Some patients of mine broke their backs recently. I had about 36 hours of bad low back pain this week. I never get low back pain. I decided, like a father with morning sickness, that my body was empathizing. Worldwide there are about 8.9 million fractures due to osteoporosis annually. If you are 50, white and a woman, you have a 16% risk over the rest of your lifetime of developing a broken back. Today I ran before my evening hospital rounds. I passed a silver haired older woman riding her bike. She waved at me and said "I'm impressed!" I waved back and said "So am I". Which is to say we acknowledged each other's badassery.
Yesterday I was running at the beach. It was one of those foggy days where it can be hard to know where you started and easy to lose your dog if he strays too far. With my head in that fog, and earbuds budding from my ears, I listened to Prince Harry interview President Obama. It was like being on another planet, what with the fog, the waves, the prince, and a highly thoughtful, intelligent, well-spoken president. Miles, my dog, stuck pretty close except when stealthily tearing off after a seagull or raven. Speaking of bad asses, beach ravens are the baddest. I've seen one teasing Miles, swooping down and darting out of his reach while he barks his head off, over and over. This is the same poodle who notices animals on TV then searches for them behind the TV. If I had a choice between a raven and my poodle to take my next Boards exam for me, I would have to go with the raven.
Facts: Once a tagged wild raven lived to be almost 23 years old. My father knew Poe's The Raven by heart and used to recite it to me in a creepy voice at bedtime. My father had two hearts. The one he was born with, and the one that was transplanted into him at age 60. I think Poe would've liked this. He might've even written something like The Telltale Heart Transplant. ZDoggMD, can you do something with this idea??
I like to read and re-read and listen to and read again the books I enjoy. Same with TV shows. Recently, we are revisiting Battlestar Galactica. I like how everyone in charge is called sir, gender non-specifically. I like how the women are strong, the men are good looking and the cylons are above average. And the way everyone gives such a frack about everything is inspiring. I mean, they are less than 40,000 souls and the only surviving humans and go months and years without a run at the beach or feeling one bit of sunshine on their backs. And yet, they keep surviving. And they keep caring about each other and their kids and, most astoundingly, the deeper meaning of existence. Also, Fred and Carrie from Portlandia totally lost their jobs because BG is such an addictive TV show.
I have been working a lot lately. I am not proud of this, it is just a fact. When I work without breaks a few things tend to occur:
1) My heart sinks when my phone rings.
2) I get cranky.
3) I start to feel responsible for all disease in the world. Like personally responsible.
If you ever try calling me and wonder why I don't answer or I answer with crankiness, please see 1 and 2 . Although I try to combat number 1 above by changing up the ring tone. For awhile it was the Downton Abbey theme song. When that started making me want to smash my iPhone to pieces, I switched it to the theme to James Bond. That went off when I was rounding in isolation garb the other day, thus my phone under layers of antibacterial, neon urine-colored, paper gown material. I just sat there and continued discussing life and death issues with a bemused gentleman, in his own hospital garb of a butt-flashing, bleach-smelling cotton dress of the typical drab coloration. He laughed at the Bond serenade. And wanted to know where his goddam pants were. Ah, the healing power of American Medicine.
As for number 3, I gotta work on that one. Fact is I cannot keep everyone healthy all the time. It is perhaps possible that I give too much of a frack to have a sustainable life as a physician.
And yet, a physician am I. Care I do.
Pretending not to care about stuff that matters must be exhausting. If one has to be exhausted either way, why not choose caring. If life hurts either way, why not choose hope. If love lives in our hearts and that heart beats 2.5 billion times before we give up the ghost, it seems we have a lot of love to go around.
Facts: I can run 100 days in a row and live to tell the tale. My dear son is almost 20. My patients live until they die. My heart breaks and heals again, stronger than before. My heart breaks. My heart heals again. Stronger than before. My telltale heart.
