lindsay and boyd

The long awaited...the birth story

2012-01-26T12:50:00.000-08:00

For pictures of the birth (everything PG) visit my friend Elizabeth Ashdown's amazing photography blog: http://elizabethashdownphotography.blogspot.com/

Ok, deep breath. Here goes:

A couple things happened the week I went into labor. One was that the blue and black cohosh didn’t work. I tried diligently for about 4 hours, alternating the tiny sugar-tasting pills, which I wouldn’t even blame the manufacturer if they truly were placebo. I was making enchilada sauce that day and taking the stupid little pills every 15 minutes instead of tasting my creation was truly maddening. Another was that I started up running again. At least if I wasn’t jump-starting labor I could lose myself in my ipod and work on getting fit for labor. Lastly, was finding two things online that really helped—the UK babycenter January birth club and a friend’s birth story. Both included women who were well over their due date and into their 41^st week and still hanging in there. And with that I cancelled our original induction date/time at TMC for Saturday morning.

On Wednesday I called the birth center to see if I could get my membranes stripped. Somehow I knew I was close. Wednesday had been different; I just felt more somber. My 5 miles turned into 2 ½. The midwife did the strip which I laugh now thinking that I even though it was uncomfortable at the time. After the excruciating pain of labor it was like eating ice cream. Then I promptly went home and like anyone about to give birth, I made a lasagna from scratch. Best lasagna ever. Also hardest to make ever. I was contracting during cooking and they weren’t exactly painless. I was getting hopeful, but as the night wore on and Boyd and I enjoyed out last night together as a twosome the contractions died out. I went to bed at 11pm thinking I would wake up to enjoy yet another day baby-less. Wrong. And I was in for the roller coaster ride of my life.

At 5am on 01/12/12 I woke up to a pretty painful contraction. I had never felt anything like THAT before. Excited I laid in bed with my heart pounding. But nothing. Then 5:30—wham. Like being hit in the abdomen by a baseball. From the inside. Then nothing again until 6:00am. Then 6:20, 6:40, 7:00am. I wondered how long it was going to go on like this and if it would die off again like it had so many times before. But somehow I also knew this was it. I remember not wanting Boyd to see me during a contraction because I didn’t know how to hide my pain and I thought it might just be false labor. I didn’t want to be silly. But he came in the room to say he was leaving for work at 6:40am and saw me crouched over the bed. We didn’t talk about it. He went to work anyways, letting me save face like he knew I wanted to. I know that might seem strange, but it was what I needed. Come 7am, though, I was screaming it from the rooftops. He needed to come home and come home NOW!

My contractions were so intense I suddenly had this overwhelming panic about natural labor—if I was still only dilated to a 3 like I was during my visit the day before how was I going to do this? In the moment I did everything I could just to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. In a matter of minutes every class we had on relaxation, every technique we had learned was out the window and the only way I was dealing with the pain was by throwing up when the contractions hit a new level of intensity which they seemed to do every 20 minutes or so. Boyd came home by 8am (he had run to work, !?*&%!). At this point I didn’t know how I was going to sit in the car for the excruciating 20 minutes to the birth center. I also realized in that moment that waiting for real labor to start to pack my bags was a bad idea in general. I kept remembering things in between contractions and Boyd was frantically trying to stuff it all into a too-small suitcase. I truly regretted later not packing anything but a bar of dove soap for my shower afterward. A nice-smelling shower gel or at least shampoo and conditioner would have been a real bonus. Ah well, there’s always next time!

Boyd started out driving fast to the birth center, and I have to imagine that he was probably excited to use the “my wife’s in labor” excuse just in case. Because truly, there was no mistaking my state. But we hit that first speed bump on the way out of our complex and I think I squealed in hysterics. So much for a Hollywood entrance into the birth center. We did manage to make it there, albeit with a little more throwing up, and the first thing I hear when the nurse met us outside in the parking lot was, “ah a true sign of labor” at the sight of my bile-stained bowl.

I hobbled into the birth center and for the first time all day things started to feel under control. The midwife met me and instructed me to tone down my hysterical soprano notes a few octaves and to relax my pelvis during a contraction. She showed Boyd how to squeeze my hips during the worst of it, and before we knew it we were whisked into the pink room, bath running and ice chips waiting. Ice chips. Can I just have a moment of silence for this amazing invention? It was the one thing I specifically requested on my birth plan because I have an irrational love affair with ice chips. Since the birth center didn’t have the crave-worthy hospital ice (you know the airy kind), the nurse put the cubes through the blender for me! Ahhh such spa treatment! But I digress. At that point it took every ounce of effort I had just to hoist myself onto the bed so the midwife could check me. The whole time I just kept thinking, if I’m only 4cm we’re going to TMC and getting an epidural because this pain is ridiculous. Thank goodness I was a solid 7cm. That gave me a lot of motivation—transitional labor already! I could do this!

The next 3 hours were a blur of contraction upon contraction upon contraction spent in the bath tub. I only really remember Boyd staying by my side the whole time and feeding me ice chips. It’s ironic, because one of the reasons I thought I wanted to deliver at a birth center was because I wouldn’t be hooked up to anything, and so could walk around and eat etc…HA! To even imagine that someone in that kind of pain could walk is ridiculous to me. And eating? Well, we already heard about my propensity to toss my cookies, so that was out of the question. After 3 hours there was a still a small lip of cervix that was keeping me from the elusive 10cm and pushing. But the midwife said I was making sounds like I was starting to push (this was all news to me) and she was worried about me tearing my cervix so she gave me the option of either manually pressing my cervix back through a contraction and having me continue to gently push or having me stop any type of pushing while I finished dilating. At this point I felt like I was going to die with every contraction. I remember thinking—this is why women get epidurals.

They say that pushing is a relief, but I think that the contractions are just so painful when you reach 9-10cm that pushing is just enough of a distraction to keep you from going crazy. All I can say about the pain is 1) it felt like someone punching me in the abdomen every 2 minutes except that the punch was sustained for about a minute; it took all the energy I had just to remember to breathe and 2) it was so intense and such an out-of-body experience that I’ve already forgotten the sheer terror of it. So naturally, not pushing was NOT an option. But having her fingers hold back my cervix during a contraction was torture too. Needless to say my first hour of “gentle” pushing on the bed felt like the longest hour of my whole labor. Once I was fully dilated I still didn’t feel the intense urge to push and evidently this was because the head still wasn’t full engaged. My midwife had me get up on hands and knees and push as hard as humanely possible to try to break my water, which shortly afterward exploded on the bed.

The final hour of my labor was spent on a birthing stool on the floor. I gripped that thing so hard I’m surprised I didn’t bend the metal frame. After my water broke it was amazing how much pressure I felt. Her head felt like it was tearing and burning me from the inside, but once the head was delivered it was so strange how the rest of her body was perfectly smooth. I know now why I have been able to deliver so many babies as a medical student—because frankly, I could have cared less who was down there catching her. My first thought when they handed her to me was just how loud she was and how I hoped she wasn’t as traumatized by it all as I was. But I also felt such an amazing relief that the contractions were gone. I kept bracing myself for a few minutes afterward but then felt these amazing gushes of relief that the pain didn’t come.

I thought I would cry, but I didn’t. I also thought I would have some sweet image burned in my head of Boyd holding her for the first time but when they handed her to him while they sewed me up I couldn’t see his face. I wish I wouldn’t have missed that.

I also remember how beautiful I thought she was when she was born. And how perfect her little body was. Later that night after taking a shower and looking into the mirror at the hundreds of tiny popped blood vessels on my face and in my eyes, I remember how unbeautiful I looked. And how haggard, swollen, worn-out, and almost destroyed my body felt.

It was an amazing experience. One that I don’t think can be adequately described. One that already the snows of memory have softened. But one thing I can say, even when I felt so kicked to the curb that night, was the amazing sense of accomplishment I had. And when, at 3am, everyone was sleeping and I was overcome with the greatness and gravity of it all, I finally understood the scripture, “Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.” Truly, that says it all.

Baby Edie!

2012-01-15T14:05:00.000-08:00

She's here and she's wonderful!

Edith Lucy Gunnell was born at 3:09 PM on Thursday the 12th. She weighed 6 pounds, 11 ounces, and was 20 inches long. She has long fingers, toes, and fingernails, and lots of hair. She likes riding in the car and being wrapped up nice and tight. She does not like cold hands.

Many thanks to everyone who's given food, diapers, books, clothes, and so on!

Just before leaving the Birth Center--this is the room where she was born!

She's so little, she almost gets lost in her car seat.

Baby's first spa day. She relished having her hair washed.

Mowgli has been eager to introduce himself.

40 weeks 5 days and counting...

2012-01-11T14:01:00.000-08:00

I posted pictures of my beautiful nursery on my facebook profile. Check them out! Here is proof that I am still pregnant. Taken today with my budding skill at using my fabulous new Christmas present Canon Rebel and tripod!

I'm starting to think it might just be a tumor...

2012-01-10T13:14:00.000-08:00

I'm getting pretty disheartened, discouraged, depressed...call it what you want. I know that many pregnancies are late, especially for first-time moms, but I'm starting to lose faith in my body and my ability to have this baby. I feel like I have absolutely no control and that I'm spiraling down the path of losing the kind of birth I really want to have with every passing hour of uterine silence.

Everyday for the past two weeks I've woken up and thought, "maybe today!" with excitement. Sunday I even had contractions getting closer and closer together (for a grand total interval of 8 minutes!!) which helped me be strong in church to face the constant, painful barrage of "what are you doing here?" and "not in labor, huh?" comments. Well, I'm not even excited anymore.

Every morning now I wake up and think, "oh man, I didn't go into labor overnight" (which is the most likely time because of our natural hormone circadian rhythms). Then I spend my days trying to come up with semi-productive activities to fill the annoyingly long and arduous next 16 hours. Everything from massages, cooking, cleaning every last spotless corner of our already clean house, washing baby clothes and cloth diapers, reading, researching medical questions (mostly about pregnancy, let's be honest), rearranging the baby's room AGAIN, texting and calling back well-meaning friends and family that, NO, our baby is NOT here. Painful. My mom even tried to recruit me to strip an old bench of hers and--gasp--I'm actually considering it!

I've run (ok, more alternating power-walking and running) about 5 miles a day since 39 weeks and the midwife has told me two weeks in a row that this baby's head is still floating in deep space nine, also known as NOT MY PELVIS. I've been dilated to a pathetic 1cm for two weeks despite cervical evening primrose oil, membrane sweeping, red raspberry leaf herbal tea, and yes, sex, which if I can be perfectly frank, is just ridiculous this pregnant. Effacement? Let's just say I went backward from last week from 50% to 30%. Is that even possible??

