Snow Day. For Real This Time.

Last night, I rolled my eyes at more than a dozen facebook statuses about getting snow today. “We’re supposed to get 10 inches!” “Snow day tomorrow!” “Mmkay”, I thought, as I went to bed… “We’ll see about that.”

I’ve lived in the South long enough to know that the promise of snow is usually much more potent than the actual delivery of snow. I’ve had days off from work that ended up demonstrating not even a hint of precipitation, and I’ve accidentally gone to Harris Teeter because I very genuinely needed a few supplies, like a box of wine,, only to be confused and then appalled at the mile deep line of people buying bread and milk. And being a New Yorker by birth, I scoffed at the panic and delight that my friends and neighbors show at “snow” here – ya’ll, if you can see grass still, it doesn’t count.

But this? This is snow.

Someone just threw a snowball at him. Hint: It was not me.

This is the kind of snow that makes me homesick for Rochester and nervous to take the car anywhere but from the driveway to the garage. Unfortunately, my dear husband is headed into work right now in this mess. There is no way our neighborhood / the road leading up to our neighborhood / the road leading to the road leading up to our neighborhood will be clear. It seems they should call a snow day for the ER … half the people who come there aren’t real emergencies anyways. If you’re reading in real time, give a little prayer for safe driving for DeacDoc, please.

Meanwhile, I am guiltily sitting on the couch with a snoring pup, a blazing fire and a seriously scrumptious glass of Gewurztraminer. (Can someone give me a phonetic pronunciation of this? Or can we all just agree to call it Gertzie?) This is the view from our second floor, down to our living room… I love how it’s practically white-out through our living room windows. It feels cozy and lovely. Yet I won’t totally enjoy this vista until I get the phone call from a certain someone that they are safe and sound in the hospital parking lot. Welp.

Update: Matt has called and is at the hospital, but none of the roads were cleared (including Highway 52 and I-40.) If you don’t have anywhere you need to be, stay home!

Cupcakes & Catchphrase

This weekend the stars collided and a number of our friends all happened to have the same Saturday evening off together… which called for an impromptu get together involving large slabs of meat on the grill, cold beverages in the fridge and funfetti cupcakes.

Okay, I confess, the funfetti cupcakes aren’t exactly a necessity of a get together but it just so happens my wonderful friend Jamie has been gracious enough to share her birthday with our wedding anniversary so I wanted to give her a little birthday shout out. Plus, who doesn’t love a chance to eat cupcakes?

It was a great evening, and just so nice to see the boys be able to kick back and relax. The hens had a great time clucking away in the kitchen sipping wine / whiskey sours (and um, eating frosting out of the can. There, I said it.)

After dinner, we gathered for a round of Catchphrase and it must be documented here in the inaugral Emergency vs. Optho, Emergency was the clear winner. Optho, ya’ll better be studying up for next time.

On Sleep

I had a huge scare yesterday. I have been kind of cutting corners on my sleep (which is actually scheduled in my Outlook calendar). I usually get up now at 4:30 to walk Buddy, because I typically leave the house at 5:30. And USUALLY I’m in bed by 9:30, but for some reason this week and the week before I’ve been pushing it to 10:30 and even on Wednesday night stayed up past 11:00. At first I was thinking “well, heyyyy look who’s functioning okay on 5, 6 hours” and I was kind of proud of myself, because everyone’s always sort of teased me about my claim to need 7-8 to function (and to tell you the truth, I am legit worried about the sleep deprivation that will accompany the having of little people in my life one day.) So each day I felt a little progressively tired, but I sort of felt okay and I was like “Maybe I don’t need as much sleep as I think I do and I really have just been making myself THINK I need that much sleep.”

WELLLLLLLLL. Famous last thoughts, right? Yesterday I was doing a coaching session at a Sbux across town – 30 mins from my house. On my way home, I was feeling really warm and started to get really sleepy. I was about 1 mile from my house when my head bopped and my eyes closed, and I nearly swerved right into a mailbox. It scared the crap out of me. I know I drove the rest of the way home shaking on adrenaline. MOM STOP PANICKING, I AM OKAY. But, definitely no more cutting corners on sleep. I’m still kind of shook up by it, but thankful that nothing happened. I actually slept on the couch yesterday from 5-7, then got up and walked Buddy, made dinner, and got back in bed at 9. I slept til 5:30 this morning and I’m starting to feel half-way normal again. You better believe next week I’m getting back on my regular 9:30 schedule.

