rootlessdreams

I think that’s what they call it when you camp on the Eastern Slopes of the Sierras and you awake at 3 in the morning to your tent being crushed by 50 mph winds!!! At least it wasn’t too cold! I spent the better part of the dark hours of this morning trying to rig some sort of mooring so that my tent would remain in somewhat of the same location in the event that I would ever decide to step outside it. Matt and I had big climbing plans for today, but as the wind ruined any chance for sleep anoche we decided to do other things (aka sit inside this nice cafe, out of the wind, and drink warm liquids).Yesterday we checked out a beautiful place called the Catacombs. You can check out our pictures in the bishop days gallery. The Catacombs are situated in the middle of the owens river valley on the far side of the gorge. The area is much different than the buttermilks as it is covered with relatively sparse Piñon pines and strewn with honeycombed basalt boulders. It took us about an hour to get back there on really rough dirt roads. Her low clearance was a bit of a concern at times, but Betty (our 1998 four cylinder uber turbo honda civic) did quite well. And for all those ladies who were wondering , yes indeed Matt’s rally car driving skills are even better than both his nunchuck skills and his bowstaff skills (It’s quite amazing how our humor has regressed to a slightly more-than-average immature state consisting of a million and one Will Farrel quotes, “your mom” jokes, and the always appreciated random non-Will-Farrel movie quote/spin-off/pun).On a slightly different note I was really moved by a story that my oldest sister Nicole related to me and I thought it would be good to share with all of you. It is quite a sad story, and it is very intense so be forewarned if you decide to read further. I thought it would be good to add here because I feel it’s a strong reminder of what we do have in our lives and the love of those around us. She is a ER Resident in Rochester, NY and this is what she had to say:every day i go into the ED to work my 8/10/12 hour shift and as i walk ini’m met with the stack of charts in the rack….. it’s like that sinkingfeeling when you go to clean up your desk and you face the piles and atfirst glance you feel daunted by the size of the piles….. when you come inand there are 8 charts in the rack you feel defeated before you evenstart……… behind each one of those blue binders stacked in a row is apatient with a family with some sort of crisis and they have already beenwaiting god knows how long for a doctor to come in and hear their list ofcomplaints, their tail of woe, to hear the answer to the fateful question iask as soon as i step in the room…… “what brought you into the emergencydepartment tonight??” In the peds ED the vast gulf of variability isparticularly wide….. the spectrum ranges from a newborn who choked ontheir phlegm to a 10 year old diagnosed with cancer last week who comes inbecause her biopsy site won’t stop bleeding. I actually didn’t even pick upher chart - i walked into the room to see the patient in the bed next to herbut, it turned out my chart belonged to a pregnant teenager with vomitingwho decided she felt better and was tired of the wait… so, i walked intothe room and instead of seeing my pregnant teen i recognized sarah’s 10 yearold face… i saw her 2 nights ago, maybe 3 nights ago?? the continuousstream of night shifts blurr together and i can’t quite pinpoint the daybut - i saw her just after she startd her chemo treatment, mom was like adeer in headlights - her daughter had gone from a normal little girl withshoulder pain to getting chemo treatments for ewings sarcoma in less than 48hours so, she was stunned, shocked, still trying to let her brain catch upwith the events around her….. they smiled at me - a familliar face in thismedical sea of the unknown and we started talking…… another resident hadpicked up sarah’s chart but mom felt like she knew me and so she proceededto explain how she was at home and she couldn’t get the biopsy site to stopbleeding — we chatted for a while and then the nurse came in to draw bloodand so i excused myself with a polite nod and an “i hope everything goeswell”…… hours later i end up back in the same room - this time i wasseeing a 16 year old who got beaten up by her boyfriend and so i’m stuck onthe other side of the curtain trying to stitch up the 5 lacerations on herface…. slowly but surely i’m plugging along, acting like this thinpolyester curtain provides the privacy and separation of 2 rooms. as istitch away i hear the details of sarah’s discharge plans…… one of theresidents is explaining the plan to sarah and her mom…… she is supposedto go home, she needs to take her last dose of medication tonight to helpher blood clot and she is supposed to see the cancer doctors on monday……this plan seems reasonable, take your medication as usual and then let yourregular doctor deal with everyting after the weekend —– it all seems fineexcept this little 10 year old girl starts to cry…. she’s crying becauseshe doesn’t want to leave… she wants to stay so she can get her nighttimedose of medication through her IV because if she has to go home she’s facedwith the grueling task of taking 25 capsules — she takes them one at atime with her mom coaching and encouraging every step of the way and theentire process takes an hour and this little girl is just looking at theclock with big crocodile tears streaming down her face saying……. “i’mjust so tired, i just want to go to bed, i don’ want to stay up for an hourand take my medicine”…… and then the big crocodile tears fade into acomplete and utter exhausted meltdown….as i sit quitely stitching up this teenage girl’s face i hear this littlegirl wracked with sobs saying “i just want to die mommy, i’m so tired and idon’t want to take my medicine and i just want you to let me die”….she’s just like a normal 10 year old who is overly tired and she’s having ameltdown over something she doesn’t want to do but….. this mom isn’t facedwith making decisions like “no you can’t go to the slumber party” — simple10 year old girl world fades away and the struggles are replaced by thingsthat shouldn’t ever interfere with middleschool life - suddenly “eat yourbroccoli” is replaced by “take these 25 pills because if you don’t i’mworried that you’ll bleed to death while you sleep and i’m not ready to losemy little girl……..”i finish suturing my patient’s wounds and i just can’t walk out of the roomand pretend that i haven’t heard this little girl pleading with her mom tolet her die - i just can’t walk away because there are some patients youbond with and sarah i bonded with last week and i feel some sort ofownership or responsiility for this girl’s heathcare, and fo those crocodiletears and the complete meltdown and most of all i feel responsible becausethe ‘treatment’ that WE as doctors have perscribed is making this littlegirl miserably sob and pushing her mom past what any mother should beexpected to tolerate….. so - i push aside the paper thin curtain and i sitdown on the bed and i gaher up the sobbing girl in my arms and i pull herclose and say “what will make you happy??” she leans into my shoulder andspeaks in 2 word phrases between her little tearful gasps and tells me howshe just wants to sleep and how she has to take the medicine 3 times a dayand it takes her so long and she can’t have a life and she hates her liferight now because she can’t do anything and it’s just not fair- she can’t goto her friend’s house and she’s been in the hospital every day and she’sjust so tired….. and her little body lets out a final exhausted sigh and ihave to lean her back in my arms so i can see her face and i have to pushthe matted hair back from her swollen eyes and i have to tell her that lifeis just not fair…. i tell her i’ll call her doctor and see if she can gether medicine dose IV before she goes home but i have to tell her that sheneeds to be a big girl and she has to wake up tomorrow ready to fight againand that fight means taking those 25 pills three times a day and i can’tchange that……..and i tell her i know it’s not fair and i tell her thatnot every little girl has to fight as hard as she has to fight and i don’tknow why she is one of the ones who has been given such an uphillbattle….. and she’s so exhausted that her eyelids droop as i talk and shehas cried herself to sleep in my arms and i order her nighttime medicationIV because that will ease the battle for tonight but i still send mom anddaughter home to wake up tomorrow and face an unfair world and i feelpowerless to help them……Hope you found the story as poignant and substantial as Matt and I did. We feel lucky to be here and to have these experiences. Take care everyone, love Eric