When I started writing this, I was kind of sad, and listening to Rascal Flatt's "Easy"--you should youtube it, it's a great song. But now after this long rant I'm more mad about it all and my itunes has crawled down to Glee's mashup of "Rumor Has It/Somebody Like You" which is a more appropriate angry/sad montage. The first verse aptly starts off with, "She...she ain't real." Yep, that pretty much sums it up about how I'm feeling about this mystery baby who I don't even really know.

On a final note, I have a gorgeous new camera and this post probably deserves a picture of my 40+ weeks pregnant self, but I'm still trying to muster up the courage to let Boyd take one of those. Stay tuned and you may get lucky in the next few days with just such a pic.

I really don't want to go to TMC or be induced. I had visions of something in my life not being shrouded with medicine, so I hope something happens in the next 3 days or that's where we're headed, sadly enough. I'll even happily accept a Friday the 13th birth. And if you've read this far into my horrible rant perhaps you should win the "delivery date" prize from my previous post because it looks like everyone's guesses are going to be under.

Ok, with that off my chest, here's to some positive thinking!

The big debut

2011-12-21T13:57:00.000-08:00

So...I was doing some reserach today to try and find what are my chances for delivering over the next few weeks. Here's what I found out (there are many studies and this is approximate):

5% of babies are born pre-term (<37 weeks)
8% are born between 37-38 weeks
12% from 38-39 weeks
20% from 39-40 weeks
35% from 40-41 weeks
15% from 41-42 weeks
5-10% post-term (>42 weeks)

So now, I'm polling for guesses as to when she will show up!--the closest to the due date will win a special surprise from me! Right now I am 37 weeks and 5 days (due date: Jan 6th) and it looks like she may stay put for awhile (at least, she's still stuck in my ribs so clearly she hasn't "dropped"). It turns out that most first-time moms deliver, on average, 5 days past their due date. Second-time moms? You may be surprised to hear that they too deliver, on average, 3 days past their due date.

I've done a lot of lit searching about the risks of a post-term delivery and have decided to be induced at 42 weeks if it goes that long, so the latest due date possible will be January 20th. It also may be helpful to know that I was about 4 days early and Morgan about 3 days late. Happy guessing!

CSA...The Plunge

2011-10-11T17:36:00.000-07:00

So Boyd and I joined a CSA. Which, for those of you have escaped the debates over the last decade or so on agri-business, stands for community supported agriculture. Basically we bought a share of local produce which we pick up each week and must figure out how to cook, even if it includes Komatsuna or Kohlrabi. We have debated for probably 3 years whether or not we should take the dive, because I wasn't sure I was ready to try and figure out the mystery ingredients, but (after two years of watching Food Network's "Chopped") we finally gave in. I think our recent reading of the Omnivore's Dilemma probably clenched it for us. The Tucson CSA also includes optional shares of locally-raised grass-fed beef and lamb, free-range chickens and turkeys, pork, goat's cheese, artisan bread, honey, and eggs.

So I know you are all dying to hear what our loot included this week:

1. A bag of purple beans
2. A bag of basil
3. 2 lemon cucumbers
4. 2 green bell peppers
5. 4 red potatoes
6. A bag of fresh roasted red bell peppers
7, 4 heirloom tomatoes
8. 1 loaf artisan wheat bread
9. 1/2 lb. italian sausage
10. 1 dozen eggs
11. and 1 Jack ‘o Lantern Pumpkin

Not bad, eh? I'm really excited to be eating some delicious tucson-grown delights this week. I hear that purple beans turn green when you cook them, though...so maybe we'll just be having green beans. Either way, I'm nervous for the week where I have to cook dandelion greens, but so far, I think this is a pretty safe introduction to deliciousness.

Happy Day

2011-09-01T14:30:00.000-07:00

Picture A: Lindsay then. Just a little peak of what I'll be cleaning up in approximately two years time. Sorry for the random butt in the picture. My cropping skills are nill. Thank you to my mother who graciously brought this little gem over for me the other day.

Picture B: Residency photo. Now, doesn't she look like someone who would be a good family doc? I think my parents did a fine job transforming my body art self into someone respectable.

And the real post, ready go: Pregnancy has been hard. I don't think I need to dwell on this twice, as many of you have already heard a mouthful and half about it. So I'm not going to talk about that today (i.e. on the horror of discovering my first stretch marks the other day). Things like that. So let's move on.

Today has been a really good day and I thought my blog deserved a little happy TLC. I submitted my residency application to 10 programs. It's DONE! I'm really happy with how it turned out. The picture was even pretty decent considering I weigh 15 pounds more now than I did just a few months ago when I could have gotten it taken (a small oversight). I applied to 6 programs in the Seattle area, 2 in the Portland area, and 2 in Tucson. Now the waiting game begins. My personal statement actually sounded grown up and familiar without being cliche. So, you know, a good success I'd say. Also, now that my September away rotation in Safford is practically here I'm resigned to the fact that it probably won't be the worst month of my life after all. I even looked up the local institute schedule to give me something productive to do in the evenings. Progress.

So we turn to the next big thing in my life: baby miss. She's moving around and I have to say it's pretty cute now that I don't mistake her for gas anymore (I'm a novice, what can I say?). I'm trying to plan a nursery and I'm thinking a green, white, and espresso clean, slightly modern, slightly shabby-chic nature theme. You know, with birds on a wire and one light green wall and a crib with crisp, cream, quilted bedding. Ok, so I may or may not have stolen this from Pottery Barn kids. Can you blame me?

But I have a few questions ladies...what are baby room essentials? Baby clothes essentials? Do any of you have positive opinions on cloth diapers or any suggestions for that realm, because I'm open and interested (please no haters...I know you're out there and frankly, I don't care what you think). How about thoughts on breast pumps? Also, while you're at it, vote on your favorite baby name in our poll. And if you hate them all, I understand, I probably hate your baby names too. All's fair.

A big apology.

2011-08-22T11:30:00.000-07:00

I made a big mistake. I really hurt and offended a friend of mine with my last post.
I inappropriately mentioned someone that I work with and used her name without permission on a public blog. I want to apologize to my friends, family, and readers and know that I did not mean to hurt any of my readers with my candid thoughts.

When I was younger, Pam, one of my many wonderful moms, once corrected me when I used a sterotype about a friend of mine. It was a positive sterotype, so I didn't think it was wrong. But I was saying it out of jealousy that I did not have that trait. She reminded me that talking about others without their consent in a sterotypical way that can invite mean-spirited comments is always wrong, even if what we are saying seems like flattery.

Please know that I never meant to hurt anyone with my writing, nor do I wish any malintent upon anyone--especially those women who are brave and selfless enough to carry a perfect, unborn child. I can be a very passionate person and often over-step my bounds when it comes to speaking my mind. The words tumble out and I don't always mean them the way they are taken. I hope those I have offended will understand and accept my sincere apology.

Please no comments.

You know you're an adult when...

2011-07-25T12:09:00.001-07:00

1. You actually change the Brita filter on time
2. You have a credit card that you pay off every month
3. You have a fridge full of ingredients
4. Your Pandora switches from Ne-Yo to Colbie Callait
5. You have a pet...or at least a plant...that you've successfully kept alive
6. Your furniture matches
7. You start calling school "work."
8. You have to stop and think how many years you've been married
9. You read non-fiction books
10. You start going to the dentist again
11. You start getting "long-term" callings in your ward
12. You have friends with kids
13. You start shopping at stores like The Loft and Banana Republic
14. You own your own copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting."

Surgical beauty

2011-05-20T10:30:00.001-07:00

What can I say? Surgery has left me a little bit speechless. There is something about having your arms elbow-deep in some guys' warm, peristalsing guts during a laparotomy that just changes you for life. This is what I've learned:

I may never feel beautiful again. The other day, I wore these awesome, new, light gray, linen pants that I had paid a slightly discounted price for at Banana Republic, but probably not discounted enough if you know what I mean. Up until this day during the rotation I was feeling a distinct lack of beauty in my life. I mean, how are you supposed to feel beautiful when you are required to don the ridiculous hair net and hideous teal scrubs with distinct yellow lining broadcasting to the entire world that you're a size small? Heaven forbid I ever have to move up to the depressing brown ribbon of "medium."

So it was a rare day neither on-call nor post-call and I made the executive decision to dress up. I wore what I thought were sensible heels. Ecco brand, 2 1/2 inches; because my clogs had seriously started to smell like the Bovie (i.e. the surgical cautery). I had even put on some powder, although I skipped the mascara because the face shield in surgery feels like a sweat lodge. Needless to say, we were just doing a hernia repair and when my resident commented on my poor choice of shoes while we were scrubbing with the nasty yellow iodine and I was somehow getting yellow soap foam in my hair, I remarked that they were more comfortable then they looked. Right? 8 1/2 hours later in those stupid heels, gray pants long wrinkled in the locker room, and without water, food, a chance to pee, plus the distinct knowledge that I was NOT allowed to itch lest I risk being labeled as "that" medical student who has to waste another pair of sterile gloves because she can't keep her darn hands out of trouble...and I was hurting...bad.

6 hours into this hernia repair which actually turned out to be a laparotomy with lysis of adhesions, bowel resection, and THEN a ventral hernia repair (nobody told ME this when they needed a medical student--STAT--to hold retractors) a giant neon blue poster of the pain scale was staring back at me in the OR--the little faces getting more and more sad from 1-10. I recalled my education in these pain matters. I knew full well that "10" was necissarily reserved for femur fractures and childbirth but I was seriously at a 5. I kept rehearshing in my head how I would frame my plee to scrub out as the surgeon was cursing at the giant mesh he was trying to sew into this guy's non-existent abdominal fascia. Oh the agony!!! What was I even doing here at 8:30pm? My biceps were shaking with every passing second of holding those stupid retractors and I thought, "this is hell. It has to be." And without the guts to bring up that I was well past my legal duty hours, I started to silently cry under my sterile garb without anyone noticing.

I came home that night and crumpled on the bed without brushing my teeth trusting my iphone was preset for 4:30am without bothering to check. Said morning came with my feet still throbbing and the worst breakout my skin has seen since high school--compliments of the powder I didn't wash off the night before I'm sure.

And so today, three days later, I can officially cross general surgery off of my list of future careers. And that is your medical school update.

Two Dates Worth Re-living

2011-03-22T22:14:00.000-07:00

The other day, I asked my friend Hannah what day she would pick if she could go back and re-live one day in her life. She picked high school graduation. She had just started dating the boy of her dreams, had an entire free summer ahead of her, and a felt like her whole life was just about to begin. The perfect day. So, naturally she asked me the same question--because she has good social skills like that--and I lamely said that sounded like a good day to me too. Hey, I was dating a boy I thought I loved, and was vaguely excited to start BYU. And (bonus!) I was also wearing a pretty hot miniskirt that day, so why not?

