thoughts & opinions from a mom, surgeon & aficionado of life

Category: Thoughts & Opinions Page 2 of 6

Hate has no home here. 

Fear is an odd thing. I know. It is a basic emotion that promotes self preservation, but it’s so strange the way it can build in your brain, like silly string, shooting out and tangling up your thoughts. Like the moon, popping out in the dark of night, waking you from the deepest sleep, self magnifying to sometimes monumentous, gargantuan proportions the little thing we were originally afraid of. 

We fear each other, ourselves, opportunities and failures, and our fear can be fed and harvested by the manipulative and powerful, making the daylight hard to break, making the haunting shadows hard to push back into the closet awaiting to return on some later date. 

I’m afraid of what I can’t see, but I know to be there. Too many National Geographics read, too many nature shows, too many overly dramatic Shark Weeks. This year, I took my brother up on an invite to partner with him on the Casco Bay Swim Run. An epic race covering about 16 miles of running streets, trails and rocks, and a series of open water swims totaling 8700 meters – if we could hold our course and not get pulled by the current.  Stephen and I are both good swimmers, but mostly stick to the pool. However, after a really sore neck and back after a 5 k swim in Miami, I realized the only way to master open water, especially such a daunting distance, was to train open water…..time to face my fear. 

I don’t really think that sharks or crocodiles (Did you know the only place in America with salt water crocodiles is South Florida?) would decide not to make a meal of you because you were in the company of “dessert” or a “second course”, but for some reason, swimming with another person just melts away the fear (at least until I hit a fish, or piece of seaweed cruelly imitating Jaws. My incredible work partners swam with me twice a week for months, helping me train (no one wants to lose a partner … More nights on call). And, I started trying to conquer my fear, desperately singing “Moana” when I swam alone and doing unintentional sprint training- every time I get the heebie jeebies I race back to the shore, only to convince myself that I’m being foolish and head back out, only to get the heebie jeebies and dash in again. Rediculous. 

Some people fear what they don’t understand, what they can’t identify with. Perhaps a person who speaks a different language or follows a different spiritual path. Perhaps a person with a different lifestyle. To some, a media clip is twisted into the definition of a people, of a culture, of a human. A monster is made of a man, or religion, or way of life.

The day before the race we rode the CascoBayLines Ferry to the island that we were staying on. So much natural beauty, it’s hard to describe. Much to my delight we saw a harbor seal popping in and out of the whitecaps. At 2 am, I awoke to the clear realization that where there are seals, there are great whites,  and spent the next hour googling “are there great white sharks in Casco Bay”. (Yes…. There are, and I thought that was the bad news of the night).



And then, in the morning, I flipped on the news. And there I saw what happens when humans fear. I saw what happens when fear is harnessed for power and politics. Fear turns to hate. Groups emboldened by lack of national moral guidance and Machiavellian politics feed and grow on their fears and seek to destroy that what they don’t understand. Love. Peace. Families. Hate can rise like a forest fire and seek the destruction of anyone who doesn’t look like them, doesn’t love like them, doesn’t worship like them. So blinded by the smoke from the burning fire that hate can’t see that there is only one love, the same love, the love that shines from a mother’s eyes onto her beautiful children is the same whether it comes from eyes that are blue, black or green. The kisses and lullabies are the same whether they are sung in English, Spanish, Arabic or Hebrew. 



Haven’t we learned this lesson before? 

And so I swam without fear (but with at least feigned confidence to convince any great whites that I would not be a weak easy prey…. Because I’m sure that great whites think like that), and with tremendous love of the adventure, and the ocean, and of my family and brother, and for my body that is still able to do this, and of the very scary sharks and crocodiles. Truly, they are beautiful magnificent creatures and human fear has nearly annihilated them before.  And, if they are going to eat me at least I would have really enjoyed the last moments of life…..

And, I swam without hate. 



Hate has no home here. 

As I travel home, leaving the rocky shores and amazing strangers that cheered for me, offered water and encouragement as we trekked mile after mile through flowers and gorgeous view and cold, strong ocean currents, I see from the window of our taxi, train and plane, the beauty of this nation of ours. A melting pot. By design. By declaration. From rocky coasts to sandy beaches. From different accents to different languages. There is no one image of America or an American. 