In other news: I saw my husband a total of 15 minutes this week. Three 5 minute periods either when he got home at 6 am or I got home at 4:30 pm. So happy that he has the next 2 days off. We’re having dinner with one of the new EM interns and his wife – who both went to Wake tonight, and no plans on Saturday except the Resident Spouse Association brunch for me. Sunday the crazy work schedule starts up again and my official week of Sleeping Normal Amounts resumes.

OH, must also update you all on Buddy, as I had a nice talk with a doggy behavioral expert here in Winston. (Like Winston’s very own Cesar Milan!) Good News! Buddy is the worst case he’s heard of in 20 years! I was like, hows about you just don’t share that tidbit of info with me? He did give me a few more pointers but basically everything I told him I’m doing he said is what you’re supposed to do for a dog with separation anxiety. He also said that he would recommend Buddy get on an anti-anxiety meds, and he also said that’s the first time he’s recommended medicine to a client ever. But he thought while I was doing the behavior modification, that would help him relax enough to be reconditioned. He basically said instead of 2-3 months like most dogs would need to get over this, Buddy will probably take 6-12 months. In a way, I’m glad to know I’m doing the right thing and it’s just been too short a time to see a difference but I was sort of hoping he’d tell me I was doing something wrong and if I just did xyz this would get better. Oh well. He was super wonderful to take a half an hour just to TALK me, and share all his wisdom and experience. I know if this doesn’t get better soon, at least I have an expert in my back pocket to call in for reinforcements! I told God this morning that since he gave me a difficult dog, I better have an easy baby. Either He said okay, or the voices in my head just agreed with that statement.

Match Day

For the last 3 years, I have been explaining one confusing concept of the medical school path to friends and family alike: Match Day.

“Yep, just one day in March when every 4th year medical student in the country finds out at noon where they’re going to spending the next 3-5 years of their life.” If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times. Match Day always felt like this elusive, far off day that would signal the grand finale of medical school. Finally, this morning, Match Day arrived.

The long journey of medical school is nearly over…
So, what’s next?

The months leading up to Match Day are a flurry of reviewing programs, submitting applications, writing personal statements and interviews. Gracious, the interviews. Who came up with this plan? Let’s take a bunch of cash-strapped, anxiety-ridden students and make them tour the country, staying at Super 8’s and making meals out of heavy appetizers at the interview dinners, all in an effort to narrow down which programs you like and vice versa. It’s a process that is exhaustive and exhausting, all in one. (And I was just the casual bystander, who graced but one interview dinner with my presence!) Despite the insanity of interview season, there seems to be value in the process of elimination that takes place on both ends and somehow, someway it all works out.

Fast forward to March 19th. Students, spouses, children, parents, and even some residents and attendings crowd the common area outside the room where the envelopes await. The tension is palpable, as people anxiously glance down at their watches, willing it to be noon. At twelve on the dot, the doors open. Much like the gunshot of a foot race, there is an initial rush and then a traffic jam as people clamor to get through the double doors. We head back to a table where envelopes with C last names gather and there it is, waiting for us. Without much fanfare, the envelope is opened. I’m behind the camera lens, and it’s hard to tell what his initial reaction is and my heart skips a beat for just a second. But then, there is a smile and he’s waving it at me and I put down the camera to see… “Wake Forest, Wake Forest,” he’s saying. There is relief and smiling and laughing and hugging.

The envelope, please.

The one day in March when every 4th year finds out where they are spending the next 3-5 years of their life has arrived, and with it has arrived good news. We are staying – we are staying here in this little city that has become home to us over nine years. We are staying with good friends with whom relationships have blossomed through the shared journeys of being students and better halves, respectively. He is staying in an emergency department with attendings and residents whom he respects and looks forward to working with, and I am staying in a job that still excites and inspires me each day. With one swipe of the letter opener, we are staying. Match Day has come, and with it the news that medical school comes to an end but our life in Winston goes on.

Future Docs. The Wives. Happy to be townies!

