To Remember

As luck would have it my husband was actually off Sunday. I wasn't confident this would happen as they recently had a few babies born that will require surgical care. And also because he was scheduled for Saturday and Monday of a holiday weekend which normally translates to him being asked to cover Sunday as well. Because he was off yesterday we decided to drive down to the lake to see the family for the day. They were all there to share Memorial Day weekend together.
As we drove home late last night I thought about what Memorial Day means to me. When I was younger I used to attend Memorial Day services at a local cemetery. They would often give a beautiful speech and then call out the names of those placed to rest there and their branch of service. No Memorial Day service touched me as much as the service I attended at the cemetery my grandpa is buried in. He was laid to rest in one of the national cemeteries in Oregon. Perhaps it was because it had only been a year since his passing but to see an entire cemetery covered in American flags at every head stone brings chills to ones arms. Or at least it did mine.
My grandpa was the type of man that could make a friend from a foe. He was quite the comedian and yet had a very serious side as well. He used to tell some of the best stories. I loved to sit around and listen to them knowing full well they likely were at least partially exaggerated. He was the type of person who could give you life advice that you knew was genuine, honest and impartial. He retired as Chief Petty Officer in the Navy with 20+ years of service in the CB's (also referred to as the SeaBees). In those years he received many awards and excellent evaluations. His highest honor was receiving the Bronze Star with a combat "V" for valor while in Korea (for those unfamiliar with the Bronze Star it is awarded to those for either heroic achievement, heroic service, meritorious achievement, or meritorious service in a combat zone). He liked to occasionally throw in from time to time that despite all of those years since retirement, he could still always fit in his dress uniform. To which he was actually laid to rest in so many decades later. My grandpa was not killed in action, however, his non-Hodgkin lymphoma was suggested to have been caused by his direct exposure to agent orange during the Vietnam war.

And so this Memorial Day I honor his memory. He will always be one of my heroes. Besides his many years of service to our nation, he was an amazing human being.

The Job

15 years. 15 years this job has been in the making. 15 years of medical school, residencies, and fellowship. This has not been an easy road. It has been an emotional, physically and mentally tough process. But it has also had great rewards. All of those years were enriched by our families, his professors, mentors, attendings, hospital staff, patients, and the countless other people that have crossed his path. And let us not forget he met me in those years! He has been trained by some of the finest in their respective fields. Every single person who has crossed his path has gotten him to this point. And so in a little over a month we will be moving to our new place for his very first job! A job that is not afforded to many new pediatric cardiac surgeons so soon out of training. An opportunity for him to further enhance an already existing program. And so we are West Virginia bound! You will be hearing us cheering for our new "family" the Mountaineers.

So many new adventures for our little growing family ... I can't wait to see what lays ahead for us.

A Diagnosis

One of the many and hardest challenges of parenting is watching, taking care of your sick children. Their helpless eyes look at you behind heavy lids wanting you, begging you, to help them feel better. As a parent, you so desperately want to take away their pain and ease their discomfort. However many times all you can do is hold them, cuddle them and wipe their brow. We have been blessed that we have not had to deal with severe childhood illnesses or diseases but minor infections like common colds and bacterial infections. Besides regular well child check-ups we have not taken them in to the doctor until last year. Our daughter after a few months of life was deemed allergic to soy and dairy. So food modifications were made and diligent label checks were preformed. Once we had a handle on that, life was smooth sailing again... Until last fall when our son started his first year of preschool.

I knew going in that he would have many more viruses and we would be making more trips to the local pharmacy. And within a matter of days it became true. However starting around October something seemed different. I consulted my favorite physician, who agreed it was time to take him in to the pediatrician. I was sure that his virus had ended but he continued to have a dry cough. And it didn't make sense. He coughed every morning upon waking and every night when he laid down. He would cough when exerting himself but otherwise he would not cough at all during the day. Our nights were the worst. He would cough and cough, unable to catch his breath until he would vomit. At which time he would seemingly have some relief from his cough for a short time. I took these symptoms and events in to his pediatrician again but was just told it was a post-viral cough and those can last 4-6 weeks post viral infection. Frustrated we were sent out with the recommendation to continue to do what we had already been doing to try and alleviate his symptoms. This went on until December when the coughing to vomiting events became more and more frequent. He was sent out that time with instructions to return if symptoms become worse. They said he likely had "reactive airway disease" exacerbated by cold viruses but they just needed to watch and see what happened. Frustrated my husband called him in an inhaler and some Zyrtec in an attempt to make our little guy's nights easier. Normally we go to our doctors for medications but we felt like we were getting nowhere and so we went this route. At his next follow up appointment I informed his doctor that he now had an inhaler and was on Zyrtec. It seemed to decrease the amount of episodes he was having but the cough was still present.

