Third Time's a Charm

The house closed! Jack and I are no longer bound to SB!

It took three sales contracts, two home inspections, two appraisals...

...and a partridge in a cherry tree.

(We don't have a pear tree...only a weeping cherry!)

Thank you to everyone for your kind concern while we fought this huge and emotionally-exhausting battle. I just didn't want to pay another month's mortgage on an empty house!

Oh, and a special kudos to St. Joseph, who will need to be retrieved from the back yard by my mother!

(Wipes Sweat off of Brow)

Well, I'm happy to report that my first class-teaching experience went very well. The participants responded well to the conversation points, asked good questions, and we bounced through the group discussions like sprites on a candy fix. It was fruitful, enlightening, and daresay, fun!

And, true to my trademark, I brought candy. Lots of it. Mini Snickers bars did the trick this time. Ever since I had that dental work done, I cannot really handle the Swedish Fish and Gummy Worms. Such is life, eh?

But the three-hour class was great and my evals all came back positive. To top it all off, I was asked to repeat the same class at St. Gonzo's and St. Piggy's!

All that aside, I've still been flirting with burn out lately. I worked almost all day Saturday, preparing for class, but also digging out from my perennial piles cluttering both my offices (I didn't dig out very far). I spent Sunday playing with Jack and watching the ChiSox game from the respite of my heavily air-conditioned home. Too soon, it was 7pm on Sunday night, the magic witching hour when I drop my "Weekend Dorrie" hat and quickly staple my "Work Dorrie" cap to my skull for the week.

The fires started last night, with a very sick patient in the ICU who needed continuous dialysis (a single patient contract that needed to be executed by yours truly), an irate physician over the Craziness Project, and what could blow up into a lawsuit for an accused negligence case (which, after having been reviewed by two physicians, doesn't look like much of anything...but try telling that to a ticked-off patient). So while I was teaching the class, my pager was going off like an alarm clock that just wouldn't die!

I called the Risk department; we're not being sued. But I still have probably two hours' worth of phone calls to make tomorrow morning. And if the dialysis patient survives the night, there will be a stat ethics review on the case. Never a dull moment in administrator land!

And did I mention that the Director of Food Service brought me a whole CASE of Diet Red Bull? You can come visit me in the heart cath lab on Thursday!

Pedicures Solve Most Evils in the World

As I rushed past Sister Lourdes' office today, lunch in hand, dashing to make my next meeting, Sister called me in (one never disobeys a Religious, especially when, technically, they own the hospital that employs you). So I went in her office, lunch in hand, feeling impatient that she interrupted my stride.

She asked me to sit down at her desk and proof-read the correspondence she penned to the Cardinal regarding the Ethical and Religious Directives as they pertain to our FQHC partnership. I'm Catholic and I don't even know how many Cardinals we have in the US. But I know it isn't many and we only had one chance to get this Cardinal's attention. In addition to my supposed grammatical skills, she was actually asking for my logic on the ethics she explained.

I'm so not yet an ethicist, but it's exciting to be consulted on ethical matters. Like the case I had in Hospice this week. A patient had an end-stage, terminal disease and did not want to linger. Her Advanced Directives instructed us to not let her linger. But her daughter, the power of attorney, was a staunch Catholic who believed in the Church's latest revision of the Artificial Nutrition and Hydration directives, which mandates that nutrition be given to the dying. This stems from the Terri Schiavo case. Regardless, it became one wicked battle of individual autonomy versus an institution's laws regarding life support. No one wins.

Where was I? Oh yeah, pedicures!

So when I was leaving Sister Lourdes' office after finishing my peer review, she handed me a quote from her calendar:

"Be good to yourself. Do the little things that make you feel happy."

Weird coincidence. Did the Good Sister know I haven't done anything for myself lately (even sleep...this week has been one of the most sleep-deprived weeks on record). So I went back to my office to gather my notes for my next meeting and thought about this for a second. What makes me feel happy? Grabbing a post-it note, I made a quick list:

*Getting a pedicure.
*Exercising hard.
*Retail therapy (finding deals on sale is an extra endorphin boost).
*Sitting on my deck, listening to Jack FM (a Chicago radio station), enjoying the summer breeze.
*Sipping a glass of wine.
*Blogging in my usual cathartic way.
*Taking a bath.

So that is what I did. In that order. My toes are pretty and my feet are relaxed, I ran three miles, I browsed a couple stores (okay, and bought two pair of earrings), sat on my deck and relished the wonderful summer evening, imbibed in a glass of cabernet, and, well, here I am. My next activity includes a tub of water and a few splashes of bubble bath!

Tomorrow is all work, so I am trying to force myself to relax quickly and efficiently!

Relax! Go, go, go! Now!

Ramping Up

Apparently, my job description needs to be widened to include "Professor."

