Gettin' Hitched...

I return to the Blogosphere with the exciting news that I met an amazing woman while I was gone and am getting married in a few months.

Abigail Ruth Mortenson and I will be getting married on Saturday, December 31. Mark your calendars! More details to follow...

TAMALE

Warm greetings from Tamale!

I write to you with a sweaty back and sticky spacebar in Tamale, Ghana (so please excusemycongealedwords. Ha ha!) My resident colleagues and I are enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon after a crazy week on the wards.

First off, sorry for not blogging better. Here it is halfway through the rotation, and I am posting for the first time. We have been busy on the wards during the day and spending time with our attending doctors in the evenings until late. This group of attendings is leaving today/tomorrow in 2 groups. We will remain in Tamale for 2 more weeks, working on the wards with our Ghanaian colleagues, teaching med students, caring for patients, and learning as much about tropical medicine in this West African context as possible.

Honestly, this time in West Africa has been one of the hardest. I think knowing more of what you COULD do for patients now makes it harder not to have the available resources to make all of those things happen. Sometimes, these situations just require more creative thinking. Other times, they require some extra effort on our part. Still other times, there is little we can do in the short-term, and this really frustrates me. I pray God helps turn this anger and frustration into something productive, so that I do not wallow in a place of cynicism or worse, despair.

I am again amazed by the beauty of Ghana's people. No where else on Earth have I met such loyal, loving, hospitable people. It has been so much fun to reunite with old friends and make new ones.

We are going to church with one of our friends, Maame Mercy, from the Blood Bank tomorrow. I am looking forward to introducing my resident friends to a Christian Ghanaian church service! Have a great weekend.

Even the walls would blush

There is a PICU stockroom supplier at work who we will call "D". Picture an attractive, middle-aged African American woman, ever-smiling, demonstrative, and gregarious, who you just always want to hug. She is famous for making grown men blush and creating awkward situations with staffpersons' spouses for sport. The first time I saw her in the unit, she yelled something like, "Hey baby...you new around here?"  We became quick friends after that and she enjoys jeering me for fun.

One day later in December, she came into the break room as I was eating lunch. She said, "Where is MY food?".

"Umm, D, I ----".

"Uhhhhhhh-huh!" she interrupted. "That's not what you said LAST NIGHT..." and went on as I turned all shades of red in front of the other lunch-goers.

This morning, while talking to a special friend in the lobby, she walked by, stopped, stared. "You cheatin' on me?" she cried incredulously, just loud enough for the whole lobby to get the idea. Waiting long enough to make things uncomfortable, she smiled and relented, "good to see you guys. Now come here, boo," as she embraced each of us.

Gotta love D....

Psalm 71

1 In you, LORD, I have taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame.
2 In your righteousness, rescue me and deliver me;
turn your ear to me and save me.
3 Be my rock of refuge,
to which I can always go;
give the command to save me,
for you are my rock and my fortress.
4 Deliver me, my God, from the hand of the wicked,
from the grasp of those who are evil and cruel.

5 For you have been my hope, Sovereign LORD,
my confidence since my youth.
6 From birth I have relied on you;
you brought me forth from my mother’s womb.
I will ever praise you.
7 I have become a sign to many;
you are my strong refuge.
8 My mouth is filled with your praise,
declaring your splendor all day long.

9 Do not cast me away when I am old;
do not forsake me when my strength is gone.
10 For my enemies speak against me;
those who wait to kill me conspire together.
11 They say, “God has forsaken him;
pursue him and seize him,
for no one will rescue him.”
12 Do not be far from me, my God;
come quickly, God, to help me.
13 May my accusers perish in shame;
may those who want to harm me
be covered with scorn and disgrace.

14 As for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more.

15 My mouth will tell of your righteous deeds,
of your saving acts all day long—
though I know not how to relate them all.
16 I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, Sovereign LORD;
I will proclaim your righteous deeds, yours alone.
17 Since my youth, God, you have taught me,
and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.
18 Even when I am old and gray,
do not forsake me, my God,
till I declare your power to the next generation,
your mighty acts to all who are to come.

19 Your righteousness, God, reaches to the heavens,
you who have done great things.
Who is like you, God?
20 Though you have made me see troubles,
many and bitter,
you will restore my life again;
from the depths of the earth
you will again bring me up.
21 You will increase my honor
and comfort me once more.

