Life is about winning, right?
On a recent call night I found myself watching the movie "Little Miss Sunshine" a comical and poignant story about a family traveling to a beauty contest for six and seven year old girls. The movie shows the family journeying several hundred miles in a yellow VW bus as they struggle with life and each other.
For me the message of the movie is distilled in to a moment when the oldest character, the grandfather, so damaged by life that he resorts to snorting cocaine to cope, calms the youngest character, Olive, the beauty queen contestant as she expresses her fears of failure on the eve of the contest.
"Grand paw, I don't want to be a loser. Dad hates losers." Olive cries.
"Your are not a loser. You know what a loser is?" Her grand paw replies. "A loser is someone who is so afraid of not winning they don't even try. Now you are trying right?"
Olive replies in the affirmative and Grand paw asks another question, "Now we are going to have fun tomorrow, right?" Again affirmation and the plot moves on.1
This scene reveals much about life. The cliche is "winning is not everything" and yet I find myself and those around me living as if being first, being at the top, is the only thing. More often than not in the most important aspects of life showing up and giving the task at hand our best effort possible is the most important part. This is when we become winners regardless of our place in the end.
1. Little Miss Sunshine Twentieth Century Fox Presentation 2006
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Ephipany
The holiday decorations are gone, safely put away in the attic. One item is left. A manager scene. I thought that I would leave it until today is over. This is Epiphany. The day when the Christmas season ends with the arrival of the wise men. Taking the word literally it is the day when we see the essential nature of things.
Having these figures on the table before me gives me moments to ponder the characters that each represents. Mary, the God bearer, so close to the Christ that she holds him in her arms. Joseph, Mary's companion, who I imagine is probably just as bewildered about his role in the world as I often am about mine. A shepherd boy, confused beyond belief at the prospect that this is God in the flesh. Finally, the wise men, who, though male and dark skinned, seem to have more in common with me than the others.1
These wise men found themselves following something they could not explain. As astronomers, they had watched the sky all their lives. They were waiting, hoping to see such a strange phenomenon. Even more mysterious was the place were they ended up. Passing through the halls of power, the ruler's palace, these wise men end up staring at a baby born to an impoverished teenager and her betroth, a skilled laborer. I am sure they questioned the improbability of it all more than once.
Yet, as improbable as it all must have seemed, the wise men believed the force that led them to Mary, Joseph and the baby Christ. They acted on their belief. Leaving their riches, the astronomers returned home by another way thwarting the forces of evil.
At home, at work, even with in myself, how many times do I join with the forces that say it is acceptable to hate, to make more money than I need or to feel inadequate in more ways than I can name. It is indeed an epiphany to decide to live differently. Perhaps these figures will become a permanent part of my home decor as I hope that the message of this day will become a permanent part of my life. This scene will act as a reminder that there is a different way and it is mine to choose daily.
1. from a sermon preached today by the Rev. Shannon J. Kershner
Having these figures on the table before me gives me moments to ponder the characters that each represents. Mary, the God bearer, so close to the Christ that she holds him in her arms. Joseph, Mary's companion, who I imagine is probably just as bewildered about his role in the world as I often am about mine. A shepherd boy, confused beyond belief at the prospect that this is God in the flesh. Finally, the wise men, who, though male and dark skinned, seem to have more in common with me than the others.1
These wise men found themselves following something they could not explain. As astronomers, they had watched the sky all their lives. They were waiting, hoping to see such a strange phenomenon. Even more mysterious was the place were they ended up. Passing through the halls of power, the ruler's palace, these wise men end up staring at a baby born to an impoverished teenager and her betroth, a skilled laborer. I am sure they questioned the improbability of it all more than once.
Yet, as improbable as it all must have seemed, the wise men believed the force that led them to Mary, Joseph and the baby Christ. They acted on their belief. Leaving their riches, the astronomers returned home by another way thwarting the forces of evil.
At home, at work, even with in myself, how many times do I join with the forces that say it is acceptable to hate, to make more money than I need or to feel inadequate in more ways than I can name. It is indeed an epiphany to decide to live differently. Perhaps these figures will become a permanent part of my home decor as I hope that the message of this day will become a permanent part of my life. This scene will act as a reminder that there is a different way and it is mine to choose daily.
