Mayday, mayday, mayday

Thirty years ago on May 1st, 1993, Scott and I got married.

26 year olds- back then, a bit old to tie the knot

I picked May first for a couple of reasons. May Day is the start of spring, of new beginnings.

I had my last 6 weeks of medical school scheduled as off of rotation. I could get married, go on a honeymoon and not have the stress of school responsibilities. Graduation was in June and the start of my pediatric residency in Phoenix on July first. Many new beginnings.

I also picked May Day because I though Scott would forever jokingly remember our anniversary due to the distress phrase.

So here we are thirty years later.

I still love Scott.

We still laugh.

We have spent 22% of our married years as parents who lost a son to suicide. We are according to statistics “not the norm” since it was expected that we blame each other for our son’s act and we were expected to divorce. Well frankly I will show my sassy side and say “F that.” If anyone wants to see a couple that have lived through the pain of a child’s suicide, losing one set of parents in a 13 month time span (my parents), Scott’s father passing from COVID, loss of jobs, parenting a now only young adult son, stress of a full time medical career and teaching junior high kids (who has the harder job??) and still go on together – just look at us.

I have no words of advice. How we continue on as a couple works for us, but just as love is unique so is our relationship and what we find as our glue may not be the same for others.

My parents were married 51 years. I don’t know if Scott and I will be around to celebrate a fortieth or fiftieth anniversary. But if we are both alive, I think we will. We hold each other up, live each day, laugh, and kiss each other goodnight.

Just smile

Today is the first day in almost 3 years that I do not have to wear a mandatory mask at work.

Three years.

Three years where my patients did not see how happy I was to see them.

Sure, they could hear my voice – but the smile was hidden behind my mask.

And I have to admit sometimes my mask absorbed my tears. I still cry at work at times. Less often then before. Maybe after a parent asked about my family or how I was doing. Most of the time I am good, but on the hard days… well that mask would hide my emotions when I needed it to.

Sometimes my wearing a mask was scary for the patient. In the last year my young patients found it unusual to see someone with a mask in public.

And why was mommy and daddy wearing them too at my visit? Scary. On top of being down to a diaper and having a stranger touching you. This creates an unhappy young patient. Hard to talk to parents when their child is crying in fear.

Don’t think I was not a believer in wearing a mask.

I know I would have gotten COVID-19 infection a lot sooner if I had not worn a mask. I appreciate my patients had to wear a mask as well. (I know which patient gave me COVID – and she was too young to wear it)

I will still put a mask on at the appropriate times. When I am with a cold or cough that I don’t want to spread my infection. Or my patient may be contagious (COVID-19, RSV, influenza, whooping cough, pneumonia, etc) and I do not want to get sick.

But today, March 27, 2023, I will rejoice in this day where my office and I can have a bit of normal back that we so well deserve- don’t you think?

Now I can share the best thing I wear everyday.

My smile.

What is Smile about?

– The lyrics tell the listener to smile even if they are going through a hard time.

– No matter how bad things seem, they will get better.

– Smiling can make a difference in someone’s day.

– It is important to keep trying even when things are hard.

– Life is always worth living despite the difficulties.

It is going to get better, isn’t it?

This cartoon is me.

Is it you too? Probably.

With election day this week, cases of corona virus surging, work pressures, financial strain and the holidays just weeks away you can’t tell me you aren’t feeling some amount of stress.

It reminds me of how I felt when Nolan left for school a second time, when he appeared to be at his best and chose to attend and live at Valpo University.

I was overwhemed with anxiety.

Initially I couldn’t sleep. I texted him daily. How are you? Did you go to class? Did you take your medication?

I had done all I could before he left for school. I had my responsibilities as his parent and I did the best I could. I had to trust him.

I had to let go.

I called and told him I could not keep checking on him daily . I trusted that he would call me if he needed something. He told me thank you. He understood and I know he was relieved I wasn’t stressing about him.

One month later he was gone.

But you know what? I am still here. Four years later I am still breathing, living, working, loving and smiling.

How did I deal with my worry about Nolan? How do I handle my anxiety now?

Take 4 minutes and listen…

So when you wake up at 3am and your brain starts thinking about all the bad things in the world, all the what ifs, the future we all want to know but cannot predict, and the things you can’t control – try and repeat the phrase.

It might work. It does for me.

Four years

Four years. It is how long we take to get through high school. Through college (that is the plan for most parents!)

Medical school is four years.

I should know how four years should feel. I have done four year tasks many times.

These four years have been painful and slow with my grieving.

The first year is all fresh with firsts – first Christmas, first Thanksgiving, first birthday. The Angelversary. You struggle to focus, you are exhausted.

The second year is horrible. It stings and all the milestone days come again and you are reminded he is not coming home. You are still exhausted. Wake, rinse, repeat.

For me the third year was the year of figuring out balance. How to still function as a full time pediatrician, mom and wife yet still honor my need to grieve.

Fourth year? My grief is still here but the need to stay current with the daily changes in a pandemic world keep me more as a doctor and less as a grieving mom. This world is getting harder for those struggling with loss, addiction, depression and anxiety. I have seen so much anxiety in my pediatric population.

I honor Nolan today, his fourth Angelversary.

I really don’t want to cry all day. I don’t have time for that. Life goes on. This day will come again and again. How many more I will have to live through I do not know. I would rather put my energy and grief today into my purpose – why I am supposed to be here.