4th Year: Celebrate We Will

Yesterday we found out our friends, Zac and Jamie, are going to be staying here in Winston for Zac’s optho residency! We are so excited for them, since this was their first choice AND a very highly competitive program. That’s right, take a moment to send your mental congrats to Dr Z! It hardly seems fair now that they know their match and the rest of us have to wait til another EIGHT friggin weeks, but that’s what the Match Day Gods have decided, so wait we shall…and in the meantime, celebrate we will. Upon finding out the news, we rounded up a few buddies to get together to cheers to the good news. Matt demonstrated his cake decorating prowess with an eyeball adorned ice cream cake, and Zac appropriately sliced right into the sclera. (Yes, I confess, I looked that up. I’m not that on top of my eyeball terminology.)

The cake disappeared quickly, the Prosecco flowed and before long, the wii fit came out. All this on a school night? Whoever said med school was tough forgot to put the foot note on that says… Ummm yea. Except fourth year. Enjoy that, seniors. It’s hard to believe 4th year is here, and trust me, we’re soaking it up.

Even puggle got in on the celebratory bevs!

These fine gents are your future physicians!

Rhett! Rhett, where are you going?

I am absolutely positive the technology exists that would allow me to work remotely from here and that I never, ever plan to leave. Even on this gray and sulky day where the sky is spitting drizzly drops of precipitation on me as I attempt to window shop on King St, I am in l-o-v-e with this city.

Matt and I came down to Charleston last night for his 2nd to last interview, and we are both just enthralled with this city. Last night we ditched the school sanctioned dinner (if you read this, probably not a surprise) in exchange for a date night/bar crawl of our own. Jason, having recently visited Charleston, had directed us to a seafood restaurant that turned out to be mere yards from our lovely hotel. On our way down, he had texted us to visit the bartender when we got there and pick up a mysterious something. A gift certificate awaited us and we enjoyed a most scrumptious meal – spicy and hearty Bloody Mary’s, an appetizer of grit cakes with a light garlic alfredo sauce, and cajun sauteed shrimp – calories don’t count on vacation right? Yum. Our experience was capped off with a visit from Maiar Hyman, who according to the history lesson on my menu, is the 3rd generation of Hyman’s to run the restaurant. (Gen #5 is currently in charge.) Maiar regaled us with stories of his days in Winston-Salem immediately following the Korean War, and how he was a big timer textile salesman once clinching a deal with the now-Sara-Lee owned Hanes brand.

Delicious Bloody Mary’s with Absolut Peppar… Yum!

After our feast, we wobbled on to the streets and looked for somewhere to take shelter from the drizzle. Our prerequisites were simple: other patrons present and live music. While this may sound innocent enough, keep in mind it was only 8:30 pm on a Tuesday, in December. Not exactly the High Season. We wandered into one bar on Vendue St called The Griffon, where 2 other tables were filled with patrons, and a guy with a guitar crooned acoustic versions of Smashing Pumpkins, Eagles and Elliott Smith with an alarmingly similarity. After two rounds of hearing the same wailing on repeat and watching the same drunk girl in ugg boots and a jean skirt heave herself at any present male patronage, we paid our tab and left. Music and boisterous voices lured us into a bar called Mad River that inhabited a former church across from the Market. Something about the half-hearted attempt at rugged outdoor decor (the canoe hanging from the ceiling), the overly cheesy party music (Paradise City when you’re sober? Nope) and the presence of what appeared to be an intramural sports team celebrating a season win reminded me of some other place I had frequented. It wasn’t until I got home that I put it together: the same bar (decor, music and patrons) was just 4 1/2 blocks from my apartment in Baltimore and I had spent many a Friday nights elbow-deep at Mad River.

After a round at Mad River, we wandered up East Bay St for a lap before succumbing to Wet Willies, a bar with every known daiquiri flavor to man featured in slushie machines on a wall 25 yards long. Matt sampled the “Attitude Adjustment” – a suspicious recommendation from the waitress – while I sipped a Bud Light. Sugar and alcohol don’t mix well in my system, and a 5-alarm slurpee is a guaranteed way to ruin my next morning. What really kept us at Wet Willie’s though was the entertainment. Six guests rotated through song after song on Karaoke, while the other dozen or so patrons gazed on in shocked amusement, egged on in barely concealed faux encouragement and took secret video footage (me). It was like being at a live American Idol audition, and hearing many of my very favorite songs completely ruined!