That’s what made America great. Love.





Dear Burnt-out Working Mom, You’ve Got This.

First, Happy Mother’s Day!  This is written in the celebration of motherhood and recognition of the incredible challenge that motherhood combined with work outside the home. or even inside the home, presents. 

I get asked so often “how do you do it?” Be a mom, a surgeon, exercise, cook… holy sh*#, sounds terrible.  I hate to answer this way, because I see the look of desperation in your eyes, the deep set-in fatigue, the sense of overwhelm, the look of “I am only hanging on by the thinnest of threads so please tell me it will be ok”, but the real answer is because there is no other good choice.  Choice is the answer. And it is choice that I hope will convince you that you’ve got this, you can do it, and you can do it well. It’s worth it and you’re going to have fun along the way. I promise. 

Me & Number Three❤
Me & Number Three❤

There are 4 things that I have found are the true paths to sanity in the life of a working mother. Trust me when I tell you that I have not always had these and it took a bit of pain, suffering, self introspection, and, well, quite honestly, divorce, for me to get to the point where I could look at myself in the mirror and my reflection would tell me “you’ve got this!” versus me pleading with my reflection to believe in me.

1. Get rid of the resentment. 

Realign your expectations with the reality around you and be clear what others can expect of you. If you can’t meet the expectations of others, your are going to be weighed down by mother loads of guilt. Make it clear if you are on the edge. I use a line, that my husband teases me about, but it is effective. “Kids, I’m overstimulated”. Everyone knows that means that I’ve brought something home with me.. some worry, problem, sadness or fatigue and I just am not willing to handle 50 million new minor problems right this second. Write it down for me, send me a text so I remember to order the gazillion things than you need for class or Sally’s Birthday or your field trip permission slip… but give me a little mental space. They learn to respect your needs and they also learn coping strategies for when they are adults. 

The house destroyers have been busy today...
The home destroyers have been working overtime ?

Realign your expectations of them. Bigly. If you think that amazing good looking man you married is going to handle baby duty during the night, split the household chores and not complain then I really hope you’re right and if you are you are the WINNER of the game of life!!!! But so often, we expect that and they fall short. It happens at home, it happens at work… people very often fall short of our expectations. But let’s face it. Who gave me the right to have expectations of what you are to do? Exactly. No one. Discuss what is reasonable, possible, achievable by their standards. It’s not enough? Hire someone to do the rest, or do it yourself.  Make a choice. What works? What doesn’t.  It’s that simple.

Do not simmer in resentful anger while your husband sits on the couch while you fold his clothing, cook his dinner, clean the dishes and then have to go back to the hospital because you’re on call. Did he tell you to do those things? Did he expect it? Did he ever, for a moment expect to do those things himself? Did you ever even ask him to help? If the answer is no, then those things were your choice to do. Don’t resent, realign. Resentment will burn you alive. It takes a lot of emotional energy to resent… and last I checked, we working moms don’t have enough emotional energy in the bank to be wasting it. 

2. Lose the scheduled obligations

Nothing stresses me out more than a scheduled obligation when deep down I know my schedule isn’t truly in my control! Pick ups from school or swim practice. Drop offs for a party or event. Omg… the horrid stress. That had to go. If I had to ask a colleague for coverage, I felt weak and lazy. If I was late for the pickup, I felt horrible mom guilt. The babysitter who has to leave by 6? The babysitter who tells you she needs next week off for a family emergency! OMG! Forget it. This is for your sanity Moms. Get someone to help. I switched to an Au Pair about 5 years ago and haven’t looked back. She’s off when I’m off, she’s off when the kids are in school. She’s on and making all those scheduled necessities until I’m home. No one can concentrate on their work properly when they are worried if their child will be the last one in the late pickup office.

When you do have a scheduled obligation, like a graduation, something important to both you and your child, take the day off. Less vacation at the end of the year? Sure… but less need for vacation… you won’t have aged 15 years running from the hospital to your car, driving likely a possessed maniac through the horrid Miami traffic, bursting in to your child’s classroom party with salad still in the store bought container with no serving utensils with a face that screams “did anyone bring wine!!!” while the rest of the moms are chillin with their kids and their perfectly made Christmas tree cut out watermelons.  Really… cut yourself some slack. Sign up for the forks and napkins or take the day off and get a pedicure and then show up relaxed and refreshed and ready to be present for yourself and your child. 

