Diary of a Residency Widow: Who you gonna call?

Last night, at 1:45am I was woken by the shrill piercing sound of an alarm. Still grogy I fumbled with the buttons on my alarm clock thinking that had to be the source of the noise even though the sound wasn't right for my alarm clock. When that didn't stop the sound I fumbled around with anything else on my nightstand that my sleepy brain thought might be the source. Again nothing worked. By this time I was becoming more alert and my brain was trying to figure out what the sound could be.

What produces an ear splitting, heart pounding tone unexpectedly in the middle of the night? The smoke detector, I concluded. I didn't smell any smoke though so I assumed it was just a dying battery. I ran down the stairs and furiously tried to get the detector off the wall, knocking down our pull-up bar and freaking out the dog in the process. I took out the battery and...the sound continued.

Could it be the other smoke alarm I wondered? That thought confused me though as the other smoke alarm hadn't had power to it for over a year. Had something happened to the wiring that resurrected the hard wired deamon smoke detector from the dead? Frantic to try anything to get the alarm to stop I grabbed the mop, raced back up the stairs and proceeded to whack the ill placed detector, located above the second step before the landing just out of reach to normal human arms (Where's Inspector Gadget when you need him?), like a pinata until it crashed to the ground and...the sound continued.

Frustrated and with panic levels rising I decided that I needed to narrow down what area of the house the sound was coming from. I ran to the kitchen and rumaged through the drawer to find the keys to the lock on our breaker box, then one at a time I started flipping switches.
Upstairs? = not it
Downstairs? = not it
Kitchen? = not it
Lighting? = not it
Washer / Dryer? = not it
Smoke? = definitely not it

I was out of ideas, on the verge of crying and my house was still screaming. So I did what any other 28 year old married woman would do. I called my mommy. Normally I would have called my husband but at that time he would either A) be busy with patients or B) be trying to catch a few winks of sleep in his 30 hour shift. I didn't think it was fair to disrupt his sleep when really there wouldn't be anything he could do, and he didn't need to worry about me freaking out at home alone.

"Hello?" mom mumbled.
"Mom, I need help," I stumbled trying to hold it together and not freak her out. I gave her a quick rundown of what was happening. "Can you hear that?"
"Hear what?" she replied.
Surprised that she couldn't hear the chaos in my house I moved around a bit trying to find a better sound sample for her, and as I did something amazing happened. I narrowed in on the source of the noise. And the culprit was...

A $2 kitchen timer with a dying battery.

Who knew that much noise could come from something so small? Apparently the manufacturers felt that the demise of the timer's battery was an urgent matter worthy of a household emergency. Afterall HOW WILL WE KNOW WHEN THE COOKIES ARE DONE!?! Or how will we be able to time the dog's bathroom break? Here we've been spending time and energy educating people on the importance of checking their smoke detectors when kitchen timers was the real epidemic.

I thanked my mom for listening, appologized for waking her up, turned all the power back on, took Buster out to go to the bathroom as all the excitement got his bladder going, and then dragged myself back to bed about 20 minutes after the whole ordeal orginally began. It felt more like an hour.

This was the second time that day in which my parents had come to my rescue. Several hours earlier my dad came by my house to help me with our new washer. The installers had hooked the hoses up wrong and what should have been a cold water rinse was a hot water rinse and vice versa. I had spent an hour working through this on my own yet my girly arms couldn't move the machine nor could I get the couplings loosened. Thanks to a great dad we got it fixed and working properly.

I guess morally of the story is if you're going to be a residency widow it helps to have people you can lean on nearby... and don't forget to check your kitchen timers people!

Diary of a Residency Widow: Bring Me a Dream

Dear Mr. Sandman-
We need to talk. Over the years we have had a fairly good relationship, much better than your counterpart Mr. Alarm-Clock. I look forward to your nightly visits, yet lately on nights when my dear husband is away on call you've been consistently tardy. Don't you know it is rude to leave a lady waiting? 1am on a weeknight is unacceptable and unsustainable on a regular basis, afterall I have a dog that likes to get up early and a job to get to in the morning. Please don't tell me that you're like Santa Clause and won't come by until everyone in the family is tucked safely in bed before you come. I don't buy it and I know that you visit Buster regularly when he's home alone. We never had this problem during the years before I got married so I didn't think it would be an issue now. I'll cut you some slack since there is always going to be an adjustment period when it come to new things but I hope it is short lived or we have a long three years ahead of us. I would appreciate if you rectify this situation sooner rather than later.

Sweet Dreams,
The Residency Widow

Tales from Residency: I am Woman Hear Me Roar

The intern year of residency is a trying time defined by sleep deprivation and feelings of inadequacy as they encounter new situations whilst becoming comfortable with the new level of responsibility that rests on their shoulders. They go to work each day not knowing what the shift will bring. However, one thing is for sure...they will come away with some great stories.



Nate's first stop on the intern road was obstetrics at Maricopa County Hospital. He's had to pick up a number of spanish words and phrases that they don't teach you in High School but he's on his way to fulfilling his quota of delivered babies. After one delivery they asked the father if he would like to cut the cord but apparently he wasn't quite comfortable with the idea and respectfully declined. The attending then turned to the mother and asked if she would like to instead. She emphatically responded, "HECK YES," took the scissors, bent forward and cut her own cord. Now that's the strength of a woman; taking matters into her own hands when her husband was too squeamish to do so.

I guess I still have some work to do since I still look to my husband to kill any bugs in the house.

Cooties and Cupid

We've been teaching most of our Sunbeam class since they were two going on three-years-old. In the early days they didn't seem to care about the differences between boys and girls, or if they did it didn't affect them. Sure the girls would gravitate towards playing with dolls and ponies while the boys constructed guns from Lego blocks or zoomed cars across the room but they weren't bothered to be together. Lately we've sensed a change in the winds.

