The Tale of the Toothless Dog

*For the purpose of this blog post, Libby will be referred to by her official name, "Liberty."  From across the world, my husband has informed me that I should be using our dog's complete name on my blog.  He does have a point.*

As soon as Liberty got off the truck from Alabama, I knew something was a little amiss.  Her doggy breath did not smell quite like typical doggy breath.  It was a little more like garbage.  Or a fish tank.  A dirty algae-laden fish tank.

I attributed the stench to the long transport and figured it would pass.  Unfortunately, it did not.  During our first veterinary visit, he immediately zeroed in on her breath.  He opened her mouth, showed us her rotting teeth, and pulled out a dangling one right there in the office.
 
Three days after adopting Ms. Liberty, we were faced with a large vet bill.  She needed her teeth cleaned under anesthesia and any necessary teeth would be extracted.  Sigh. 

I waited until after the hubby had left to take her in for the procedure.  In typical Murphy's Law of Deployment style, the whole thing turned into a much bigger deal. 

Liberty's Final Dental Procedure Count
- 7 pre-existing missing teeth
- 11 x-rays
- 19 teeth extracted, all with abscesses
- Home with pain medication and 2 weeks of antibiotics
- $$$$ = unmentionable

Photos of a Post-Operative Toothless Girl:

One week later, Liberty is back to normal.  Her crusty stick-up hair has been washed and she no longer reeks of surgery.  She has been running around, eating dry food, and giving lots of love, affection, and kisses.

Best of all, her breath no longer smells like algae.

I'm Not Your Doctor.

Please.

I'm begging you.

We just met.

You are not my patient.

I'm really not interested

in your 

high blood pressure

high cholesterol

or 

diabetes

I'm not at work.

Please don't tell me about

your 

diarrhea

or

constipation

No, it's not normal

to have

blood in your stool

But seriously

I'm not your doctor

and

I don't even know you  

I just want to enjoy my haircut

without hearing about your

menopause

I'm sure your hot flashes are terrible

and

I'm glad to know that you are taking

B12

I don't care that you have a 

urinary tract infection

or that the 

antibiotic didn't work

or that you

tried to drink cranberry juice

Can I please enjoy my martini?

I'm sorry you broke your arm last year

or that your appendix burst

and you needed surgery.

That is horrible that you had 

significant hair loss afterwards. 

I'm sure your

mammogram 

hurt.

They always do.

I'm thrilled it was normal. 

Your vaginal discharge 

is none of my business. 

I like not knowing.

Really.

I bet that hernia is uncomfortable.

and so are those hemorrhoids you kindly told me about.

The whole restaurant 

enjoyed hearing

about that.

Your prostate exam?

Please, stop.

  

Sacrifice

It occurred to me today.

I've never had to sacrifice my life

In any meaningful way.

Not once.

Until now.

I grew up

with married parents

who gave me everything

who love me no matter what.

An older brother who asked for me.

A pink baby

He announced.

A younger sister to protect.

Storybook childhood

Upper middle class

Two houses

Private education

A car

A pony

First choice college

First choice medical school

First choice residency program

The man of my dreams.

A husband who pushes me to pursue my goals.

Who never once objected to my aspirations.

A man who loves me for who I am

and for who I want to be.

I'm sitting here

looking out the window.

Thinking about how fortunate I have been

How lucky I have been

How very, very blessed.

I've never in my life had to sacrifice.

I've never been told 

you can't

you won't

you shouldn't

This deployment is a sacrifice.

I miss him.

But, I think it's my turn.

Extreme Home Makeover: Fire Department Style

Something really wonderful happened to one of the families in our unit.  As I've said before, we are a reserve unit so the soldiers all have civilian jobs. We live away from military bases, each other, and the Army lifestyle.  One of my husband's battle buddies ("M") is a firefighter and his wife ("J") is a teacher.  They are some of the nicest people you will ever meet.  She is now 7 months pregnant with their first child and will be giving birth while he is overseas.  We are all hoping they can arrange leave so that he can be home for the birth.  If not, they have it arranged with the hospital to Skype the birth.  This couple had big plans for much-needed home renovations before their little boy arrives.   Unfortunately, they did not have time to do everything they wanted before M left.

Thursday morning, J woke up to pouring rain.  She left her house and went to her job teaching 6th grade.  When she returned in the afternoon, she drove up to 30 firefighters surrounding her house.  Fortunately, there was no fire....they were stripping all the siding off her house!  The city firefighters had taken it upon themselves to get together on their time off and renovate M and J's house.  Dominoes Pizza and Home Depot showed up with donations and there were news crews everywhere!  The goal is to give M and J an entirely new house exterior in 10 days.  I believe they are even putting on a new roof.

 

It couldn't have happened to two more deserving people.  M probably won't be able to recognize his house when he comes back and that little baby boy is going to be living in style!

Excuse Me, Mr. Trump....

Today was a very unimportant day in politics.  President Obama released his birth certificate thereby proving that he is, in fact, a natural born citizen of the United States.  Clearly, this is the biggest issue in this country and I'm so happy it was straightened out.

