Things Are Looking Up...

This week has been both wickedly stressful and weirdly relaxing.  Well, today was relaxing.  Okay, it was relaxing after 3:25 p.m., once I heard that the surveyors would not be back to visit radiology.

It's the lovely time of our every-three-year acccreditation survey.  Ever heard of Joint Commission?  They are the surveyors that every hospital leader fears.  The words "JCAHO's here" send ripples of terror through a management team faster than me seeking out a Dairy Queen on a 90 degree summer evening.  They do white glove tests on your equipment, quiz you on your own policies and procedures, observe your staff when your staff don't know they're watching (Handwashing!  Labeling meds!  Not eating tacos or drinking Diet Coke in the operating room.  Y'know, the little things).

They've been to Radiology six times since Monday.  Three times to the department itself and visits to three of my off-site imaging facilities.  Everyone did great.  But I've never seen people look so relieved when they finally left.  We have about 1100 standards to meet across all of Imaging and we only had one citation, so I'm totally chalking that up to a major, stress-let-down-migraine-inducing win.

Well, until next week.  We fully expect them to be back next week to survey our two remaining hospitals.  After the 348th snowstorm this year clears.  [As usual, I'm back-up administrator on call this weekend and will most likely have to go into the hospital Saturday night for the duration of the storm.  I have a 10-page Aquinas paper due next week, so I'm seriously debating hauling my books to work so I can write Saturday night.  Does it even get any better than that?  Feels like a Saturday Night Live skit!  I hope Tina Fey plays my character!]

But it's kind of nice because when JCAHO is in town, all meetings are automatically canceled.  You may have to spontaneously escort a surveyor somewhere or get called to the board room to answer questions.  But when you're not being bugged by the surveyors, you spend your time roaming around the department, making sure the nuclear hot lab door is closed, that someone hasn't left a wheelchair in the hallway, and that staff are using isolation protocol correctly.  

So after hourly department rounds, I found myself with a plethora of free time today.  I knocked a bunch of stuff off my three page to-do list and actually breathed.  I ate lunch in the staff break room.  I caught up with my assistant's home life (her two 'tweeners are hitting that sassy girl phase).  I filed stuff stacking up since Christmas.

I needed to declutter my office.  I needed to declutter my LIFE.

I decided that the unnecessary things have to go.  Family drama?  Gone.  I simply cannot worry about my brothers any more and how they may be screwing up their lives or hurting our parents.  I cannot worry about some out of town friends' work/life balances.   I cannot assume so much of other peoples' stress.  I'm working on my boundaries.  Taking care of ME is enough work.  

I'm reading this book called "Notes from My Blue Bike" and it's about intentional living.  It's the biggest cliche of the world, but I am trying to find joy in the little things.  And to cut out the unncessary, draining things (and people).  I do not owe anything to the energy vampires in my life.  

I live a pretty frickin' awesome life.  I have a husband that would do anything for me and is making me gain weight because of his stellar, nightly, multi-course dinners.  I have a family that loves me, friends who challenge and support me even during the toughest times.  I have a few very close friends whom I love dearly and without whom my life would seem so very empty.  My job is fabulous and I'm well-compensated for my hard work.  I am chairing my first board of directors and officially chairing two ethics committees now - two dreams I've had for years.  I'm going to Rome in a couple months, on the corporation's dollar, to tour Rome with a distinguished tour guide (I cannot wait to see Pope Francis up close- apparently we have an audience with him as part of a group).  I'm pursuing another master's degree in my beloved field of Theology.  I have a beautiful home in a safe neighborhood.  My car usually runs (if the snow's not too deep).  My gym membership is $5/month through work.  My commute is only 10 minutes now.  We stock good wine in our wine fridge.  The Lake Michigan beach house is booked in July.  I'm a blessed gal.  God is good.

And I usually feel as though there is 2,000 pounds on my shoulders.  I've been overheard complaining about how I hate my life and feel trapped.  I'm chalking THAT to seasonal affective depression and the fact that it has rained/snowed/sleeted/iced EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND since the New Year.  The most annoying optimists are even looking glum these days.  I told my assistant that I'm taking a day off the first time it hits 70 and is sunny outside.  I'm going to plant my butt on the deck with a chaise lounger, book, and chilled beverage.  Even if it falls on a random Tuesday.

So instead of complaining about how stressed I am and how my treadmill of existence won't slow down enough to let me stop hyperventilating, I'm really trying to look upward.  Instead of forging stoically ahead, I'm trying to stop and insert some intentionality into my life.  I'm so blessed and all I do is complain.  

Hence my Lenten resolution to stop complaining.  For Lent, one is supposed to give up negative things harming one's relationship with others or God.  Lent is like a New Year's celebration, a chance to start anew and develop better habits.  Ash Wednesday is like the Catholic Opening Ceremonies, designed to kick off the Lenten New Year with intentionality.     