But it wouldn't be my day of choice, not really. Or even my 100th day of choice. So I quickly followed it up with, "...or my wedding day. Or night. Or whatever." And the whole conversation degenerated, naturally.

Today I was really thinking about it though. I flipped through 30 or so days in my file of hours lived to savor the really good ones. The life-changing ones. The ones I would pay decent money to re-live, to melt in my mind like a good piece of chocolate making sure to taste the intricacies.

I picked a few. Here they are:

1. October 1, 2005. The day I ran the St. George marathon. My heartache from John's death was healing better than expected. I had finally thrown away the picture of the engagement ring that John had hidden in his sock drawer and that I so desperately wanted him to give me. In the months leading up to this October day I had sweated all my sorrow into my organic chemistry class from which I came out on the other side with a big fat A. All of John's college friends had supported me and protected me, and in the wake of the biggest tragedy of my life Boyd was there, tried and true. I should have seen the neon sign when he told me he'd drive me to the marathon, stay overnight with my sister's friends who were also running, and cheer me on the whole time, only to turn right around less than 24 hours later to drive me right back. Morgan ran with me the whole way and we both mused that we had brought along some pretty swell men to watch us sweat through our sports bras. Nothing says sexy like a salty sports bra, right? The run was gorgeous; the finish, sureal. Boyd kissed me for the very first time that night, and I knew my life was starting.

2. February 3, 2007. The day I found out I got accepted to medical school. Boyd and I had just moved into our concrete block of an apartment in MIT family housing. Everything we owned was piled on the cold tile floor of the front room that had waxed-in hairs from the previous occupants. The kitchen was the size of a bathtub. But it was ours, and it was right on the gorgeous (and at the time, frozen) Charles river in Boston. I had just gotten the acceptance call from Massachusettes General Hospital that they were giving me the job of a lifetime--doing reserach in the neuroendocrine unit right in the historic Bulfinch building where the very first surgery done under anesthesia had been performed. It was that magical time after you get hired and before you have to start. And then the letter came. It was a fat envelope--always a good sign. It was from Albert Einstein University in the Bronx, the first medical school I had interviewed at in the fall. I ripped it open and there it was, they wanted me to come to their medical school (albeit for a pretty penny), but I didn't care. I was going to be a doctor for real. My life was starting a second time.

There are so many more. The kindergarten day our incubating eggs hatched into fluffy yellow chicks. The day I did my very first back-handspring in gymnastics--bent knees and all. Christmas morning where we got a trampoline, and discovered it after a 5am treasure hunt. The day I got picked for student-of-the-month in middle school after years of trying to be a model student. The first day I ever made chocolate chip cookies and they turned out like I was Martha Stewart herself (at least that's how I remember it). My very first day of high school wearing my totally cool red horse shirt where I met my future prom date in our mutual weight training class--bowler hair cut and all. The day my high school science fair project won at the UofA. The Wednesday my dad took Morgan and I out of school to go skiing at Mt. Lemmon. When I pole vaulted for the very first time and then the day I got to pole vault in the state competition my junior year only to come out with a second place finish. My first run on Mt. Graham's web peak trail. Finishing my dizzying AP Calculus test and then getting that envelope that pronounced I had earned a "5". The day I saved my very first little girl in the pool as a lifeguard. My very first ballroom dance class at BYU. The day Boyd proposed with that darned tiffany's ring I so deperately wanted. The day I surprised Boyd by visiting him in Boston the fall before we got married. Our wedding day. The day I was sick from work while living with Mary Beth and Andrew and we baked all day together. My first day in the anatomy lab. The first baby I ever delivered. The first tough diagnosis I made all on my own during my neurology rotation that both the attending and radiologist missed.

There are so many times where I want to press fast forward in my life. I find myself wishing that I could just skip my 6 week surgery rotation coming up here in May. Or just fast forward to when residency is finished. I wanted to skip our engagement so we could just be married already. And I know I wanted to fast forward undergrad after seeing the testing center for the millionth time. But looking back, some of my best days were during times I wanted back then to delete from my life. Yes, the sweet comes with the bitter. But I'll take it.

SPRING BREAK!

2011-03-15T22:49:00.000-07:00

That's all. BYU really needs to get with the program because spring break is seriously the best week ever invented. Full stop.

The decision is made. Babies it is.

2011-01-18T16:17:00.000-08:00

Wow, I suck at blogging. I'm not just bad at it, mine is the blog that ends up at the very end of the sidebar list with links to people's "friends & family" blogs because I haven't updated in 2 months. Meanwhile, I don't even have links to the blogs I follow because I'm that lame at blogging in general. Yet I love reading other people's, and I get sad when they don't update. Hypocrite. I think that's the name for that. And now, outfitted with my brand new iphone 4 (because I have medical things to look up...of course), it just makes the excuses all the more lame.

Also, I suck at blogging because I suck at taking pictures. And who wants to read a blog without pictures? It's like reading a novel; and we all know that what people really want to read is one of those board books with quipy, rhyming one-liners that are outnumbered by adorable illustrations all in a "safe-to-chew" package for easing toting to church...

So. Anyways. Here I am. Still no baby pictures. Still no life-altering news. And really in no mood to rant or gush or make a scrapbook out of my life. Sorry if that's what you wanted to read.

Right now I'm doing my family medicine rotation in Safford. It's amazing and puzzling and foreign all at the same time. I've decided that family medicine is for the healthy that are paranoid because really what family docs specialize in is preventitive care. That must be why I love my family doc.

So family medicine is definitely interesting, but not quite my style. Which is actually a welcome relief since up to this point I’ve been having a really hard time deciding what I want to specialize in. But not anymore! I’ve decided that I’m going to specialize in (drumroll, please….) OB-GYN! The one truly unique thing about Safford family medicine is that they still do their own OB-GYN because the town is so small, and although I’ve been seriously considering OB-GYN for awhile now, these past few weeks have cemented it. I’m keeping track of how many deliveries I do in my life. My current total is 6. Not bad for a 3rd year who hasn’t yet done her official OB-GYN rotation! Now, before you start to groan and wonder how any sane person could actually choose this specialty, let me say that this feels right for me. Somehow, I know this is what I’m supposed to do. Ironically, when I started medical school I immediately eliminated two major specialties because I thought they would equal a death sentence for ever having a normal family life: Surgery and OB-GYN. Clearly I was extraordinarily ignorant at that point since OB-GYN is actually a surgical specialty. And it wasn’t until a few months ago when my dad kept asking me if I had yet considered surgery that I realized I didn’t want to consider it. Because I knew that if I did, that’s what I’d end up doing. It took a lot of soul-searching to realize that I needed to put those options on the table…that Heavenly Father is driving this ship, and I have to let go now. I have to trust.

So I’ve realized that OB-GYN is perfect for me. I honestly had no idea what an OB-GYN did until just recently. You’re just a glorified midwife, right? WRONG. OB-GYNs do basic primary care for women over the lifespan (menarche to menopause and beyond), delivery babies of course, manage high-risk pregnancies, perform surgery on women with cancer of the cervix, uterus, ovaries, or any pelvic organ, perform incontinence surgery, diagnose and manage infertility, perform perinatal surgery in utero for fetuses with problems requiring surgical intervention, advocate for women in situations of domestic violence or with psychiatric issues, are experts in contraception, take care of any woman with a complex medical problem who gets pregnant and much, much more. So there you go. I'm thrilled.

Next up...where to move for residency?

Timeline

2010-11-23T08:54:00.000-08:00

You know when your whole 10-year plan gets thwarted? I was re-reading my journal the other day and actually that has happened so many times I should just be expecting it at this point, but I never do. I always lay everything out perfectly...so I know exactly what year I'll be doing what in my career, how old I'll be, when I'm going to get married (or now, when we're going to have a baby in all that ridiculousness) etc...etc...

Have any of you ever seen the movie Lucky 7? It's with the girl from Father of the Bride and Dr. McDreamy (can't think of his name either right now) from Grey's Anatomy. Anyways, the girl's mom dies when she is 7 years old but before she does she writes out a whole timeline for her little girl that includes when she'll go to summer camp, when she'll run for class president, what she'll major in during college and study in grad school, and how many boyfriends she'll have over the years, including when she'll get married. The movie fasts forward to the girl's life with boyfriend #6. So far, the timeline has been right--predicting all of these wonderful things she'll do in her life, including going to law school, and touring Europe. But then she falls hard for boyfriend #6, when she was supposed to fall hard for boyfriend #7, and suddenly her life plan is wrong and she starts second guessing herself and her timeline.

When I was in seminary at age 15 I remember our teacher asking us to think hard about what we would be doing in 5 years. So I was thinking, okay, 20 years old...I better be sleeping at this hour! And I'll probably be in college, hopefully at the airforce academy doing an engineering degree. Clearly I was deranged about my career plans at that point, because what person in their right mind would want to do an engineering degree at the air force academy? Thankfully my dad talked me out of that one (or at least, that's how I remember it). Then she asked us to imagine where we'd be in 10 years and I was thinking, hmmm. 25 years old. That's tough. Maybe I'll be getting married then. Hopefully I'll be working for NASA as an astronaut. I guess my childhood astronaut dream hadn't quite fizzled at age 15. Fast forward a few years and I thought I was going to marry my high school boyfriend when he got home from his mission and major in math education. By age 18 I decided to go to medical school and basically not date at BYU at all because I didn't want to get married young. One more year under my belt and I was reluctantly saying yes to the most persistent (not to mention attractive) boy in our apartment complex--in the infamous Peaches. I thought I was going to marry him too and when he died in a climbing accident I about died from heartbreak. Fast forward to junior year and Peaches' best friend, Boyd, becomes my best friend, and I realize that this was how it was supposed to be all along. It was fast...a year and half later we were married, but he was leaving for grad school and I knew this was my chance, take it or leave it. For once in my life I followed my gut and threw my 10 year plan out the window and got married at 21 when everyone thought I was crazy and way too young. But that turned out to be the best decision I ever made.

So now I am 25 and maybe I'm done with 10 year plans. I try to figure out how we're going to fit in 4 kids in the next 10 child-bearing years of my life along with my residency and Boyd's plans that probably include more school down the line. I think I've decided that I don't know who buys nice homes anymore because I cannot ever imagine a time when we'll be able to afford such a luxury and maybe our kids will have to be okay with apartment living. If we can even have kids! You know how those things haunt you? Things like infertility and never getting out of school and never having a real job? Sometimes I just want to be a real adult. I mean, there are physicians that I work with who are still asking me what I want to be when I grow up, and patients wanting to know when they're going to see the "real" doctor. And I know what they mean, but it's still depressing when you realize you have 1 1/2 years more school and then 3-5 years of residency where you're still not a "real" doctor. And each year in our ever-changing ward we get younger and younger. Because, we must be 22, right? Maybe 23? Newlyweds obviously, and are we doing our undergrads at the UofA? Flattering as that is...

