Rules of Engagement

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Hubster and I don't fight.

When I tell people this, there is usually the reaction that either I am lying or delusional. Some people have gone so far as to say that if we don't fight, it must mean that our relationship lacks passion; that fighting is "healthy" for relationships.

I disagree. Fighting is not necessary. Or beneficial.

When I say that we don't fight, I don't mean to imply that we never disagree. It would be unrealistic to think that two individuals would agree on everything. There are a multitude of things that we disagree about.

But we don't fight about it.

It's not always easy. Probably more for me, because I get very worked up over things and cry easily.

But we have rules. Rules for disagreements that have prevented us from fighting.

I'm not calling myself a relationship expert. And I'm not bragging. Or trying to say that my relationship is better than someone else's. But these rules have worked well for us. And I wanted to share them. Just in case.

Here they are..

1. Keep on subject. Don't bring up old arguments. Don't add, "And do you know what else bothers me...?"

2. Don't call names. Ever.

3. Don't attack the other person's occupation.

4. Don't attack the other person's education.

5. Don't attack the other person's family members.

6. Don't break things. Or slam doors.

7. It's okay to leave the room. But don't storm out.

8. If you need to, take a time out. If the conversation is getting heated, just stop talking, wait until you are calmed down, then try again.

9. Avoid talking about topics you disagree about in front of other people (related or not). It may just embarrass the other person and add more emotional fuel to the fire.

10. Don't yell.

I'm sure that I'm making this sound overly simplistic and easy. I'm not saying that. But it gets easier with practice.

Using these rules, we've gone eight years of marriage without a fight. (And please note: I did say fight, not disagreement. Just wanted to clarify that point one more time.)

I'm working on a list of rules about how to approach my children. Because I can get grumpy with them. More than I should. I've raised my voice to my children. While Hubster and I have never raised our voices to each other.

(However, it is true that Hubster does not color with marker on the furniture, or hit his siblings with baseball bats, or dump bowls of applesauce on the floor. He also does not try walking as slowly as possible when I am in a hurry. Or lick windows in stores.)

I realized just the other day that I need rules for me regarding them.

That's a work in progress.

There is one more things. For when all other rules fail. I love the person sitting across from me. Is winning this disagreement really more important than their feelings?

The goal of our marriage was not to sacrifice things we believe in or feel passionately all for the sake of just being able to say that we've never had a fight. I could just start agreeing with everything Hubster says, for no other reason than to keep the peace. But that would make our relationship less meaningful.

The goal was to be able to trust each other enough to feel that we can express our opinion, even if it differs from that of the other person, without being attacked.

That in this world, so full of people treating each other so horribly, that our marriage can be a safe haven.

Maybe I shouldn't, but I do

Friday, May 29, 2009

I'll admit it.

I get a lot of inspiration for writing from other people's blogs. I don't think this is cheating by any means. It just that people have ideas that get my mind going light speed, and then I need to write.

I read in several blogs lately about regrets.

Mostly, about how people were claiming that they didn't have any.

Not that they thought their lives were perfect or mistake free. But that they couldn't regret anything because it had made them the person they were today.

What's wrong with me?

I've finally gotten to a place in my life where I'm pretty happy with nearly everything.

But I still have regrets.

I've made it through medical school, and I think that I finally have stopped regretting going in the first place. But I will always regret how difficult I made the process for my family. I spent so much of medical school being completely miserable. And it didn't make it so I had to work less, or that people were nicer to me at work. All it did was make it difficult for my family.

I have a wonderful relationship with my boys. But I regret every time that I've lost my patience with them. There is never really a good excuse for it. And I know it didn't ever make me a better person.

I regret losing so many friends along the way. I could have done a better job keeping in touch, trying to be there for people, or just showing up.

I regret nearly every doughnut I have eaten on call nights and morning rounds. I might not have to work so hard to have something to report on Wednesdays if I had just eaten a few less of those glazed temptations.

I regret being so hard with myself when I was "younger." (It feels stranger to say younger when I'm only 27 and already young, but yeah, you know what I mean.) I beat myself up over how much I studied, about what I looked like, about how much I could get done in a single day. If I had just learned to relax and accept me for me, I would have not lost so much time being unhappy.

Maybe I'm over-reacting. Maybe none of these things are worth regretting. Maybe I need to work on letting go of these regrets and accepting that they have made me the person I am now.

But I don't think that any of those things benefited me. Just made me and those around me miserable.

And the regrets keep my eyes open to how to prevent those mistakes in the future.

Like my goal for residency.

My goal is to just suck it up. Yes it will be horrible. It will be much more miserable than third year or my fourth year sub-I could ever be. Will I want to quit? Yes. Will I probably cry? Yes (no probably about it.)

But I'm going to try to not be miserable. Because I have to do it. And being miserable won't make it so I have to work less, or my senior residents be nicer to me. And it won't make the process easier for my family.

I guess this is just a reiteration of my thoughts on guilt.

I don't dwell on my regrets. But I don't deny that they are there.

It was good while it lasted

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

It finally happened. I knew it had to someday. But I was in denial.