As winter became spring we were certain he had asthma and allergies and continued to ask his doctors who just told me to keep doing what we were doing. Finally back in April we met with his original pediatrician and after discussing the course of events, yet again, asked to get a referral to an asthma and allergist. To which he agreed. Finally! By this point my husband had switched him to Singulair because his allergy symptoms had gotten worse as had his coughing to vomiting episodes.
I took him in on Monday for his first appointment with the asthma and allergy doctor and within a couple of minutes of hearing his symptoms and the events of the last several months she said, "oh this poor guy has definitely been struggling with asthma." He was also tested for allergies that day. His allergy tests came up negative. However, the doctor said he is still young for testing and based off of his symptoms, especially this spring, he likely has environmental allergies. She said when I bring him back for retesting in 1-2 years she would not be surprised to see him test positive for one or two things. She gave him a maintenance inhaler to be used everyday and instructed us to keep his rescue inhaler for emergencies and before any strenuous exercise activity.

After a few days of the new medication and inhaler he has improved markedly. At t-ball practice he was able to run the entire time without having to stop and catch his breath. Nor has he had any coughing problems. It was a long and difficult road. Watching that little guy suffer for the last nearly seven months with respiratory problems was very difficult. Taking him in to the pediatrician every two weeks for all of those months and getting nowhere was beyond frustrating. I'm glad I continued to push for his well being and getting him in to the specialist he needed, I just wish it hadn't taken so long. The doctor said he will likely grow out of the asthma as he gets older. The allergies unknown, as he could likely still have those the duration of his life. At least now we have our diagnosis and can hopefully move on with these treatments and he can be back to his highly energetic self!

The Love For A Mother

Love for a mother changes over the years. When we are small they are our whole world. We love them like no other. The sun rises and sets in their eyes and their presence.
As we start to experience the world growing into our teenage years we love our mothers but we may not always like them. It's not really even them, it's the rules they enforce and the boundaries they set. Life doesn't always seem fair. And since they are generally the enforcers of said rules, they get the brunt of our displeasure.
As we become young adults we appreciate the sacrifices they made for us and love them so much more for it. We understand now that the boundaries and the rules were for our own good, to protect us and keep us safe. We may even feel a little guilty about giving them a difficult time during those years.
As we mature into adulthood our mothers become more our friends, our confidants. Our love for them is one of mutual respect.
If or when we become parents our understanding of unconditional love is achieved. It's one of the most amazing and frightening experiences in your life and at that moment the love for your own mother comes full circle. You understand how they can forgive you after you pushed their buttons as children or their rules as teenagers. You understand the fears of the unknown about raising children and that your own mother was just trying to do the best for you. You love them more for their patience and that no matter what, they still love you because you are their child. I have been blessed in my life to have a mother who has taught me about life. Whenever she was met with adversity in her life she faced it head on and fought to overcome it. She sacrificed and did the best she could for my brother and I. When I look back on my childhood I have such fond memories and can only hope that through my mother's example I can give my own children the safe and loving environment that I was privileged with. To all the mothers, mother-to-be, mother-in-laws, like-a-mother, or anyone else who  took on that role in someone's life I wish you a Happy Mother's Day. And to my own mom I thank you for everything you have done for me and my family. I couldn't ask for a better mother and Grammy to my littles. Happy Mother's Day.

The Lake, The Memories

Before I was born my family purchased property at Lake Mayfield. The work by my aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins and parents early on built the magical sanctuary that is affectionately known as "The Lake." In the early days it was legitimate camping. Tent or truck campers was what were slept in. As time went on those sleeping vessels turned into pull trailers and fifth wheels to now park model "mini homes" with modern amenities, covered by roofs and large decks.
There is also a community gathering place we call the "bull shed." It's a roughly 15'x15' concrete floor with a fire pit in the middle. It has six ten foot posts that hold up the roof that is also equipped with four roll down sides. Back in the early days the bull shed was quiet during daylight hours. The sides remained rolled up, the fire pit waiting to start it's shift. Come sunset though the bull shed became a hot spot. Community dinners were held there, where every family would bring a dish to share with everyone else. After dinner the dishes were done and a fire was lit. The tables would fill up with those wanting to play cards and games like 21 or flying aces. While those not wanting to play would sit around the fire and "shoot the bull" (hence the name). Things would quiet down around midnight and us kids would bring out our cots and sleeping bags and would snuggle down to sleep, making sure that whoever gets up first in the night has to add more wood to the fire. My grandpa was known for waking us in the early morning hours by rolling up the sides and saying "get up, it's time to move out".
Mornings were spent lazily waking up; getting our swim suits on and our food for the day packed up and loaded for a day spent down on the water. We would go down to the family docks in truck loads. Coolers packed with beverages and snacks to last us all day. We would laze on the lake, swimming, boating, skiing, tubing. It was an all day affair.
There is not one summer of my youth that I don't have wonderful memories at the lake. I lived for summer weekends when after my mom would get off work on Friday we would drive there to spend the weekend in our little happy place with our big extended family. The docks have quieted down now. Still frequented by a few of my cousins but the days of all day lake sessions by the whole family is a thing of the past. There are a few of my little cousins who still sleep out in the bull shed but the days of it being packed in with cots sleeping right next to each other have passed as well. Life at the lake tends to be a lot quieter than it used to be, except on Memorial Day weekend, Fourth of July weekend and Labor Day weekend. Those weekends can still be known for late nights, endless card games and fires that go on all weekend.
Over the last three years of us being here my husband has come to enjoy the quiet sanctuary of the lake. It provides him a place to get away from his busy schedule in this hectic city. His last vacation of fellowship was last week and his one request was to get out of the city and go to the lake. His version of vacation wasn't without his computer or work. The days mostly spent studying for his boards in June and writing his paper that will be presented at an annual conference, also in June. But there was time for him to do some fishing by himself and with our son. And also sleeping out in the tent with our son too. I opted for the warmth of a nice sized queen bed in the park model with our daughter. I mean, can you blame me?

