The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

After languishing through the sports drought that is the summer, college football has finally returned. As soon as they cut down the nets at the NCAA tournament, it is just Dullsville in the sporting world. Sure, the Olympics helped a bit this year, but there is nothing like college football as far as I'm concerned. Too bad I probably won't be able to see the vast majority of BYU games again this year. Cami and I don't have cable or satellite, so if it's not on the networks, we don't see it. Oh well, I guess that's what internet radio is for.

Welcome back, college football. Here's to another beautiful season.

Sunrise, Sunset

Is this the little girl I carried?

Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older,
When did they?

Alright, alright, so I didn't really carry her (I was only three when she arrived), but it was a little sad to see my kid sister all grown up. Last Saturday, Heather married a boy named Lance. It was a pretty little ceremony at the Sacramento Temple with friends and family in attendance. For those of you who weren't able to make it, I don't believe I have seen (nor will ever see) anyone smiling as widely as my kid sis was during that wedding. I mean, she was absolutely beaming. The ceremony was short and sweet (just the way I prefer my weddings), and Heather looked absolutely great.

The whole family flew in for the event. My Dad grew up in Sacramento, so all of his siblings made the trip out. Additionally, my three sisters not named Heather made their respective trips to California from Alabama, Oklahoma, and Maryland (how did we all get so spread out?). Additionally, Lance had a lot of his family from Utah present, so it was kind of a full house. It is always fun having family around, and as you can see, everyone seemed to enjoy the company. It is a pity that we can't get together more often than we do.

My parents held a reception after the wedding at their home in Merced. Mom and Dad had spent a lot of time sprucing up the backyard to be ready for the arrival of guests, and it looked pretty good. Heather had chosen a black and red kinda theme, which to my untrained eye appeared to work out pretty well (though some of the table decorations were a little strange). We had tables and lights set up in the backyard and a fountain in the pool. I helped set things up where possible and enjoyed hanging out with my little nephews until the party started: especially Bryce, my Mini-Me.

There was a lot of work to be done before everyone showed up and of course it was about 100°F outside. There is seriously nothing like wearing a full penguin suit in the heat. I was sweating like a sweaty person until the sun went down. Cami, of course, doesn't sweat (she glistens), but try glistening in a full tux, my dear. The guests seemed to all enjoy themselves, and even the munchkins didn't seem to be having a bad time.

When all was said and done, we said goodbye to the two lovebirds with an excessive amount of sparklers. Seriously, the smoke in the backyard became oppressive. I felt bad for my Uncle Keith, because he couldn't hobble away fast enough (he broke his leg a few months ago) to beat the smoke. As soon as they had left, I jumped in the pool with the rest of the grandkids. A perfect way to end a wedding, if you ask me.


So there you have it. Five years to the day that Cami and I tied the knot, my little sister joined the ranks of the wedded. Here's to a long and happy marriage, Heather. And maybe, just maybe, your marriage can be half as good as mine and Cami's.

10% Golden

Today, Cami and I celebrate 5 years of marriage. Wow. Where has time gone? In honor of our nuptuals, my little sister also decided to tie the knot today. She is marrying a guy named Lance, whom she met at BYU shortly before graduating with a nursing degree. But I will post about the wedding festivities later. This post is about Cami and me.

Cami and I alternate wedding anniversaries. She is responsible for celebrations on odd numbered anniversaries, whereas I take the evens. Last year, I took Cami to Il Fornaio in Sacramento, on the recommendation of one of my residents at the time. This year we headed down to Lodi for dinner at the Rosewood Bar & Grill.

Why drive all the way down to Lodi for a restaurant? Because we had second row tickets to a Glen Phillips concert later that night. Most of you are probably wondering: "Who the heck is Glen Phillips?" Answer: He was the lead singer for Toad the Wet Sprocket, which was pretty much my favorite band in high school. The band broke up in 1998 (though they still play together occasionally), but he's had a fairly successful solo career playing mellow, folksy, accoustic stuff which I really like.

Cami and I had an interesting discussion about "favorite bands" during dinner before the concert. It appears that Cami didn't really develop a "favorite band" until high school--the Cranberries. She had a fling with Weezer and is now into Coldplay. I on the other hand, have had a multiplicity of favorite bands since the age of 5, starting with the Safety Kids (Cami's not sure that counts, but I still know the words to "Yell and Scream"), followed by the Beach Boys, I went through a Billy Joel period, an awkward junior high They Might Be Giants phase, then TtWS, a trying-to-be-cool U2 phase, and finally Guster and Phantom Planet in college. I don't think I have an official "favorite band" now. The age of the iPod has sort of allowed me to like many bands at once, which is a good thing. But back to the concert...