My brother-in-law finally asked for his Wii Fit back. There is not emoticon strong enough to express how sad I am about this.

I lost nearly five pounds using that balance board.

I've gained 2 back in the week since he took it. (Okay, it's not just because the Wii Fit is gone. It's also because I've eaten out twice, gone on a road trip that involved marshmallows, and visited my mom.)

Unfortunately, our financial situation does not currently allow us to replace his with one of our own.

However, the Wii Fit is no longer enough for me.

I have a new lust object.

The Wii Active.



I.

Want.

It.

Until then, it is back to my stationary bike and the sidewalk for me.

For Better or For Worse

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Today is day that Hubster and I have been married for eight years.

Those years have flown by. Hopefully by saying that, you can tell how happy I've been during these eight years.

It is no secret that we are blissfully happy.

I've very lucky. I'm sure that there is no other person in the world like Hubster. No one else would have put up with me this long. He makes me happy every. single. day.

The way things started out, you might not have guess it.

And when I say started out, I don't mean how things were when we were dating, or when we were engaged, or when we were first married. We were just as blissfully happy during those times as we are now.

When I start "started out," I mean just that.

The wedding day.

Hubster and I don't go to a single wedding or reception without thinking of our own. And what a complete disaster it was.

Oh, my handmade dress was wonderful, the flowers divine, the flower girls darling, Hubster dashing in his tux, the cake delicious, the location beautiful.

I know, it sounds great, right?

Well, let me set the stage.

My parents filled for bankruptcy around the same time. Both Hubster and I were in college. There was no money for this whole affair. We briefly talked about postponing the wedding, but decided there was no real benefit for us in doing that.

So we did the wedding on a shoe string. As in, so little, I can't really mention it here (you would die of shock.)

And we did it mostly by ourselves. Make the food, set up the ceremony and reception location.

Which resulted in us walking down the aisle an hour late. After many of my friends had given up and left. In 100 degree weather.

The guy doing the ceremony talked about making up after fights and forgot the rings.

My dear mother in law had invited some of Hubster's relatives to sing (unknown to either of us.)

When we were going around greeting guests, people kept complaining about the weather.

Do I wish that things could have gone better? Yes. Do I regret some of the decisions and circumstances around the wedding? Absolutely. Do I feel sad every time I go to someone else's exquisite reception? Yeah.

After all, the wedding day is the one that nearly every girl plans for the moment she is five years old.

Would I trade what I have with Hubster, trust, support, and love, for the most amazing wedding of all time?

Not a chance!

100

Monday, May 25, 2009

I feel that for my 100th post (which came faster than I had anticipated) I should have something profound to say.

I'm sure I could think of something. I could thank everyone for reading. I could talk about how great a release this blog has been. I could say that the best is yet to come.

But instead, I think I'll just share this with you.

Change of mind, not change of heart

Thursday, May 21, 2009

It has come to my attention as we make the round, saying goodbye to friends and family prior to our big move, that many are unaware of the change in my career path.

The majority of people still think (or thought, prior to being corrected) that I am going into pediatrics.

And when I tell them that, no, I'm actually going to be an anesthesiologist, there is the unavoidable explanation.

I'm always met with variations of the same conclusion.

"So, now you hate kids?"

I thought I would take this opportunity to explain why I changed my mind.

When I first went to medical school, I thought that I was going to be an anesthesiologist. For all of two weeks.

We had a lecture series for first year medical students that taught us about different specialties. I was very excited for the anesthesia lecture. But the physician giving the lecture ruined it for me. He kept saying how great it was because you got to be a doctor, but you didn't have to talk to people. I knew that I wanted to interact with people (if I hadn't wanted this, I could have just stayed in my plant lab.) So I left the lecture and never thought about anesthesia again.

After my first pediatric rotation, I was sure that I wanted to be a pediatrician. I loved the children. And the normal hang-ups that people have about pediatrics didn't bother me. Sick children didn't depress me. Demanding parents didn't irritate me.

(Okay, I also really wanted to be an OB/GYN for a while. But I had vacation right after my OB/GYN rotation, and realized how much I liked my time off.)

I also strongly believe in primary care. Being the portal into health care and the first point of interaction, continuity of care, and care of vulnerable populations all appeal to the idealist in me.

So, I created my schedule to best prepare me for pediatrics.

I took pediatric neurology and pediatric IV team. Then I took my pediatric sub-I. (Background: a sub-I is an opportunity for a fourth year medical student to act similarly to an intern (or first year resident) They get more autonomy and more responsibility.)

My sub-I was the most miserable experience of my entire medical school. I was abused by the other interns. I never got to sleep on my call nights. I was told that no one would cover my patients if I went home early on post-call and "golden days" (paperwork only days.) I was so emotionally beat down that I was close to a mental break down. I told my friends, my adviser, and my family that I was going to quit. I couldn't see any end in sight to the emotional disaster that my life was becoming.

One day, near the end of my rotation, I was rounding on a patient that had a severe intestinal condition. His parents had been at the hospital with him every single day since he had been admitted 13 days earlier.