Since we will be moving soon our little kiddos will not have the memories at the lake that I had growing up. Though they love to go there now and run all day long, their memories will be selective. Our daughter's most likely non existent. I hope the pictures we have taken over the years will tell them stories of making s'mores with Nana, going on bike rides with G.G., and paling around with their cousins. Our son catching his first fish. Our daughter going for walks with Pappy. Time spent with their Grammy and Bunka, Uncle Justin and Aunt Megan. The weekends when Papa and Grandma Heidi drove up for a visit. Our son's first boat ride with Uncle Mark and Aunt Lisa.
When we return for our vacation visits I hope that we can make it back up there sometimes to make new memories with them. But until then we will look through our pictures and relive these stories.

Mixed Emotions

I was a young girl in my early 20s and had just graduated nursing school. I had just finished interviewing for my first nursing job at the hospital I had worked at for the last four years as a Certified Nursing Assistant. I had verbally accepted the job and was just waiting to sign the official paper work. And then I decided I was going to move. I was filled with exhilaration. Looking back on that time in my life nearly 11 years ago I can safely say I was running. I was running from familiarity. I got on the plane, to my parents dismay and concern, needing to spread my wings and find myself on my own terms. And because of that there was little sadness, mostly excitement. Of course I missed my family but there was something about figuring life out on my own, not in arms reach of anyone I knew or loved, that drove and forced me to be quite independent and self sufficient.

Over the last several months my husband has been interviewing for jobs. They have taken him all over the country, to nearly every corner except the corner of my beloved Pacific Northwest. When he started down this path into this sub-specialty we knew that jobs would be limited and so would limit where we went next. I have enjoyed the last three years of having time with my family, knowing that we would likely be saying good bye again. This time though it is definitely harder. This time I am not leaving on my own terms but rather the job's terms. The prospect of new beginnings is very exciting and saddening. It means this chapter is coming to an end. The weekend visits with the family on a whim will no longer be possible. Summers spent at the lake at the family property will not be something my children will grow up knowing as I did. Our little family of four will make new memories wherever we go and will certainly make the best of our next city but I can't deny that it is weighing on my heart to leave this beautiful state but most importantly my family.

Salty and Sweet

I come from a long line of chip mongers. My grandpa, mom and I can sit around and visit over a bag of chips....or three. We don't discriminate when it comes to the deliciously salty snacks. We love them all. Plain, BBQ, Cheese Doritos and thanks to Lays (and my sister-in-law for introducing them) mom and my new addiction, Dill Pickle! If I'm being perfectly honest it was probably even the first food I ate and my first word (OK not really but you get what I'm saying). For years I didn't keep chips in my house because my will power seems to weaken when I know they are around. But when you throw kids into the equation things change.

When it comes to sweets I can take them or leave them. I enjoy a good piece of dark chocolate every once in a while or a few peanut butter m&ms but really they just sit and collect dust. Well they used to, that is, until I met my husband. I'm fairly confident that if you were to check his DNA you would see a piece of chocolate in there. As long as my family history of chip eaters is, his family history of chocolate eaters may be even longer. I remember the first time I met his late grandmother. I loved her as soon as I met her. She reminded me so much of my grandma-great. Even in her late 80's my husband's grandma could recall every one of her 80+ grandchildren (they have an impressively large family) and their birth dates. Like my grandma-great, I could sit and listen to her recount her many years as she lead a very fascinating life. And her first story she ever told me was when she would sew clothes for the people in her village she would always keep three pieces of chocolate near her, every day, to eat while she sewed. And so it was then that I knew it was definitely genetic.

I'll never forget one day in the ICU one of our Cardiac surgeons brought in a huge box of one of the local, favorite doughnut shop doughnuts. We chided the doctor about a Cardiac surgeon feeding the nurses doughnuts, to which he replied "job security" and then laughed and walked off. It was often a running joke to those that visited us about my husband's "chocolate cupboard." From the time we were married we have had an entire shelf designated for his chocolate stash. Everyone would joke about the future cardiac surgeon with the chocolate cupboard. There were all kinds of chocolate from milk to the darkest of dark chocolates. We had Cadbury (his personal favorite), Lindt, Belgian, Swiss. It was like a world tour of chocolate in our cupboard.

Well they do say chocolate is good for the heart right?

Since we will be moving in three short months our chocolate cupboard, that has come to be loved by all of our visitors, has started to dwindled down a lot. Not to be replaced. Wherever we go next though I am confident that when our visitors come they will be pleasantly surprised to see a well stocked chocolate cupboard again......