Fine. At least make it "Teacher!"

This class I'm teaching on August 30 has grown from 15 attendees from one part of the system to 25 from around the entire system. I'm now supposedly teaching VP's how to publish their work? I think they know how to publish their work and they're coming to check out my teaching style. Just my opinion. I'm not paranoid! Seriously! Stop looking at me!

Then in early September, I am attending a "train the trainer" course so I can begin teaching the Lean (as in Lean Six Sigma) training at St. Fozzie's. Our culture is ripe for this continuous improvement methodology. The professionals from St. Piggy's are teaching four of us how to teach concepts that work. I'm thrilled...I think!

I never really saw myself as one of those types who can stand in front of a large group all day, spewing out verbose concepts and then breaking them down to plain English so those in attendance can "connect the dots."

It's sort of funny; from my years leading youth group, I tend to kick off meetings with a skit, a conversation topic, or a brain teaser. Wonder how I can get the corporate VP's to join us in a skit?

Vomit

So we had a patient admitted from a nearby nursing home...with a maggot infestation in his sinus cavities.

Yes, sinus cavities. Apparently, the elderly gentleman had more than a little head cold when he was admitted. Eeewww.

So what is one to do? Is this the one time in life you're justified in snorting liquid Clorox?

Mmmmm, Smells Clean!

So here's a random thought…have you ever wanted to see Yankee Candle (or Glade) create non-traditional scents?

Back a few years ago, I thought it would be so neat if they created a candle that smelled like the beach. Alas! Yankee came out with "Sun and Sand," which smells like a mixture of Coppertone, sand, and that distinct smell your skin gets after being out in the sun. In a word, it's wonderful. I like to burn this candle in the dead of winter, when I haven't seen the sun in 4+ days. Or when I'm hastily packing for a long-overdue vacation. My routine is to light the candle, pour a beverage, and play Momma Mia on the DVD player.

Then I thought it would be great if they manufactured a candle that smelled like campfire and maybe even flickered like a campfire. Poof! They came out with a sneaky version of this. Then again, I have to commonly resist the temptation to not roast marshmallows over this candle!

Then I wanted to have a new car smell candle, because, well, I like the smell of new cars. Scentsy came out with this one, but they call it "Leather." To me, it's just "New Car."

And what about a bacon-scented candle that Jack could light when he was in the mood for bacon (I don't allow the cooking of bacon in my house; it makes the place smell like a diner). Then again, I guess the bacon candle might still contribute to the diner phenomenon.

I'm still looking for someone to make a candle called "Thanksgiving morning," which smells just like that mouth-watering turkey aroma that permeates the house when the turkey is baking during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. No one's biting at this idea yet. Get it? Biting? Turkey legs?

Then I decided I would like to own a bleach candle. Yes, a candle that smells like BLEACH (not beach). Think about it…you light the candle and regardless of how clean and disinfected your house actually is, it smells clean. Just think, your inlaws called you and want to pop in for a quick visit. Voila! Light the bleach candle and they'll think you always have your house that clean!

400th Post

Should I have flashing lights, loud casino-esque bells, and a game show host announce that this is my 400th post?

Sure seems like it. Hmmm. Wonder how many hours I've devoted to documenting this chronicle I call my life?

Anyway, this was one of the worst weeks of my life (and it didn't even involve Jack, my house, Jack's job, or the usual web of stressful situations enveloping my psyche). I can't discuss it, but I want to thank all my dear friends for responding to my random, panicked, sometimes-in-the-middle-of-the-night texts. I have a tremendous support network and you all have gotten me through a lot this past year!

As for this experience, I'm already overcoming everything, emerging stronger, more confident, and more sure of my values than ever before. In fact, I realized I'm stronger than those I once looked up to for guidance and encouragement.

That, in itself, makes my heart smile and re-engages my spirit to kick major butt at work. 'Nuff said.

Jack took me on a date last night, so we could giggle and laugh and continue making new memories in Chicagoland together. He whisked me off to the wonderfully-romantic Buffalo Wild Wings two miles down the road. I have a closet affinity for their boneless wings (well, guess I'm no longer in the closet about this!). It was actually a great time, as we played each other in the ongoing trivia game (as our pseudonyms "Ralph" and "Lauren"...first adopted the first time we went to Vegas). Soon, others joined in the game to try and dethrone "Ralph."

Then we went to see Dinner with Schmucks (not my idea), but the movie prompted several good belly laughs. Hey, I owed him for sitting through "Eat, Pray, Love" last week! "Schmucks" was a bit painful in spots, but Paul Rudd is sneaking his way into my Top 5 list. He's cracked the Top 10; part of me wonders if that's only because of his role in Friends? I see him as Mike Hannigan?

Today, in a few hours, The Edge is picking me up for my second Cubs game in five days. The Edge and I have been friends for literally 30 years and it'll be great to spend the day together.