   

I really like Lent.  In addition to the Friday's with cheese pizza and mac and cheese with fish sticks, Lent challenges me to look hard at my inward tendencies...and change those things that I can really tell are getting in my way of living the life God wants me to live.  

Here's to looking upward.

I Won't Whine if I Can Wine

So I've been doing a lot of moping around lately.  

"Oh!  I'm so stressed!"

"Oh, I have to get up at 5 a.m.!  For the 24th day in a row!"

"Oh, I have to work through my favorite Olympic events so I can finish a paper!"

"Oh, I'm so tired of hearing myself talk and complain."

I'm giving up complaining for Lent.  I was going to give up wine (what WAS I thinking?!).  But I did decide to give up whine.  Whining is not helping anyone and it's making me feel like crap.  

So I've decided to stop whining.  And keep wining.  In moderation, of course.

We found this little liquor store that actually ended up having a stellar wine selection.  We don't have a cellar but I've found that having a full wine fridge is a step in the right direction.  Wine makes me slow down.  I take better notice of my breathing and overall existence.  It slows my pace after a frenetic week and a glass of wine on a Friday night makes me melt back into a human being.

Then again, so does tea.  We've become fanatics of Teavana.  I really like the strawberrry lemonade and peach tranquility.  Just a little while ago, Jack made a Samauri chai in the ol' teapot.  It smelled like holidays, with the cinnamon and chai smells.  

But Jack ambled into the living room and proclaimed that the tea tasted like clowns.

I choked back a chuckle- "as in, Stephen King's clowns?" 

Oh, Jack.  

I came home tonight to a big present from a nun I used to work with (and for).  It just felt special to get a present at home from a nun.  Aren't I the one who should be buying the nuns presents?  Whoops.

Presents and cooked clowns.  The life we live....

This last weekend, we went to visit Vera and Mr. Vera in Chicago.  I hadn't been up to Chicago since November.  The whole time we drove up the interstate, I sang in my head (okay, and out loud), "Sweet Home Chicago."  Even though we have lived in Indianapolis for a year, I still feel more at home in Chicago.  And I'm from SB.  We've moved so many times that I'm not always sure WHERE I feel at home most.  On the way home back to Indy last night, Jack and I reflected on this.  The only constant in our lives has been change.  I'd kinda like to have a regular home for a while.  At least a year.

But we fell right back into our old routine in Chicago.  Excellent food, stellar wine [more wine!  What did you expect from me when I've been working 75 hours a week?!], and even more stellar friends.  Life is so much better when you have awesome friends.  

Friends are family that you choose.  

Friends like these get you through the crap life throws your way.  The Joint Commission is at work this week and today was probably the only day I didn't need tennis shoes with my suit.  Tomorrow and Wednesday will be nuts as I escort surveyors around the campuses.  Oh, fun.  

[See, I'm going to have to work on this whole not whining thing!]

Long story short, I am trying to look at the proverbial bright side.  Instead of complaining that my beach house has 178 steps I have to climb, I should be grateful that I even have a beach house.  Kind of a wanky metaphor, but instead of complaining how hard my life is, I'm trying to rejoice in the opportunities and learning experiences I have each day.  

No whining.  Just wining.  

Angels Among Us...

Sometimes, you have to come home from work and watch "America's Funniest Videos."

You know, while you're waiting for the news to be over so that you can watch the Olympics.  

Actually, the Olympics are pissing me off.  Indianapolis too closely resembles Russia (Siberia) these days.  Yesterday, we hit the snowiest day in the history of mankind in Indianapolis.

Do me proud, Indy!  Our freaking snowblower broke during the "freak" blizzard of January 5-6, when it was -40 degrees. The first time.  Jack and I reasoned, "Hey!  We live in Indy now!  This was a once-in-a-hundred-years storm!"  

The first time.

We should have fixed that #*@&^#&! snowblower!  I'm still sore from shoveling the other night.

I'll admit it...I'm over it.  Like, forever.  If I ever complain even once about 93 and humid this summer, you can dump my margarita over my head.  And then roll me into an ant hill. 

*************

I started the above post a few days ago, meaning to return.  If it helps, it's now 65 degrees, the snow melted in a scant 30 hours, things are flooding, and oh, now we have a tornado watch.  Why not!?

So today was easily in the top 10 of worst days ever.  Raging weather-related migraine aside, I lost my first patient.  Well, my first real patient.  We have lost a few patients but their deaths were a result of last-ditch efforts or hospice care that eased them peacefully into the next life.  

This one was an outpatient.  She was walking and talking when she arrived.  She did not go home. 