I'm not sure where my timeline goes now. I've reached 25 and it ends. I often wish that someone could just give me the briefest glimpse of my life in 10 years so I can see that we will have kids, and maybe a house, and that light will stream into in the nursery with a rocking chair just like it always does in my reoccuring dream.

HELP!

2010-10-25T19:55:00.000-07:00

I'm having a quarter-life crisis trying to figure out what to specialize in. I have to turn in my elective choices for the end of 3rd year/4th year and that means I need a pretty solid idea of what I want to do for the rest of my life. Yikes! Only 11 months before I have to make my final decision--I didn't think it would come so fast. I feel like I pretty much enjoy everything in medicine (except maybe psychiatry) and so now more than ever I have no idea what I want to go into. I've put up a poll for everyone to put in their two-sense. I won't tell which way I'm leaning until after it closes.

For those not familiar with internal medicine, because I have a lot of people asking me what that is exactly, that includes the following: cardiology, nephrology, infectious disease, pulmonology, gastroenterology, rheumatology, endocrinology, allergy/immunology, and hematology/oncology. So basically everything between the neck and the hips.

To be continued...

Dermatology 101

2010-09-21T23:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday in neurology clinic:

Dr. Torres (the attending): "So what do you want to do with your life?"

Me: "Well, I have a top 5...it pretty much boils down to dermatology, neurology, family medicine, pediatrics, or endocrinology. Pretty broad, I know, but I think derm is definitely up there."

Dr. Torres: "Dermatology? Well, you have to be all posh for that. Wear high heels and have those Louis Vouitton purses."

Me: "huh, yeah. It's pretty competitive I hear."

Dr. Torres: "Yep, really. You have to have perfect skin too. I don't know about that for you. They're all about looking beautiful. So much of their practices are cosmetic, you know, so just keep your options open because you might not cut it."

Me: "well, I'm working really hard, you know, and I think I can do it. I've got good board scores and research so I hope that makes a difference too."

Dr. Torres: "Well, you know, you won't get into a top program or anything, but maybe somewhere in the midwest. Yeah, I bet there are some fat derms in the midwest. Gotta be."

I'm not even making this stuff up. Seriously? I know I'm pretty nerdy, and not exactly the most beautiful person you'll ever meet, and I struggle with Rosacea/acne, and I also know you can't take this stuff seriously, but you tell me, how would you feel if your superior talked to you like this? And she has to evaluate me! Um, I'm pretty sure I won't be applying for neurology in Tucson is all I have to say.

Scared of psychiatry? I was too.

2010-08-17T13:28:00.001-07:00

Seriously, where does the time go? Today I just finished my very last day on my psych rotation. The shelf exam is Friday and then I get to start neurology! By no means am I planning on going into psychiatry, but I loved learning about it because it is:

a) so controversial
b) so prevalent
c) so gosh darn interesting
d) so heartbreaking
e) so challenging
f) so cushy (meaning, the work days are short and sweet)

I've never met more people scared of using psychiatric medications. I think it's natural to be scared of drugs that act primarily in the brain. Heck, I think it's natural to be scared of prescription drugs, period. And to be sure, a lot of the old drugs could kill you in overdose (although, most drugs can do that if you mix them right). Plus there is plenty of pop culture about "anti-psychotics" and "tranquilizers" and other things that will "fry your brain." The multi-billion dollar drug industry is also not really helping things with its pretty advertising followed by ads parading as "public service announcements" for lawyers who can get you compensation for drugs with "evil" side effects. Bottom line: it's confusing.

But if I learned anything on this rotation, and in med school in general, it's that prescription drugs are necessary--life-saving even--for many, many people. Even the psychiatric drugs. Especially the psychiatric drugs. If you've ever seen a child with severe ADHD, you realize that this disorder could literally sabotage his whole education and development if the proper treatment isn't started. For those who think medicating their kids is for the birds, "treatment" is not just drugs. Treatment for these kids is holisitc, or should be if the parents are on board. It includes not only a psychiatrist, but therapists, parenting classes, behavioral planning and changes in the home structure, dietary changes, and teachers. I'm all for alternate therapies including diet, exercise, and behavioral therapy, but sometimes it isn't enough, and the best thing a parent can do for their child is accept a diagnosis and work with the entire team to implement care on all levels--including drug therapy. I can't tell you how frustrating it is to work with parents and patients who put ultimatums on their treatment. For example, they'll say they'll do "anything" but try a stimulant for their child. Or, they'll allow an anti-depressant, but "no more than 10mg." Honestly, why do we even go to medical school if parents and patients are just going to tell us exactly how they want their child or themselves treated? And I'm not talking about advocacy. I think every patient and parent has a right to advocate for their child and for their own healthcare. Truly, studies show that when patients are in charge of their health, they are more compliant and heal faster. But advocating for yourself crosses a line at the point where the recommendation/opinion of the health care professional no longer matters.

I'll get off my soapbox. I just want people to really think before they judge about things like whether diagnoses such as ADHD even exist, or whether psych meds are a bunch of hooey. It's so easy to jump to conclusions and so hard to actually dig through the reserach. Guess what? Most good doctors have dug through the research.

So what have I learned? ADHD is real. So is depression, and anxiety, and psychosis, for that matter. When people suffer from psychiatric illness it is not their fault. People with depression can't just, "snap out of it." Drugs help--help a lot of people actually--and it isn't a sign of weakness if someone needs and anti-depressant or almost any other kind of psych drug. Also, psychotherapy works and it's also not a sign of weakness if you need to see a therapist. Or if you need to be hospitalized. Psych diseases are just like other medical problems, our culture has just bent them out of shape in weird ways so that we get scared when a family member or loved one has a diagnosable psych illness. So get the facts. Advocate. And don't be scared. Psychiatristis are some of the nicest people I have ever met.

San Diego

2010-07-14T19:52:00.000-07:00

This is by far more pictures taken in one week than have been taken in the past 4 years of our relationship--so I hope you enjoy seeing, well, a lot of us. On the first night we ate at this quaint little restaurant called Prep Kitchen in La Jolla, which is what the fuzzy sign is attempting to say above...

Continuing our culinary tour we had brunch at the Hash House in downtown San Diego the next day. The line was about 1 1/2 hours long but sooooo worth it! Demonstrating my beautiful watermelon kiwi lemonade below:

Sunday we went to the Spreckel's organ concert at Balboa park. Here we are documenting the largest outdoor organ in the world. They even let us borrow big beach umbrellas for the concert. Only in San Diego...

We also did some cooking and made good use of the grill, outdoor jacuzzi, and gorgeous, beachfront, wrap-around porch. Here is our nod to California for Sunday dinner. Obviously there were avocados.

Boyd showing his extraordinary beach cruiser skills. All free with our rental! So Lily Allen...

Children's pool in La Jolla.

I actually had a dream that involved steps almost identical to these with Boyd on them about a month before our vacation. Creepy!

Somehow only Boyd was captured in a swimsuit appropriate to post here...!

Boyd showing off our sweet digs.

We won't brag too much about the just as sweet deal we got with it.

Clearly, the food itinerary must have been set by me. Oh man, this place was up there with finale in Boston. And if you havn't been there we pity you.

Boyd's first peek at Disneyland to round out the California experience. This is at California adventure.

Obligatory picture by the "L"

Proof that we actually went to the real thing too. And ate dole whips. Who's jealous now?

So even though we celebrated in full before I got my board scores, it turned out it was well deserved in the end. Since no one from med school reads our blog, I can proudly announce to my family (and the few friends that read our blog who I know won't spread it to the wrong people) that I scored a 245! Plenty high enough to be really competitive for any residency I could possibly dream up. Plastic surgery anyone? Just kidding.
Thanks everyone so much for all of your support and help during my studying. I couldn't have done it without you!

Mini Memoir: The Girl in the Mirror

2010-07-12T00:44:00.000-07:00

When I was little I would watch my mother get ready for the day. I often perched on the cold marble of the bathroom sink and, although I swear I was better seen than heard, I’m sure my mom would describe me in perfect chatterbox form. I was really such a chatty Kathy growing up—everything from know-it-all status to a delinquent fondness for talking back--for which I was rewarded with many mouthfuls of Dial soap. To this day I can’t use Dial for that reason. But even if my mom may not remember these mornings in quite such an optimistic light, I really liked them. The steam would billow through the shower and create those condensation droplets on the marble and the mirror. Sometimes I would drag my finger through it and write her messages. I like to think they were clever little Haikus or limericks but I think the standard “I love you Mom” might have been the best I ever conjured up.

She always showered in the dark for some reason I’ll never quite understand—still does in fact—and then when she stepped out of the shower she used this Crabtree and Evelyn body powder called Summertime. It was in a granny shaker—really it was—all floral looking with loopy cursive. When I was a teenager I crinkled my nose at such a fluffy and functionless powder all wrapped up in old person’s wrapping. Now I think it’s beautiful. Isn’t that the way it always goes? Now I cherish things like the vintage rocking chair that I acquired a few years ago and that Boyd has been working on sanding for my birthday which was, wait, in February? That’s okay, I still love him. And part of me kind of loves the fact that it still isn’t finished. I can’t really say why. Now I’m debating whether we should really be re-staining it at all.

After the body powder came the round woven basket of makeup. Whenever she’d put on her blush I would get some too—that was probably my favorite part. She had that blush for I think about a decade. But seriously, do you ever run out of blush? I know I haven’t yet. Well the end of that blush was when I went in her bathroom around the age of 16 to try on all of her makeup before she came home from work. I think prom was about 2 weeks away and my cover girl just wasn’t cutting it. Her Clinique “Breathless Berry” was guaranteed to make me more beautiful than my cover girl cheekers, “pink.” Seriously? Don’t they pay someone to come up with names for make-up? Clearly not enough. Anyways, I fumbled with the breathless berry, and it came crashing down onto the whiter than white tile my mom swore was practical. And, of course, being more than 10 years old, the blush cake shattered into about a hundred pieces. Which I put back into the little snap case and quietly stowed away. I didn’t even have the guts to admit I had broken it when she came asking the next day.