That's one of the best pieces of wisdom my dad once told me..."Someday, you'll want to have your childhood friends in your life. They remember who you were before life made you jaded." I think it's true...they keep you real!

Oreo Personality Test

After a long and emotionally-draining week, this completely hit my funny bone! I'm a #5 and it totally fits, except for the whole narcotic addiction part!


***********


Psychologists have discovered that the manner in which people eat Oreo cookies provides great insight into their personalities. Choose which method best describes your favorite way of eating Oreos:

1. The whole thing all at once.

2. One bite at a time.

3. Slow and methodical nibbles, examining the results of each bite afterwards.

4. In little feverous nibbles.

5. Dunked in some liquid (milk, coffee…).

6. Twisted apart, the inside, then the cookie.

7. Twisted apart, the inside, and toss the cookie.

8. Just the cookie, not the inside.

9. I just like to lick them, not eat them.

10. I don’t have a favorite way because I don’t like Oreos.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your Personality:
1. The whole thing

This means you consume life with abandon, you are fun to be with, exciting, carefree with some hint of recklessness. You are totally irresponsible. No one should trust you with their children.

2. One bite at a time.

You are lucky to be one of the 5.4 billion other people who eat their Oreos this very same way. Just like them, you lack imagination, but that’s okay, not to worry, you’re normal.

3. Slow and Methodical.

You follow the rules. You’re very tidy and orderly. You’re very meticulous in every detail with everything you do to the point of being anal retentive and irritating to others. Stay out of the fast lane if you’re only going to go the speed limit.

4. Feverous Nibbles.

Your boss likes you because you get your work done quickly. You always have a million things to do and never enough time to do them. Mental breakdowns and suicides run in your family. Valium and Ritalin would do you good.

5. Dunked.

Every one likes you because you are always upbeat. You like to sugarcoat unpleasant experiences and rationalize bad situations into good ones. You are in total denial about the shambles you call a life. You have a propensity towards narcotic addiction.

6. Twisted apart, the inside, and then the cookie.

You have a highly curious nature. You take pleasure in breaking things apart to find out how they work, though not always able to put them back together, so you destroy all the evidence of your activities. You deny your involvement when things go wrong. You are a compulsive liar and exhibit deviant, if not criminal, behavior.

7. Twisted apart, the inside, and then toss the cookie.

You are good at business and take risks that pay off. You take what you want and throw the rest away. You are greedy, selfish, mean, and lack feelings for others. You should be ashamed of yourself. But that’s ok, you don’t care, you got yours.

8. Just the cookie, not the inside.

You enjoy pain.

9. I just like to lick them, not eat them

Stay away from small furry animals and seek professional medical help — immediately.

10. I don’t have a favorite way, I don’t like Oreo cookies.

You probably come from a rich family, and like to wear nice things, and go to up-scale restaurants. You are particular and fussy about the things you buy, own, and wear. Things have to be just right. You like to be pampered. You are a prima donna. There’s just no pleasing you.



How did you fare on the Oreo test?

Perks

I'm up uber early this morning, attaching my coffee IV, in preparation for a presentation I'm giving at 7:30 a.m. to a group of gastroenterologists. I go straight from 7:30 a.m. to 5 p.m., no breaks. Nurse Jackie and I have started calling these days "no time to pee days." Sorry to be crass, but it's true.

However, the super-long days and stomach-churning pace of my life sometimes have their perks...

...Like being invited to a Cubs game on Tuesday night and a fancy, dancy hob-nobbing dinner tonight. Tonight's dinner, at Tavern on Rush, is another good example of this plush life into which I occasionally tumble. The folks abusing their expense accounts tonight are the owners and developers of clinical pathways that all our physicians use to treat a plethora of conditions. There are clinical pathways for stroke, heart failure, migraine, labor and delivery, just to name four out of the 800 or so we have.

So these folks have a lot of exposure in our system. And they problem have an awful lot of money.

I shall not feel guilty for ordering the Filet Mignon! Or the expensive cabernet.

Even though I still have to pay to get myself downtown (few bucks in gas) and pay to park ($6 with restaurant validation), it's a steal to have experiences like this.

These perks also help make the insanity worthwhile. At least I'll have neat experiences to reflect upon when I do end up in the looney bin!

T'was a Rough Day

I do not recommend doing what I did yesterday.

I went to work for my usual 7:30 a.m. start time, ran around the hospital campus all day, extinguishing fires, presenting to the execs, and facilitating staff meetings in my clinical areas (we have some policy changes about which I need to inform everyone). I had been invited to the evening's Cubs came up at Wrigley the previous week, but we were thinking of canceling because of the rain. Our host assured us that our seats were under the covered area at Wrigley and we were good to go.

Rats. No escaping that harrowing drive up to Wrigley!