At the time of the Code Blue, I was standing in one of the main hallways.  We always freeze when we hear "Code Blue" paged overhead.  Especially when we hear "Code Blue, Outpatient Services," there is a 95% chance it's my department.  I stand there like a mime, waiting for the shoe to drop, so I can dash off in the right direction of the Code. 

This time, it was "Code Blue, Outpatient Services, CT Scan."

Off we went.

I arrived about 20 seconds after the Code was called and saw my staff already initiating chest compressions to restart the patient's heart until the ER team arrived to help.  I'm not at liberty of sharing any more details since the case is going to formal review, but many silver linings came out of this one.

The team responded so gracefully.  These radiology staff are not trained in emergency or trauma medicine.  They are not used to seeing projectile bleeding (well, for that matter, neither am I).  They're not used to physically feeling a patient grow cold, knowing that individual is dying in their arms.  They've never witnessed repeated, unsuccessful attempts at shocking a patient to restart their heart.  It's tough stuff and no amount of training prepares you.

Another first for me today, I had to go with the ER doctor to talk to the family.  They had no idea things had turned so grim.  When I spoke, someone else's voice came out of me.  She sounded calm, professional, and together.  I felt a big disconnect because inside, I was shaking like a leaf.

After the incident cleared and the staff cleaned the patient up so that the family could visit her one last time, I called a formal debriefing (more of a de-stressing).  One of my colleagues is a trained debriefing professional and I knew I needed a pro for this one.  In a group setting, she asked everyone how they were and what they were feeling.  It was the first time many, even the ER nurses, had a debrief.  While I don't want to have too many Code Blue's in Radiology, I will definitely continue that practice. 

It's so hard to see my staff struggling with this.  And I realized, driving home, that I felt a growing heaviness on my own heart.  While we had no negligence in this case, it's my job to keep patients safe.  It's my job to make sure that when they walk in, they are able to walk out.  I felt a deep stabbing of yuckiness at the terrible direction this one case took.  It wasn't our fault and still, we were helpless in changing that patient's end.  

I kept hearing the phrase "Maybe God needed her more than we did" come out of my mouth.  I'm not really sure what that means but I think it was me, trying to make some sense out of a terrible situation.

The upshot to this was the intense teamwork I saw, not just in Radiology, but across hospital management.  People came out of the woodwork to support me and help me make calls (when you have an unexpected death in a hospital, there's a ton of paperwork and phone calls.  You have to notify everyone from the CEO to Risk Management to Public Relations - in case someone starts a media firestorm).  When I finally stumbled back to my office, several directors had left voicemails, offering to help me.  Once word started to spread, some took it upon themselves to help me notify the necessary individuals.  

I felt like they were angels, swooping in to take some of the burden off of these weary shoulders.  

So while the outcome of one of our procedures today was awful and totally unexpected, I found solace in the fact that our team did the very best they could.  And that I'm really not alone out there; that in the moments when I most need support, there are angels hiding in the wings to come to my assistance.    

Wait, I Guess That's Me, Too

I'm on a quick, much-needed break from having studied Aquinas for the last three hours without a break.  This stuff's deep.  While I love theology and the philosophical logic needed to study it well, it's exhausting.  

[I've also noticed that when I'm in school, I blog more often.  Must be a procrastinatory measure!]

Anyway, I survived Wednesday but had a couple interesting revelations.  After a long day at work, I found my way to the IUPUI campus, to the School of Nursing building.  It was an older building and reminded me of the buildings I frequented during my first two degrees.  You slog through these classes, lost among the trees in the forest, just trying to survive each day, week, semester.  

I watched students slogging through the hallways, shoulders already weary from the weight of life obligations and the burning drive to finish their respective degree programs.  The air hangs heavy with exhaustion and perseverance as everyone's collectively already looking forward to May.  

I will be working with a group of five graduate students at work, as they seek to understand and fix some perplexing problems in the hospital.  It's a real-life practicum.  But those students held up a mirror for me; I remember when I was that exhausted grad student, just trying to survive the daily grind of a full-time job, school, and a marriage/family/friends, all while sneaking in a workout or two to keep my waist in shape.  

I looked back on those few years with some nostalgia.  I remembered the days when I'd leave the house at 7 am (in the dark) and get home at 9 pm (in the dark).  When I had classes on Tuesday and Wednesday, I did not see the sun between Monday evening and Thursday morning.  Oftentimes, I'd glance at the clock in my car and see 7:13 and have to legitimately wonder if it meant "AM" or "PM."  

As I walked through campus Wednesday night, trying to use my trench coat to shield me from the freezing winds, I envied the grad students.  They're getting such an exercise in endurance and perseverence!  They're filling their minds with knowledge and actively trying to better themselves!  I sort of wished I was in school again.

