Taking Stock, With Gratitude

Christmas, like New Year’s Day, Thanksgiving, birthdays, and anniversaries, is one of those times that we use to mark where we were and how far we’ve come.

I’m in a mixed marriage, so we celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas. Twenty-five years ago I was a newly minted attending neurologist, not even 6 months out of fellowship.

My wife was pregnant with our first child and had invited my Jewish family over for Christmas dinner. This was our first December in our first house and she wanted to do something special for them.

Being the low person on the totem pole, it was my first Christmas on call, covering for myself and two other neurologists.

So I was driving. A lot. My wife was on her own to get things ready, and I was hoping to be home for dinner.

It was, as always seems to be the case with holidays, quite busy. I was up long before dawn to start, driving a circular route to cover four hospitals scattered around Phoenix. At least the roads were empty.

At some point the planned pattern breaks down as new consults and urgent patient status changes happen. You try to start by going from A to B to C to D for rounds, but within a few hours I was going from A to B to C, then back to A, then D, then B, then A again, and so on. All the while I was returning patient calls. Wash, rinse, repeat.

At some point I dialed my wife to see how she was doing and she gave me a list of last-minute things she needed picked up (which included some dairy products and more Christmas lights for her tree). I found a small store that was still open. For the rest of my day on call a grocery bag full of dairy products was carried from hospital to hospital with me, being put in the doctor’s lounge refrigerator with my name on it (this is Phoenix, even in winter you can’t leave it in the car). This added another trip from C back to A when I realized I’d left the groceries there.

I got home a few minutes before my family came over, after 14-15 hours of driving between hospitals. I was putting up the new lights when they came in. Fortunately I wasn’t called back in that night, and turned things over to my call partners in the morning.

Now? Since early 2020 my hospital days are behind me. My kids have their own lives, jobs, and school, but still all came over to see us.

I didn’t have to leave the house. I spent most of the day in a robe and pajamas, working at my desk on this and that, sometimes wandering to another table to futz with my current jigsaw puzzle or chat with my kids or go soak in my hot tub.

In 1998 I weighed 50 pounds less (still working on losing it), had no kids, or dogs. Now I’m in another house, have three grown kids, and in the interim have enjoyed seven awesome dogs (currently only one). My wife still invited my family over for Christmas dinner, but now it’s my mom and uncle. My dad and aunt are gone.

The changes are mostly good, though, as with all passages of time there is sadness and loss. When all is said and done I wouldn’t have done much differently even if I could.

I’m lucky, and I know it. Regardless of what you celebrate, it’s a good time to take stock of your blessings. To quote Sheryl Crow, “It’s not having what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got.”

Happy New Year to all.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Christmas, like New Year’s Day, Thanksgiving, birthdays, and anniversaries, is one of those times that we use to mark where we were and how far we’ve come.

I’m in a mixed marriage, so we celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas. Twenty-five years ago I was a newly minted attending neurologist, not even 6 months out of fellowship.

My wife was pregnant with our first child and had invited my Jewish family over for Christmas dinner. This was our first December in our first house and she wanted to do something special for them.

Being the low person on the totem pole, it was my first Christmas on call, covering for myself and two other neurologists.

So I was driving. A lot. My wife was on her own to get things ready, and I was hoping to be home for dinner.

It was, as always seems to be the case with holidays, quite busy. I was up long before dawn to start, driving a circular route to cover four hospitals scattered around Phoenix. At least the roads were empty.

At some point the planned pattern breaks down as new consults and urgent patient status changes happen. You try to start by going from A to B to C to D for rounds, but within a few hours I was going from A to B to C, then back to A, then D, then B, then A again, and so on. All the while I was returning patient calls. Wash, rinse, repeat.

At some point I dialed my wife to see how she was doing and she gave me a list of last-minute things she needed picked up (which included some dairy products and more Christmas lights for her tree). I found a small store that was still open. For the rest of my day on call a grocery bag full of dairy products was carried from hospital to hospital with me, being put in the doctor’s lounge refrigerator with my name on it (this is Phoenix, even in winter you can’t leave it in the car). This added another trip from C back to A when I realized I’d left the groceries there.