The concert was awesome. He played at the Hutchins Street Square, which was actually a pretty nice venue. All in all, there were probably about 60 or 70 people there in a theater which probably could have seated over 500. And let me just say, it was a very eclectic mix of people. Looking around the room, I was sort of surprised and thought: "Wow, how do all these different people like the same sort of music I do?" I have no idea, but apparently they do because many of them were singing along. This is including of course, the interesting lady sitting next to us who made several comments to Glen in between songs in an effort to strike up a one-on-one conversation. Very awkward.

It was just him and his guitar and he did an amazing job and had chosen a great setlist. Played some of my favorite TtWS songs like "All I Want" and "Walk on the Ocean," as well as his own stuff like "True" and "Courage." The acoustics were great, he was funny, and we had a great time. Best concert I've ever been to, though I hate to admit that this was my first real concert with an artist not featured on an EFY cd. Sad but true. However, Cami's been to a few and said that it was great by her standards too. Great job, Glen.

5 years down, eternity to go. As far as anniversaries go, this was a good one. You did good, Cami. It will be hard to top this next year.

Happy 5 Years, Cami & Tim!

Confession

I suppose I have a confession to make and now is as good a time as any to make it. Cami has claimed that my brain is unable to filter anything that comes out of my mouth. She is absolutely correct. In addition, my brain is also incapable of filtering the thoughts which find their way into the synapses of my frontal cortex. This can be quite disturbing at times.

The other day I scrubbed into uterine myomectomy. The case is fairly straight-forward. Many woman develop leiomyomas, or fibroids, in their uterus as they get older. These are benign tumors that grow in response to estrogen levels. They have almost no malignant potential, but can lead to heavy menses and difficulty conceiving. In a woman with fibroids, who has failed medical therapy and still wants kids, surgeons may attempt to cut the fibroids out. This doesn't always work and the fibroids usually grow back, but it is an option.

I had to get up that day at 4:15am to make it over to the hospital to round on my patients prior to going to the OR. At 9:30am, the case finally got started. At first they attempted to take out one of the submucosal fibroids via hysteroscopy (using a camera to visualize and cut out an internal fibroid through the vagina). This however proved to be too difficult as the woman's cervix was over 7cm long and the instruments weren't long enough to accommodate. After 90 minutes of trying, they gave up and cut her open.

Sometime around 11:30 they had pulled the women's uterus out of the incision that had been made in her belly. It was unlike any uterus I'd ever seen (and I've actually seen a few). There were at least 10 or 11 very visible fibroids on the exterior surface of her uterus, some as large as baseballs. It was a real surprise. Very methodically, they peeled off the serosa above each fibroid (the thin tissue layer on the outside of the uterus) and started to cut each one out. Every little scoop was then deposited in a kidney basin for later pathologic analysis. My job? Cutting sutures and holding the kidney basin.

Progress was slow and I didn't have a lot to do. I was looking at this little bowl of fibroid chunks and thought to myself: "You know, these little fibroids look an awful lot like shrimp tails." Then it dawned on me that I hadn't eaten anything since 4:30 that morning and I was pretty hungry. Before I realized where this one was headed, my stomach growled very loudly and I began to wonder if fibroids taste like shrimp too.

For the next hour or so, I thought about nibbling on one of those seemingly tasty morsels. I wondered if anybody had ever tried eating one or cooking one up. Certainly, I could not have been the only person in the history of myomectomies to have looked at a fibroid and wondered what it tasted like. Fortunately, the gnawing hunger eventually subsided, but only after I convinced myself that I was teetering on the edge of cannibalism and need to step away from the precipice before something bad happened.

Is there a lesson to be learned from this? No. I don't think so. But I am going to try to avoid going into the OR hungry again.

In My Defense...

Okay, in my defense* I definitely do not shudder whenever I hear the word 'vagina'. Give me a break, I’m not a total prude. But let me explain a phenomenon that happens to medical students…any filter they once had for what is and is not appropriate to say in public, quickly deteriorates. And lets be honest, it isn’t like their filters were ever that great to begin with because they are all science nerds…at heart (and Tim, I mean that in the coolest kind of way). Med students get so comfortable talking about all body parts, functions, fluids, and systems that they don’t think twice about bringing up said topics around the family dinner table. And by family dinner table, I mean anywhere and everywhere and in front of anyone and everyone. In fact there are often times I make Tim read me his blog entries before he posts them. It isn’t so much that I mind reading his graphic details (I’ve gotten used to them) but I just think of my mom reading them and I start to worry. Anyways, so shout out to all of those wives of med students who are constantly rolling their eyes at their husband’s verging-on-inappropriate stories. And Tim, if you think it is just me, go talk to Sean's wife Ashley.