Then it dawned on me...I *AM* in school again.  Maybe I'm still in denial about having to read a good chunk of the Summa in 16 weeks.  But as I drove home through downtown Indianapolis (knowing my way around well enough already to not need Siri), I felt grateful for the crazy challenge of Thomas Aquinas.  Because like those grad students I met, I'm back in that same place of honing my own endurance and perseverence - knowing that these difficult times make me stronger for whatever lies ahead.     

Purgatory

It's 11:31 pm and I have to be at the hospital at 6:30 am to discipline a night shift employee.  Tomorrow's a 14+ hour day, that starts with said meeting and ends with a class I am co-teaching on Health Outcomes for IU's MHA/MSN students.  I'm thrilled for the opportunities in my life but I just wish they were spaced out a bit more!

So I started this grad school class yesterday (as in, the class opened Monday at 8 a.m).  I quickly read and digested the syllabus like any over-achieving student would do, and learned that the first paper was due Wednesday at midnight.  A scant 60 hours after the course began.  Um, whaaaa?  Some of us, you know, work for a living??!  To make matters extremely worse and acid-producing, the 1000 word paper is over two questions in the Summa Theologiae.  

Am I burning off some time in purgatory?

So after working 7 am - 6 pm, I begrudgingly jumped on the treadmill with my iPad to start reading the selection.  This was about 1/80th of what I had to read tonight (verbatim, from Part 1, Question 3).  

"First, whatever a thing has besides its essence must be caused either by the constituent principles of that essence (like a property that necessarily accompanies the species--as the faculty of laughing is proper to a man--and is caused by the constituent principles of the species), or by some exterior agent--as heat is caused in water by fire. Therefore, if the existence of a thing differs from its essence, this existence must be caused either by some exterior agent or by its essential principles. Now it is impossible for a thing's existence to be caused by its essential constituent principles, for nothing can be the sufficient cause of its own existence, if its existence is caused. Therefore that thing, whose existence differs from its essence, must have its existence caused by another. But this cannot be true of God; because we call God the first efficient cause. Therefore it is impossible that in God His existence should differ from His essence."

So....God's His own Essence?  Yeah...Got it.

The rough draft I just eeked out is 1005 words long.  A first for me, I'm NOT editing for content so as to jeopardize my word count!

This semester is going to suck.  No wonder all the students have been calling this the weed-out class. Too bad I'm already too invested now.  

I'll see you in May (if I live that long!)

Like 98.4% of Americans

So what's your New Year's Resolution?  Are you going to lose weight?  Be more healthy?  Maybe go back to school or finally start that new hobby?

Yeah, me too.  Pretty cliche this year.  

I never really regained my sense of balance since upheaving my whole life (and Jack's) this past year.  I received the phone call on January 2, from the COO of St. Gonzo's, about interviewing for this big job he thought fit me.  I received that phone call one year ago today, just when I thought I was adjusting to the Chicagoan rat race, feeling decent about my career, and I had just finished glamming up our villa.

Two weeks later, I survived a six-hour day of interviews and was offered the job on the spot.

The next week, I submitted my resignation and settled upon a termination date.  February 20.

On Feb. 1, we traveled to Indianapolis to find me a house to start the whole distance-marriage thing again.  After looking at 9 unavailable properties, we dined with a friend from middle school who just happened to have a condo neighbor looking to rent their townhouse.  We ate at Don Shula's as part of "Devour Downtown."  It was 4 degrees above zero and we discovered that our new friends liked wine and bacon.

The next day, I signed for the condo while Jack started organizing movers and supplies.  We contacted a realtor to photograph our villa for listing.  

The weeks leading up to February 20 were a blur.  I cannot ever remember working so much.  They were not replacing my position and so I parceled my work out to 6 different directors.  On my last day of work, my colleagues threw me a going-away party and Jack surprised me by having my mom travel to Chicago by train.  He left momentarily and ushered my mom to my party.  I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw my mom waltz into a Chicagoan sports bar.  

On February 21, we power-packed.  Laced with caffeine, we packed up the entire house in about 12 hours.  I treated her to an Italian dinner that night, where we about fell asleep at the table.

The movers arrived early on February 22.  Jack followed them to Indy while mom and I stayed back to perfect the remaining items for Jack's return after the weekend.  The semi and Jack traveled down I-65 without a problem.  By the time mom and I left an hour later, a massive pile-up occurred on 65, leaving us stranded on the highway for almost 5 hours.  The 3.25 hour trip to Indy took 8 hours.  We arrived in Indy dead tired (again); by the time we got there, Jack and my dad had all the furniture set up and beds made so momma and I could crash.

I started my new job on February 25.  It was intense and I worked 12 hours even that first day.  My commute was 35 minutes one way and I quickly resorted to my "I'm alone" diet of Lean Cuisines and/or granola bars.  Jack kept his job in Chicago and commuted to Indy for the weekends.  We spent our weekends alternating between total couch-surfing and exploring downtown Indy's restaurants.  

