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Latest Voices
Grits and Grit
My husband and I took care of my Alzheimer’s-ridden mom for five years, and as any caregiver knows, we all have had to develop “true grit.” “Grit” to me is inner mettle and perseverance.
Any disease is difficult to deal with, but with Alzheimer’s, you’re often dealing with an ungrateful stranger, due to the changes in the brain. The “stranger” part didn’t bother me as much as the “ungrateful” part did.
Delicious and Durable
The room was packed and energy buzzed in the air. I couldn’t help but smile as students and parents hovered around our food safety stations. Some were scanning nutrition labels, and others were laughing as they guessed how much sugar was in a soda, or how much fat was in a potato chip, or how many calories were in a candy bar. It felt amazing to see everything come together, but behind the scenes was tons of hard work.
Mind over Matter
With age has come fear. A fear of walking outside ever since I fell two years ago and fractured my pelvis. A fear of driving at night, despite cataract surgeries having eliminated hazy vision. A fear of flying that has kept me grounded for more than two decades. I wake up every morning, fearing what the day will bring. A good day is a boring one that has nothing out of the ordinary happening.
January More Voices: Grit
Dear Pulse readers,
When I think of grit, I think of someone who perseveres–and sometimes triumphs–in the face of hardship.
When I was nineteen years old I hitchhiked alone across the US and back. Was that grit? Or was it teenage wanderlust and foolhardiness?
Making my way through medical school certainly involved hardship–and I persevered. Was it grit that got me through, or was it a fear of failing?
Birth Story
When my now-grown children were babies sleeping, my husband and I quipped as drunken smiles spread across their faces, “Womb.” When their sleepy smiles faded and they whimpered and pouted we commented, “Birth canal.”
As a family physician who has “delivered” hundreds of babies (medical speak for attending a birth), I consider myself well appraised of the uterus and vagina of a person in labor. I have wiped away blood, amniotic fluid, meconium, vomitus, stool and urine. I have touched tissues and instrumented bodily orifices.
There Is Such a Thing as a Stupid Question
My memories of the Lamaze-esque childbirth preparation classes my husband and I took are sketchy—not surprising, given that the baby I delivered is 30 years old. Yet even as I hoarded every potentially useful snippet of obstetric information with the frenetic energy of a squirrel facing a harsh winter, a lot of the tidbits the instructor dispensed slipped by me for one simple reason: I was incapable of staying awake for the duration of a class.
This became apparent when I was in labor. Coaching me through the contractions, my husband kept urging me to imagine turning red lights to
Just Braxton Hicks
The body knows what it knows.
I was about to be a first-time mom, in a hospital bed for a few weeks on bed rest for preeclampsia. I tried to catch a nurse’s attention without actually pressing the call bell. When someone brought my lunch, I told them – I think I’m having contractions. They pushed the call bell.
The nurse was surprised. Baby wasn’t due for two weeks.
“It’s just a little Braxton Hicks,” she said with a smile. “Try to relax.”
Let’s Not Forget the Doctors
Birth can be hard work—even brutal terror—for new mothers and fathers. I’d like to point out that sometimes it’s no fun for doctors and nurses either. Sadly, we very occasionally see mothers or babies die or be grievously injured.
When the heartbeat of Sharlene’s baby kept slowing down, everyone agreed she needed an emergency Caesarean. She desperately wanted to hear her baby’s first cry, however.
There Is No Easy Way to Give Birth
My first child was born in a U.S. Naval hospital. There were no childbirth classes to attend in those days, so my sister lent me her nursing school text book on labor and delivery. I read it every night but still was not prepared for what was to come.