Just the other day I noticed that whenever I look in a mirror I put my tongue just up to the insides of my lips to make them look fuller (I guess us Dahl girls weren’t exactly blessed with the Angelina Jolie lip pout) and I realized just how much I look like my mom. She actually does this little lip-plumping exercise too, although she'll probably deny it. People always said we were twin growing up, but I never saw it because, well, I have blond hair and she has dark brown hair. We obviously couldn't have looked alike. But we do, it’s undeniable. Now that I have just the finest of lines around the corners of my eyes and my baby fat is all but gone off my face I see it. I see the skin so white it’s almost translucent and the occasional tiny capillary running through it. I see the dark sun spots that so easily mark how old we are. I see the hazel eyes I used to think were an ugly pea green, all speckled and frog-like, now deep and earthy and prettily freckled. I see the lashes so long it looks like I’m wearing fake ones every time I put on mascara and know that mom blessed me with those beauties. And now when I get ready for the day, and fog up the mirror, and powder up, and put on a blush that’s actually my color, I see that I am beautiful, just like my mother is beautiful. And I thank my lucky stars that it was never on the outside that counted anyways.

Before and After

2010-06-25T13:47:00.001-07:00

Before: 7:00am. Exactly 1 hour before I started I had Boyd take this picture of the smartest day of my life. So this test, in case you're not familiar, is the first part of 3 exams that you have to pass to become licensed to practice medicine in the United States. USMLE step 1 covers basic science, supposedly, but the truth is that every question is a mile long clinical vignette. The problem with step 1 is that you don't just have to pass it if you want to do something other than family medicine (which is great, don't get me wrong), but you really have to bring your "A" game to be considered for top specialties (read: anywhere in Boston, Seattle, Baltimore, New York, Chicago, or basically the whole state of California).

The other crazy thing is that you are timed (better pee fast!) for exactly 7 hours and 45 minutes. Only 45 minutes of that is break time. The rest is the test. No matter what you're doing, you're timed. And since you have to be fingerprinted, interrogated by the testing police, and ready to show your papers every time you enter and exit the room (not to mention you have to wrestle with the stupid locker that holds your pathetic morsel of a granola bar), you basically waste 5 mintues just getting out to take your break. Have you been adding this up? That's right--if you take a break every hour you have five, 5 minute breaks and a 20 minute lunch. But wait, subtract 5 from every break. Now you have a 5 minute lunch and a few other 5 minute breathers. Anyways, I just needed to rant about that. Because honestly, what's it to them if it's an 8 and half hour test with 90 minutes of break time?

Anyways, before this all got started I took this ridiculous picture where I look slightly delirious. That's what the medical licensing test will do to you I guess. I'm holding my "bible." First Aid. You basically have to memorize the 600 page book and you'll do great. Which was awesome. Blah. Hey, but look, I still had the frame of mind to put in earings that morning. Now that's truly a doctor for the 21st century.

After: 5:30pm. I think I've finally shed my slightly psychotic look from the morning. Boyd and I went out to one of my favorite Italian places in Tucson--Tavolinos--for dinner. And then where? To Borders of course. Now, unless you think we are completely crazy for going to a book store after my board exam, let me just say that I only came out with cheap beach reads. The exam went as well as a board exam can go, I think. There were definitely questions I think they pulled out of places where the sun don't shine, but I think I'm allowed to have a mild case of "stick-it-to-the-man-iosis" if you know what I mean. Tune in next time for coverage on our San Diego getaway where we got a screaming deal on our sweet beach house and I scored my very first Coach purse. Yep, Boyd loves me.

T minus 4 days

2010-06-15T20:06:00.000-07:00

In just 4 short days we will be in sunny San Diego bliss. Check out where we're staying right here:

www.vrbo.com/39466

12 days!

2010-06-06T21:21:00.000-07:00

In just under two weeks there will be celebrating around here. And I'll officially be a third year med student. 225 hours of studying down, 86 to go...

Just in case you forgot what we looked like...

2010-05-16T17:46:00.000-07:00

Here is a RECENT picture! Since I never post pictures I thought I would throw one out there that was taken less than a month ago. Now you know that we haven't turned into scary monsters. RAWWWRRR! Also, I think a few of you wanted to see my brown hair. Here's your chance. I'm going short blond in a few weeks.

Also, I guess I lied about the siesta. Everyone was doing it (i.e. deactivating their facebook accounts and pledging off email etc...to study for the boards but I realized that is pretty lame and that I can be an adult and be disciplined without have to ignore the rest of the world). Anyways so I'll be updating. Until next time...

A little Siesta

2010-05-03T23:16:00.000-07:00

I was getting kind of depressed thinking that my most recent post was all sad and pity party-ish. Anyways, I'm not sad anymore for the record, nor have I been for the past three weeks. It was a fleeting moment and I needed sympathy. Thanks to all who indulged me.

I probably won't be updating much the next two months. I have to take the USMLE step 1 (United States Medical Licensing Exam) June 18th so I'll be in a rabbit hole studying. And when I'm done I'll officially be a third year and ready to practice some medicine (hopefully not on any of you). So unless I can get Boyd to say something interesting about our lives until then...it's over and out. See you in July!

Sad Sebu

2010-04-11T22:24:00.000-07:00

Do you ever just have one of those sad days? Yeah, me too.

Wisdom. When proxy teaches about self.

2010-03-16T16:02:00.000-07:00

I had a friend today that told me that she only reads non-fiction and a few of the classics (insert: War and Peace), and other self-help books etc...because she feels like she wants to learn something from the time spent reading.

But I say, if you want to remember about how it truly feels to have teenage love and angst: read Twilight.
If you want to see growing up from three unique perspectives and live the internal struggle of good versus evil in a gray world: read Harry Potter
If you need to feel the loss and anguish and insecurity of not quite knowing who you truly are: read The Hunger Games
If you want to read about the human condition in a mysterious, altruistic way: read I Am the Messenger
If you want to feel the rollercoaster of emotions that comes with true love: read The Time Traveler's Wife
If you want to realize the power of one: read The Giver

Just to name a few. They may not be classics, or factual in anyway. But in some ways, a recent novel that truly sucks you in will help you feel all the things that can't be taught any other way except by personal experience itself.

Sometimes I'll have a day where I just want to re-experience some emotion from my past. Like my complete and indescribable grief when John died. Or the rush of nervous energy when Boyd tried to kiss me for the very first time and I shied away. Or the pain that I felt after running to the point of vomiting in track practice. Or the wonder I had when I stepped off the plane in Thailand. And though life can puddle into the mundane day-by-day, I find it fascinating that those emotions are still there to be experienced whenever I want. To teach me things and to help me relate. Sometimes a track on my ipod will bring it back. Sometimes a good, hard workout outside with nothing but my thoughts. Sometimes a book; even the scriptures. I realize that when I'm good and old and all I have left are my memories, I can find in them a colorful life worth reliving. What I love even more about all of it is that it doesn't seem to matter how much education I stuff in my head or daily checklists of errands I have to run; somethings always catches me by surprise and helps me feel life.

And I think maybe that is the beginning of wisdom.

Blond joke

2010-01-31T19:04:00.001-08:00

We do a weekly spotlight in our primary where all of the kids stand up and then they sit down if what is read doesn't describe them so that the last one standing is the hero for the day. Here's how it went today:

Shannon (counselor): Okay, everyone, keep standing if you have blue eyes

Kids: (do as told)

Shannon: Keep standing if you're favorite color is blue

Kids: (do as told)

Shannon: Keep standing if you have dirty blond hair

Kids: "My hair isn't dirty!" and "What's dirty blond? Gross" (kids confused. Most sit after this one. One poor 3-year old is still standing, none the wiser)

Sigh. The sad future reality of all towheads. Also, who invented "dirty" blond. Or "dishwater" blond. Rude. Anyways I recently decided to go on strike against the unfair treatment of blonds and I went brunette. I love it.

Paying for pain

2010-01-08T14:05:00.001-08:00

So I just paid $505 dollars to sign up to take Step 1 of the medical liscensing board exam. Talk about adding insult to injury. So I am just curious what is the most you have paid for something you really didn't want to do/wish you didn't have to buy etc...I mean, of course I want to be liscensed and all of that jazz, but I don't understand why it can't be free. There is really no love in this world for starving students. I mean, come on, $1 off at the movie theater? Maybe that meant something back when movies were $2. Anyways, I just needed to rant about that.

Ha ha ha...Merry Christmas!

2009-12-13T12:42:00.000-08:00

So last night Boyd and I were watching 30 Rock. I've only seen a few episodes and snippets here and there because it is one of the things Boyd watches while I'm studying, so I don't know much about it, and I made the serious mistake of drinking a glass of water while watching. All the sudden Tina Fey is saying something that is so funny that I start snorting the water into my nose. And then since I couldn't hear the rest of the scene because of my snorting we rewound it. Big mistake. The scene restarted and then I was laughing so hard I actually began choking on my water. Really choking. To the point where I not only spit it out, but threw the rest of it up. I am awesome. That show needs a warning label. Or something.

So school is out for the next three weeks! I really can't believe that I am almost done learning all of the basic science of medical school. We just finished our block on infectious diseases and I'm beginning to feel like I know things now. Before this block, I wasn't even clear on the basics of the flu, which is pretty pathetic for someone who had already finished a year of medical school. I mean, that sounds so easy, but since we didn't learn about it until now I felt pretty useless. Now people ask me questions about things and I always surprise myself by the information that comes out of my mouth. So I gues they're doing something right at school.

So with my three weeks of freedom I'm taking suggestions as to what I should do. Books to read, movies to watch, and things to do here in Tucson, AZ. So if anybody needs any help with their busy Christmas schedules/baking/wrapping/decorating/babysitting...let me know!

Bullseye!

2009-10-21T21:03:00.000-07:00

(By the way, this is Boyd--I know I never contribute.) Although I've often felt that my job is a lot like living an episode of "The Office", this past Friday was an all-time high for awkward ridiculousness. First, my boss: "Stew" Stewart, the CEO of our little company (about 100 people) occasionally comes to company meetings in costume, such as hippie or crocodile hunter, and proceeds to host company-trivia quiz games while fading in and out of a bad accent (to go with the costume). This past Friday we had our annual United Way balloon toss, where, if we've met our donation goals for United Way, we get to throw water balloons at the members of the Board of Directors--including Stew. It's kind of like a dunking tank with no tank, and multiple targets. The number of balloons you get depends on your donation size, and they read out your name when it's your turn to pelt the bosses. Doesn't this already sound like a day at Dunder Mifflin?

I got two balloons, and I wasn't too sure how I wanted to use them, but I knew I wanted to get Stew with at least one. So I aimed carefully--water balloons don't roll like a ball when you release, and with only two, it's tough to get the feel in time to do any damage. Anyway I let the first one fly, and bullseye! It was a direct hit--right to Stew--right in the crotch. He winced, I flinched, and the crowd cheered. My coworker said it almost looked like Stew might start crying. I can't remember the last time I've gotten that many high fives and congratulations. So I'd like to thank my parents for giving me a nice long throwing arm and enough sense to aim elsewhere with my next balloon, which hit my fairly tall manager in the shoulder.

