If you like: talented entrepreneurs, delicious food, flip book photo booths, and fabulous hair accessories, you'd have been happy. It was a great party and I'm so thrilled for my sister and her business partner. The flowers looked like candy all spread out on the table. I buy more every time I see them. You should too.
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I found this while looking through some of my old residency stuff. I wrote it as an intern, and it struck me that a lot of it applies to new mommy-dom. n'est-ce pas?
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"I don't always look this good."
I stumbled out of my call room the other morning, after having stolen a blessed hour or two of sleep before arising again to do morning rounds, and made my way to the sink. I brushed my teeth, tried to massage out the 'pillow lines' from my face, and smoothed over my fly-aways escaping from the bun I'd done up the morning before. I started to head out towards the floor to see my patients when I stopped. I looked in the mirror again. I re-evaluated my appearance. If the role is an exhausted resident, I looked the part. I took in the smudged mascara underneath my eyes, the day old hair-do and the slightly rumpled scrub top I was wearing. What other professional, I thought, would ever go out to meet clients looking like this?
Medicine does many things, one of which is to test the limits of what you consider an acceptable public appearance. I realized while staring in the mirror how long it had been since I'd even noticed or cared that we have to be seen by our colleagues and patients in such a manner. You just adjust to it and move on.
When I had jaw surgery in high school, I ended up with a post-op bleed into my right cheek. That half of my face quadrupled in size (a walking experiment in the elasticity of skin), and along with the extensive bruising, I looked like a circus freak (and I'm not exaggerating). After the swelling had gone down a bit, I remember looking in the mirror and thinking, "I should have taken a picture when the swelling was really pronounced so I could have remembered how crazy I looked. Now I look almost normal! Oh well, I'll take a picture anyway." I found that picture years later, tucked into a book. The disfigured person in that picture had the craziest swollen half-face I'd ever seen. And I had thought I'd looked practically normal! So maybe that's how we deal with it. We lose perspective on what we really look like post-call because we're so used to seeing other people and ourselves look that way.
I do have one vanity that I still stake-out, however. Every call, I still wear earrings and a necklace. Usually the star earrings my lovely in-laws brought back from Spain, and a star necklace that my parents brought back from Hawaii. Good luck charms. Like a cotton ball at a speeding train, perhaps, but it's my reminder that underneath the pajama-like outfit and the big, clunky clogs, there is still some femininity to be found.
Incidentally, the worst thing is when someone asks you, "Are you post-call?", when you have just come into the hospital, freshly showered and all. Really? That's really how I look right now? Thanks for the morning boost. ;)
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Happy Monday!
I honestly don't know how you managed medical school, residency, etc... It sounds absolutely insane to me. The only thing I have to compare it to is Adam's first 18 months of life. If I had a choice, I know I would NEVER choose to lose that much sleep EVER again.
ReplyDeleteI guess it goes to show just how badly you wanted to be a doctor. Just one question-how can a doctor accurately diagnose, do procedures, and heavy duty surgeries on that little sleep? During those first 18 months of Adam I barely ever left my pjs or the house, unless it was to a doctor's appointment.
Your blog looks so fabulous and I love how you write! I have one child who,almost every time we have taken him in for anythig,ends up with a "normal" diagnosis! While it is good to be "normal" sometimes you want some answers! Glad all is back to normal!
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