We can all thank Donald Trump for accomplishing such a monumental feat: 

Following the White House's release of the long-form certificate, Trump told reporters in New Hampshire that he is "very proud" of himself for helping to bring the release of the document.

"I've accomplished something nobody else was able to accomplish," Trump said. "I'd want to look at (the birth certificate), but I hope it's true so that we can get on to much more important matters."

- CNN, 4/27/2011

I think I know the more important matters to which Mr. Trump is referring:

Reference: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1025610/A-step-step-guide-gravity-defying-Donald-Trump-combover.html

Reference: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1025610/A-step-step-guide-gravity-defying-Donald-Trump-combover.html

Mr. Trump, can we please see the birth certificate for your toupee?  If you insist that your hair is a natural born citizen, please show me a certificate of authenticity. 

There must be an amendment in the Constitution that excludes presidential candidacy based upon outrageously bad hair, right?

She's My Therapy Dog

Since I have a lot of free time right now, I took a trip to visit my parents.  This involves a lot of time hanging out in the country, watching movies, eating food, and being surrounded by the world's best dogs.  Libby loves going to my parents' house and hanging out with her canine cousins, Chelsea and Medford.  They play outside, go on walks, dig in the garden together, and smother all the homosapiens with an abundance of kisses.

L to R: Medford butt, Libby butt, Chelsea butt

My parents' chocolate lab, Chelsea, is one of a kind.  She is an old lady but she is the sweetest and most gentle dog.  For the past 9 years, she has been a registered pet therapy dog and my mother takes her into a local assisted living facility to visit with the elderly residents.  They all absolutely adore her and look forward to her visits.

Since Libby is, in my opinion, the most wonderful dog to ever walk the face of the earth, my mom and I decided to take her to the assisted living too.  The staff members at the facility are pretty laid-back so they didn't mind that Libby isn't a registered therapy dog.  We got the girls all beautified and ready for their visit:

Chelsea ready to do her job

Miss Libby all dressed up

Instead of a bandana, Medford got a bone and he stayed home.  While he is an incredibly loving and sweet boy, Medford is a little too fearful of all the sounds in the assisted living.

For her first time, Libby did great.  We walked into a large room with approximately 20 residents sitting in a circle.  This was overwhelming for Libby and she seemed a little bit nervous.  Over time, however, she seemed to relax.  She let lots of ladies and gentlemen pet her, she got on a couch with someone, and she sat on one woman's lap.  Of course Chelsea was a professional and went from person to person giving her love and affection. 

Because we live a couple hours from my parents and my life will be getting busier, Libby and I may not have the opportunity to return to the assisted living.  We certainly won't have the time to get her registered as an official pet therapy dog.  That's okay though.  In reality, Libby doesn't need that piece of paper or that dog tag that says she is a therapy dog.  She is the ultimate therapy dog  - she's my battle buddy and she takes the job very seriously.

Libby is my therapy dog. 

I'll Always Be a Student

The sun shone on my face as I walked away from the hospital.  It was a cool day but the sun felt warm and comforting.  I looked back at the enormous building, smiled, and said a soft "farewell." 

So much happened at that place.  

I studied countless hours of biochemistry, immunology, and physiology. 
I meticulously worked with my anatomy cadaver to reveal the intricacies of the human body.
I drank coffee.
Lots of coffee.
I studied 16 hours a day for a month to prepare for a single exam. 
I hit the snooze button at 3:45 am.
Sometimes I never saw the light of day.
I made decisions that were right and I made others that were very wrong.
There were tears shed for dying patients and celebrations for babies born.
I watched 6 surgeons struggle for hours to save a man's life and ultimately succeed.
I helped families decide on hospice care and I watched as they said goodbye.
I touched the faces of 2 pound babies fighting for every breath. 
I made children giggle hysterically through office visits. 
I saw sheer joy as women heard their babies' heartbeats for the first time and I witnessed intense mourning when they did not. 
I watched patients hit rock bottom on chemotherapy and I saw them smiling when they were cancer-free.
I learned about resilience and strength from patients who were not able to even tell me their stories.
Children with horrible genetic diseases showed me how to appreciate the little things.
I listened to a 27-year-old scream in pain every morning from her invasive cervical cancer.  She was on enough pain medication to sedate an elephant and yet she still screamed.
Elderly women held my hand and reassured me that I would succeed.
Elderly men held my hand and told me I was beautiful (and other less tactful variations.)
I treated gang members, murderers, drug addicts, sex workers, and homeless schizophrenics. 
In the same day, I treated philanthropists, teachers, social workers, and diplomats.
 
I learned something from every single patient that I came across and I wish I could thank them all.

Twenty-five years ago, I walked into early Kindergarten.  This Friday I walked away from my last day as a medical student.   The next phase in my career will bring countless new experiences, some of which will be wonderful and some heartbreaking.  Regardless, I know that they will all teach me something important.

I may not be a student but I will always keep learning.