3. Find you. 

Helllooooo… where are YOU? 20-30 minutes can be dedicated guilt free to yourself everyday. Do not fall into the “you just got home and now you want to…” No, you need to. Twenty to thirty minutes  of exercise with a minute or 2 of mindful awareness can be fit it to your horrible, stressful, packed schedule and it will make a huge difference in your energy level, self esteem and health. Dear Mom, your health is the most important thing you have, please do not neglect it. A better you is a better mom, wife, doctor, nurse, banker.. you get the idea. 

Strategies that work? Wake up 15 mins earlier, while still confused and disoriented leave house with work clothes packed. Go to gym near or at work, exercise, rapid shower and go to work… since you missed traffic that 15 min sleep sacrifice just bought you at least a 30 min workout. The first 1-2 times are rough because of the pack &go… but works great if you are not the morning driver. 

Evening- family walk … I always hated this.. half of the kids wouldn’t want to go… by the time the shoes were tied and the mandatory leave-the-house supplies were packed… you know.. snacks, water, juice, toy, book, special elephant, sunglasses, hat, bin, diapers, changing pad, wipes… my heart rate has already been up for 30 mins and I would decide a glass of wine was better.  Some people this really works for and can give some extra family time. 

Shake it while you bake it! This is my GO-To! Whip up oven baked meal and then…. 40 mins.. GO!  Come home, run through house desperately attempting to restore order in the face of what seems to be constant assault from such sweet beautiful innocent appearing house destroyers. Run to kitchen and quickly prepare something that must be baked… quiche (5 mins prep on a slow day), baked ziti (10 mins), roasted veggies… watch the knife people…, you get the idea. Throw in oven and GO! Tread water in your pool, go for a run, dance party on the Wii, yoga on wii fit, break out the treadmill, bike or elliptical if you can find it under your laundry.  When the food is  done, you’re done. While food cools you can set the table (because obviously no one else has (refer to section 1), take a quick shower or not and eat with your family! Note… I strongly recommend a sign over the table that reminds the children of manners and maternal appreciation, and a rule… and statement of “dis is dissgosting” from the mouths of those lovely little angels your produced needs consequences… and no, the consequence is not you getting up and making that demanding little prima donnas a meal they like better! Again, set expectations. They expect dinner and you expect them to eat it… sans complaint. 


Don’t forget the mindful awareness. Take a minute to breath. Take a minute to smile. Tell yourself you’re awesome. 


4. Choice.

 I cannot underestimate the power of choice. Choose it, believe it, remind yourself daily, and make it happen. I choose happy. Maybe you choose success or peace or whatever makes you the person you want to be. The mom you want to be. Momma, you’re the CEO. No one can do it like you do. CHOOSE to be happy. CHOOSE to share your talents and your enthusiasm for life and career with those adorable little people you chose to have. Love those little house destroyers. They grow up fast.


A Little Bit Of Poetry.

Expectations

What do you do
When the expectation of you
The one we believe to be true
Just hasn’t happened

The real me
Not the one you or I wants me to be 
Begs to be free but is
Trapped in a manufactured frame

Made from your expectations and mine
Like strings or a vine 
From here to way up high they wind
Unattainable

Sadly the converse is true
I have expectations of you
An image, a vision, I’ve made up from the blue
Yet, you disappoint 

The best thing I know
Is to give up the show
Let our image form true to how the wind may blow
But it won’t work out.. 
I have expectations.

Three Minutes

3 minutes from when her husband dropped by the office and brought her a surprise at lunch, he called her 3 times.. unable to speak.. after being shot 3 times in the chest. It took just minutes for EMS  to bring him to Ryder trauma center, and maybe less than that for the heroic efforts of our incredible trauma surgeons to give him a chance, to bring him back from the brink. 

Its a war zone here, just 3 mins from the the beautiful modern glass offices, just 3 mins from seeing his beautiful wife. In the blink of an eye the world changes, upside down, topsy turvey for nothing. For what? Because you’re angry. Because you can. Because your gun is right there. 