The Victim

A howling good time had by all

2009-10-20T21:31:00.000-07:00

Here is what it is like to live at the intersection of River and Campbell right now in lovely Tucson, AZ, in case you were wondering:

1. An ambulance, a police car, and a firetruck are all barreling down the road
2. A pack of coyotes has clearly found dinner
3. All of the neighborhood dogs have decided to tell us about it

Special Delivery!

2009-09-23T21:12:00.001-07:00

I delivered my very first baby tonight! And even though I don't get to take it home, like most people who post about delivering a baby, I got to be right there in the trenches. I got to check the cervix, monitor the labor progress, don the sterile gloves and gown, and have my hands right there when the baby was crowning. It is more elegant than I ever thought possible. Then I got to suction the baby and hear him cry for the first time, clamp the cord, deliver the placenta, and draw the cord blood. The mom was such a trooper, she didn't have an epidural, and this was her very first pregnancy. She was such a pro!

These are the days when I am reminded why I am in school. The miracle of it all. A little perspective can make it all worthwhile. So tomorrow when I am in the nursery helping with his newborn exam, studying pathology won't seem like such a burden after all.

I can't wait for that moment when I am the mom and that is our baby. I won't even mind if a medical student needs to learn on me, because the first time is a once in a lifetime experience.

This is why I haven't posted in awhile...

2009-08-23T19:27:00.000-07:00

My professor expects me to understand this:

"Metabolism of fructose-2,6-bisphosphate and regulation of the pathway: The formation of fructose-2,6-bisphosphate is catalyzed by phosphofructokinase-2 and its breakdown is catalyzed by fructose-2,6-bisphosphatase. Phosphofructokinase-2 is not an enzyme of the glycolytic pathway. Although phosphofructokinase-2 uses fructose-6-phosphate from the glycolytic pathway, the product of this kinase reaction is strictly a regulator of phosphofructokinase-1 and fructose-1,6-bisphosphatase. The amount of fructose-6-phosphate removed from the glycolytic pathway to produce fructose-2,6-bisphosphate is inconsequential."

I think the part that really strikes me is the part that says, "...is inconsequential." That I understand.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Li5nMsXg1Lk

Flossing's for the birds

2009-07-27T20:25:00.001-07:00

I can hear my dental hygienist scolding me in my mind when I don't floss. So annoying! I have clearly committed dental sin and then I have to floss twice the next day as penance. However, I can pop in the cheetos and my doctor is still smiling merrily at me saying, "you deserve it!" I like my doctor. So sometimes I want to tell my dental hygienist to get herself some fanny floss and mind her own business.

Some things I do solely out of guilt. Flossing is one of them, hands down. Checking out books that can be classified as something other than literary junk food is another. You know, the classics, like (yawn) Moby Dick. I'll get a few chapters in and then, whoops!, they're due again already. Darn. But no one's the wiser that I finished that cheap-o murder mystery or read every recipe in the cookbook about chocolate, plus polished off the whole Twilight series in the same week. And it's really just because the librarian gives me that stare, you know? I feel all guilty inside if I slip into the romance section because I know she's throwing me eye darts from the set in the back of her head.

So does anyone else do things like this solely out of guilt? Or does everyone actually read those stuffy classics they check out?

Swimingly

2009-07-13T06:59:00.000-07:00

You know that feeling when you drink the first cold sip of water in the morning and you can feel the coolness spreading all the way down your chest? It’s like someone poured cool water right through you. I love that feeling.

And here's a non-sequitur--I really want a camera. There was this window at MGH this morning that had a letter on each of twelve 8 1/2 x 11 pieces of paper spelling, "GET BETTER DAN!" It was so simple and it looked sunny but sad in the window of the 14th floor. It would have made an interesting story captured in a photograph. That's what I was thinking. Also, I was thinking that I wanted Dan to get better too.

So now I'm at work. A part of me really wants to get all sorts of scut work done with so that I can go to my boss and tell her all the ridiculous things I've been doing with my days and also tell her that there's really nothing more I can possibly do because no one else has scut work for me. In essence I've done IT ALL. And then another part of me thinks, I am really too good for scut work. And instead just writes on this blog of mine. Or checks my bank account. Or writes Boyd an email. Or looks up the movies in town this weekend--which, by the way, includes the 6th Harry Potter :) I mean, really, they're paying me $10.50/hour. What do they expect when they don't give me anything to do? I am only 50% the type to seek out grunt work is all I'm saying.

At the house I'm subletting for the summer there are these water glasses with little blown glass goldfish embedded in them, and there is also a white bone mug with an artsy panda on it that says "bei jing" all phonetically with the accenture marks over the vowels and everything. I'm really in love with both of these. Needless to say I drink my chammomile/spearamint tea out of the panda mug which makes me feel like I've just consumed a hug. The panda helps. And the fish glasses are sort of rose-colored (theoretically speaking) making me think that life is going swimingly to say the least.

Also, I'm addicted to Pandora, which is only a slight consolation prize for the gorgeous 70 degree day I'm missing outside. My optimistic side made me put on sunscreen anyways, since I don't want the spotty, fugly arms that seem to dot most women in their 6th decade. And since I may decide to become a dermatologist it only seems logical.

No cute photos of our kids until I get that camera! And then, no promises since said kids don't exactly exist yet. Ah well.

The Moral of the Story

2009-06-14T18:31:00.000-07:00

Tonight is my first night in Boston for my (lonely) 6 week internship at Mass General Hospital. I do have a roommate and sadly it's not Boyd. I've warped back to college with the mismatched plates and shower bulging at the seams with random bath gels. My roommate is young and her parents were here when I arrived, stocking her half of the refrigerator. I remember those days. And I am proud that I now know exactly what to buy to stock my half. I even know how to cook it all without calling mom.

I love this city--I'm living steps away from beautiful Harvard Sqaure in an old brick walk-up and it's 60 degrees outside to boot--but it's just not the same without fancy Sunday night desserts, Simpson's episodes, and goodnight kisses.

I never realized how much time I spend just shooting the breeze with Boyd. I called him today to tell him about the beautiful breeze I felt sitting beneath the spotty shadows of a maple tree in Porter square while eating an ice cream cone but he wasn't there and it made me sad even amidst the beauty of it all.

This is a growing experience. If for nothing else than for me to realize that I am so lucky to have what I've got so that I will be wise enough to never let it go. But since I'm here now, I'm looking on the bright side and I'm going to chalk it up to adventure.

Someday

2009-05-17T17:56:00.000-07:00

I have to say that I've never really written anything personal on our blog, and after last week of having my pity party I just want to thank the cheering section I didn't know I had! Thanks to Morgan who helped me finally figure out how to cheer up our blog.

So on occasion I come up with baby names that I "submit" to Boyd. Since the usefulness of such a practice is null for us at this point it shouldn't really be serious, but we definitely take it seriously and have full-fledged discussions on the merit of a name. Recently I told him that I liked the name Ginger for a girl. As any good husband should, he was thoughtful about this lastest whim. However then he proceeded to tell me that in England if you have red hair you actually have "ginger" hair. And since the probability of us having a redhead is pretty high he didn't think that would be very nice if some bloke said one day to our daughter (in English accent), "You're kidding me--really--your mum and dad named you Ginger and you have ginger hair. Well that's jolly ridiculous."

So maybe not.

In other news, in school we are learning about the GI system which is fairly disgusting, Boyd goes on his 1st buisness trip to exotic Milwaukee at the beginning of June, and I finished my very first sewing project since high school making pillows for our couch.

Also, I was talking to an old high school friend last night who's in culinary school and I was so jealous. She said in their pastry class they recently made banana cream pie and they deep fried the bananas first, and then folded them into pastry cream with a copious amount of fresh whipped cream on the top. Wow. I seriously would like to raid her refrigerator. Anyways there are a few things that I really can't wait to do in life and culinary school is definitely top on my list. I'm pretty sure Boyd is even more excited about that then the whole med school thing. He's not quite sure how he feels about having to be a guinea pig when I'm practicing physical exam skills. But he has made it quite clear that he'd better be a guinea pig for culinary school. I think he misses the days when I took all the cooking classes at BYU and brought him home the leftovers.

I want to hear what other people are jealous of--or are just hoping to do "someday." I am definitely OCD and have a whole list. Having 4 kids is in there somewhere. As is planting a fruit and vegetable garden. And maybe becoming Martha (minus the trouble with the law).

The one person who truly understands it all

2009-05-10T17:19:00.000-07:00

I am not a blogger. I am not a scrapbooker. I am not crafty. I am not so many things that I sometimes pretend to be. I just spent the last hour trying to make our blog background cute and interesting since I've never changed it (and it seems like everyone else has skills in these areas and so clearly I should too). But I'm over it. Done. I admit defeat.

I basically just want to cry right now. But I have no reason to--my life isn't hard. I don't have any screaming kids, or a negative bank account, or even a pimple. I'm not pregnant and swollen, I didn't just burn dinner, and my husband is not working the night shift. I'm not single and lonely, nobody in my family is sick, and I am not sleep deprived. I didn't just fail a test or get rejected from a job. Everyone I know has any of a hundred reasons to feel like crying--but not me.

The one thing that makes such a seemingly perfect life hard sometimes is that feeling of not fitting in anywhere. Sometimes I think the Lord has asked me to take one of the hardest roads of all--the road not taken. I know my life isn't full of the real difficulties in life--the 2am wake up calls from a fussy baby or the trying to figure out which top ramen flavor we want to eat tonight to make ends meet. I don't get the hangover all my classmates get after a crazy party or hear all the heartbreaking gossip from the local bar they all went to on Thursday night. But as crazy as it sounds, it's the not going through those trials that is hard. Because it's lonely.

At church I am probably the only one that doesn't have any kids--and isn't planning on it in the next five years. I'm not sure how to contribute my two sense on morning sickness, or labor and delivery, or potty training a two-year-old even though I'd like to. Little do most people know that I actually envy their shared experiences.

At school I am the only girl who's married and Mormon. I don't fit into the Mormon click because I'm a girl. And let's be honest: there is no married click. Boyd and I try to make an effort to go to the parties and bring our own rootbeer and that works for the first hour before everyone gets drunk. I can't quite keep up with the Twitter of it all.

So, well, it's going to be a white blog. And maybe after re-reading this it's not so bad. "In the depth of winter, we find within us an invincible summer." Especially in Arizona. I may not have an adorable mormon mommy blog, or a recipe for green jello, but somewhere I know I am not alone. Thanks to the one person who truly understands it all--Jesus Christ.

PUBLISHED!