March was a blur of long days, long commutes, and long loneliness.  I was in a grad school class and I remember March being yucky, paper-wise.  I also had a lot of homework for the Franciscan leadership program.  We listed our house on the market and it sold in 3 hours.  At a huge profit.

In April, the long days finally caught up to me and I came down with a hacking cough that turned into walking pneumonia.  I didn't even have a doctor yet, so I had to trouble my VPMA for an antibiotics script.  He also gave me codeine so I could sleep and that's when I wrecked my reputation forever with Jack.  I hadn't taken codeine in 25 years but I was desperate.  I took a healthy dose, curled up in bed, and flipped on Showtime to catch a flick.  When Jack arrived from Chi that evening, he discovered that I had somehow put "Mean Girls" on repeat.  You try explaining that, in your codeine haze, you considered Lindsay Lohan to be a decent actress. 

Easter fell on April 25 and when I had to leave Jack behind in Chicago (I travelled up there for the holiday), I fell apart.  I couldn't do the commuter marriage anymore.  I asked Jack to submit his resignation that Monday and move to Indy permanently.  He did and did.  His boss was awesome and let him work remotely from Indy.

May introduced us to race month in Indy.  From our condo, we could hear the race cars practicing at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  We're not exactly racing enthusiasts, but it was really cool to sit on the back patio and hear all the "vrrrrrooom!  Vroom, vroom, vroom!" from a few miles away.  We also discovered Broad Ripple in May and Sakura sushi.

In June, I spent $5M on three new MRI scanners to completely upgrade the hospital's equipment.  I finished crafting the deal from my bathing suit on the beach.  We continued our tradition of vacationing with Vera and Mr. Vera on Lake Michigan.  They've transitioned from friends to family and we love them.  The week consisted of laying on the beach, cycling the lakeside, and sipping local wines.  Doesn't get much better.  Except that I fell down 9 steps and heavily bruised my backside.  I was heading down a 100 steps to the beach and in the morning drizzle, didn't realize that the bottom steps were coated in algae.  

That bruise lasted 3 weeks.  Charming, eh?

In July, I found myself on several airplanes, doing business in Minneapolis, Chicago, and Milwaukee.    Jack and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary by dining at St Elmo's Steakhouse.  The $17 shrimp cocktail is totally and utterly worth it.  I'm making it more important to do something meaningful on our wedding anniversaries.  I hate sitting back, not remembering what we did to commemmorate such great days.    

While the summer was decent, hanging out frequently with our next-door neighbors (the ones who found us the condo), my skin started itching.  Our condo was so small and my commute so long.  It's not that I wanted to jump into a house but I had condo fever.  I couldn't take it anymore and had several late, hazy nights where I honestly couldn't remember driving home.  So in August, I called the bank, was approved for a mortgage, and then hired a realtor.  Jack organized several interesting properties in our price range.  After three days driving around Indianapolis, we found a stellar home.  We negotiated a terrific deal on the "inventory" home and our offer on a new house was accepted.  Moving day was set for September 28.

Work exploded after Labor Day and Jack earned more "hero" status by single-handedly packing up the entire condo.  I'm serious - he even packed my dresser drawers, purses, and jewelry.  I did nothing but pathetically cheer him on from the couch when I came home to crash each night.  He'd give me a menial chore, like packing this one frying pan, so I could say that I contributed.  

Moving day was suddenly upon us.  Again, Jack took charge by setting up all utilities, installing the security system, and organizing the movers (seriously, if you ever need help moving, call Jack).  I took a couple days off work to unpack and buy out JC Penney Home Store - all while wandering around the house, not sure it was really my home.  I only set off the new security alarm three times that weekend.  The ADT lady started laughing at me.    

October flew by with my Franciscan leadership program graduation (the reward for completing the program is a week in Rome this May.  Apparently, we get a special tour of the Vatican Museums and an audience with the Papa.  I've been scheming to revisit Italy and can't believe this tremendous opportunity with work colleagues).  We also went to a Notre Dame game and threw my folks a big wedding anniversary party.  They acted like cute kids in love and the party was a great success!

November seems to be the month of depositions for me and I found myself embroiled in a lawsuit from an event that occurred before my arrival.  The COO who recruited me announced his departure from the state for another job and I suddenly realized that I had one lightly-scheduled week after Thanksgiving.  So I booked it and we flew to Florida for a week of grouper, Vitamin D, and seashells.  We ate most of Florida's fresh fish and came home with wonderful tans.  We also discovered Sanuk's.  

My insomnia started getting pretty bad again, even on vacation.  I took my doctor up on her offer to prescribe Ambien.  I hate taking such things, but it's truly better living through pharmaceuticals.