Some will argue to get a gun. It wouldn’t have helped. Who has their gun ready 3 mins from leaving the soft kiss of their wife’s lips. No one. 

It’s too much. 

It makes no sense. 

I don’t live in fear, but I won’t live in acceptance. I cannot accept that it should be this way. I see enough pain and suffering from things somewhat out of human control… cancer, birth defects, sudden infant death syndrome. But this, this we can change. I know we can. The question is how. 

It probably took you 3 mins to read this. It may take you 3 mins to lock your gun up so your kids can’t play with it. Maybe it would take you 3 mins to call your representative about “open carry”. Perhaps in 3 mins you can use a voice that speaks louder and clearer than mine, that reaches more ears, more minds, makes a bigger difference. 

Today, in 3 minutes a life was changed, a family was changed. A beautiful family was traumatized beyond belief. A beautiful, sincere, hard working, family oriented woman was emotionally destroyed. A man was shot in front of his child in the broad light of day. 

Give me 3 minutes. Make a difference. 

Ay Papi. Meet me in Miami

Miami is an odd place. We have manatees, salt water crocodiles (the only place in North America), pythons (imports), wild blue macaw parrot populations (escapees from Hurricane Andrew), and people from just about everywhere.  Between 70-80% of our population speak english as a second language, if at all. 


This is a melting pot of America… and it’s really just a small, small town. 

That’s the strangest thing. Everyone here knows each other, or can (and must) somehow connect you to their network… they just have to place you. It starts with “what’s your high school?” If that doesn’t work then a series of short questions will serve to find someone you know, who they know, through their brothers sister-in -law whose friend knows your son’s friend that he swims with. Done. You’ve been placed.

Miami is a place of money… and no money.. but it’s hard to tell who has and who doesn’t. Everyone drives ridiculously nice cars… someone drives a metallic gold mazerati! Money matters here. Women “invest” in their futures with plastic surgery from top to bottom and men? The men walk around with big bellies and drive fancy cars, like Porches, that ares dubbed “panty droppers”. Men work, women work even harder. It’s a tough crowd. You have to look great and stay in shape or just never visit South Beach. Drinks are expensive, housing is absurd. I understand that after a couple months of dating people will actually ask for help paying their rent. There are 2 ways to make money here. Real estate and import export. I have no idea what that means. 

Driving in Miami is insane. So insane that I have switched over to using the metro as much as is possible. There is a combination of a lot of old people coming to Miami to escape the cold. I think they headed for Bal Harbor, but overshot. There are the University of Miami undergrads… with a tuition at or near the top of the national average, these kids, for the most part are not poor. So basically you have teenagers, just granted independence, tearing through town at all hours of the day and night in cars that I still can’t afford! Then you have the facts that no one else actually learned to drive in the US, that stop signs are optional, that when you hit a traffic jam on the highway it’s a good idea to put it in reverse and floor it to get to the last exit, that turning right from the left lane is fine as long as you honk and wave angrily at everyone like they are the ones doing something insane.   Accidents are usually comprised of 2-5 imported cars.. the sum value of which is often more than my house. For some strange reason, that makes me happy.   Truly happy. And crosswalks… what’s a crosswalk? It should be a crossrun. 

Everyone here has a boat, or wants a boat,  or wants a friend with a boat – Why? To go sit at the sandbar. The sandbar is an area in the bay where about a million boats anchor on any day with sunlight and a pop up party ensues. Girls dance in bikinis on the upper decks, Pitbull is played loudly from nearly every arrival, people float, lounge and drink. The whole place smells of Hawaiian tropic, money, and beer. Some people, I think, go fishing… but I really think it’s just so they have stories to tell at the sandbar.

Language

Mira! Nadie here speaks pure English or pure Spanish. Quieres un cafecito is not Spanish in Miami.. it’s just polite, and say yes. This city runs on cafecito… hence the driving skills. Women here are called Mami or Mamacita or Mamita depending on your age and what they want from you. Little girls are called Mami from the get go. Mamacita is always said with a glance at your butt… I don’t know why, but it’s true. Here, it’s perfectly fine to call your son Gordo (fat) as a name and your wife or girlfriend “Gorda”. While I would never speak to you again, here it’s fine, and oddly a term of affection. Abuela is grandma and you can call any older woman Señora or Abuela without offending her.  