So I drove up through the Loop's rush hour traffic to meet three new VP's from neighboring health systems. EVOO was supposed to meet us there later, so I was on my own to find these VP's in the throes of a pre-game Wrigleyville! I eventually found everyone and after a few rounds of beer and nine non-scoring Cubbie innings, we headed back to the bar to finish talking about our work.

I've never met a group of people and skip the cursory "Hi, I'm _____, I work at _____, I did my undergrad at _____ and my graduate work at _____." Instead of the formalities, we immediately launched into dialysis quality measures, the Illinois stroke treatment network, and how to move low performers out of your organization. However, they're getting me involved in Chicagoan healthcare politics, a regional stroke committee, and well, I just got to spend time with these folks to figure out how they tick. The whole evening gave me a bit of culture shock.

As was hanging out in Wrigleyville far, far past my bedtime. After dropping off one of the VP's at her downtown appartment, I headed home and pulled up in my usual parking spot. Glancing at the clock, I couldn't believe it was 1:12. 1:12 a.m.? As in, I-only-have-four-hours-to-sleep-before-doing-it-all-again?

Rats! Again!

So I stumble up the front steps and a sleepy-looking Jack greeted me at the door. He waited up for me and I was glad for it. I threw myself in his arms, relishing the "married-ness" of it all. After hanging out with these single VP's all night and hearing their voracious tales, I was insanely happy to return to my "boring" life with Jack. I don't consider my life boring, but the VP's probably would!

After curling up next to Jack for three hours and 50 minutes, I climbed out of bed to do it all again.

And that's why I'm posting this at 6:53 p.m. and heading straight to bed!!!

Restless Spirit

I'm happy to report that the doctor party yesterday afternoon was a resounding success. I was nervously tapping my foot at 12:02, enduring those teenage fears that no one is going to come to your party and you'll be left with cuisine (and margaritas) for 55 people. However, the steady stream of medical residents, fellows, attendings, and hospital administration started at 12:06 and didn't let up until the room was full and excited conversation fill the air.

Whew! It was great and while I spent a lot of time with the cardiologists, having everyone in the same room was wonderful. In fact, they requested a monthly "happy hour" at rotating hot spots downtown and would I mind orchestrating something like that?

Party planner? Why not. I can file that under "other duties as assigned" in my job description!

Despite the frenetic pace of the last week, I'm awash with reflective mojo today. I just worked for two hours on my beautiful deck, enjoying the 80-degree, breezy summer day. It doesn't get much better than this in Chicagoland. It makes me a bit sad that summer is coming to an end, but there's an exciting world of football, chili, sweatshirts, and falling leaves approaching soon!

See, told you I was feeling reflective!

After my initial viewing of "Eat, Pray, Love" last night (thank you for accompanying me, Jack) and having read 75% of the book "The Lost Girls," I'm trying to pin down my own sense of wandering.

I've written about "Eat, Pray, Love" before and while I don't necessarily agree with the author's reason for leaving, I totally understand the need to get away to figure out who you are. I understand how easy it is to succumb to life pressures, mortgages, 70 hour work weeks (*cough, cough*), and other responsibilities that we created for ourselves. Seriously, if we didn't have the new cars and the white-picket fence, would we really be working our fingers to the bone in the endless quest for financial security? Isn't it true that, once you boost yourself up to the next level of financial prosperity, your spending just increases at least by that amount? I'm just sayin'!

So while we create these never-ending responsibililites for ourselves, I completely understand how, sometimes, you just have to get away. That is the crux of both stories. "The Lost Girls" is a wonderful, candid travelogue of three late 20-somethings who travel the world for one year. They're also escaping their Manhattan lifestyles, hoping to find a sense of belonging, meaning, and peace in a materialistically-saturated NYC existence. Aren't we all searching for a sense of belonging, meaning, and peace? This strikes me as a universal quest, undertaken by any thoughtful person.

As I'm inundated with this concept...of leaving your life to travel the world and figure out who the heck you are as a person, I reflect on my own life. As appealing as it would be to backpack South America again and visit quaint villages in Asia, I realized that I've already had a similar experience. Sometimes I forget that I already did the backpackers' gig. Granted, I didn't visit outreaching villages on the coast of Vietnam, but I garnered a fair bit of experience while in Europe for a year and South America for two weeks. Every time Jack and I get a chance, we're on a plane somewhere. I frequently get bitten by the travel bug and jump at any chance to experience something new. So while I'm tempted to drop my life and travel, I realize I've already had this opportunity. Seriously, how many people have attended mass at the Vatican on Easter Sunday, spotted a tarantula (and a colorful parrot) in the wild while hiking the Iguazu Falls, or witnessed the generosity of a nameless bakery owner who bestowed warm, fresh-baked, FREE brownies and pretzels to me in Sweden when I about froze to death after watching fishermen haul their catches ashore? And that's not even counting the fact that I've been able to traverse nearly every green pasture, traditional pub, seaside village, and towering cliff in Ireland. I'm so lucky!

