Its the Small Things

Today I gave my dog an ice cube.

I know what you're asking, why on earth is that note worthy or even interesting?  Well, to answer you have to to go back a little bit.

Our apartment is still in that obnoxious stage of unpacking where its a disaster because everything is making its way out of boxes but their "homes" haven't been found yet.  I also have this lovely habit of half finishing my projects.  So I'll start one, get halfway done, and then get distracted.  But because I know that I'll come back to it I just leave everything out waiting...you can see how this could become problematic.

So this cycle of sad has been weighing on me and I've been very much in a self pity mode.  Which is just not attractive y'all!

At any rate, I'm sitting here, being mopey, and I decide to go get some water.  I have this issue with water...as long as its ice cold I can drink just about anything, and the water here is NASTY.  Pull out ice cube tray, put some in glass, accidentally drop one.  At which point the Pup-tar runs over to beg for it.  Naturally I hand it to her which then starts the cutest thing ever.

See, she likes to play with her food.  So she'll take whatever it is, in this case the ice cube, to a fairly empty space of floor where she'll drop it and then proceed to bounce around it all the while playing nose tag with it.  In that moment she is the happiest little dog the world has known, all because of an ice cube.

Today this struck me.  I realized that I need to take a page from her book.  I'm getting caught up in these huge things, things I have no control over and because of that I'm missing the little chances for joy.  Those ice cube moments are wasted on me because I'm choosing to ignore them.

I live in a beautiful area.  I have a wonderful husband.  I have an amazing mom and some pretty awesome cousins, aunts, and uncles.  I married into an incredible family who I wouldn't trade for the world.  I have a roof over my head, electricity to run the tech stuff that I'm playing with right now, food in my refrigerator, clothing on my booty, and shoes on my feet (assuming that put them on of course).  And these are just the big things!  Imagine what the list would be if I started listing the specific minutia that makes my life wonderful.

Today I gave my dog an ice cube, and in the 5 minutes it took her to eat it she taught me just what was really wrong with my life.  And it wasn't at all what I thought it was.

You know you're a med wife when...

• Your husband comes home at 9 pm and you're shocked at how early he's home.
• You find yourself screaming obscenities at the TV show that has a minor character involved in medicine (Looking at you, The Glades) because they keep getting everything wrong.
• You find yourself translating and reading the scripts for the pharmacist.
• You have a pile of papers that you don't look at cuz it might (but never does because all of that stuff stays at the hospital, you're just crazy) have patient information on it.
• You find yourself going to more functions alone than you do with your husband.
• You don't bother going into the doctor for most ailments, instead you either hijack your husband when he gets home or you grab his med equipment and use it yourself.
• You have more conversations with your dog (or cat) than you do with your spouse.
• You're in a long distance relationship, but you're still in the same city
• You use the terms "lacerations", "contusions", and "ecchymosis" instead of "cuts", "scrapes", and "bruises".
• You realize that you're having a panic attack because the children's toys are making noises and it sounds like his beeper/pager/phone thing (which would mean that he left it home and that the world just might come to an end).
• You take pictures of you and your husband together just so that people will stop thinking that you've made him up.  Seriously guys, he exists I tell you!
• You notice that the docs have stopped asking you questions and instead direct them at your hubby.  You're not entirely sure if this is for diagnostic purposes or for pimping...
• You schedule your OBGYN visits based on the call schedule, just in case the doc on that service is actually a friend.  No one wants to have dinner with someone who's seen their hoo hoo when that someone isn't their husband.
• You understand exactly where the Dowager Countess is coming from with this

*Pimping is a medical term for when Attending Doctors ask Underling Doctors (so...interns and residents) questions.  I have yet to determine if its done to help learning or if its done just to trip up the underling.

There's a burden associated...

Let me start you off with an anecdote:

I have a lovely young friend who is a lovely young mom to two of the most adorable little angles out there.  C is her oldest, and he's about 2 and a half, while A is almost 1.  Boy and girl and complete opposites in most ways.  Last time we talked, she told me of some concerning behaviors.  C wasn't talking for starters.  Nothing, not words, not babbles like mamama or dadadada.  Occasionally he'll make some slightly repetitive noises, but for the most part he's silent.  A on the other hand chats away non stop.  Never stops in fact.  C hates being held.  Sometimes he'll want a story so he'll let Mamma read to him but if she does more than let him sit on her lap he freaks.  A meanwhile constantly wants cuddles.  C seems to have meltdowns at the drop of a hat while A is generally a happy baby.  This is made all the worse by the fact that C can't communicate in a way that his Mamma can understand.  Which of course makes her feel like a failure as a mother.  The more she told me of her worries the more I just wanted to hug her.  It was heartbreaking.  She sees all the progress that A is making and its only causing her to worry more about her baby boy.  

