Confessions of a Chronic Overcommitter

I have written a lot recently about the wonderful things that i now get to do and how much happiness they bring me. I have sort of ignored talking about or writing about my work life, which used to so dominate my life. Just last night a good friend said how proud she was of me that I have never let work dominate my conversations or social life. I had to think about it for a few moments, until I ultimately agreed. I have chosen for years to try to leave work where it belongs which is at work where I have spent way too much time anyway. I mean really when you work nearly a hundred hours a week, why on earth would i want to think about or talk about my job when I am not there. Plus, I really don't like talking about my job, or at least the specifics of it with people who don't understand it, even other doctors from different specialties. I am so superspecialized that few understand what I do.

Still none of this is to say that I haven't done some crazy things to try to keep my often antagonistic goals of keeping work and life seprate when both are demanding. Back when I was a fellow, I planned a trip to Greece with my best friend. I carved out 9 days for the trip, when I only had a week vacation, by arranging to do the following insane things. I stayed up all night the night before i left to finish a talk that I was scheduled to give the day after I got back, I met with my boss and mentor 5 hours before getting on the plane to review said talk, and I was scheduled to work in the hospital overnight, responsible for the lives of very small babies, 6 hours after my international flight was scheduled to land, while yes giving this talk the next day on no sleep for days. What on Earth was I thinking, yet I used to do things like that all the time. No wonder I didn't mind slowing my life down. However, on that particular trip, which was Sept 2001, the world changed while I was a way when Sept 11 happened. My flight home got cancelled, there was no way for me to conceivably get back for my call or for the talk the day after. Everyone understood, no one was flying. No one blamed me. Yet somehow I felt guilty. I had to call multiple times to make sure that someone was covering my call. Hello, what the heck was I going to do about it, I was stuck in Greece. Crazy- Really, truly, seriously crazy. I could go on, I have scheduled myself many other an insane journey in order to try to meet the demands of my life and my work. Case in point number 2, when I was interviewing for my post fellowship jobs and flew home to Chicago after a 3 day interview in Phoenix, arriving at midnight. I did my laundry, repacked and reported for work at 8 am the next morning, where I proceeded to work for 26 hours, with nary a moment of sleep before reloading a plane to fly to LA for another interview at the hospital where I work now. The sane approach to that would have been to declare that I couldn't work that weekend and to have flown to LA from Phoenix, an hour flight, and spent the weekend, which was my mom's birthday, with her, but no I didn't do that. Like I said I used to be crazy.

So, why think about this now. I am leaving for vacation in 5 days. I am going to Hawaii with a good friend. I am going to scuba dive, relax, play in the ocean, try to avoid the sun, and just enjoy that almost 11 months after my first surgery I can finally do these things again. This trip has kept me focussed on my rehab, it brought me purpose when things were not so good. I have been looking forward to it for months. I have refused to bring work with me. Yet..... I agreed to write a reveiw chapter, on something that isn't exactly my area of expertise, which is due before I leave. I was initially supposed to write it with someone else, meaning I'd write half of it, but she backed out leaving me to the whole thing with no extension to the deadline. OK, fine. I am almost done, but I have had to work on it all weekend, and it is provoking anxiety in me. I so wanted to get ready for this trip leisurely and enjoy my new outlook on things. But no, because once I finish this paper, I have another project which also must be completed before i depart becasue i have stupidly agreed to represent my hospital at some national meeting, which will require me to turn around and fly to Nashville 36 hours after I return for my vacation. Yikes, don't I learn.

Nonetheless, i will be on a plane to Hawaii in 5 days, so what if I have to work some today. I will hopefully get everything done. Oh goodness, wish me luck.

Life Is Good

This labor day weekend was HOT, SERIOUSLY HOT in Southern California. For the first time in over a year my air conditioner ran all day and it just couldn't keep up with the heat. I was melting away when I decided that there was no cure for this kind of heat to be found in the valleys of LA at sea level. Fortunately for me I had been invited by my friend Kim to go sailing on Saturday. So off I went to really the only place to be on Saturday, the ocean. We sailed with a group of 8, some good friends some people I met that day, but everyone got along great and after a lot of coffee, a couple of mimosas and various forms of unhealthy food we were on the high seas comfortably cool and fast friends.



