the toughest woman I know

We had a patient today whose mother was terrified of letting her son with acondroplasia sit or push push toys.  It was out of control. We had another patient whose family refused to encourage him to do the necessary rehab so he can get better. My attending came out of the second room and said the following: “Amy, your Mom was a toughass.“  After I nearly died laughing, I agreed with him.  My Mom is a rockstar. NO really she is.  In that moment he was implying that I never ran the show, my Mother always gently although forcibly made sure I did what I had do rehab wise. But she also let me be a kid.  He proceeded to talk about her for a little while. She was the standard this afternoon for good parenting.

And really if I am half the parent she is one day, I will be happy with myself. Not only did she raise me to be a self sufficient, miraculously tall and unusually driven (possibly to the point of insanity) dwarf/gimp, she raised two other remarkable young women. She cared for us, she disciplined us, she loved us,  she prayed for us. and she fought for us!

Mom rocks my world.

Happy 50th Birthday Mom!

Surprising Beauty

Is something beautiful because you love it or do you love it because its beautiful?? I don’t know. But if I did I could explain why I love Bucharest.  Bucharest at first glance is a filthy, graffiti covered city made up of endless gray communist bloc apartments for as far as the eye can see. Beggars on every corner (although this is improving), stray dogs in every doorway. But if you look twice you will be surprised by the wildflowers that grow everywhere, the old trees spread throughout the city, the gardens in each balcony and each little yard, the children running down the wide sidewalks and colors of clothes on the line, bright curtains, ads that mask the gray. I love this city.

Maybe its because I love its people. I love to sit on the bus or the tram or the metro and watch people. Romanians are proud and always dress up to go outside their house. They are fiercely protective of their children (yes a bit ironic) and although they don’t smile enough for my liking at times when they engage you they are warm and will probably invite you to dinner.

Maybe its because I love the children. I am back at the baby hospital again this time. I could spend all my time there and be perfectly happy. These children resilience, their beauty, their capacity for love when they have not been loved has always given me a window to the divine yet also of the silence desperation of the orphans.  I thought it would be harder being close to the end of my training but its better somehow. Even though I at times know the grim statistics these kids face, I also know of their potential first hand. I cling to that at times because I believe they cling to it too. They know what they want beauty and love over despair.

Perhaps its because I am an American and optimist that I see such beauty in the mist of such drabness and pain. I probably sound hopelessly naive but I am not as much it may seem. I know the dark side I am just surprised that there can be such dichotomy.

I hate to admit this but I need Romania far more than Romania needs me. This place has always been a place of such spiritual and emotional renewal for me. I think its how simply I live when I here.

Boards OVER.

Leaving Roanoke in less than 24 hours to drive to Dulles to fly to EUROPE.

Leave for Romania from Spain in T minus 11 days!!!!

so happy right now.

New photo site for the year of insanity:

http://amyadventuresabroad.shutterfly.com/

….I want to get off the boat.

I am exhausted by labels. I am exhausted by categories, by worldviews and clashing worldviews.  I am exhausted by the need for debate for endless arguments for intolerance of tolerance of intolerance.   I want so much for my beliefs for my walk with Christ to be nothing more than my walk with Christ.  I try to  peel off the layers of dirt, mire of pride of ambition, scabs and dressings of culture and politics in search of truth but I so often find myself lost amidst the gauze, plaster and mud.  Where is a faith that is simple? Where is a love that is unhindered by politics, rules of decorum and a constant fear for our own personal safety and liberty? Where is a truth that is not seen through the lens of culture, not blurred by lines of indifference and by the institutions that we hold dear? Where is the church that is living in faith, loving in and out of their faith and seeking unobstructed truth?

There’s tarnish on the golden rule
And I wanna jump from this ship of fools
Show me a place where hope is young
And a people who aren’t afraid to love
This world has nothing for me and this world has everything
All that I could want and nothing that I need
This world is making me drunk on the spirits of fear.
So when he says who will go, I am nowhere near.
And the least of these look like criminals to me
So I leave Christ on the street
This world has held my hand and has led me into intolerance
But now I’m waking up, but now I’m breaking up But now I’m making up for lost time

Caedmon’s Call

for such a time as this

My roommate Jessica calls me a REBEL. She says I am not disrepsectful but I have issues with authority and I tend to see people (with some exceptions particularly as a young third year) as people rather they are in a place of power or the jaintor…. I think this is partly my personality…I hate beuaracracy for the sake of beuaracracy and I hate big egos and frankly my own life experience has taught me that people rarely turn out the way the world thinks they should.

Today I was minding my own business in the NICU workroom helping the new residents get used to the crazy NICU computers and mucho important facutly member walks in the room. He talks to the fellow and introduces himself as our incoming attending starting Thursday to the residents. Then he notices me with my feet hung over a chair, list in my hand, hair falling down, scrubs stained with strawberry juice from lunch.

“You’re our AI, wonderful, I read your paper I have been meaning to talk to you. So have you decided on peds?”

I sit there with my mouth hanging open confused. I had had one interaction with this man, he complimented me on my surgery essay (read here) which was published in the school’s journal. I remember only because our student body president took me aside and asked me if I knew who I had just spoken to…I shook my head. He mumbled a important title that was lost on me beyond that he was mucho important. That was 6 months ago.

YES! I have commited to Peds! I said. What paper are you referring to?? My surgery essay?

No, no it was an abstract. About physicians with limitations.

I nearly fell out of my chair. The abstract is not a secret but it sort of is.  The only faculty member who knew about my submission to the AAMC (American Assoc of Medical Colleges (a large group of mucho important people who are the gatekeepers to med school nation wide) Annual Conference) was the guy who teaches our professionalism class.

“Oh yeah…I wrote that.” I stuttered. “I don’t know whether it will be accepted or  not  till July.”   He responds, “It has come to my attention we have turned down at least one highly qualified candidate who is now going to Hopkins because of  their disability.  I am interviewing candidates for a new Dean of Admissions (the old one is retiring), the one we select will be announced next week. I am only interested in choosing someone who is absolutely committed to rewriting our Technical standards.” (Technical standards are the PHYSICAL (non-academic) requirements for medical school, they are one of the BIGGEST BARRIERS to disabled doctors.  My school’s TS are atrocious…so bad that I shouldn’t have been admitted under them however I had a faculty member write me a letter of recommendation and I was one of the top five in my pre-med class at the same institution…its hard to turn down one of your own)

audible gasp from Amy.

“I want you as a consultant for the project, along with J (alum who had a spinal cord injury his 3rd year at my school),  T (current upper level int med resident). You’re the experts.”

“I would love to…”

“Excellent, we will chat more, what are your thoughts about Dr. X  (mucho important person directly involved with med school stuff)’s feelings on this, I am not sure he is on board…?”

“Um…(dude he just asked me my opinion on the freaking Dr. X who in part  controls my future….but who I have secretly believed he is not a believer forever now)  Dr. X has always supproted me…beyond that I don’t know.”

“yeah I am not so sure about Dr. X either.”

(holy crap what have I gotten myself into)

“I am very excited to have you on the NICU team and for your future in peds and I am glad to have you on broad for this project, See you on Thurs.”

So I got home and looked the guy’s title up…he is only the Sr. Dean of the freaking school. (4thish from the top of the little medical center prymaid).

I am thrilled but also a little freaked out….this guy knew nearly secret information about me and had insight into my thoughts on a VERY controversial subject The rebel in me is a little annoyed, the activist in me is singing.

also have to become the best darn AI by Thursday in NICU history….no pressure….