I spent December in a vortex of terror at work.  Several big patient safety and HR issues came blasting to the surface, occupying hours and hours of time.  I stopped working out each evening in honor of more time on the laptop before my eyes involuntarily crossed and I couldn't form coherent sentences.  The week before Christmas was gnarly and I lost my first patient.  An outpatient had a bad reaction and didn't make it.  I watched in disbelief as my own staff led the chest compressions before the ER doctors arrived.  It was a nightmare and the first time I actively watched someone spontaneously die.    

Sometimes I forget I work in a hospital....

But Christmas delivered with its usual promise of family laughter, copious amounts of Bailey's, and reconnecting with people we don't see nearly often enough.  It's exhausting to travel so much but I'd never miss Christmas with the people we love.  I ate all the carbs in South Bend.

So this was all going through my mind the other night, as I prepared for New Year's.  Vera and Mr. Vera visited us in Indy for New Year's (it's a tradition to ring in the new year with them) and we all reflected on our successes and challenges.  We toasted each success and comforted fears and perceived failures.  We boosted each other up for more successes and fewer failings.  Vera and I went downtown for lunch and to shop while the boyz brewed a batch of beer.  After a later "Thanksgiving-esque" dinner, we discovered that our neighbors organized a block party, complete with pudding shots (Oh, the pudding shots.  Why are you so yummy, dear pudding shots?).  

Post pudding shots, we had the success/challenge/failure conversations.  That's when I realized that I never really regained my balance this year.  New job.  New city.  Two moves.  New house.  New friends.  My treadmill has NOT seen enough action this year and I don't drink nearly enough water.  I'm dusting off 20 year-old hobbies such as painting and drawing and I'm resuming this last master's degree here in a couple weeks.  Got. To. Finish. It.

So I'm going to be like 98.4% of America and probably stop working out by January 9th.  But I'm going to take better care of myself and enjoy this life we worked so hard to build.

Happy New Year!

It's a Wonderful Life

I'm trying to get into the swing of blogging again (seriously helps to do so from my ipad- and the picture function isn't working well) and might jump around from topic to topic.  My apologies.  

Anyway, I've been in this weird land of Radiology for 10 months now, where I'm the leader of 12 hospitals and outpatient facilities and 500 employees.  I still vacillate between having a complete grasp on my position and its awesome demands and sitting in my office, sort of zoning out to old Duran Duran songs on Pandora while I stare at the piles of radiology "stuff" needing attention.  How do I even edit a Nuclear Medicine Isotope policy without having to google things?  Eek.  

I was out of the office for 11 days and in the Tampa airport, on the way home, I caught up on email.  Yet, by the end of today, I was tapped out again, dreaming of our 85 degree pool at night, with Christmas lights draped on our Floridian railing.  

That didn't take long.  

I *loved* those Christmas lights.  I always travel with them now. 

Anyway, a few things shake me from my relative security or downright stagnation- and it's the huge generosity of the radiology staff.  A few years ago, the department started sponsoring some families and charities for Christmas.  They would raise $1000-1200 for the families and it was such a striking gesture.  This year, the "Christmas Committee" came to me in August, requesting a formal meeting.  They wanted to start a "12 weeks of Christmas" program across Radiology, where each department would take one of the weeks of Christmas.  The departments would create baskets for raffles or sponsor potluck luncheons for modest fees.  Then, as we spaced out the requests for money, we might get a better response for the charities.

Why would I object?  Of course this sounds great.  The management team was assigned "Four Calling Birds" and we created an Alfred Hitchcock-themed Birds basket.  With Christmas movies included!

Gotta include Kevin MacAllister with your Hitchcock movies!

So this whole "12 Weeks of Christmas" idea started in October and so far, with 2 weeks to go, has raised $5800.  It's stunning.  We actually had to find MORE charities to support this year; what a novel problem to have.  

We very well may surpass $7000 raised and it's so humbling to me because this is all staff-driven.  I've learned that I have employees who volunteer at soup kitchens in the city every Saturday night.  I've learned that I have MRI staff who gather at 5:30 am each Wednesday morning for Bible study.  I found out that the Diagnostic Xray department does spontaneous blanket drives throughout winter.  

The sense of charity, generosity, and kindness is truly humbling.  I look around and all these people want is perrmission to keep doing what they're doing.  And they refuse any kind of recognition.  They are spreading God's presence around the hospital and other departments outside Imaging and Radiology are starting to participate because they are so moved.  

It's so humbling.  I can't believe I work and with for such wonderful people.  

What a blessing.  For us all.   

  

22 Minutes

This is probably the only place on earth when I wish every morning was Monday.  That would mean we had our entire vacation week ahead of us.  On Monday morning, I was elated that my entire beach experience was still before me.  On Tuesday morning, I skipped my morning walk and at 8:00 a.m., went straight down to the beach, coffee cup in hand.  Jack soon joined me and we lolled around on the beach until after 1 when we finally needed a lunchtime refresher.  We read poolside then until 3:30 when we decided it was time to shower and locate some dinner.  

