tinkll1 (tinkll1) wrote,
tinkll1
tinkll1

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Myles on the go! Will they ever sleep!

When your son sends you pictures at 3 AM, he is being a very proud father, and responding to the call of paternal responsibility.... his, not mine. We will be visiting Tammy and Josh tomorrow, and seeing Little Geoff and Kaci, children of my oldest son, John and Sheryl, just before that, and after a pretty easy day of 3 patients in 3 hospitals to round on, and maybe a dialysis clinic or two. These pictures were to keep us going until we get to see Myles, who will be one week old in about 3 1/2 hours.... but who's counting.

The captions are largely unmodified from those sent to a very good friend a few minutes ago who has somehow been vaccinated against blogging. She has her reasons, but she did get to see this first, because she is special, and I'm announcing that should she choose to visit the site.

So, starting with the pictures, all taken by either Josh or Tammy, Josh writes, “Sleep deprived and loving every minute of it… It’s great to be a father. Here are some more pictures to help hold you over until Saturday.”

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Charles Atlas pose from Myles. I wouldn’t threaten “Buster” as he has enrolled in a nursery based body building course, and demands on time feedings. Tammy is breast feeding and he seems to be thriving, the old fashioned way.

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I believe she just finished saying, “I think we’ll keep him!” He is so wanted, and they are so sane! The blotches are gone and he’s a happy fella. I believe he gets handsomer every day! Unbiased, of course.

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“Look, Ma. After less than a week, I’m self-supporting!” The tyke shows a tendency toward independence at an early age. Nevertheless, he has already applied for a Blue State birth certificate, and will be a card carrying Democrat!

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Well, I just love this. And I love Boeing, and paternal leave, and bringing fathers back into child rearing, and I’m damned sorry that the lure of saving lives distracted me from the closeness that I wish I would have had to a far greater extent with my children. Never, for a moment did I realize that in becoming a physician, at least as I envisioned how a physician should be, I was choosing to place my family, my wife and my children in a secondary role, for the benefit of a higher calling. And that’s why, when daughter Becky says, “Saving lives is highly overrated,” half joking of course, it isn’t a joke. It’s a choice! And it’s a choice that I didn’t consciously make. Not to make so much of it, because soldiers, firemen and many others face the same kind of situation. I am certainly not jealous of my son, but I’m very proud of the choice that he has made, and the constant battle of families who need 2 incomes to survive, or think they do, and constantly battle this situation.... A career or parenthood, or both.

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So, I’m in love.... Again. And I can’t get enough of him, of them, of sunflowers, spitfires, Porsches, friends, travel, different cultures, blogging, philosophy, Elderhostel, and of course, my wonderful wife.

I missed a meeting yesterday in Corona that I wanted to go to. My friend, Imam Ali Siddiqui was on a panel put together by the Interfaith Council, and I wanted to surprise him by showing up, but I had the good sense not to let him know I was coming because I have office hours until 5 PM, and rush hour traffic from Orange to Corona is about an hour and a half, I figure. Well, the unexpected happened and I had to fight to get data, lab results, on a transplant patient because HIPPA, the privacy guarantee that is a good idea in theory, has the medical community scared to death. So scared to death, that even when the patient himself says to the doctor and the lab, via phone, "I want the data sent to the doctor whose office I am standing in!" Nope, not enough. Had to problem solve and it was pretty simple. A written release, faxed to the lab, when the ordering doctor's office refuse to forward the data they had to me, the doctor they had referred the patient to. Complicated! Anyway, I intimidated one lab person into sending me the data, but it took a half an hour, and a few grams of catechol amines (epinehprine) internally generated from the depths of self-righteousness. I just said that Quest Diagnostics and Uni-lab would never see another patient of mine unless I could speak to a supervisor. Of course, no supervisor was there at the drawing station, but a couple of calls to the corporate office led to a form being faxed to my office, while I stood around fuming. Before it could arrive, the poor cowed clerk at the drawing station had violated her sacred HIPPA duties had sent me the lab results. She is probably being held in Guantanamo at this very moment, being questioned by federal authorities and denied access to council. (See, my 2 deputy district attorney sons never read my blog, so they can't defend the legal system they are sworn to uphold.... what they don't know won't hurt them.)

Guantanamo, the War on Terror and civil rights are not really laughing matters, nor are religious beliefs, or their infringement for political or economic gain, so that's why I wanted to be in Corona, but in this crazy mixed up world, it's important to be able to laugh at our predicaments.

How did I get from Myles to Guantanamo? From the joy of life to being so busy I don't know which way to turn, and with gratitude for the joy that friends and family bring into my life.

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