Our Sunbeam class is mostly boys, which on any given Sunday can mean that the girls are out numbered 4 (or sometimes even 6) to 1. Now once upon a time this wouldn't have been a problem but lately I'm hearing more complaints from the girls such as "I don't want to be the only girl," or "I don't want to sit next to a boy." One week we got lucky and had 3 girls in class. Trying to capitalize on this rarity, Nate had them sit next to each other, which proceeded to backfire as they morphed into their own little group in another world making it next to impossible to grab their attention.

On the flip side the boys, or at least most of them, are becoming more interested in the girls. A while ago I wrote about our first little Romeo, and his romanticsism is spreading. Recently one little guy, we'll refer to him as I.A., was helping us set up the classroom he started telling us about his girlfriend. When I asked him what was his girlfriend's name was, he responded, "um, um, um...[long pause]...I don't know." He has also previously mentioned in sharing time how when he gets big he wants to have a girlfriend. Not to forget the day that little girl H. joined our class he told her she was really pretty and asked her if she would come over to his house and be his girlfriend.

Little girl H has quickly become the boys favorite as they all want to sit by her. She's cute, and sweet, and blonde. Not to sound like a bitter brunette but I find it funny that even at 4 years old, the blonde gets the most attention. Her first day in our class the little boy sitting next to me leaned over and asked me what her name was. I told him her name and he then turned to her and said, "H I love you, you're my friend."

They may come on a little strong but I think it sweet how unabashed they are about their feelings. The girls on the other hand....well, maybe one day Dr. Nate will have to give everyone their cootie shot.

School's Out Forever!

June 4, 2010 marked a day that was almost 8 years in the making. On June 4, 2010 Nate graduated medical school and officially became a doctor. Wooohooo!

While I missed out on the majority of his med school journey, sitting in the crowd, I was filled with pride at all the hard work and time he dedicated to this achievement. I waited patiently to capture this much anticipated event... unfortunately my timing was just a bit too good and I snapped my picture at the same time as the school photographer's flash went off. Bummer.

Luckily I was able to get this one of Nate being hooded.

With oaths taken and the speeches over, the new class of doctors was lead out of the auditorium by pipers.

The next day we all celebrated Dr. Nate at a bbq pool party at my parent's house. And what graduation party would be complete without a cannonball competition.

Although graduation may be over, Nate still isn't quite accustomed to his newly earned status and after years of telling people he's not a doctor yet it hasn't completely sunk in as a reality yet. I guess old habits are hard to break.

How much is that doggie in the window?

About a month ago we said goodbye to our old family dog Yoda. As Nate and I helped my family look at listings for new furry friends Nate mentioned how he had thought about getting a dog for us to keep me company while he's gone. So after a couple weeks of thinking and looking we found this little guy.

Buster is a little beagle mix, though the jury is still out on what his mix might be. Votes have been cast for, terrier (i.e. Jack Russell), chihuahua, and pug. What ever he is, he's just dang cute and sweet. Buster was rescued by Beagles of Arizona Rescue Club from the pound since he was on the euthanasia list for being so frightened there. I can't say that I blame him, I would be too. His foster mom thought that maybe he had gotten away from his previous owners and no one came to find him. Alas their loss is our gain.

So far he's been settling in pretty well at his new home though he was our little shadow for the first couple days. He is surprisingly mellow, and very little seems to phase him; not the vacuum or the doorbell, or fireworks, or the the bunch of nieces/nephews who wanted to pet him, make him do tricks and give him treats. Though he was worn out afterwards and fell asleep after being home for five minutes.

The only things that do get him really worked up are walks (because he LOVES going for walks) and other dogs that he sees on walks presumably because he wants to go be friends (according to Nate).

He loves to cuddle and keeps trying to join us up on the couch or in bed, but we're working on that. Sunday night after playing with the nieces and nephews, I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed when Nate knocked on the door.

"Is Buster in there with you?"

"No...can't you find him?"

"No"

"Is he in his crate?"

"No."

"Is he on the spare bed?"

"No."

"Well he has to be somewhere in here."

I called his name and a few seconds later I heard his tags jingling only to see his little head pop out from under our bed. I guess if he couldn't get on the bed, he would instead go under it.

We're looking forward to having fun with this little guy for many years to come.

Ode to a House Husband

Over the early course of our marriage, Nate and I haven't completely stuck the typical gender roles. I've been his Sugar Momma working to bring home the bacon and for the last six weeks after finishing up med school Nate has filled in as a full time house husband. He's really spoiled me.

I came home to some tasty treats including homemade soft pretzels.





He took care of projects around the house such as building shelves to better organize our extra closet space and re-planted our herb garden.



He cleaned the house, made trips to the bank, and I don't think I had to hardly step foot in a grocery store. He even had a short stint as babysitter for our nephew, Luke, when my mother-in-law had to go out of town. After a couple weeks I was struggling to find things for him to do.

I wasn't a complete slave driver though as he managed to find time to have some fun as well. He read at least 5 books, made 4 trips to the lake, 1 trip down the Salt River, went on 1 cruise, and 1 weekend camping where he caught a personal record of 14 fish.


Unfortunately I didn't get any photos of his fish but we did get one of this whopper that I caught. The fish were definitely bitting that weekend as I also caught a personal best of 10 fish...and one dead crawdad.




As he goes off to begin his long days of residency I hope that he will fondly remember these past few weeks. While he has spoiled me in more ways than one, I have enjoyed the chance to spend so much time with my dear house-husband. He has set the bar high when the day finally comes that we switch roles and I take over as a house wife. I just hope I'll be up for the task.