We were then greated by a pod of dolphins who decided that the House of Prince's sailing vessel was an excellent thing to play with. They frolicked in the water, jumping around us, swimming under the boat, spurting water in the air for what seemed like a long time. Captain Stew sailed the vessel expertly so that we could stay with them. A fellow blogger and passenger on the ship LA Daddy, took lots of pictrues which are great, but even they didn't show the wonder of being surrounded by these playful dolphins.



Then as if that wasn't enough fun, we still got to spend the rest of the day hanging out on board ship, and basking in the sun and not melting away. An aside here, I am supposed to keep myself and especially LEfty out of the sun for 3 years after radiation, but I live in LA and I don't like to stay indoors. SO, I have researched sunscreen, bought large quantities of the supposedly top rated sunscreen which i put on my scars every morning before my coffee- and i don't do anything before my coffee. I have tried to stay in the shade etc, but I am white, literally the definition of white- quick to burn, not very effective at getting a tan etc. All of my care at staying out of the sun has left with almost no base and although I wore a hat all day and put on a long sleeve shirt after lunch, my little white skin was no match for a day in the sun. Thus, my first sunburn of the summer and alas it was already Labor Day. However, we won't let that detract fromt he fact that it was a great day.

Then as if that wasn't enough fun, it was still 2000 degrees in the shade on Sunday, so I escaped to the mountains where thunder showers were nicely keeping it cool and I could persue my favorite mountain activities- long walks, kayaking, sitting on the dock (under the shade) reading a good book, etc. LIke I said this weekend Life is Good.

Sadly I had to returned to reality today. Reality stinks.

Feelings

Over the last month, I have made significant progress in the world of physical therapy and am able to do more and more things and I get stronger all the time. I am quite proud of the progress that I am making although I am getting tired of how much time the whole thing takes. Not only am I getting stronger, but I am getting more and more sensation back to my heel and ankle, still no sensation over the graft itself, but the rest of the foot is starting to find its voice. I am generally gald to hear from Lefty when it sends memos my way, it is comforting to know that Lefty has opinions again. However, many of the sensations are decidedly unpleasant and my surgeons seem to fear that I am developing a hypersensitivity so I am now under orders to desensitize my poor little heel/ankle. Desensitize a not so small word that really denotes another form of torture as you purposely induce discomfort with all kinds of different textures so that you can get used to the feelings. ICK... Still, intellectually I know that these feelings are one more big step in the healing process. So, step by step I go.

Gypsy Kings Or where Lefty fights back

Saturday night a friend got passes to see the Gypsy Kings at the Greek and invited me to go along. Now, I love the Gypsy Kings, their music reminds me of times long ago and it is the kind of music that you cannot help but dance to. Really, I challenge you to listen to Bombolea and NOT want to dance, really. So, I accepted right away; however, there was a catch these passes were not for seats they were to stand along the wall that separates the seats at the Greek from the fancy boxes. A great spot to watch the show and plenty of space for dancing, but I feared standing for so long. However, there was no way that I was going to refuse such a great opportunity so me and Lefty rested up all day, I donned my strongest pair of compression stocks and got dressed to dance. The concert was great, the night perfect, cool enough but not so cold you needed a jacket (as opposed to when I saw them last year at the Greek and it was so hot that removing your skin seemed like a viable option, but I digress), the moon was bright, we didn't have to fight the crazy parking scenario etc. A perfect, SoCal concert experience at a fantastic venue... But that standing thing. I am impressed that I did it, but I was in the moment and it was fun. However, when I got home Lefty was MAD and no amount of ice or massage would quiet her down, so I gave up and went to bed. Bad choice, in the morning she was stiff and sore and still cranky. I did my usual stretching etc., to some avail, but still this morning her voice is being heard. Oh well, I had fun and after all I am supposed to be pushing my self out of my comfort zone per doctor's orders and really what better way to push yourself out of your comfort zone then by dancing to the sounds of the Gypsy Kings on a lovely So Cal night.