2009-04-09T15:36:00.001-07:00

My very first publication as first author was accepted to the Journal of Endocrinology and Metabolism this week! It is on quality of life in patients cured of acromegaly, which is a disease of too much growth hormone. It should be available online next month through pubmed and published in hard copy this summer. This summer I will be working on a follow up publication for our drug study at MGH which shows that quality of life in subjects with previous acromegaly and current growth hormone deficiency improves after replacement treatment with growth hormone. It should be pretty exciting! Hooray for Boston!

Evolution of the nest

2009-04-02T13:42:00.000-07:00

We have this dove who lives in a tree outside our front window. And since we live on the second floor we look right into her nest. She had two little eggs about 3 weeks ago and then they became active, fluffy little chicks. Then they got a little too big for the nest and now they are gone. I wish I had seen the flying lessons.

But now the mom bird is acting kind of strange. When I got home from school today she was hopping up our front stairs one at a time. I didn't want to disturb her so I just watched for a few minutes and sure enough she hopped up every one. I don't think I've ever seen a bird hop stairs before. Now she is pacing our balcony looking very forlorn.

I think she is having a midlife crisis now that she is an empty-nester. Also, she doesn't like me. I keep trying to tell her that I just want to look at her babies, not eat them, but she doesn't trust me. She's really not much of a pet. Maybe next year we will get a cat.

2009-03-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

Thanks to everyone who gave me fantastic color suggestions for our white house! I decided to go with an outdoor, sort of nature theme a la pottery barn since Boyd and I would really rather be outdoors than in. So I am going to decorate with grass and sage greens and chocolate brown. We'll see how it goes...

So I decided to answer a few questions I got over email and share them with everyone, just for fun since I'm on spring break and have way too much time on my hands:

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
My middle name, Elise, came from one of my mom's good friends at the time. My first name is a family surname from the Lindsays who raised my grandpa Dahl up in Canada.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
Tuesday morning. I was trying to be a people pleaser and it just wasn't working out.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
One of my secret talents. I have phenomenal handwriting. The pharmacist is never going to call me in frustration.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Bacon

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
Not yet. But I hope to have 4 within the next 20 years

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
I hope so.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
Not that often.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
No. I got them out at 17 and have never had strep throat since.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
Absolutely

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Cinnamon Toast Crunch

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
No

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Haagen Daaz sundae cone. If you haven't tried this you need to run to the store right now.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Their social skills

15. RED OR PINK?
Pink

16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
I am judgemental. Case in point: I thought Boyd was such a slacker when I first met him for having to take 5 years to finish college and I wondered who would wear those glasses anyways? Good thing I gave him a chance (he also got new glasses). I hope this case in point shows that my judgements are never final.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
John Anderson

18. WHO WAS YOUR FIRST LOVE?
Greg Lisse. I was 16. He had the best red hair.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Jeans and a gray tee shirt. Wow that sounds cheery. But trust me--it's hot.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
All American Girl by Carrie Underwood

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
bright green

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Homemade caramel--the real kind where you melt sugar. Christmas enchiladas and killer rolls are also right up there along with Boyd's cologne--clinique happy for men, and Tucson just after a monsoon storm.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Hannah Mayfield, my best friend since elementary school

25. WHEN DID YOU KNOW YOUR SPOUSE WAS THE ONE?
Before we started dating Boyd told me he supported women in higher education; I was smitten. No really, when he kissed me for the first time.

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Gymnastics! Probably the best sport ever invented.

27. HAIR COLOR?
Blond

28. EYE COLOR?
Hazel

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
No. I love my 20/20

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
Right now, probably creme brulee. Also Philippine mangoes and macaroni and cheese--made from scratch only--I like to make a combo of the recipes my mom and stepmom each made growing up.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Happy endings.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
The Music Within. A great movie about the beginning of the Americans with Disabilities Act.

33. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ITEM OF CLOTHING?
My grey flip flops with white fluffy flowers on them. The other day this little girl stopped me and said, "I love your flowers! I have flowers on my flip flops too but they're little like me." She was right--she pointed to two little white flower buttons on the top of her flip flops. I was glad she knew that even big girls can wear flower flip flops.

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Summer if it's in Boston or Seattle. Winter if it's in Tucson.

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Mmmm, both.

36. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE HOBBY?
Cooking. I am definitely going to culinary school some day.

37. FAVORITE STORE
Hands down J.Crew

38. MESSY OR CLEAN?
Clean, but I'm not obsessive about it

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
The Uglies series. I'm on the third book, Specials. It's not very well written but the idea is very intriguing and it sucks you in.

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
I have a laptop so I'm sans mouse pad.

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
The Office

42. FAVORITE SOUND(S)?
Waterfalls, the whole family together during the holidays, the piano

43. HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED?
2 years and 3 months

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
The Philippines

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
I think my best talent is perfectly fitting leftovers into containers. No seriously.

46 WHERE WERE U BORN?
Milwaukee, WI

47. WHERE DID YOU GROW UP?
Tucson, AZ

48. DID YOU GO TO COLLEGE?
Yes. I got my bachelors degree in neuroscience and now I'm in medical school.

49. WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO END UP LIVING?
Boston, MA

50. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE KIDS NAMES?
Elliot, Kate, Gabe, Hannah

My small obsession with white

2009-03-03T16:44:00.000-08:00

So my favorite color is white. Yeah, I know that it's not really a color, but it's definitely an obsession that is getting out of hand. I now have white couches, white serving dishes, a white cell phone, an entirely white bathroom, a white computer, and a white ipod. I am currently taking suggestions as to what color I should use to decorate our apartment. Even though we've been married for over two years, I think it's time to start spicing up the white background. Let me know what you think!

Dessert Party!

2009-03-01T19:29:00.001-08:00

Boyd and I are all talk when it comes to being social. We want to be, but we are just so content working on our own little hobbies that we often don't push ourselves out of our comfort zones. Not this time...we finally threw our long-talked about dessert party. And I think it was a smashing success.

The Invites:

The menu:

-A choclate fountain (thank you Michelle!) with marshmallows, prezels, strawberries, bananas, and brownies to dip

-Pumpkin cheesecake with gingersnap crust

-Vanilla bean creme brulee (the night's biggest success)

-Meyer lemon bars

-Individual bittersweet chocoalte mousse

-Mini banana cream tarts with coconut crust

-Chocolate cupcakes with buttercream frosting

-Sparkling pink lemonade and milk

Now for the pictures. I matched the frosting colors to our party colors:

The chocolate fountain station:

The party table. Boyd made the ribbon signs.

The party banner ($2 with a little paper and lace! Thanks to Hannah for being my (un)paid help for the afternoon:

Some of the guests. We made them play trivial pursuit--but we think they secretly liked it:

Our next part adventure is going to be a come-and-go mocktail party for my med school class (well, or at least some of them) and other assorted friends. So if you have any fun ideas for non-alcohol beverages we are going to hang up a menu on chalkboards and bust out the blenders.

How many does it take...

2009-02-12T18:08:00.000-08:00

QUIZ

How many of the following does it take to get through medical school?

Books: So far, 12 and counting. Oh wait, I just bought another one today that isn't pictured--13. Note: none of these books in the picture are from my undergrad.

Dates (at least 1 per week). That would make 208:

Episodes of LOST: Approximately 45 (and then sadly the season ends)
Anniversaries: 4 (1 down!)
Hours of sleep: Hmmm. It's supposed to be 11,680.
Chocolate chip cookies: too numerous to count

Jitterbug

2009-02-05T21:41:00.000-08:00

I challenge you to find something more nerve racking than knowing that tomorrow morning you will have to identify nearly every muscle, artery, nerve, and bone in the human body. And you will also have to know their functions and pathology. Fill in the blank. Spelling counts. On cadavers. In a room that looks like the morgue. Welcome to medical school.

Okay so I thought of a few things. Orally defending your dissertation. Taking the medical school boards. Finding out you're pregnant when you're not expecting it (don't worry, we're not pregnant). Sky diving. So actually maybe there are a lot of things. But hey, if you want your anatomy questions answered, you know who to call.

i.e. today Boyd asked me what the biggest muscle in the human body was: gluteus maximus. And then what the smallest was: the stapedius in the ear. But then we agreed that probably the smallest were the arrector pili muscles in your arm hair. They give you goose bumps. But they aren't usually counted because they are "smooth" muscle (i.e. you can't control them voluntarily). So now you know some trivia.

Also, one of my friends recently won a contest at a trivia night for knowing there are more bones in the hand than in the foot. So now you can win at trivia too. Just by reading our blog.

Creme de la creme

2009-02-01T12:12:00.000-08:00

I feel like I need a solid 12 step program to get me blogging again. It's slightly embarrasing to have such a boring life that "Remember Halloween" is the best thing that's happened to us in the past 4 months. It's not true, so I'm here to redeem us. We had our second anniversary--here we are at Snoqualmie Falls in WA where we celebrated. I had a mushroom bisque for dinner that night that I've been thinking of ever since:

We hung one of our beautiful Christmas presents (thanks Dad and Michelle):

We are planning a dessert party for all of our married friends at the end of February and so I am busy trying out recipes (featured: Creme Brulee). If you live by us and you're married and you're our friend, or you want to be, you're invited! Our only BYU friends close are Blair and Logan so they should be looking for an invitation in the mail in the next few weeks ;) If you want an invitation, put your address in the comments. We always want more friends! Here is my new kitchen tool:

And the product of said tool. Mmmmm:

In other news, I have taken to making my own bread and so far, I have put out 9 loaves (pretty good i'd say). I've learned to incorporate ground flax into it so I feel good about the butter that I also incorporate. I think it's amazing that Boyd and I go through 2 loaves a week. We also go through a lot of cinnamon sugar.

Boyd and I are happy to report that we are still doing our New Year's Resolutions. That may or may not have to do with the fact that there are rewards attached if we do them 90% for two months (we've calculated how many days we can miss). Afterwhich we get rewarded and then choose a new reward for the next 2 months of hard work. I know you're dying to know what we pledged and what the reward is...but we're not that interesting so I need material for our next post. Till next week (hopefully not next month)!

Remember Halloween?

2008-11-23T19:20:00.000-08:00

So this is late because I misplaced the USB cord to my camera, but we wanted to show off our costumes anyway. We decided to be citizens of Real America.

Lindsay the hockey mom, complete with hockey stick, generous lipstick, and a badge that says, "My kid can beat up your kid!"

One tag says "Joe's Plumbing", and the other says, "Six-pack."

