An Open Letter to the Executive Committee of the American Academy of Pediatrics

This is a battle worth fighting. We all know that this is an issue, and if it isn’t addressed, the risk is losing rolls of your pediatricians to other careers. Again, I’m familiar with this. We really don’t want a healthcare system that convinces its physicians, providers, and nurses that they are expendable and replaceable. We are on the verge of de-recruiting people from the profession. That’s not a great place to be.

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Post call, July 2005, from being a floor senior in residency. I was back at work 3 or 4 days after Andrew was born. I tried hard to stay awake when I got home, but the Sandman won. Sonia snapped this picture and then scooped Andrew. No, AAP, we weren’t co-sleeping.

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Donut Diplomacy

I once asked one of the nurses, Sharon, if they liked me only because of the donuts. Her response: “No. If you were stupid or a jerk, we’d eat your donuts but talk about you behind your back. We like the donuts, but we like you.” That’s one of the best, most honest compliments I’ve been given.

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Sometimes, Sonia will make donuts. Why sprinkles? Because winners get sprinkles.

“And on the seventh day, God rested. And said, ‘Let there be coffee. And let the donuts be plentiful. Let there be glazed donuts, and cake donuts, and long johns, and buttercream and custard filled Bismarcks. But there nay should be jelly donuts, as those are disgusting.’ And so it was. And as God rested, God said, ‘This is pretty good. Keep ‘em coming. And may I please get another cup of Joe?’”

Genesis 2:2, in the original Hebrew, or at least how it SHOULD read.

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Life, By Accident

What amazes me, in some respects, is that some these decisions were made with careful thought, deliberation, and planning. But others weren’t. Many decisions were made for reasons that are now less clear to me, or at least made for reasons different than one would expect. In a way, it’s kind of “life, by accident.”

 

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This is circa Halloween 1997. We had a costume run every year. I called this costume “Nature Boy”. Yes, that’s me biting the head off a rubber chicken. This is also how I looked when I met my future in-laws for the first time. I had, what’s it called? PANACHE.

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Two Little Band-Aids

I guess that last growth spurt isn’t happening. That modeling contract keeps missing my mailbox (and I’d need A LOT of waxing). That rich, deep, baritone voice will elude me. I’ll settle for an endless supply of band-aids and show myself the door.

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In the intervening seven months, I’ve become a fashionista.

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But There’s an “I” in Quit

We operate in a different reality. To make this point, I would tell my kids the “There’s no ‘I’ in team” line. I would follow it up, very much with a wink and a nod, “But there’s an ‘I’ in ‘quit!’”

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Depending on your vantage point, this could be painful in a half second.

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Déjà Vu All Over Again

The conversation became very interesting when Mr. Salida asked me: “Would you go to Knox all over again? Would you use your sane skillset for the same major? Would you pick the same career?” Essentially would I do it all over again?

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Sunset near Carlsbad, NM.

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