Thank you housing crash and recession

I'd like to take a moment and truly thank the housing crash and recession. Now, I might sound a bit of kilter, but I am serious. Of course, my heart goes out to those that lost a lot, if not everything, because of this economy. However, I am blessed to be young and lucky. I am not the only one who has been impacted positively by this recession. For the first 2 years of the housing market crash I watched the carnage around me, disconnected from the reality of so many others. Our house on Catalina stayed afloat. At first we sailed high above the rising waters of negative equity, then we began to slowly sink but we did not sink...until this previous year. I have now become a homeowner with absolutely NO equity in my home. I am surrounded by kindred souls. Of course, I have weighed my options...walk away? short sale? rental property? But, what I have learned is patience. I have learned that we don't NEED a bigger, fancier, more perfectly located house just because we can. I have become content with what we have. We became more creative...What can we do to make this house, that we can't sell, our home? Rather than leaving and moving on to a higher mortgage payment we have molded the space of the house into OUR space. We have designed our bathroom specifically for us. We designed the yard for US. Everything we put into our house is for US with no concern over pleasing a future buyer, because the truth is, it might take over 10 years for us to even try selling to break even. And that's OK, because we get to design our environment with FULL knowledge that we will never remake the money.

This recession has also taught me that planning for the future is crucial. I don't look at the dollar in the same way anymore. I consider my spending more carefully and I have become evermore motivated to save and save and save because I know I won't have social security to depend on when I'm 65. And credit cards!! I hate them and will not use them unless I can pay them off immediately. It is so clear to me now, that I can't afford to pay interest because that interest payment could be going to my retirement. There is no doubt in my mind that tragedy can strike and I can be homeless in a matter of months, unless I pay attention to my financial habits. When the economy was growing in leaps and bounds I never stopped to think about losing it all. Now, even with an amazing career, which I am so blessed to have, I am aware that it could all be lost in the blink of an eye.

So, economy thank you for making me stay put for a while, for forcing me to be creative in the space I have, for making me save money and never use credit cards. Most of all, thank you for showing me how blessed I am in my life.

Exorcisms etc.

I think my patient needs an exorcism! I don't know how I feel about exorcisms, except that I have always been extremely disturbed by the thought. I have never watched the movie "The Exorcist" because I believe in good and evil. I believe in God and Satan. Therefore, movies with demonic possessions give me nightmares and create a hypervigilence in me to never accidentally allow myself to be possessed. I can't explain exactly why I believe my patient needs an exorcism. I can't put my finger on what is really wrong with her. I've diagnosed schizophrenia, but her symptoms are so bizarre and chilling. In her eyes I see a type of evil that can't be explained. Yet, I also see a terrified and tragic young girl who will cry the occasional tear. (not tears of blood thank God) Zyprexa or an exorcism? I really don't know.

Yoga Moves, Bites, and Villains

To summarize my week in words can never pay due respect to the insanity (no pun intended) of the last 5 days. There are numerous reasons why I love my job, but decidedly two of the top reasons are that it is NEVER expected and NEVER the same. There is no black and white; no algorithms; no expectations; and no preparation. People always ask me how I can do what I do. How can I not?! How many of you close your eyes and see the Hamburgler speaking in a Jack Nicholson voice? I bet you have never even thought of the possibility. My patient did. She was not crazy. By the way, I use the term "crazy" with no disrespect. In this case, for an unknown reason, her TBI (traumatic brain injury) generated visions of a small villain who stole hamburgers. He disappeared when she opened her eyes and was generally not a bother to her. I reassured she was not crazy, we laughed, and the consult was done. Can anyone explain this phenomenon? I doubt it.

Now picture this: A small-framed, young female who is unable to use her legs due to a previous spinal injury. Psychotic...REALLY psychotic...somehow falling in a controlled manner from her bed to the floor. But wait....she is doing a handstand with her legs crossed above her. See this website for a better visual http://www.yogini.jp/monkey/item_43.html So, while in this position she manages to quickly "walk" down the hall, pull the fire alarm, and bite 2 nurses. Moments later she is cross legged in bed and singing. I can't make this up.

How could I ever do another job?

Babcia

I was going through a drawer of things, which is something that I try to do several times a year. I don't want to ever run the risk of starring in Hoarders! In fact, for me, clutter and "things" can derail a perfectly good mood. I believe in Feng Shui even though I know very little about the ancient Chinese system of aesthetics. I have to believe that Feng Shui is what guides the minimalists of the world. I doubt that Feng Shui would approve of junk drawers, no matter how balanced, or nick-nacks collecting dust. But, I have gone way off subject. The point is that I was cleaning out a drawer, which led to cleaning out an armoire. I came across a small gift that was given to me by my Babcia (grandma) for my 1st college graduation. Almost immediately tears blurred my eyes as I was overwhelmed with thoughts of my Babcia. I remembered how she smelled and how the skin on her hands felt. She had soft hands with crooked knuckles that she attributed to a short stint as a non-believer of Western medicine. Simply by holding the small statue I experienced years of time spent with my Babcia. I was taken back to her house that she lived in before moving in with my aunt. I remembered the quails and the way she had certain things rigged to make her small stature less of a hindrance. I could remember every detail of her house.