Men are called Papi. This word however can be said in different ways with different meanings.. it’s all in the “a”. A short quick Papi is just like calling them by their name, a soft Papi is more affectionate and a long Paaapi or an “ay Paaaapi” means come over here and take your clothes off. So be careful. Gringas should use this term with caution. 

Greetings

People in miami don’t shake hands. If they do, it involves a pull in with sideways hug. This makes leaving miami socially awkward because people elsewhere don’t want to be hugged and or kissed by someone they don’t know, and certainly not at professional events. When I go to meetings in Boston or New York, people pull away.. shocked by the physical contact. But here, it’s good manners. My kid’s friends all greet me with a polite hello and hug with light kiss .. usually in the air. My patient’s  parents hug me. There are different Miami hugs. The socialite hug is done in high heels and a short skirt with a slight lean forward and barely a touch and no kiss contact, but kiss noise. You should not know if those are implants or not. They usually are. The Abuela or Mami hug is a full surrender hug. This has taken some getting used to. 10 years here and I’m sure hugging me is still like hugging a bag of raised- by-northeastern-parent bones, but I’m getting more accustomed.. at least to the women. I still find the hugs of men to be uncomfortable.

Finally, shoes. Miami is what the high heel industry lives for. High heels (and when possible Manolo’s) are worn everywhere and with everything. You simply cannot land your foot on the pavement getting out from your Land Rover in your leggings and hoodie without 3″ heels. It would be unsightly. The fashion industry has responded and fortunately now 3 inch gold lame high tops are available. I saw 3 pairs at my 8 year old daughter’s swim meet yesterday. This starts young. For the 4th grade dance the school sent out a memo that specifically stated no high heels. Pero, 2 ” really isn’t “high”… right? The day of the dance I saw at least 60% of the girls striding in comfortably in their heels.. they’ve done this before. I’m 46 and can’t walk like that in high heels…  I think podiatrists must do well here. Boots in miami are a must. You absolutely must have Uggs and a pair of leather stiletto boots – and be prepared to pull them out the very second the thermostat falls below 65. These must be coupled with your shortest skirt and a trendy shoulderless sweater.. after all.. it’s cold but not that cold. You have very few opportunities so you must be prepared. The uggs are required for morning school drop off, coupled with your workout attire that is used only for this purpose. 


Miami is beautiful. From the orchids to the Spanish style mansions to the beaches with the clear blue ocean, the place is completely addictive. Year round weather perfect for outdoor activities, complete professional team apathy, not to miss things like “Robert is Here” smoothies, Misha’s cupcakes, crab legs at Joe’s  and cafe con leche at every corner make this an ideal place to vacation or live like you’re on vacation. 


Ay Papi… meet me in miami. 

May the odds be ever in your favor

So my last blog was pre/peri election. I have to admit that despite my desire to stand up, speak up and reach out, I’ve been paralyzed by shame, disbelief, shock and pretty much an overwhelming feeling of what-the -hidey-ho. I’m speechless. 

But like you, I know. I work with mostly men.. conservative men…and I knew/know. Even as a professor of surgery, even in my mid 40’s I’ve heard the comments,  women doctors, women in general.. I’ve dreaded how to “prep” my daughter’s for the real world, I’ve put them in taekwondo, I’ve recognized that there is the American Dream and then there is the American reality. Don’t get me wrong.. we can get there. We Must. But not quite yet. 

Tomorrow marks the end of an era and the beginning of another. I must say Thanks. Thank you to the Obamas for 8 year of attention to our children’s health, diet and schools, thanks for 8 year of leadership with grace, humility, intelligence and respect. Thank you. Thank you for leading our nation in a way that our children can watch, admire and be inspired by. No one is perfect, but I admired the leadership of our nation tremendously. 

It is from this inspiration that I will find my voice. I must. We must. I watch the news, I listen to the radio and I feel as though I’m watching the Hunger Games. Reality is off key, it’s been altered. Everyone has smooth  foreheads, big boobs and even bigger wallets. There are bills to carry weapons in public – even in schools, there is a movement to end healthcare coverage…end healthcare and family planning for women of all ages, socioeconomics and education, there is talk of tax breaks, media transgressions and conflicts of interest. 