I suddenly realized that I was envious of those parents. Yes, their son was sick. But at least they got to see him. I hadn't seen my children awake in over two weeks.

I came to a realization right there that I liked my children much more than I would ever like anyone else.

I knew that I couldn't do pediatrics. But I didn't know what else to do - besides quit.

About a month later, I rotated in anesthesia. I immediately was drawn in by how happy everyone seemed. Yes, they worked hard. Yes, the work was stressful and demanding (but honestly, in medicine, what isn't.) But they didn't have the same beat-down, lifeless look to them that other residents had. And they had a life outside of medicine. Residents and attendings would talk about movies during cases. Residents had time to see movies?!

And at the end of one day, when I was told that I could go home, I was shocked by how fast the time had gone. I hadn't been constantly checking the clock. I wasn't resentful of the time I had to spend at the hospital.

A week later, Hubster asked me what rotation I was on. Anesthesia.

"Well, you should do this. You haven't asked to drop out for weeks!"

Since then, I have completely fallen in love with anesthesia. The procedures, the physiology, the pharmacology. Everything was intriguing.

When I first told some of my classmates that I was going into anesthesia, there was disbelief. "But you have such wonderful bedside manner. It will be wasted in anesthesia!" "But, what about your feelings on primary care?"

I still get to talk to patients. The better the bedside manner, the fewer sedatives required before surgery. I'm the last one they get to talk to about their fears before going into the OR. I'm the last face they see as they fall asleep.

And I realized although I love the idea of primary care, it wasn't the right avenue for me. I may not ever practice in a small, rural clinic, taking care of people no one else would otherwise, but I still get to be an advocate for my patient. I can make suggestions for better pain control, for better nausea prevention, for faster recover.

I can still be there for them.

Something's Gotta Give

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

I'm going to write about something different this Wednesday. Because honestly, you can only hear about someone's weight loss (or lack there of, or gain, etc...) so much before you want to completely skip the whole thing.

(And this isn't because I've given up on the diet, or I'm not having success. I'm still working at it. And I've lost 1 1/2 more pounds. Putting my total at 11 1/2 pounds so far. )

(But that's it. That doesn't make much of a post.)

So, this week, I'll talk about other things somewhat related to health.

And I'll start with a confession.

I shop at Wal-Mart.

This is either met with "So? I do to." Or "Gasp...How could you!?"

A little background.

A friend in medical school was married to an economist who studied the effects of Wal-Mart on small communities. He found a lot of evidence that after a Wal-Mart moved into a small community, mom-and-pop shops shut down at extraordinary rates, unemployment rose dramatically, and quality of life decreased slightly.

I also disagree with a lot of Wal-Mart's business practices. (Although this is not the time to get into all the details. There are plenty of links if you're interested: read here and here and here.)

Everyone knows that Wal-Mart sells a lower quality product than other chains. I would rather buy things for my home at Target than Wal-Mart any day.

And don't even get me started on their produce. I hate the commercials that say how wonderful Wal-Mart's produce is. Have you ever actually looked at the poor fruits and vegetables? Good luck finding a ripe avacodo. Or a non-soft cucumber.

Once I sent Hubster to grab some canteloupe for a party. He came back with canteloupe from Albertson's. When I asked why he had gone all the way to Albertson's when Wal-Mart is 2 minutes away, he said this.

"You know how grapes turn into raisins, and plums turn into prunes? Whatever canteloupe turn into, they're selling at Wal-Mart."

So despite all this, I shop at Wal-Mart.

Why?

After Monkey was born, I was lucky enough to stay home for six months with him. During this time, I decided that I was going to work on getting my family healthier. No more eating out. No more junk food. I was going to cook every meal. We were going to eat all organic, and local when we could. Everything was going to be whole foods.

I started shopping at this local grocer that sells primarily organic food and local products when there are available. The food was beautiful. Local corn, local heirloom tomatoes, organic onions, free-range chicken, certified hormone-free milk, wild fish.

In two weeks I had spent what we normally spent in two months.

It was not sustainable.

Our family budget is tight. There is not often room for luxury, and never room for extravagances. We just couldn't keep it up. I tried buying cheaper, not top-of-the-line organic. Still our budget wouldn't allow it.

So back to Wal-Mart we went. Back to where onions are 47 cents/pound instead of $1.75/pound. Back to where milk is $2.00/gallon and not $3.50/gallon. Back to where chicken is $5.00 for four boneless, skinless chicken breasts and not $8.00 for the same product at the beautiful store.

Do I miss it? Yes. I would rather feed my family the healthiest, most natural version of food that I can. (Even though Hubster is still a sceptic when it comes to organic food. He hears organic and he thinks carbon containing molecules and not pesticide-free food.)

I still try to cook at home every chance I get. I try to use fresh ingredients as often as possible. They don't say organic on them very often. And a lot are Wal-Mart brand. But we can afford them.

I guess this means that I'm a hypocrit. I put my budget before my ideals.

But sometimes, something's gotta give. And it's not going to be dinner.