1. from a sermon preached today by the Rev. Shannon J. Kershner
Friday, December 28, 2007
Testing
Practicing in a teaching hospital has its privileges. The latest technology is readily available. There is always a willing, even eager helper. As a general rule there is a collegial relationship between the attending staff (physicians who teach the residents) resulting in the liberal use of the "curb side consult", several physicians offering thoughts on the diagnosis and treatment of difficult cases. This results in a high level of competent care for the patients.
There are also a few drawbacks. One is the constant testing. My kids frequently remark that they will be glad when they are no longer tested. School, I know, seems like a journey from one exam to another, but life is a series of tests too. One of the draw backs of constantly working in a training setting is that every patient encounter, is a proctored examination. Let me illustrate.
As a second year resident it became my job to supervise one of the interns who was so book smart it was frightening. Adam would answer questions with direct quotes from textbooks. I suspect that his memory was photographic. Like most interns Adam lacked judgement.
One Saturday when we were on the labor and delivery unit together, I sent Adam back to the delivery room with one of our most arrogant attendings. There were two ways to preform every procedure, Dr. Jones' way and the wrong way. This appeared to be a routine laboring patient about to delivery her second baby. Adam had been on the obstetrical service only a week but I thought surely he has seen Dr. Jones do another delivery. Besides, all he had to do was help drape the patient, pass instruments to the attending physician and look attentive.
Once the baby's anterior shoulder was out, Dr. Jones always requested the nurse to push 10 units of pitocin in the IV line. Instead of questioning this practice prior to the delivery, it was after the fact when Adam said, "Gee, Dr. Jones, I thought you weren't suppose to do that because you might trap an undiagnosed twin?" Please try to understand that this occurred more than twenty five years ago when there was no such thing as routine sonography.
"Dr. Parker," Dr. Jones replied to Adam, "Any obstetrician worth his salt would know if there were twins by now!" As he was speaking Dr. Jones placed his hand on the patients abdomen and palpated the large mass that was indeed, the second twin.
A few expletives, some nitrous oxide, and minutes later holding a healthy second twin we had all learned something. The process for stopping a very strong contraction and delivering a second twin by breech extraction was etched in my memory. Adam was beginning to process the need for questioning in a less accusing manner before someone above him took action. And Dr. Jones. Well, in the next two and a half years, I never saw him push pitocin prior to the delivery of the placenta again.
There are also a few drawbacks. One is the constant testing. My kids frequently remark that they will be glad when they are no longer tested. School, I know, seems like a journey from one exam to another, but life is a series of tests too. One of the draw backs of constantly working in a training setting is that every patient encounter, is a proctored examination. Let me illustrate.
As a second year resident it became my job to supervise one of the interns who was so book smart it was frightening. Adam would answer questions with direct quotes from textbooks. I suspect that his memory was photographic. Like most interns Adam lacked judgement.
One Saturday when we were on the labor and delivery unit together, I sent Adam back to the delivery room with one of our most arrogant attendings. There were two ways to preform every procedure, Dr. Jones' way and the wrong way. This appeared to be a routine laboring patient about to delivery her second baby. Adam had been on the obstetrical service only a week but I thought surely he has seen Dr. Jones do another delivery. Besides, all he had to do was help drape the patient, pass instruments to the attending physician and look attentive.
Once the baby's anterior shoulder was out, Dr. Jones always requested the nurse to push 10 units of pitocin in the IV line. Instead of questioning this practice prior to the delivery, it was after the fact when Adam said, "Gee, Dr. Jones, I thought you weren't suppose to do that because you might trap an undiagnosed twin?" Please try to understand that this occurred more than twenty five years ago when there was no such thing as routine sonography.
"Dr. Parker," Dr. Jones replied to Adam, "Any obstetrician worth his salt would know if there were twins by now!" As he was speaking Dr. Jones placed his hand on the patients abdomen and palpated the large mass that was indeed, the second twin.
A few expletives, some nitrous oxide, and minutes later holding a healthy second twin we had all learned something. The process for stopping a very strong contraction and delivering a second twin by breech extraction was etched in my memory. Adam was beginning to process the need for questioning in a less accusing manner before someone above him took action. And Dr. Jones. Well, in the next two and a half years, I never saw him push pitocin prior to the delivery of the placenta again.
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