Yep. May the odds be ever in your favor. Be smart. Be aligned. Be strong. Find your voice.  It’s not us against them…. thats the thing where we get it wrong.. your favor, is “their” favor.. is my favor… is our favor.  

Don’t look away

I’m swimming in the ocean. The beautiful warm water surrounds me, comforts me, supports my weight as I glide through the water.  Suddenly, I feel a strong current.  The current is pulling me out,  tugging me downward, pushing my head to the bottom. A single drop of water is nothing, yet the millions together that make up the ocean have a force to be reckoned with. The drops of water together can support your weight allowing you to effortlessly float, or it can tug and pull and wash you to your death.     The ocean cannot be fought by just one person. To fight the rip current would lead to exhaustion and certain death… To surrender? The same. And yet, a steady onward progression peacefully protesting the horrible tugs and pulls of the mighty ocean leads to safety.

Ladies, it is our responsibility, our duty and perhaps our mission to look forward – keep our heads and eyes up and peacefully progress. I’m not talking about the presidency- that is only a symptom of the underlying disease. I’m talking about sexism. I’m talking about bias. We see it every damn day.  It surfaces in our jobs, in our homes and in our kid’s schools. We pretend that it doesn’t exist. I do. I go to work and I work. I ignore the comments, the looks, the men that speak over me or for me. We don’t want to make a fuss or fight or “be that girl/lady”. But that is getting us nowhere. That attitude is known as Stereotype threat. Basically, we are expecting the stereotype and for reasons unknown, we feed into it. We are paid less, respected less and promoted less, and I for one am not going to leave this battle to my daughters to fight.

When I decided to become a surgeon I was completely unaware that women didn’t do this.. didn’t become surgeons. It always strikes me as a strange thing when smart, bright talented women medical students question their ability to be a woman and a surgeon. After all, we operate with our hands

What happens between the time we are strong beautiful open minded girls to when we become cautious, defensive, submissive women? WHAT HAPPENS?When I belt out Beyoncé “who rules the world” my 8 year old daughter choruses “GIRLS!!!”. She has no idea that it’s a lie. And hell if you think I’m going to tell her.  But it doesn’t need to be. In a way we do, and in every way we could. We just have to stand up, look up and keep moving forward. 

I listened to the most amazing interview this week on NPR. The interview was a Cuban American immigrant, now American, who voted in the election for a tough stance on immigration. He stated that yes, he related to the refugees, to their plight. He said for the first years in the US he supported immigration, he wanted the same for others that he had achieved, but then, he realized that the immigrants he supported had become his competitors for jobs, for opportunity and he didn’t want that. Regardless of whether I agree or not, I understand the mentality. Ladies.. it is just that.. we were welcomed into the workplace, into the military, into the workforce.. and guess what? We’re good! Maybe even equal… maybe even better and that is a problem. We ARE the competition. So don’t think this is going to be easy. Don’t think for a second the glass ceiling is going to shatter it’s self.. or the men will hand you a hammer. Some will.. those with the intelligence to recognize the world will be its best when those who are most able, most willing, best equipped do the jobs they are best at.. man or woman. But others will build a rip current.. slowly joining and pulling and tugging to stop our forward progress to bring us down. 

Just as the ocean builds its power by the millions of drops of water, we too can join together, an ocean of women, a tide of change, a wave of success. Heads up, ladies. You don’t need to fight you only need to acknowledge the pull, the tug to push you down, pull up, join together. Don’t look away. It’s time.

What to expect… when your expecting…..

Expectations. We all have them. Some high, some low, some baby-bear-just-right.  I have them too, and honestly, today I am just flabbergasted. 

Sometimes I feel like I landed in an alternate universe. How is it that I so naive about others.. and worse yet…myself?

My partners often tell me to “mitigate expectations”… essentially sell low.. provide High! That’s good customer service (rumor has it). I think of the explanation like shopping. If the shirt is $100 and I have a coupon for $59% off and free shipping, I’m super happy…but oddly enough I would not have been as happy paying $41 for the shirt. (That’s true, by the way.. I never buy without a coupon) They get more than they expected. I understand.. but i have a hard time with myself as a “product”. What’s so wrong with giving them what they expect? Are they going to be disappointed? 