Okay, fine, so I won't do the backpacking gig again. But can't I just up and leave my current life, take a new job in a big city, venture out by myself to make new friends, and leave all my fears behind? Oh yeah, I did that, too, with my whole 1 year, 1 month, and 8 day separation from Jack. I was able to do all of that and more and I feel so much stronger because of it.

So now, I'm wondering what I should do to break out of the norm and continue my search for belonging, meaning, and peace. I feel like I've already done the "escape route" option. Is it time to do volunteer work? Get more involved in our church community? What's next?

[To be continued...hopefully!]

Patron Bottle Centerpieces

Maybe I've finally experienced that mental breakdown I've been entertaining for the past few months (read: years), but I feel like being positive, optimistic, and signing along with the chirping cicadas this evening.

You know it's mid-August when the cicadas kick up their evening symphony. I sit out on my deck and wonder where the heck this summer went. With all the stress of our situation, the house, Steve's job, my insanity, I think I missed a large chunk of summer. Then again, I usually quantify the success of my summer as directly proportionate to the number of hours I spend in the pool.

Which was not enough this summer, in case you were keeping count!

Anyway, I feel like I got over the hump of our stress. The last few days have been downright awful and I publicly thank Jack for holding things together long enough for me to fall apart each night. I can hold it together during the day, maintaining my polished, energetic exterior for about 12 hours. Then the facade would quickly crumble, leaving me a drippy, pathetic mess of a human. Yes, I know, I should have had greater faith and hope...but sometimes I think you have to tumble into the depths every now and then to gain a bit of perspective. I'm still uprooting those seeds of fear from my heart, but I have a feeling that's going to be a life-long pursuit (darnit! Can't I just wrap a set of pliers around that weed and yank it out?!)

Whatever the case, something in my gut of guts tells me the worst is over. I'm learning to trust my gut at work; it's yet to steer me wrong (thank you, Nexium!). So I believe my gut instinct here, that the worst is over. And it is. It just is.

For one, we received an email from our realtor (whom, from here on out, shall be called "Angel") that we should close on the house around September 1 (or Labor Day, at the latest). This means we should get to close and be rid of that stinkin' property for good soon. I love that house, it served us well for a home, but we said our goodbye's and it's time for it to serve as another's home.

Jack's job search is still progressing and we're still discerning (ugh, I hate discernment!) what his path will be. He has a four-fold path in front of him...work full-time, work and do school, do school full-time, or fly down to the Bahamas and start picking out land for our Island B&B. It will be named "The Banana Hammock" (I guess we're catering to gay men in Speedos!). And the boat you can rent while you stay at the island B&B will be called "The Ashleigh Caitlin."

That's what we were going to name our firstborn girl. I think it sounds better as a boat name, too!

Anyway, despite the fact that many things still uncertain and unsettled, Jack and I have managed to find a bit of peace.

I have a light day tomorrow, meeting-wise, and hope to make progress on the nine departmental budgets I have to prepare. I have to weed through a year's worth of expenditures to figure out the expectations for 2011. And then on Saturday, I am hosting my first physician party! It's a Margarita Mixer (haha, I kill me). The residents wanted a happy hour. I vetoed that and instead scheduled a lunch WITH margaritas served. It started out with about 10 Internal Medicine residents (from our graduate medical education program) and about 6 administrators. Sixteen was a nice number! But it has since grown to 65 attendees, including most of Administration, 35 interns/residents, about 10 attending physicians (including gastroenterology, cardiology, critical care, and pulmonology!), several professors, a few recent medical school grads, and even the dean of the medical school. The hosting restaurant is creating center pieces of constructed out of Patron bottles.

And they promised me a center piece to take home, to commemorate the first physician party I planned. Now that's a conversion topic!

Mourning

I haven't had a whole lot of interesting blog fodder lately (except our weekend with my brother, Brady, and our adventures!). Work is work and it'll always be there with its all-encompassing stress and stomach-churning pace. I have a bunch of new things going on, but that's not newsworthy anymore.

My teeth are still aching and sending shooting pains up through my sinuses and to my skull. Every time I bite into anything, hot or cold, I suffer a raging "ice cream headache" until the nerve settles down several minutes later. After seven straight nights of waking up in agonizing pain, I finally called the dentist. I went back in (and saw a sub, I might add, my regular dentist was on holiday in the Bahamas) and learned that my root canal tooth had an abscess in it. Well, that will explain the pain.

