During quite possibly the most exhausting week of my professional career, I decided to take my lunch break at the animal shelter. I decided to get in the sun and hug my kids and pet a dog. It was the right choice.
I asked Chris to mow down the wildflower garden halfway through summer… the experts say it’ll help with next year’s blooms, but it felt sad this year nonetheless. Lo and behold, the land of the midnight sun brought us this year’s flowers and then some. Poppies. What joy.
Never in a million years did I think we’d be back here again. I still cannot believe it.
While prescribing antiviral therapy this morning for my COVID-19 positive long term care residents, I received an email invitation to join a monkeypox work group that will begin meeting next week. A few hours later, I was asked to sit in on a consultation with an expert who specializes in preparing hospital for active shooter events. What a time to be (barely) alive.
Autumn approaches us. I can feel it and smell it and I am not afraid. Last year taught me well; we do not fight the weather. We welcome her.
Done trying to change the way she looks.
Ready instead to change the way I see her.
Ready instead to change the way I talk about her.
I got called in to see a patient last night, just as I aimed my sights toward bed. I finally returned home to shower and fall into bed around 2am, tossing and turning and checking my patient’s vital signs on my phone all night long. (It was sepsis. We caught it in time.)
The next morning was berry picking; I know better than to cancel such an adventure with a friend when they’ve agreed to show me their secret berry spot. And so, I went along with my day, fumbling and stumbling and even falling asleep at the farmer’s market. My girls delivered scoops of berries to each stand, in hopes of a barter. We came away with falafel, sunflower sprouts, Haskap grapes, and garlic scapes.
There is no better town in which to learn the practice of medicine and the practice of foraging and food. I love it here.