Lindsay's Sunday Six

2008-11-09T21:36:00.001-08:00

Well Dad and Michelle started a new blog idea to have a family member write down six things that made them happy in the past week, so I am going to try it for this week. Maybe I'll get Boyd to post for next week. Here goes:

1. Morgan coming to visit. Morgan came on Thursday night and will leave tomorrow morning back to chilly Chicago. But for the weekend I got to hang out with her! She gives the best shopping advice, which has been sorely lacking for me lately. We got to eat at Beyond Bread, and we got to catch up on her fabulous traveling stories.

2. Cinnamon Donuts at Montana Avenue. In Tucson there is this restaurant at Grant and Tanque Verde that makes a cinnamon donut for dessert. This in not your average donut. Not even your hot Krispy Kreme. This is one upscale pastry. Fresh and hot and dusted in a thick coating of cinnamon sugar with a side of creme fraiche and berry compote for dipping. Who knew heaven on earth was only $8?

3. Voting. It took Boyd and I many nights of deliberating to decide to vote for Obama. We liked his health care plan, his strong family presence, his cool-headedness, and his debate skills among other things. However, although we would have been excited for either candidate to win, we were very passionate about the marriage proposition and were excited to stand up for our faith in traditional marriage. We both woke up early on election day like it was Christmas for adults! It was my first time voting in a real booth and I wore the sticker proudly for the rest of the day. Hooray for democracy (or at least a darn good republic)!

4. Scoring an A on my nervous system test. This test was rumored to be the toughest of the year by the oh-so-wise 2nd year med students. I was excited to see my score and know that I wouldn't have to spend my weekend with Morgan guilty for not studying. The catch with this block is that you can repeat the test (albeit a different and slightly more difficult version) on Monday if you don't score what you want on Friday. It's a tricky way to make us never get a break from studying...so I was happy that I didn't have to!

5. Attending my first Gala. Boyd's company, AGM, contributes to Tucson Medical Center's children's fund and buys a table at the event gala each year. The CEO of the company chooses employees to attend and asked Boyd if we would like to come to the event at La Paloma. We got all gussied up and made a night of it on Wednesday. We ate salmon and filet mignon with whipped mashed potatoes and haricot verts that were to die for! Everything was so elegant and beautiful. They showed us a film of some of the children who had to answer questions like, "How much does it cost to care for children in a hospital," with the most adorable answers like, "20 dollars probably." They had also hired a comedian who had us on the floor laughing. It was like a weeknight date for us!

6. Visiting the cannery. My food storage is off and running! This was only my second time at the cannery and I am happy to report that we now have refried beans, rice, oats, and sugar in our year supply.

Food for thought

2008-10-19T23:05:00.000-07:00

This post is for my lovely sister who I found out ate peanut M&Ms for dinner the other day. Right now in medical school we started our nervous system block. We are learning everything neurology and them some. Here is a very important fact I think I will always carry with me:

Estimated amount of glucose used by an adult human brain each day expressed in M&Ms: 250. Here's to our brains. Eat up!

Meh-hi-co

2008-10-15T14:07:00.000-07:00

So Boyd and I went on a couples trip to Mexico. Even though we almost died on the way there because I drove us off the road (the Mexican government really needs to add shoulders to its roads), we had a ton of fun!

These are my feet. In sand. I love that feeling!

Those black specks are dolphins. There was a family that came and visited our beach. The mountain behind them is called the goat's teats.

This was a picture of a sand crab, but it turned out more like where's waldo. See if you can find it!

This was all of the couples and us at dinner. Mmmm...Mexican food.

"Monster"

2008-09-29T14:48:00.000-07:00

WARNING: Don't read before meals

You really don't want this type of tumor. Called a teratoma (latin = monster) this is one scary cancer (or it can be benign) in my opinion. We had to learn about this today in our lecture on neoplasms (neo=new, plasm=growth). It comes from organs that have the potential to create all the different cells types in our body (think: ovary which can differentiate in to the cells necessary for a baby). The picture above includes lots of hair (the black stuff--bottom left), teeth (the white blob--bottom right), skin, brain tissue, cartilage, fat, and a juicy cyst (the yellow stuff, top left).

Boyd wondered the other day if I thought everything in medicine was sad. Because evidently when I'm studying I say "oh how sad" quite often. Well, I told him no, I think some things are gross. Usually that includes things that people do to themselves when they should know better-- like STDs. Since people cannot help getting a teratoma as far as I understand, I think it is sad. But I have to be honest with myself that I think it is really gross too.

We made it!

2008-09-21T22:52:00.000-07:00

I have been guilted into posting more about our semi-interesting lives, so I just wanted to make sure everybody out there knew that we aren't stranded somewhere in the vast midwest. We made it to Tucson in July and here is our cute new place. Some highlights include the new TV (see left hand corner with the Olympics on), a kitchen with a dishwasher (besides Boyd), a walk-in closet (not pictured...) and new carpet! It's amazing what impresses you after living in a 400 sq. ft. studio. But we still miss Boston a lot. Here are some of our favorite things about Massachusetts that we miss dearly:

1. Seeing our beautiful nieces, new nephew and MaryBeth and Andrew on a whim
2. Our amazing jobs at Mass General Hospital
3. The fall leaves at Mt. Auburn Cemetery
4. Christina's ice cream shop (with fresh whipped cream)
5. The T
6. L.A. Burdicks decadent hot chocolate and chocolate mice
7. Harvard sqaure
8. Not having the ice cream melt on the way home from Market Basket
9. The sense of accomplishment that came with knowing the streets all around Boston
10. Biking the minute man trail
11. The wharf
12. Good clam chowda
13. The Patriots, Celtics, and Red Sox (Hmm, no local loyalty)
14. Our intellectual ward (but not always the primary that came with it)
15. Reading a good book in the Public Garden
16. Newbury Street
17. The North End
18. Sailboats, crew, and water sports in general
19. The 4th of July and the Boston Pops

Well, you get the idea. And a few things we don't miss:

1. MIT
2. The blistering cold
3. Bad Mexican food
4. Parking tickets, ridiculous parking laws, and generally being towed

We may end up back in the great east coast, but for now here's to looking forward to rodeo break and 60 degree December weather in Tucson.

From Sea to Shining Mirage

2008-08-03T21:59:00.000-07:00

We finally made it to Tucson! It took us approximately 10 days and about that many side trips, but we are finally here and ready to tackle medical school. But school is boring so let's take you on a trip of what we saw and did during our pilgrimage!

Boyd is demonstrating the ridiculously small size of our last apartment. He could almost touch both walls of our studio. We are proud to say that we doubled our square footage with this move and succeeded in adding a washer/dryer in the apt., a dishwasher, and a closet, but we really miss the charm of Cambridge.

We visited the beautiful sacred grove in Palmyra, NY first. We ate (stole) some sacred raspberries along the way. We hope we are still in good standing up above--those were some heavenly raspberries, let me tell you what!

Our next stop was Niagara Falls. Not too much to say here--it was a big waterfall as promised. This is why people honeymoon here, we realized. We did go on the "Maid of the Mist" boat tour and got sufficiently soaked with Niagara water. I think Niagara would be a good bottled water company name. As long as they don't mention the ridiculous number of seagulls that poop in it.

Next, thanks to Hotwire, we stayed in the beautiful Chicago Hilton Hotel for $89 and lived the high life for one night. We wished we could have stayed with Morgan and Jamie, but they had decided it was a good idea to up and go to Africa while we were coming out to visit them. We're not sure if we forgive them yet. But we still love their city. We saw Jersey Boys and ate Chicago's fabulous Berry Chill yogurt for breakfast. Yum.

Next, we passed through many a field of corn and soybeans to sate our appetite to see South Dakota's famed presidents. For all the history-challenged like me they are (L to R): George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Teddy Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln, and Boyd Gunnell. We learned they were constructed to bring some tourism to the plain state of South Dakota. Well, it worked.
Yellowstone National Park was the most amazing part of our trip. Right here I'm standing in front of Old Faithful erupting. Nothing I saw will do it justice--you have to see it for yourself. We think we would prefer honeymooning here rather than Niagara. Here is Boyd with a mudpot:

And with a Buffalo:
Our last stop was meeting Dad, uncle Charlie, Bryce, Adam, Clara, and David at Lake Powell where we worked on teaching Boyd to wake board! We don't have any cool pictures--yet. But rest assured that Dad took too many as usual.

Hold onto your seats because there are more exciting posts to come! I will spare you from gross anatomy and biochemistry, at least, but I can't promise that Boyd will spare you from Mechanical Engineering updates.

If you're in Tucson, come and see us in our new--big--place!

Feeling the Love in Portland

2008-06-01T17:29:00.000-07:00

Boyd and I decided to check out some of the exotic places around Boston this weekend--namely, Portland, ME. They even list their distances on the highway in kilometers, but I learned that no one says kilometers--much too cumbersome. So we drove 179 "clinks" to discover the following:

1. We tapped into our inner victorian side where the Maine natives were celebrating 150 years of antique bliss at "Victorian Mansion." Very original--named for the British queen herself. They were having the cutest festival with balloons, popcorn, a jazz trio, fan-making, birthday cake, lemonade, fortune-telling, and free tours of the house (normally $12.50!). Thanks, Maine, for saving us $25.00:

2. We took a long stroll at the wharf. We were going to join a lobstering tour but it was thundering so the boats were scared. We understood. Instead, I got caught in a net and we felt the love crossing the street:

3. We went to an art gallery and saw the most gorgeous prints that the artist had photographed and then painted in wax. Probably one of those, "you had to be there" effects, but I had to share one of the pictures I sneaked:

4. NOT PICTURED but STILL COOL:

a. We went to a master's cha-cha class! It was a little advanced for us but we were able to glean some moves from it. I still had my latin shoes from BYU that I expertly sported.

b. We ate some of the best fish and chips we've ever had. As opposed to last weekend's floppy flounder, this weekend was full of happy haddock. Mmmm...tartar sauce!

c. I found the cutest cooking store and bought a mini gingerbread man cookie cutter which I have been looking for since my Mom make mini men for her Christmas party. Also added to my cookie cutter collection were: a lobster, a flounder, and an oak leaf. Very North East.

A Brief History of Time: 2007

2008-05-13T19:24:00.000-07:00

Here's a quick run-down:

1. We got married

2. We moved to Boston--brrrrr!

3. We started working...

4. And rowing...

5. We did arts and crafts with the local flora

6. We became sand masters at the beach...

7. We (aka Lindsay) taught fashion to our nieces...

8. We even got to spend some time together

9. We visited family in Arizona...

10. And some family pets...

11. We celebrated some birthdays...

12. And our first anniversary!

13. We did some running (or maybe just watched some)

14. And made some fabulous homemade bread!

15. Made some friends...Lindsay is holding a knife in honor of her title as murder at this party

16. And made some very good use of our 400 sq.ft. apartment.

This year is bound to hold more amazing feats. We'll keep you updated!