Man, I KNEW I had a high pain tolerance! Jack was sitting here thinking I was behaving like a weeny who couldn't stand a wee bit of tooth sensitivity! So now I'm on a high-dose of antibiotics, my dentist shaved the temporary filling down a bit, and they told me if it's not better by Thursday, to come in on Friday and they'll fix the darn thing with a second canal to pull out any residual nerve material (gee, doesn't that sound fun), and cap it permanently. At this point, I should forget selling my house and just fork over the keys to pay for this dental work!

Speaking of house, I feel like I owe you an update. We sold the house (yes, again) on July 14th. Pending all successful inspections and appraisals, we were set to close on Aug. 16 (Monday, for all who might wonder if I was keeping track). I hadn't heard anything for days and days about the appraisal, so I started picking. Sure enough, my realtor found out the buyer is having trouble with her lender...so she had to secure a new lender...and that takes another 30 days to complete the process.

While we're not at Square One again (no more inspections! For the love of Pete!), we're delayed for another five weeks and I'm out another mortgage payment. The longer this drags on, the more bummed out I feel. For all intensive purposes, the house has been sold since May 25th! We just can't seem to get it closed. But we're not giving up now (and I'm sure as heck not going through another round of inspections!). Just to be safe, my mom is running over tomorrow to bury a statue of St. Joseph in the backyard. I have a "St Francis Garden" back there, where St. Francis ruled over my lavender, lilies, ornamental grasses. She's going to "plant" St. Joseph in the place vacated by Francis' departure.

So you're probably wondering why the title of this post is "Mourning." Well, in sort, because I am. Despite the crap of my current life, it's still not as bad as how others have it. I lost a colleague to cancer on Sunday; the Director of our home medical equipment department. She was energetic and robust until the end. Then one of my dear friends at work (our in-house ethicist) lost her mother. I felt I had to attend the funeral mass today, to be a support to my colleague but also, to thank God that it wasn't me up there, burying my mom. I might be struggling with the weight of the world on my shoulders, but at the end of the day, I still have my mom(s).

It puts it all in perspective. Well, I'm still human and struggling with all the challenges God seems to think I can handle right now. But I haven't had to cope with the loss of any close friends or family members. That's enough to make me realize that I might just make it through this gauntlet.

Tetris Anonymous

Thought #1: I've noticed that whenever I have to travel for work (or pleasure, actually), the weather tries to interfere. I once had to fly to Minneapolis for a conference and was waylaid by a sleet storm. Once I flew to Little Rock and it poured so hard when the plane was waiting on the runway, the roof of the plane actually started to leak water (very reassuring). Last winter, I flew home from an 86-degree Orlando and landed in a Chicagoan blizzard. And don't even get me started on the thousands of road miles I've logged…It's rare when my trips are uneventful and don't involve ranging thunderstorms, blizzards, and/or rain-wrapped tornadoes.

I'm not complaining about the traveling…but I do wish I could create some sort of travel mechanism that is uninterrupted by weather. And travels quickly. And is cheap. And serves Red Bull in little champagne glasses.

Thought #2: I was sitting in my hotel room the other night (on an aforementioned road trip for work) and saw a news report about the Tetris Grandchampion fighting to keep his title. I was instantly upset (and a little jealous) because, had I continued on my path to Tetris greatness (1989-1992), I could have been in the running for Tetris Grandchampion. Okay, I'm totally lying. I still play Tetris and that was the first game I bought for our Playstation II. I've heard Tetris is fabulous on Wii, but I settle for Dr. Mario, a nice imitation of Tetris (with that pharmaceutical flare I love from the hospital). Nonetheless, I would like to try my hand at Tetris against this supposed Grandmaster!

Thought #3: I think I'm actually getting carpal tunnel disease from using my Crackberry so often (thumbal tunnel?). And no, I'm not playing Tetris on it! The keys are becoming worn and I can sometimes wear the fingerprints off my thumbs if it's a heavy Crack day. Is it time to start an intervention here? It could be BBA (Blackberry Anonymous), CA (Crackers' Anonymous), or just OA (Overcheviers' Anonymous)? Hmmm.

Can I Sleep Yet?

I have to report that my teeth are still sore and infinitely more sensitive to hot and cold than before all that dental work. I also learned that I'm going to have to sell my firstborn child to pay for the work!

It's been one of those weeks where everyone is wishing each other "TGIF" and "When is this day going to end?" greetings. It seems as though it's been tough for everyone.

Me? I've been on pain meds most of the week. :)

In all seriousness, things are great. I'm receiving a lot of positive affirmation from my colleagues, EVOO, and Nurse Jackie regarding my work. I'm "breakin' some glass" and restructuring departments and my newest project is to help develop an Orthopedics program. Orthopedics is the one DRG still making money and due to the influx of Baby Boomers coming down the pike, needing knees and hips replaced, so they can enjoy their retirement in style, Ortho is the way to go. Every hospital in America has an Ortho program (or they should!). We have a half-way Ortho program that fizzled since 2006 and I'm doing my darndest to jump start its resurgence.