That's what I love about vacation.  The ability to be totally spontaenous.  I don't get that luxury too often in my 'real' life.

Contrary to our normal OCD planning, we just started walking the beach uncertain of what would happen.  We walked over four miles and found ourselves standing in front of one of the few commercialized restaurants on the island.  We walked right by.  Thinking we were just going to have ice cream for dinner, we stumbled across a teeny little restaurant we had never noticed before: "Sign of the Mermaid."  I quickly checked out the menu, started salivating, and ushered Jack inside.  We sat at one of the restaurant's eight tables, ooohing and aaahing our way through several appetizers of sashimi grade seared tuna, huge sea scallops, steaming grouper enveloped in puff pastry (with a creamy crab sauce), and lump crab cakes.  It was probably a good thing that we had a two-mile walk back home so we could burn off .03% of the total calories injested.

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This morning, I awoke before sunrise and yet again wishing it was Monday morning (!), I grabbed my sunglasses and hit the beach.  I actually sat still on the sand for 22 minutes (yes, I timed myself) and just tried to be - while the sun came up behind me.  I focused on my breathing and when I was tempted to start worrying about something (work!  my dad!  the melting of the polar ice caps!), I gently pulled my attention back to the lapping waves on the empty beach.  It was a short time to truly still myself but for me, constituted a fabulous achievement.

It's only when I walk the beach do I discover hidden schizo tendencies in my personality.  After my 22 minutes was up, I couldn't take it anymore and started walking the beach.  The funniest thoughts go through my head when I'm beach-walking....

"How come there aren't more people out?  C'mon, guys, you can sleep when you're dead!"

"Hey, this is my stretch of empty beach.  Quit ruining my view."

"The sand is so calming and wonderful!  Why is everyone wearing shoes?"

"Ouch! [small explicative after she steps on sharp shell], why didn't I grab my running shoes?"

"I'm going to relax, breathe, and focus my brain."

"Wow, that shell looks like a nose!  Or maybe a dinosaur [turns head sideways to check]"

"Even thought we're on vacay, I'm going to eat healthy today and make better food choices."

"Is that bacon I smell?"

It goes on and on.  I'm only glad I'm not narrating these types of mental exclamations because I'd surely end up on some nutty reality TV show with ex-con's and people who dress up their animals to look like people.  And in the end, I guess it doesn't matter because this morning, despite my chattering walk, I sat still and breathed for 22 minutes.  

  

Dumb Ways to Die

Have you downloaded the "Dumb Ways to Die" game/app yet?

[If you haven't, please do so now.  I'll wait while you download it and then waste about 4 hours of your life trying not to die by having the bear bite your head off.]

It's a hilarious game (I think) developed by the London Metro purporting train safety.  In addition to it totally cracking up 98% of my family at Thanksgiving (my mom refused to indulge us), the "video" portion is extremely catchy.  As in, it gets stuck in your head worse than a crappy Lady Gaga song.

The chorus, not suprisingly, is "dumb ways to die....so many dumb ways to die."

Jack and I started our vacation by landing in Tampa and driving the beautiful, Tampa-Bay-surrounded waters that lead to Anna Maria Island (we think this is our 14th time here).  The flight was a bit early and the drive quick, so we were ready to relax before our rental house was ready for us.  Instead of getting upset, we walked down to a favorite sports bar with Heaven's lobster mac and cheese (dammit - where are my statins?!).  We discovered that this sports bar actually hosted the island's NCAA football viewing parties and it was FUUUUUUUN to watch Florida play Florida State in Florida.  I went deaf a couple times during all the cheering.  I quickly hid the Notre Dame t-shirt I was sporting.

Regardless, the experience ushered in the vacation experience and I quickly transitioned to Island Time.  After a quick trip to pick up our house keys and super-fast grocery shopping, we hit the beach.  

Watching the sun sink into a blazingly orange sea, my primary thought pattern changed from "Work/hospitals/leadership/avoid MRSA" to "Hey, let's do a beach-themed 'Dumb Ways to Die' song!"

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"Play 'gotcha last' in the middle of the street....dumb ways to die."

"Swim with the jellyfish and stingrays, too....dumb ways to die."

"String Christmas lights right by the pool...dumb ways to die-ie-ieee."

"Pull your wife into the pool while she's still dressed....so many dumb ways to die!"

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Sunday (today) was a bit drab.  After a four mile beach walk, multiple cups of coffee, and several hours reading poolside under a foggy, overcast sky, we finally decided to shower and go to dinner.  

Cabin fever had already set in.  Along with totally-unintentional sunburns.  Drat.

20 minutes later, the setting sun blinded us and accompanied with robin egg-blue skies, mocked us with sudden 80-degree temps.  