If you're anyone but a med wife what you hear is a tragic tale of a Mommy trying to do the best that she can with her precious babies.  If you're me on the other hand, what you hear is a loud siren screaming AUTISM!  

One of the awful side effects of being married to medicine is that you see and hear more warning signs than the average person.  Someone talks about being tired, hair falling out, weight gain or loss, med people hear hypothyroidism.  Normal people hear bad sleep, shampoo, and exercise.  This hyper-awareness is one of the burdens of this life.  It borders on hyphochondriasis.

Its really rather strange.  Not only do the actual doctors have to deal with this but very frequently the families develop this side effect.  Its always fun, and by fun I mean totally annoying.  Eventually we all get used to it, and maybe that's the even bigger burden.

Ah moving, though art a heartless, well you know

Sweet baby rays moving sucks!  Everything about it is awful!  The packing, the driving, the loading and then the unloading, and finally at last the unpacking.  That stage where you take everything out of those blasted boxes and feel a little of your sanity slip away. 

And that's where I am right now.  Loosing my mind to the piles of boxes.  Thankfully we have internet now.  And Craigslist, can't forget that.  We were able to get a sweet sectional sofa for free, and its even in good condition!

This move has me thinking a lot about our last move.  Where in the space of five weeks we got married, went on a honeymoon, moved to Pennsylvania, bought a house, bought a dog, started med school for DrH, and started interior design school for me.  We apparently don't do things the normal way.  

Well, this time was no different.  The actually events were different of course, but the fevered pitch, that stayed.  Sunday morning we left Pennsylvania for Idaho, in a vibe full of stuff with a car topper full of stuff and a truck full of stuff dragging a trailer full of stuff.  Driving straight we made it to Idaho on Tuesday morning.  We then hung out with family for a couple of days before leaving on Friday morning.  Traveling all night on Friday we made it to California on Saturday morning.  

Around this time we found out that the original apartment we were looking at would take another 2 weeks to move into.  You can imagine how well this went over given that we were roughly 18 hours away from actually BEING in California.  So we found another place.  Getting into town at 10, we toured the place at 10:30, started the paperwork at 11:00, signed the lease at 2:30, and started moving our stuff in at 3:30.  By 6, we were dressed up and fancy at the local Sheraton where we chatted with a bunch of med people at the hospital's welcome dinner.  Sunday we continued to unpack the truck, got a sofa, looked for a frig (because in this area of California apartments don't come with them.  Yeah, weirded me out too), and eventually passed out so that DrH could get to orientation at 6:30 in the morning. 

So here I am, unpacking after a crazy weekend.  Waiting for DrH to come home so that we can go pick up the moving dolly and frig we got off of Craigslist and wondering what I did in my past lives for karma to kick me so hard.  

Moral of the story?  Moving sucks.  Next time, I pay people.  I wish.

Just a little MIA

Yeah...I've been just a little missing from my plan to update this blog weekly.  Stop judging!

In my defense its been a crazy few weeks.  First off, the whole house thing.  This may surprise you but revamping a house to get it sell ready takes a LONG FREAKING TIME!  Many sore backs and random bruises/burns/cuts have ensued.  Then there was graduation which of course meant family came in.  And then there was the house.  Did I mention that we're trying to sell it?

But...drum roll please...the house is officially on the market!  A few weeks later than we wanted but we now have a great product to put out there instead of just a good one.  Its exciting to me.

We are now down to our final days here in PA.  Which gives me a little bit of what I like to call "graduation goggles".  You know that feeling you got when you were about to graduate high school and move away from family and friends?  Suddenly you started to miss the people you never even talked to.  I'm starting to get that for this place.  And then I go driving and remember just how much I'm excited to leave and not be here anymore.

Don't get me wrong, its been great.  Our little neighborhood is fantastic and I love our neighbors.  The friends we've made here have been awesome and I'll miss them terribly.  But the old wanderlust has started to set in and I'm feeling the need to fly away.  I like adventure.

So here we are, getting ready to run to California and just counting the days until we leave.  Its kind of surreal.

We're doing what now?

Ah May, that time of year when all the little med peoples start realizing that the year is coming to an end.  But, you might think, the year ended in December   I mean, you went to the New Years celebrations and everything.  Oh my little ones, med people are not normal people.  We all seem to keep time in terms of training years.  And training starts in July by and large, so the new year is almost upon us.  This means that those ending a section of training are looking at next section of life.

For a lucky group this means that they're entering the real life portion of their lives.  Real jobs, good incomes, a steady life.  The rest of us are going into residencies, internships, fellowships, and some poor suckers are starting med school.  This naturally means one thing, moving.