The Wall o’ Wonder @ Wet Willies

After a dozen ear-splitting performances, we pushed aside the half-finished daiquiri and called it a night. What a Tuesday night it was – from low key mellow bar performance, to pulsating party music, to heart wrenching karaoke, we experienced the finest that Charleston’s musical scene had to offer. However, we both agreed neither the rain or melodically challenged performances put a damper on the beautiful backdrop of Charleston.

This morning, we did a driving tour of Charleston and oogled out the window like a proper tourist at the gorgeous scenery on East Bay St. Had it not been raining, I would have insisted on a proper parking so I could shutterbug to my heart content. However, I melt in the rain, in case you didn’t know, so a drive-by sufficed for me. After dropping him off at MUSC to interview, I did some half-hearted window shopping on King St. Oh, Economy! Truth be told, I am out of my element in any location that has a real live Louis Vuitton store and no Forever 21 or Target as far as the eye can see.

In an hour, I will meet my gorgeous friend Mikell who I scrambled all around the beautiful pais de Espana with nearly six years ago. The last time I saw her, we bid adios in the Madrid airport, but with the help of facebook I have tracked her wanderlust as she’s moved from Costa Rica to Seattle to Peru to Columbia and now to Charleston. I’m hoping to convince her she needs a live-in nutritionist and should clear some room for Matt and I to take up permanent residence in her probably-non-existent spare bedroom. After lunch and some more wandering, I’ll pick up the student doctor and north bound we shall be headed, bidding Charleston a sad farewell.

Greetings from Non-Snowy South Carolina

It is snowing in NC in November…. totally unheard of. Of course, we are not there. We are in sunny, warm Columbia, SC. (Sunny yes, warm is up for debate. Mid-50’s.)

Per usual for residency interviews, we had dinner last night with the other applicants and residents last. 3 hours of listening to them talk about “getting airways” (medicine speak for having an oppurtunity to stick a tube down into someone’s lungs) and “moonlighting” (working in small nearby hospitals for extra pay in your “free time”) and the terrors of July for an intern. (The “omg, I’m a doctor?!!? moment most 1st years experience.)

This morning I dropped Matt off at his interview and took myself on a walking tour of Columbia. The area down by the waterfront (river? canal?) is very nice. Very trendy and cute. Reminded me a little better of Fells Point in Baltimore, but newer. Lots of shops and places to eat. Probably not where medical residents live. The state capitol house was interesting…. and by interesting I mean, a confederate flag is waving proudly in it’s front yard. Is that legal?

Now I am working (writing emails, blogs and facebook status updates + 3 legit phone call sessions) in my hotel room til late check-out at 1pm, then I’ll go find somewhere to eat and check out USC campus.

I’ll pick up the student doctor at 3p and we should be back home to snowy NC by dinner time. After his first six interviews, Matt went on a cancelling spree and went from 21 interviews down to 11. I can see why now. If one more resident asked him “So, do you have any questions about the program?” (knowing full well all applicants had to watch a SIXTY-FOUR slide powerpoint about the program that included details such as the program director’s middle name and that south carolina is known as the Iodine State and thus has the lowest incident rate of goiters)… I think his head was going to explode from repressed eye-rolling.

Still left on the interview circuit: Charleston, Duke, UNC and U of R.

Yankee Land Delight!

NC to York to NC to Pittsburgh to Morgantown to Pittsburgh to NC… Oh my!

Monday he spent up in York, PA interviewing at a private hospital there. Prior to that, our only encounter with York had been to ski at Roundtop Mountain, the first time Matt came to visit me when I was living in Baltimore. It was on this mountain hill that our romance was rekindled… but I don’t think the nostalgia was enough to sweeten the visit as a high on the future rank list.

York, PA – Ski Roundtop – Matt’s first visit to Baltimore, March 2005

Wednesday he was back on the road to Pittsburgh – a town both of us know well, given that both of our college roommates hail from the Iron City. Dropping a “Go Stillers” into your interview is always a nice touch. Overall though, he sounded truly thrilled with the program at Pitt.