"Fine!" we said.  "We'll show you, Mr. Sun!"  I playfully shook my fist at God and then lost my footing in my cheap flip-flops.  Man, brick patios are hard. 

After seething over the beautiful sunset, we went to our favorite bayside beach bar.  Over a couple Landsharks and Grouper Fingers, grooving with a Jimmy Buffet-esque singer, we challenged each other to an epic (EPIC) battle in miniature golf.  The loser would have to buy the other person ice cream and maybe a made-to-order donut the next day.  The winner would bask in all the glory befitting the miniature golf olympics.  Where Putt-Putt gives you endorsement deals.  And you win a prize for every hole-in-one.

In the end (thankfully), it was a tie.  We mini-golfed by Christmas light and laughed our way through a course challenging enough to elicit several "Wait, that didn't count!" shrieks from Jack.  After golfing, we finally went back to our house and, upon seeing the seriously clear stars shining down from the heavens, decided to do a night beach walk.  With my StarGazer app at the ready.  

We saw Jupiter, Neptune, 29 other constellations, and Uranus.  

Yep.  Good times on a star-lit beach.  

Is it bad that I kept thinking of "Sharknado" while down on the beach?!?  Jack waxed and waned about the philosophies of aging and maturity and I kept thinking, "can a shark get me in 5 inches of water?"   What a dumb way to die-ie-ieee!

So many dumb ways to die!!!

Enough's Enough

Thanks to the marvels of in-flight wifi, I'm gazing out at a patchy cloud sky somewhere over Tennessee (or maybe northern Georgia?), sipping a Bloody Mary and writing. I'll be on the beach in less than 2 hours.

I decided that enough was enough. The beach called us and we listened.

About four weeks ago, the COO of St. Gonzo's announced his upcoming departure. With two senior administrators gone, I figured it was now or never for a MUCH-needed break. I don't sleep past 3:30 a.m. anymore. I work so much my eyeballs blur and the bags under my eyes resemble soybeans. I'm grateful for the chance to inspire great change in healthcare but I'm getting a little tired of the cold sweats that spontaneous appear when I'm more than 21" from my phone.

One of our very best friends, Mr. Vera (husband of Vera) had a massive heart attack. Then he walked around for about five weeks and even visited Jack and I in Indy. He had 100% blockage in his right coronary artery and we're not sure how he's still with us today. After a harrowing visit to the cath lab, they cleared the blockage and he is at home recovering.

Yet, he keeps sharing his story with me, forcing it to sink in. You see, the reason we're such good friends with Vera and Mr. Vera is because they are the opposite to Jack and me. Vera and Jack are the chefs who love experimenting with homemade herb rubs on fabulous steaks. While they're dinkin' around the kitchen, Mr. Vera and I talk shop. He's a hospital administrator and at one point, we had about the same position at our respective hospitals.

That's why I'm suddenly scared. And very glad I'm on my way to the beach without the proverbial access to work email. I can easily, far too easily, see myself in his shoes and no one's going to take care of me and my awful work/life balance but me.

I've suddenly become good friends with my chief radiologist at work. We have a sisterly vibe and she's one of the few people in my life who's willing to call me out. SHE even pulled me aside and told me to cool it. Over dinner one night last week, she shared some tidbits from her own life, about her experience with crumbling relationships because people are just too busy. It's during those times that I feel really grateful for Jack. He's my Type B, relaxed Joe who forces me to slow down (except when he steals my iPad and I chase him around our new house!). Point being: Jack has been telling me for years to "chill the heck out."

Healthcare is only getting more difficult as we have to do so much more with fewer staff and resources. I hate Obamacare (just sayin' it outright: it MAY help the overall structure of the healthcare landscape - but it will take at least 10-12 years to do so. We're already seeing adverse selection in the insurance exchanges, huge shortages of primary care physicians, and retail price wars for hospital outpatient services. All this does is result in hospitals receiving far less in reimbursement for services, increased self-pay/bad debt/charity care, and overall declining payor mix situations. IF hospitals survive the next 10 years, healthcare will look far different. I will either be some c-suite exec at the height of my career or combing the beach with a metal detector so that I can piece together enough change to buy a Corona on the beach by my tent. Either way, I would like to be alive at that point).

Hence my Bloody Mary and suitcase full of sunscreen and gossip rags. I need a few days where the biggest decision of the day is "Beach or pool?" Or "should we go eat off-the-boat fish for lunch or for dinner?"

I don't want to end up in the cath lab before I'm 40. I know I won't be saying "MAN, I wish I worked MORE hours" on my deathbed. I want to enjoy the fruits of my hard work while I'm still young and stupid enough to bodyboard (or paddleboard!) in the surf.

I'm going to try this thing all the kids are talking about: Chilling the Heck Out.

And with that, I can see the Gulf from my window.