memory is a funny thing

7 months ago, as I watched my poor little skin graft slowly heal I would never have believed that I could ever forget what it looked like back then. In the ensuing months I have taken lots of pictures of my ankle and graft largely because my surgeon is across the country, and she wanted pictures in lieu of being able to see me. Therefore, I have pretty much every stage of my healing documented for posterity. A while ago, she asked if she could use these pictures for teaching and patient education. I happily agreed as I am a strong advocate of medical education and as a patient, I think I would have dealt better with the radiation side effects if I was better prepared for the dissolution of the skin on my ankle. Anyway, I don't often look at these pictures because a)they are not pretty, b) I certainly don't show them to others, and c) I barely want to remember it myself. However, my PT has asked me for copies of them to use for PT student education etc. Therefore, the other day I sorted this lovely photodocumentary of my ankle and let me tell you I had forgotten. If time is supposed to be healing, maybe part of how it works is by removing disturbing images from your memory bank. Maybe. Certainly memory is funny, as I never could have guessed that I would forget; however, I also never could have imagined that now 7+ months later, my skin wouldn't be completely healed, so maybe not fully knowing what you are getting into is a good thing. Still I celebrate my forward progress and watch for that final scab to come off.

Shoes Again

Back in March, I bought my first pair of post surgery shoe, they had to meet exacting standards of what was allowed and it was no easy feat. I was so proud of those shoes. I was so happy to not have to wear that big hideous boot on my foot after nearly 5 months of wearing that thing or not even being able to put anything on poor Lefty. While I loved those shoes when I bought them and I still do like them, I even bought a second pair of the same dansko sandals in black. Really, I have only worn those shoes for the past 5 months. I walk into my closet every day and mentally challenge myself to ignore, my rack of beautifully colored fun shoes. I have tried to not think about it as I prefer to focus on what I can do not what I can't, but sometimes I will pull a pair of shoes off of the rack and think what if... I sometimes even try them on. The first time that I did that (back in April) I couldn't even stand in a pair of two inch kitten heeled slides. There was no way, my weak little ankle could have even taken a step. I put them away and didn't venture to try that again until June when I could stand in the same shoes and take a few cautious steps. So much about shoes I know, but I miss my shoes.

So, where's the punch line, well on Tuesday I saw my foot and ankle surgeon (different than my tumor surgeon- so many doctores, so many appointments). Anyway, I talked to him about this shoe thing, and he declared that I should try it. Having been down this road before where my PT then vetoes things like this as he sees me twice a week and has a little more knowledge about my current state of strength. I waited to talk to him; and lo and behold he concurred. Hello- So, last night when I met friends for dinner I wore my cute brown sandals and even painted my toes for the occassion and you know what it went OK. It may seem stupid to many, this shoe obsession of mine, but to me it is one more sign that I am getting better and back to the old me.

Oh, said foot and ankle guy also directly told my PT to start to be more aggressive with my exercises and push me out of my comfort zone. And boy howdy did he yesterday. I have quite a few sore spots today, but it is all good.

My garden misses me

So, now almost ten months after I entered the world of the physically challenged, I am feeling confident enough and strong enough to start to really work in my garden. So, for the past two days, I have spent 2-3 hours each day trimming my plants, reworking my sprinkler system and fertilizing everything. Let me tell you there was so much to be done and still is a lot more to do, but I love the concreteness of a gardening project. I love shaping my plants the way I want and seeing them flourish with a little help. If it weren't for my compression stocking that kept getting wet and muddy, and the need to ice my ankle; I wouldn't have even thought about it all day. Oh yeah and the fact that I am exhausted. Still I think that this counts as a major milestone. Progress, yes, progress.

So, garden don't worry I won't neglect you any more.