am the only representative from St. Fozzie's and I will get to touch base with a Stroke Director at St. Rowlf's while at the meeting. I also have a meeting scheduled with the St. Gonzo's Neurology Service Line Director, so I will get to tour their eICU. I want to play with the robots and study their graphical data pertaining to JCAHO stroke certification regulations.

I have to drive about 8 hours today, so I'll post about my St. Gonzo experiences later. Just wanted to confuse you (and let's be honest, and me) about my whereabouts in the Muppet System.

1200 Miles

My blogging may be a bit light this week. I have to basically drive to The Netherlands and back between now and Friday night. I was in Chicago today, will be in Indy tomorrow, back in Chicago Wednesday and Thursday, with my week concluding in Crown Point. I'm not crazy about all these miles, but it's just something I have to do. Just keep driving, just keep driving!

It was a 14 hour day today. It started off with me being stood up for a meeting I scheduled with Dietary. EVOO is letting me learn how to manage departments in Operations. Anyway, the Director of Dietary was at the other St. Fozzie's campus. That sometimes happens when you have two hospital campuses (he had a coupon for a free lunch delivered to me)! So I seized the extra two hours and got some paperwork finished for our legal team. My secretary had sent homemade, cream-cheesy brownies. They weighed in like small bricks, but they were worth the caloric overload. Plus, is there really anything better than homemade pastries with your coffee at 6:30 AM on a Monday morning?

I had a physician recruitment luncheon at one of our neighboring hospitals. We're trying to sway he and his practice over to St. Fozzie's (insert evil laughter here). We also had a recruitment dinner this evening, trying to entice a new gastroenterology grad to join St. Fozzie's. I succumbed to my carnivoristic tendencies and ate a steak. EVOO even gasped at me. The "PC" thing to do is eat fish. I should have really shocked them an ordered a dirty vodka martini.

Then I ran the Stroke Kick-Off meeting this afternoon (the meeting lasted an exhausting 2 hours as we discussed every facet of Stroke designation and any corresponding obstacles that might arise). We're making great progress. In fact, we're making such good progress that the Director of the Cardiovascular Service Line asked me if I would consider leading the Chest Pain accreditation St. Fozzie's will seek in 2010. Then my grant writing consultant emailed me eight new links for potential grant opportunities. The deadlines span from mid-November to early-December. Corporate sent me 7MB worth of changes in benefits that I must submit before Friday.

I have a feeling I'm going to need more coffee…..