I got home a few minutes before my family came over, after 14-15 hours of driving between hospitals. I was putting up the new lights when they came in. Fortunately I wasn’t called back in that night, and turned things over to my call partners in the morning.

Now? Since early 2020 my hospital days are behind me. My kids have their own lives, jobs, and school, but still all came over to see us.

I didn’t have to leave the house. I spent most of the day in a robe and pajamas, working at my desk on this and that, sometimes wandering to another table to futz with my current jigsaw puzzle or chat with my kids or go soak in my hot tub.

In 1998 I weighed 50 pounds less (still working on losing it), had no kids, or dogs. Now I’m in another house, have three grown kids, and in the interim have enjoyed seven awesome dogs (currently only one). My wife still invited my family over for Christmas dinner, but now it’s my mom and uncle. My dad and aunt are gone.

The changes are mostly good, though, as with all passages of time there is sadness and loss. When all is said and done I wouldn’t have done much differently even if I could.

I’m lucky, and I know it. Regardless of what you celebrate, it’s a good time to take stock of your blessings. To quote Sheryl Crow, “It’s not having what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got.”

Happy New Year to all.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Christmas, like New Year’s Day, Thanksgiving, birthdays, and anniversaries, is one of those times that we use to mark where we were and how far we’ve come.

I’m in a mixed marriage, so we celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas. Twenty-five years ago I was a newly minted attending neurologist, not even 6 months out of fellowship.

My wife was pregnant with our first child and had invited my Jewish family over for Christmas dinner. This was our first December in our first house and she wanted to do something special for them.

Being the low person on the totem pole, it was my first Christmas on call, covering for myself and two other neurologists.

So I was driving. A lot. My wife was on her own to get things ready, and I was hoping to be home for dinner.

It was, as always seems to be the case with holidays, quite busy. I was up long before dawn to start, driving a circular route to cover four hospitals scattered around Phoenix. At least the roads were empty.

At some point the planned pattern breaks down as new consults and urgent patient status changes happen. You try to start by going from A to B to C to D for rounds, but within a few hours I was going from A to B to C, then back to A, then D, then B, then A again, and so on. All the while I was returning patient calls. Wash, rinse, repeat.

At some point I dialed my wife to see how she was doing and she gave me a list of last-minute things she needed picked up (which included some dairy products and more Christmas lights for her tree). I found a small store that was still open. For the rest of my day on call a grocery bag full of dairy products was carried from hospital to hospital with me, being put in the doctor’s lounge refrigerator with my name on it (this is Phoenix, even in winter you can’t leave it in the car). This added another trip from C back to A when I realized I’d left the groceries there.

I got home a few minutes before my family came over, after 14-15 hours of driving between hospitals. I was putting up the new lights when they came in. Fortunately I wasn’t called back in that night, and turned things over to my call partners in the morning.

Now? Since early 2020 my hospital days are behind me. My kids have their own lives, jobs, and school, but still all came over to see us.

I didn’t have to leave the house. I spent most of the day in a robe and pajamas, working at my desk on this and that, sometimes wandering to another table to futz with my current jigsaw puzzle or chat with my kids or go soak in my hot tub.

In 1998 I weighed 50 pounds less (still working on losing it), had no kids, or dogs. Now I’m in another house, have three grown kids, and in the interim have enjoyed seven awesome dogs (currently only one). My wife still invited my family over for Christmas dinner, but now it’s my mom and uncle. My dad and aunt are gone.

The changes are mostly good, though, as with all passages of time there is sadness and loss. When all is said and done I wouldn’t have done much differently even if I could.

I’m lucky, and I know it. Regardless of what you celebrate, it’s a good time to take stock of your blessings. To quote Sheryl Crow, “It’s not having what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got.”

Happy New Year to all.
 

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.