I called a family today and apologized. I apologized for “not meeting their expectations”. Honestly, I didn’t meet my expectations.. I should have been more clear. I got so frustrated with delay after delay after *****  **** delay that instead of communicating with the family, I tried to soothe myself and went and had some ice cream in the lobby. This is not a joke. I really did.
Today I feel failed by God, medicine and my profession; friends and family and myself.. and I fear for the damn election on top of it all. Basically, I’m bummed. 

I don’t believe lowering my expectations is the solution. Do you? 

So, I’ve resorted to sitting outside, with a glass of wine, being eaten alive by the Zika mosquitos, watching the fish devour each other with loud, hungry slurps and snaps. I don’t know what I expected, but the wine is good, the water has some strange soothing effect on me …. even though it sounds like a undersea war is being waged.. and it feels good to get this off my chest.

We can’t always be exactly who we want to be. Maintain the dream. Hold your expectations. Shoot for the stars …shoot for something… if all fails landing near your target ? is likely better than no target at all. 

❤️

PS. I expect tomorrow to be better.

Something old, something new and a big, big blue

Many of you may know that I grew up swimming. Never great, but good enough to swim through division 3 college swimming and have a great time all along. 25 years, 3 kids and a career later, I have intermittently fallen back in swimming to stay in shape (mental & physical).. sometimes going more than a year without a lap in the pool. I alternate by mood and joint behavior (they’re not like they used to be!) between running, swimming, paddle boarding and yoga. For my mental wellbeing, I try to do one of these activities at least 3-4 times a week. 

view from our room at the Grotto Bay Resort

The real problem is motivation. When it’s time to exercise, I have a million and one things to suddenly do.. and another million excuses.. I’m like an excuse factory… “is that a storm coming?” “This house is tooo dirty” “I should start dinner” “I’m too tired” “it’s too dark” “it’s too hot”  “I’m on call” ” I’m on call tomorrow” the list goes on and on. Over the past few years, I have begun registering for “events” – a 5k run here, a mile or 5 K swim there. The strategy seems to work. I have found some degree of consistency can be achieved by the fear of pain and suffering from a race poorly trained for. The benefits? A happier, healthier, more mentally and physically fit me! Plus the accomplishment of whatever event I participated in! Add to that the reward of a weekend getaway? I’m in!

Several months ago, I came across Round the Sound – Bermuda. Organized by Aquamoon Adventures,  it was listed as one of the top 10 best organized and most fun open water swims. I’ve never been to Bermuda, nor had my husband and the swim looked to be a combination of fun plus challenging. So I decided to do something new! I had a choice of signing up for 800m, 2k, 4K, 7.25k or 10k. I honestly wanted to sign up for the 7.25, but knowing my training schedule and concern with an unfamiliar course, country and water conditions, I went for the 4. 

The daunting notion of drowning at sea kept me training consistently.. logging over 10,000yd per week for 3 months. After arriving in Bermuda and checking things out, I decided to change my registration to the 7.25k.

white caps picking up at the start of the 7.25km swim

Here are the top 10 things I learned on my trip:

1. Swimmers are friendly, helpful people

2. I’m afraid of sharks

3. Bermuda is beautiful

4. Dark & stormy is a drink worth drinking

5. I have cellulite and it’s not going anywhere and I’m still happy

6. I can swim 7.25km in the ocean

7. You CAN pack snacks in a bikini

8. Don’t watch a movie about sharks if you are going to EVER swim in the ocean

9. Vaseline and or bandaid friction rub is a great invention – apply liberally and include up your nose (my nose thanks you , ladies)

10. If a woman screams in the ocean like a school girl and nobody hears her… it didn’t really happen (either time)
A little about the race. I met an amazing group of people from all over. The course was stunningly beautiful and for the most part kept me distracted from the prospect of large, teethy fish.. except when I ran into a fish and later a leaf … it was a biggish (Trump says Bigly.. so biggish is fair game) leaf and yellow….so you can imagine my fear when it attacked me. 