On Wednesday, I attended my usual barrage of meetings and at the very end of the day, I received a phone call from St. Kermit's, to speak to a group of scientists/researchers about publishing their work. I went to one publication workshop at a conference and have published two articles….that hardly makes me a pro. I guess it's the medical school methodology…watch one, do one, then teach one. So on August 30, I'm teaching a 3-hour "class" on how to publish your work.

I spent Thursday at St. Piggy's, filling my head with Lean methodologies. During the morning, I attended a meeting at a Suzuki/Toyota plant (yes, they share) and learned the background to the Toyota culture and method of process improvement. Plus, I learned about 6 new Japanese words (to impress my friends at parties!). It's not just the Lean tools that are important, but the Lean thinking. The tools just help you think through the process. In short, I'm infatuated with continuous improvement and I'll be teaching a course in January to all hospital management. I'm also making house calls, if you ever want to learn more about the Toyota culture and improvement philosophies, I'll bring my Mr. Potato Head to your home and teach you Japanese! I spent the rest of the day with the quality improvement gurus at St. Piggy's and we sat around the table, Socrates style, engaging in an intellectual orgy, trying to figure out how to best attack hospital re-admission conditions that soon, we will not be paid for.

Yes, I really just said "intellectual orgy." Doesn't that portray the point well? I think it does.

Well, all x-rated metaphors aside, today was a decent day. Nurse Jackie was out at St. Rowlf's today and I had to lead all the morning meetings. THEN we got to play in the water in the Leadership car wash, where everyone in hospital management took turns washing employees' cars. It was actually pretty fun, except for when I got in the middle of a water duel between Elvis and one of the nurse managers!

I've got to call it a night. My brother, Brady, is visiting us in the Chi this weekend and I need to go show him a good time in the city!

Joke Journal: Funnies

Despite the "Laffy Taffy wrapper" flavor of these, they made me wince and groan inwardly:

1. If you throw a cat out of the car window, does it become kitty litter?
2. Is it okay to use the AM radio after noon?
3. What do chickens think we taste like?
4. What do people in China call their good plates?
5. What do you call a male ladybug?
6. Why didn’t Noah swat those two mosquitoes?
7. Why do they sterilize the needle for lethal injections?
8. Why is it called tourist season if we can’t shoot at them?
9. If a firefighter fights fire and a crime fighter fights crime, what does a freedom fighter fight?
10.If they squeeze olives to get olive oil, how do they get baby oil?
11.If a cow laughs, does milk come out of her nose?

See? Told ya so!

The Root of All Nerves

The dentist did not go well today. Actually, the experience itself wasn't too awful, but now that my anesthetic is wearing off, I'm a painful, pathetic mess. There aren't enough Wendy's Frosty's in the world.

I went in to work for 6:45 this morning and led a few meetings (note to self: we need a new template for root cause analyses). Then I dashed back across the IN border to the dreaded dentist. I was seated in a deluxe dentist chair (it even had lumbar support) and handed a pink rubber mask (I kept thinking "a piggy nose!") and was instructed to breathe deeply. I'd never had nitrous oxide before and they said it was like having a glass of wine. Or three!

I'm a wreck when it comes to the dentist. They knew this and because the dentist is best friends with Elvis, I received a bit of the VIP treatment. This translated to a lot of laughing gas. Four hours' worth, to be exact.

So I took my first few deep breaths. The room started spinning (what does this stuff do to your brain?). The dentist came to numb my gums and jaw with the big, fat needle and I had this chorus in my head:

"Oh, it's time for the big, fat needle. Don't open your eyes, you don't want to see the big, fat needle."

[The Hendrix song "Purple Haze" comes over the speaker. Not even kidding.]

"Chill out, Dorrie. Breathe deeply."

[Inhale deeply. Room resumes its spinning.]

"Okay, the anesthetic is taking effect [drool]."

[Time passes. Thinks about work. Considers dinner options. Questions the end of civilization at 12/21/12.]

"This isn't so bad! Dentists are overrated and this one's niiiiiice! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

[Inhale deeply. Room keeps spinning. More time passes.]

"Gee, that hurts! Why is that hurting?"

The dentist announces that he's really close to the nerve and if it hurts, to let him know.

[Dentist lightly brushes the nerve and I jump 2 feet up in the air as if struck by lightning.]

Dentist says, "Oh, I guess you need more anesthetic. I wonder why your body is metabolizing this anesthetic so quickly?"

[I ponder the sign language needed to adequately answer this question. Then I have what seems to be a brilliant idea in my nitrous haze...We should devise a sign language methodology that patients can use to answer their dentists when they insist on asking you questions during your cleaning/exam/procedure. We resorted to the SCUBA communication signs and that worked well. I FELT like a SCUBA diver, with my big pink rubber mask across my face, and a mouth full of instruments.]