I hate moving.  I don't know anyone who doesn't.  The whole thing is tedious and evil.  You have to pack, clean, get rid of stuff, find a new place, buy the stuff you need but couldn't justify packing across the country in an outrageously expensive moving van.  It all sucks.  And for a few idiots weirdos of us this also means selling the houses we bought for that section of life.  DrH and I are among that group.

So here I am, two days before the first real showing of my house, sitting on the floor of my living room because all of our furniture is in the garage, wondering if I can just set a match to the place and call it a day.  I won't of course, my house is freaking adorable and fire would not help its adorableness.  However, since the only thing I can even think about right now is the renovations we're doing, that's what this (and probably a bunch of the following posts will be about.

Our house was built in the 40's by some local carpenter who did a pretty decent job.  And all owners since have taken remarkably good care of it since then.  Oh they did stupid stuff like covering the original hardwood floors, or cutting a rather large hole in the floor by the fireplace, but overall the house is in darn good shape.  So since we don't have too darn many issues we've been working on the floors.  I don't know if you've ever re-finished a floor but good balls its a pain!

We'll just do this through pictures.

First we had to pull up the 30 something year old carpet (which wasn't the first carpet down...ew).

This took a good friend with some weird notion of wanting to help, a truck, and some box cutters.  And a strong stomach cuz this is what we found underneath the carpet.

No idea what this dried dirty goo is, and I don't want to.

The goo was then scraped up using the "husband method".  That is to say I told DrH that I had no idea what to do about it and so it was his job to figure it out.  Turns out that hot soapy water and some plastic putty knifes will do the trick. 

The cleaned up product!  So much better.

At this point we gave it a good mopping (as in 4 seperate cleanings with both a traditional mop and a steam mop) and put some pledge down to protect it from further damage.  And then we lived with it for 6 or so months.  Basically until the snow went away and we could actually move furniture out.  

Next up!  The rest of the process.  Not because I can't keep going but because sitting on the floor is making my butt numb.  Oh, and that whole packing/cleaning/painting/crying thing that has become my to do list. 

Well hi there!

Here we go.

Graduation is only a few weeks away.  Balls.

Really, that's a good balls.  I mean, we finally get to really live.  We'll actually EARN money instead of hemorrhaging it with loans.  We'll get to sprint away from this town and ward (which is really my exciting point).  We'll be closer to family!  I miss that.  Being with family I mean.

This journey has been, what's the phrase?  Ah yes, cruel and unusual hell.  Ok, perhaps not that bad but its sure had its moments.

I think I'm getting ahead of myself though.  We'll start with who we are.

DrH rejoicing in the fact that we didn't get stranded in the middle of Wyoming

First there's DrH, also known as Matt.  He's a down home Idaho boy who has been involved with medicine since he was really young.  Since he was 12 his dream has been to be a radiologist in his home town.  Sometimes dreams don't work out so well.  He graduated from BYU in 2009 with a B.S. in Bio Chem and three minors (computer science, business, and Japanese).  You might think that he's kind of nerdy but you're wrong.  He's not just kind of nerdy, he's the King High Puhbah of the nerds.  This by the way, is his preferred term (lest you think I'm just being mean).  He also served a 2 year church mission to Tokyo Japan.  This resulted in my making a promise to learn Japanese.  Thus far, I'm untrustworthy.

Me as Mrs. MacAfee in Bye Bye Birdie

Then there's me.  I graduated from Mercyhurst University in Interior Design.  It took a little longer than I wanted to get that stupid degree but I got it!  I used to be a theatre major but I just wasn't cut out for it.  Now I'm essentially a stay at home loafer.  Realistically I stay home and attempt to rehab our little house that we're putting up for sale very soon.  As in, by the end of the month.  I have a death wish.  I deal with extreme hypothyroidism which has just added the medical thing into yet another facet of our lives.  Upside?  My pills are a really pretty cerulean!

The Poch-tar in her Halloween Costume.  She loves it

Finally there's the dog, Pochi.  She's an expert in pooping, running, snoring loudly, looking silly, and chasing laser pointers.  With my hypothyroidism we've had troubles getting/staying pregnant so she's a little bit like my child.  I'm only steps away from dressing her in clothing...more frequently I mean.  For the record, she's a Pembroke Welsh Corgi who, because of the mismarkings on her back, is considered inferior.  Breed standards being what they are I guess.  Its ok though cuz she's a seriously awesome little Corg, even if her colors are a little off.

So here we are.  A small, rather weird little family about to embark on a new adventure!

Graduation in 48 days, 17 hours, 12 minutes, and 15 seconds.  But who's counting?  Eep!