|Good morning! TMI but my wife and I have been doing a lot of traveling recently (Feb ‘21 – present). I LOVE TO TRAVEL. For the more Covid-heavy, less vaccinated part of this timespan we’ve been isolated in airbnb cabins and hiking national parks, more recently we’ve been letting it fly. Well, Delta variant, so Krissy has now shared that between (a) the two dogs and (b) the COVID graphs, she’d like us to homebody a little bit. I imagine that’ll be until (a) she realizes how boring I am, (b) Henry, our 10-month-old pees on the floor 3x (note to self, pick up Crystal Light Lemonade at Kroger), (c) Delta/Lambda and the other variants dissipate. That’s not what I had on tap for the next 6 months so it’s time to shift to what potentially could be a long, dark, cold Central Ohio winter. I’ve always said that 2021 is all about taking the bull by the horns (when did you say that?) so with my wife’s guidance, I immediately shifted and threw all my weight behind making preparations for this stretch of hibernation. Preparations in this scenario involve what I call “dry runs”. My dry run was to span the workweek of Monday, August 9th to Friday, August 13th. I didn’t make it to Friday ;)|
What I always say is if you can’t go to paradise, bring paradise to you (again, when have you said this??). This is going to be a long, dark winter packed with joy if I have my say. Just like a cake donut bursting at the seams with, yet fully containing, its maple filling. Delicious and unexpected.
The week (don’t you mean, day?) did not necessarily go as originally planned and let this document serve as a reminder for future Davids.Sunday the 8th, I had my hair extended and braided with multi-colored beads (shout out to my hair goddess, Ashleigh) and tie-dyed the sleeves of my white coat. Business in the front, party on the sides.Could this reduce white coat hypertension?Monday morning I threw on the bronzer from CVS and took the doors off my Jeep. Jammin’ to some steel drum beats I made my way onto the freeway. My rainbow hair beads smacking against themselves and inside of the door frame fast-forwarded me into a fresh Caribbean state of mind. I hop the exit ramp, pause, and reflect at the red light. I can feel the heat steaming off the blacktop and onto my sandals. Ahhh, life. I wonder how many other Central Ohio cardiologists are finding themselves doing the exact same thing this morning. Probably not more than a handful. My cardiology office is small, but it’s all mine and I find it rather cozy. As I lift my loaded beach cart out of the Wrangler’s backside, I’m wondering if the previous night’s trip will prove its worth. Desperately wanting this week in ‘paradise’ to be authentic, I had driven in and found myself pleasantly surprised the thermostat in my cardiology man cave went to 96 F. Well this one does go to eleven and that is a job well done, David as I feel the FURNACE BLAST as I opened that door. Perfect, there’s no question I’ll be sweating within seconds. There’s already condensation on the keyboards, monitors, and look, it’s actually dripping from the 2×2 ceiling tiles. Well worth last night’s trip. I clumsily unfold my striped Tommy Bahamas beach chair, take off my flip-flops (your system does not have a policy on open-toed shoes??), and let my bare feet sink into the 5 gallons of cool sand I brought in from Home Depot.If it’s going to be this hot, I’m also going to want a cold drink. I reach back into my huge straw bag, past the plastic red pail and yellow shovel, and grab a coconut in one hand and machete in the other (you might want to closely look at your hospital’s policies). I WHACK off the top of one of the coconuts and empty my Coleman’s thermos of Piña Colada mocktail. Ugh, forgot the umbrellas!Despite coming off a simple iPhone the acoustics in my 8×10 office are great – the steel drums, buleadors, and palitos are bouncing off the walls like I literally sitting in the band. I look up from my beach chair and my arms are sitting a couple of feet below the keyboard, much too low.No worries.As I log onto Epic (our electronic medical record) I cannot remember if I’m in Westerville, OH, or St. Kitt’s. So fortunate that this portion of the beach has internet. I’ll have to remember that for tomorrow. Oh, wait a minute – I am in Westerville!“David, your first two patients are ready…and have been waiting.”Whoa, mon, this island time thing is real.I lower the drums, stand up, shake my beads to where they fall in line and step out into the cold hallway. I wish you could have seen the looks of the nurses and MA’s as I made my way into the first room.Both patients are annual follow-ups and both happen to be from rural areas 45 minutes away – one a town named Mt. Gilead the other, Heath. Both are Central Ohio farmers that haven’t traveled.Both are feeling fine, but I diagnose the first with malaria and the second with Ciguatera poisoning. At this point, my teammate, Megan (who honestly should be busy ordering a blood smear to test for malaria parasites) steps out of the room. That’s funny, she never does that. I’m soon to discover that she was going for Reva, our practice manager, i.e my boss.In 18 years, Reva had never interrupted a patient visit. “Dr. Sabgir, could I see you for just a quick second,” she’s smiling ear to ear but I can tell from her expression she wants to talk about something more than my beads.I’m sorry, I know this is a medical newsletter, where was I?