View of Pittsburgh from the top of Mt. Washington (from Britta’s Wedding Reception, 7/05)

Today he is in Morgantown, WV interviewing at WVU. We don’t know much about Morgantown, so I’m curious to hear his take on the program. Then he is back on the road back to Pittsburgh, for a visit with Jason, a Steelers game and one more interview at Alleghany General before it’s back on the road again. Thank the heavens that gas prices have dropped to the low 2’s again!

Safe travels, Hubby and get home soon!

Interview Season

Eighteen and counting! So far (in order as I remember them)

• U Pitt (Pittsburgh, PA)
• Wake Forest University (Winston-Salem, NC)
• University of Rochester (Rochester, NY)
• Georgetown University (Washington, DC)
• Beth Israel Hospital (New York, NY)
• UT at Chattanooga (Chattanooga, TN)
• UNM (Alburqurque, NM)
• Duke (Durham, NC)
• WVU (Morgantown, WV)
• Allegheny General Hospital (Pittsburgh, PA)
• Ohio State University (Columbus, OH)
• Thomas Jefferson (Philadelphia, PA)
• MUSC (Charleston, SC)
• VCU (Richmond, VA)
• Eastern Virginia (Norfolk, VA)
• East Carolina University (Greenville, NC)
• University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (Chapel Hill, NC)

I am missing one and it’s going to bug me. But anyways… here are the possible places our future may lie! Where do you think we’ll end up?

The Big Trip to Greenville

Yesterday I made the trip down to Greenville, NC – home of the famous B’s Barbeque, the ECU Pirates, Lee Norris (of One Tree Hill and Boy Meets Fame and a fellow WFU ‘04 alum) and oh yes, Pitt County Memorial Hospital, where my husband is currently doing a rotation. ECU is on the list of possible residency locations so I thought it might behoove me to check out one of our potential areas of relocation… not to mention it’d been 7 days since I’d seen my husband and I was more than happy to pay him a visit too. I was truly pleasantly surprised by Greenville. I had a great tour guide, as one of our best friends and Matt’s host, is a Greenville native and humored me with a driving tour complete with a stop to the local Wal-mart. I also saw a Harris Teeter and not one but two Starbucks so… I’m set! What I truly did see that I loved was that Greenville is one of those cities that is on that brink of revitalization. Mike drove me down what was the old Main St downtown area in it’s tobacco hey-day and then over to the current “downtown” area, and every other building he pointed out was recently rehabbed, in the process of being rehabbed or just about to be rehabbed. It reminded me of one of my other favorite “work in progress” cities… B’more! (And maybe even Winston?) I just love picturing what potential lies beneath a dilapidated run-down warehouse. The places Mike took us out on Saturday night was a great example of the amazing rebirth of old architecture. After dinner at a yummy and obviously popular restaraunt called Starlight Cafe, we walked over to a recently renovated building that now houses a spa and a restaraunt called, appropriately, LA Lounge & Spa. Can’t fault them for being ambigious. I’m always a little hesitant about places in the South that christen themselves with NY or LA references, generally finding the result to be an exaggerated stereotype. I haven’t been to LA so I don’t truly know what a LA bar looks like, but I didn’t have any trouble imaging I was there once we walked inside. It was a very hushed decor, with palm and moss greenery everywhere, low light candles on deep dark tables and very, very pretty people. The martini list was extensive, creative and quite expensive. I had the Wall Street Red (Stoli Strawberi, cranberry juice & champagne). Kim and Matt both had something with pomegrante seeds floating in it, Mike had the Italian Kiss (of which I promptly stole his sugared strawberries, ingracious guest that I am!) and I believe Jason, inspired by our afternoon movie watching on Mike’s new blu-ray, had the no fooling around 007. What more could you ask for in a city: a martini bar with bubble chairs and pomegrante garnished beverages in the same metropolils as a barbeque joint so old school they shut the doors when they run out of food? (We did not have any B’s because they had run out. Of course.)

So, while I pledge to remain absolutely unbiased and open minded about our potential future cities of residences, I am pleased to say that I can now at least imagine carving out a life in one new place. Between martinis, starbucks, barbeque, and let’s be honest – walmart – I could be all set. One site visited, a mere 29 to go.