The lightning maneuver revealed the fact that I needed my first root canal. The doc offered me one on the spot, since everything north of my bra was completely numb. I went with it and asked the dentist and the assistant to please tell me stories. Or jokes.

They told me dirty jokes (probably shouldn't advertise that!) but they got me through the first root canal of my life. And the procedures were dragging on so long that we needed an Intermission (sort of like this post!). I'll spare you the exact details, but the other side of my mouth transpired the exact same way. Yes, even the root canal. The right side was apparently jealous of the left side.

When I woke up this morning, I had no idea I'd be losing two tooth nerves. I had no idea I'd be sitting here with paralyzing, throbbing pain shooting through my skull. My prescription pain killers aren't touching the pain and I have no idea how I'm going to run three meetings tomorrow. Can I quickly learn ventriloquism so I don't have to open my mouth?

The Truth Hurts

I've deduced that I can take on responsibility for a hospital, live apart from my husband for a year, survive the real estate drama from H-E-Double-Hockeysticks, and speak in front of 200 people without practicing...

...but I cannot go to the dentist. I can't stand it. I'd rather spend the day in line at the license bureau. Or maybe in line at the grocery store with a screaming baby in front of me!

I have a four-hour dentist visit scheduled, to have a couple of old cavities fixed, a couple of new ones fixed, and a couple fixed, well, to balance out the metal in my mouth. I've always taken good care of my teeth, but it appears that since the brunt of my childhood was spent drinking well water, my dentist discovered areas of weak enamel. So while most of this is proactive to keep small cavities from getting larger, it's the first time I've ever had a dentist prescribe painkillers with explicit directions to take the first pill the moment I walk in the door at the dentist. My discomfort with the whole situation is quickly escalating to panic and anxiety. So yes, I can speak to hundreds of people but cannot face the dentist's chair.

But hey, at least my priorities are straight. And now that I'm giving my dentist so much revenue that he'll finally be able to install that pool, maybe he'll throw in a free tooth-whitening.

Y'know, if I have any teeth left after this!

What Really Matters

Last night's Bon Jovi concert was completely worth the investment and it provided a great opportunity to bond with fellow Chicagoans, eat well, kick back and relax, and log new memories.

We started the day by going in to work for a couple hours (hey, I had some stuff I needed to finish). Work isn't a bad drive from the Loop, so we hopped on the Dan Ryan and quickly parked the car in the Soldier Field lot. We didn't even think to bring tailgating paraphernalia; half of Chicago was out there tailgating at the tender hour of 3pm! Nonetheless, we know the pubs in South Loop and visited a couple for old time's sake, Grace O'Malley's and Weathermark Tavern.

After a couple 312's, we decided it was time to eat, so we grabbed the last available table at Zapatista's. Zapatista's has THE best Mexican good anywhere (possibly including Mexico). It makes any other Mexican restaurant seem a miserable imitation.

So we filled our bellies and walked back over to Soldier Field. Our seats were pretty high up, but we enjoyed a superb view of the entire stadium, the lake front, and Navy Pier. It was perfect. While the show was officially sold-out, we had a few empty seats around us so we could kick back and recline.

Kid Rock was first to play; his concert was interesting. That guy has an ego! He has maybe three well-known hits and after playing those, he covered a few hits from the '70's. He strutted around the stage and what's funny, is that several folks went to the concert for him and left before Bon Jovi took the stage!

Then with a grandiose opening befitting a 26-year veteran of rock music, Bon Jovi made his entrance. It wasn't the religious experience I had during the latest U2 concert, but the huge arena concert fits Bon Jovi well. Amazingly, his voice is the same as in the '80's. We bopped around to his classics, "Shot Through the Heart," "Blaze of Glory," and "Livin' on a Prayer." We were treated to Chicago magic when, during "Bad Medicine," the Navy Pier fireworks exploded in the sky. Navy Pier puts on a nightly 20-minute show and because of our stellar location, our line of vision included Bon Jovi, the Chicago skyline, and the firework displays.

Bon Jovi also played their newer hits, during which Jack and I would discuss our dreams and goals. It was ear-ringing loud, but we could still hear each other. We discussed what was ironically echoed in one of today's readings from church...about not seeking possessions for happiness, but rather, the things that really matter. Granted, it's possible to interpret "what really matters" through an individual's creed or believe system.

For us, it just means that money is a means. Possessions are a means. We want to spend our money on experiences and memory-building, not in acquiring things that won't hold meaning very long. However, the experiences hold value for your lifetime. Sitting in the upper deck of Soldier Field, enjoying Bon Jovi tunes from our adolescent years, meeting new people in the city, and having someone you love to share it all with, well, that's what really matters.

Okay, cheesey sentiments are over for the evening!