I put the statue back in the armoire. I took it back out. Put in the "get rid of" bag. Took it out of the "get rid of" back. For some reason I had a terribly hard time getting rid of the small statue because I felt like I was getting rid of a piece of my Babcia. Ultimately, the statue made into the recycle bin. I don't know if it can really be recycled but it felt better than the "get rid of" bag. I know that my Babcia is not part of the statue but it is so difficult to part with anything that reminds me of her. But, the truth is that there is nothing that will ever blur my memory of her. I have carefully chosen a few items that were once hers, or gifts from her, to keep. I will never part with her ruby ring that she gave me. I wear it on days when I need extra strength or just want to feel her extra near, but I know that even without the ring she will never be far from my thoughts. Things are ultimately just things but my memory and love for my Babcia will never disappear.

Much time has passed since my last post...I still am not ready to write again. I have a lot to say but I can't put thoughts into words right now. Soon though.

Is it a job?

What does it mean to have a job vs. a career vs. a profession? Well, Senor (it's Cinco de Mayo) Dictionary says a job is, "a piece of work, esp. a specific task done as part of the routine of one's occupation or for an agreed price". Well, that sounds mundane. El Senor Dictionary says a career is, "an occupation or profession, esp. one requiring special training, followed as one's lifework". That sounds a bit better, I suppose. A profession is, "a vocation requiring knowledge of some department of learning or science". Uhhh, I am not really excited about that definition.

I believe that whether you have a job or career or profession is actually more of a feeling that cannot be defined by El Senor Dictionary. I have had jobs, many jobs, and I have walked out of jobs. I have loathed, to the point of nausea, a few jobs. I have had nightmares and daymares over the simple task of getting into my car and driving to a job. It has been jobs that have left me with the acidic taste of being belittled. Jobs have cultivated my ability to dig my heels in and envision sharp horns emerging from my frontal bone. Instantly, I metamorphose into an unyielding force. Unless, of course I chose to just walk out instead!

I no longer have a job. And not because the dictionary suggests this to be true. I know, because I feel that I no longer have a job. There is no option to walk out. I don't loathe the idea of getting up in the morning. I appreciate that I am responsible for myself, I feel like an adult. I certainly enjoy a short 6-8 hour day, but I am not devastated if my day evolves into a 12 hour or longer day. Finally, I feel a sense of responsibility that is bigger than myself. Despite my nearly nightly dreams about work, and of the innumerable things I could have done wrong, I welcome the feeling that my work is no longer just a job. It is OK that I can never fully leave my work at work and that is how I know that my work is so much more to me than a job.

I don't want another job, but I am indebted to my jobs for teaching me to metamorphose when the need comes for me to fight for my place, or even more importantly, for my patients. If you are fortunate enough to work in a career or profession don't forget the invaluable lessons of your jobs.

32 ounces

I wanted to bypass any discussion of obesity in my blog, but clearly it is unavoidable. I'm not talking about the kind of obesity that is determined by life insurance companies. You know, the BMI stuff? I'm not talking about the chubby or those with a little "extra junk in the trunk". I am talking about morbid obesity. I am referring to people that are rotund, porcine, avoirdupois, extra fleshy! Did you know that the smallest Icee available at Circle K is 32 ounces? 32 ounces?! That is equal to 1/2 of the minimum amount of water we should be drinking each day. Instead, they are selling 32 ounces of adulterated sugar to children. It is sugar embellished in a kaleidoscope of icy colors, created to silently entice people of all ages to indulge in over 400 calories of fuel, that will enthusiastically migrate to fat cells.

I am not free of blame. Of course, I "nourish" myself with the occasional cup of MoJo yogurt, which wouldn't be terrible if it was not simply a vessel for a substantial tower of peanut butter chips and Oreo bits. And I can't deny the iced latte that I consume daily or the "I really don't have time to eat" grilled cheese from the cafeteria grill. BUT, I am cognizant of times when I treat my body, which is a temple according to the Bible, as a hazardous waste bin. I move a little more and eat a little more from Mother Earth. I know what my fasting glucose is, and maybe that is because I am in the medical field, but it shouldn't take a medical education to know that fat is FAT. Anyone with eyes can see the effects of daily gluttonous feeding. I can see my MoJo love handles, but when it becomes impossible to differentiate between love handle, back fat, breast, and abdomen there is a problem, a BIG problem.

We are a fat nation, thus we are a sick nation. Already, type II diabetes is being diagnosed in young, under the age of 10, kids. It is NOT juvenile diabetes, it is type II, "your 10 year old is 50 pounds overweight" diabetes. The top 3 causes of death are inescapably related to obesity. Daily, I walk through the hospital halls and am witness to spandex, painfully stretched over fleshy curves not intended for the human race to possess. Slow moving, huffing and puffing spandex enshrouded flesh, carrying trays of 32 ounce cups of incognito sugar accompanied by animal flesh cooked in animal fat with a side of starchy tubers lubricated in animal grease. YUM But this is what "they" sell to us. Try to think of an authentically healthy fast food drive through. I have yet to come up with even one.