22 I will praise you with the harp
for your faithfulness, my God;
I will sing praise to you with the lyre,
Holy One of Israel.
23 My lips will shout for joy
when I sing praise to you—
I whom you have delivered.
24 My tongue will tell of your righteous acts
all day long,
for those who wanted to harm me
have been put to shame and confusion.

Comfort and Joy

"I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow." - Jeremiah 31:13

Today on the road home for Christmas, I finally permitted myself to feel. I have been in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) for three weeks and the culture therein lends itself mainly to "going" at full speed in order to keep up with each new critical patient that rolls into the unit.

Twenty-five miles outside of shedding my white coat and stethoscope, the wave of emotions that I had not allowed myself to feel swept over me, and I grieved for you.

You, who with weeks to months to live, still refuse a new heart. You remember the surgery from your youth that hurt and changed your life so much. Though you really need several more days of dialysis and some medical fine-tuning before going home safely, you demand to go home before Christmas...and we will let you, because we want you to enjoy this one since it may be your last.

You, presenting to us unconscious, with unmistakable signs of abuse; already departed, yet heart and blood pumping, lungs expanding and contracting only by a machine...until they are ready to let you go. You, with sweet golden hair, perfect, were alive and laughing 24 hours ago before one snatched away your life in anger. Now the relatives wail by your side. The grim organ receivers, who although life-givers in title, seem like vultures circling in the periphery.

I grieve for you, little one, as you cough up the soot that you inhaled in a house fire. You attempt to pry your eyes open after a twelve-hour "nap" on the ventilator, totally/painfully unaware that this fire claimed the life of your little sister. Your daddy bravely swallows tears, joyful that you are awake but ruined at how to tell you.

I mourn for you, chronic children, who by genetics, environment, or circumstance, have found yourselves medically fragile. You are here for simple pneumonia...but this set on the background of countless hospital admissions that have stolen your childhood and prevented you from being "normal."

And for you parents, grandparents, and loved-ones, who are also hurting. You who manage a brave face every morning and desperately search for hope amidst our many words. You whose tears and prayers fall before God like offerings, grieving, pleading, bargaining with Him for healing, miracles, or a different outcome.

For three weeks, I have dutifully taken your stories, thoughtfully written your orders, and carefully detailed your daily care plan. But today, twenty-five miles removed from beeping monitors, lines & tubing, and ventilators, I allow myself to feel...and grieve for you.

This week of Christmas, I cling to the promises of God to bring you comfort and joy. I remember a family who lost a child and used their experience to help other people adopt. I think of the miracle of a woman who returned love and kindness to the ones who took the life of her husband. I remember the life of a man, who stripped of family, friends, and estate, still found the strength to keep praising God. And I pray this grace and strength for you.

God, this is not from you. I do not understand these sufferings, but I find solace in the fact that they grieve you too...and that Christ bore them all. Thank you for being near to wipe every tear from our eyes; thank you for your promise to make all things new. Thank you for Jesus. We believe your promise for comfort and joy; this week more than ever, may these families...may we...have the strength and humility to embrace them.

Thankful today for...

clean PET scans
new opportunities for friends
great friends and family
an awesome, supportive residency program
the day off
not carrying the phone
snowy weather
random acts of baked goods bestowal
Advent season

just thankful.

The Phone

This month, I am working in the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit). Here we take care of the sickest of the sick in the Kentuckiana region. I was most anxious about this rotation. However, I have begun to survive (and even enjoy) this place with greater familiarity with its structure, protocol, and patients.

One of the hallmarks of the PICU experience is the phone. Each resident takes turns holding the phone. Like the ring in Lord of the Rings or a holcrux in Harry Potter's world, the phone has much power and much burden. He or she who carries it becomes weary quickly and must share the responsibility of carrying it, lest they turn into Schmiegel or a troll or something. My group of residents are really good about sharing the phone, and we trade it off throughout the day.

One of my friends laughed that at the end of her PICU month, she woke up answering her own phone, "PICU, this is Danielle." Her mom began to worry...

Some of our graduated seniors last year made this funny video about the phone.

I will resist the urge to destroy or trash the phone this month.