Parts of the course were through very deep, pretty darn rough water… it turns out that one can be motivated by the beauty of ones surroundings; the fact that one winter training in 1991 with Emory University you swam 9k while freezing your ass off and therefore had proof that this was possible to accomplish (I chose to ignore that this happened 25 years ago.. and perhaps my level of physical ability had changed); and, perhaps most significantly, that you can see no one anywhere nearby who could help you as the police were occupied helping the kayaks which were getting tossed like tictacs into Donald Trumps mouth, thus you better move it before a shark eats you. 

before and after the Round the Sound

After a very challenging 3.3k where I kept hydrated by swallowing mouthfuls of salt water with each attempted breath (salt keeps away foot cramps) the course turned to water that was smooth and beautiful. Cliffs lined with mansions, small opalescent fish crisscrossing through my path, jets of icy cold water shooting intermittently from the volcanic rock presumably from underground caves and grottos made the kilometers pass easily. 

It took me 2hours and 20 mins. I finished happy and tired but not exhausted or sore….greeted at the finish by a friendly crowd of swimmers and spectators, as well as a bar to refuel athletes with Dark & Stormies to dilute out all the ingested salt water! 

Finished!


Did I mention Bermuda was beautiful?

Great view, great trip, great event

Get fit, get inspired, be happy

❤️

PS.. kudos to my hubby who never questions my sanity… whether it be to Jamaica to operate on a baby or Bermuda in between 2 storms to swim, he’s there with me?

Pretty Much…

Do you ever have something that you want to say.. to get off your chest…and you just can’t get it out?  A gradual realization that the world in which you live, work and succeed isn’t what you thought? That the stories you tell your daughters and students and friends are just that… Stories. Fairy tales. 

may the glass rain down


It is a struggle, almost a war, in my brain,  my heart, and my soul for the last months.. I can’t write because I don’t have the words or the capacity or really the courage to say what needs to be said. Is it possible that the glass ceiling is so real, so palpable,  but so crystal clear that I never truly believed it existed?

It is strange how middle age.. maybe combined with the most odd election in the history of the US… shines a light that defines the opacity of the ceiling and  how truly low the ceiling dips. All the talk of a double standard, or wage inequity… it’s actually totally irrelevant. Its a completely different standard that women are held to. There is no similarity. When we go to work we are not only judged by our skills as a surgeon, physician, nurse, teacher etc…  We are judged on our physical appearance… looks matter for women in the workplace . Looks matter for women everywhere. We can neither look too good (cougar) or too bad (careless).  We are judged on our weight… too thin – anorexic.. too fat.. you’ve let yourself go (poor husband). You are judged on your manner of speech with your colleagues. We can neither be too efficient and decisive (aggressive and bitchy) nor too carefree (lazy). We are judged on our work hours. If you finish quickly & efficiently, you’re a bad teammate.  If we stay late, we are bad moms. We are judged on our children. They must be healthy, fit, intelligent and strong or it is clearly the result of neurotic mothering.  If we women date a couple men we are sluts… if we don’t, our sexuality is openly questioned or we are prudes. 

Is there no acceptable way to be a woman? 

We live in such an advanced country, and yet we don’t have maternity leave. Many women don’t have affordable childcare! Our colleagues, men and women, feel burdened by our reproductive decisions and feel it somehow appropriate to comment…. at work! Many women consider it an investment in their future to inject a toxin in their skin or implant silicone into their bodies! They fear when their beauty fades, so will their influence… and it will.. and it does. Compared to 7% of men aged 55-61, 20.5% of women the same age are underemployed (OWL Mothers Day Report). When you think of a retirement plan for yourself or your sons, do you think of a 401K? For your daughters? Is it the same? Or does part of that plan involve an MRS?  Do you look into your daughter’s eyes and wonder if the ceiling will shatter before she hits it? Do you send her out into the world with narry a warning? Do you wonder if she will look at you with disdain when she realizes she can be anything she wants to be, but…

Should we tell her to take 10 deep breaths and follow her heart, her skills, her beliefs and to continue on bumping along the glass until one day it finally smashes.  Because I know it will. I know it must. 

Everything you’ve earned, you’ve fought for and you’ve deserved. Do you wonder if you would be so fortunate if you weren’t pretty?

That has to change… pretty much.

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