*Please refer to Tim's previous post

The V-Word

Sorry I haven't posted in a little while. I started the gynecology portion of my Ob/Gyn rotation and for the last few weeks I have been elbow deep in, well, you know. Gynecology is actually a fairly interesting specialty, and despite much of what I have heard, the gynos themselves are actually pretty nice people. However, they are also pretty busy people, so I haven't had a lot of time to tell about what I've been doing. On top of that, most of my stories now necessitate using the word "vagina." Cami doesn't like that word (I think she shudders every time I use it), so I am a little constrained in what I can talk about. However, I will try to limit my use of the V-word

Suffice it to say, it has been an interesting couple days. I have become moderately proficient with a speculum (see above), but cannot pick one up without thinking about the time I stumbled across a few that my dad kept at home when I was a kid. I thought they looked like duckbills, so I put one up against my face and said, "Hey Dad! Quack quack!" He just laughed and told me I probably didn't want to do that again. He was 100% correct. The very thought of it grosses me out.

The other day I was scrubbed in on a TVH (total vaginal hysterectomy). Essentially, we were removing a woman's uterus through her vagina--a procedure which is about as terrifying as it sounds. As a medical student, my responsibilities during an operation are simple: 1) Don't get in the way, 2) Don't contaminate anything, and 3) retract, retract, retract! For 2 1/2 hours I held a retractor up with one hand and struggled to keep a vagina open wide enough so that the surgeons could pull a uterus out.

The first 15 minutes of retracting are usually not too bad. Your grip is strong and you are in good spirits. The next 1/2 hour starts to get a little tricky. You can reposition yourself to put the strain on different muscle groups or support yourself with the other hand. Around the 60 minute mark things start to get very difficult. Your hand starts to cramp and your strength begins to wane. You find yourself frequently checking the clock and asking yourself, "Seriously, can we get this thing out already?!" Of course, anytime the tension drops, the attending surgeon repositions the retractor and questions your fitness level followed by some joke about "not making med students like they used to." This cycle repeats itself about every 10 to 15 minutes for the next hour. As you begin to sweat, you notice that your shoulder also begins to shake, your forearm burns and your fingers feel numb. The last half hour is the worst. You keep expecting them to finish it off, but there are always little bleeders and oozers that need to be patched up before everything can be closed. Finally, they finish and take the retractor from your now nearly lifeless limb and thank you for your "invaluable contribution" to the surgical team. Two days later and my shoulder still hurts.

Though I really enjoy being in the OR, I am increasingly convinced that my career of choice is the right one for me. As one anesthesiologist eloquently stated: "I decided in med school I would much rather deal with the fluids and secretions above rather than below the waist." I agree whole-heartedly and though there is definitely good cause for the question, I hope to never have to ask any woman about "cottage cheese" discharge again.

Going The Distance

Disclaimer: Cami was supposed to be writing this. We went to her family reunion at the end of July and a lot of really fun stuff took place. Since Cami has not written anything on here in six months, I figured it would be a good opportunity for her to get back in the saddle. However, she kept dragging her feet. Inspired by Governor Schwarzenegger, I offered Cami an ultimatum: If she didn't post her blog by Friday, August 1st, she would be making minimum wage. When she coolly informed me that I do not pay her for any of her services, I responded that she would only be receiving minimum wage compliments from me until the blog is posted. What is a minimum wage compliment, you may ask? Which would you rather hear: "Cami, you look great today!" or "Yeah, Cam you don't look that awful." That's what I thought. Sadly, Cami failed to meet her deadline and I find myself here reporting on our extra fun vacation. Way to go, Cami. You almost came through!

Cami's family reunion was in Park City, Utah this year, immediately preceded by the gimungus Callister family über-reunion in Idaho. The whole clan (there are 32 of us now) gathered for fun and excitement amidst the Wastach mountains. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get off time to make it to the beginning of the reunion (I was too busy not delivering babies), but did make it out there for the last half of the week. This was not too much of a problem as the fun doesn't really start happening until I get there anyway.

We stayed at some nice lodgings, and due to the size of our entourage, we nearly took up the entire floor. This was probably a good thing, because we can all get quite noisy. The week was about as jam-packed with activities as the Marriott we all stayed in. The fam hit up 7 Peaks, went to the This Is The Place place, went jetskiing at the Jordanelle Resevoir, played bored games (excuse me, board games), swam at the pool, played a few healthy rounds of Mafia, and had an all-around good time.

The last day before we left, Cami and Cinda were in charge of sponsoring the "Jerry and Kathy Callister Fun Run." We broke into, excuse me, found an alternate means of entering the Park City High School football stadium and everyone ran around the track for a few hours before it got too hot. Honestly, I thought this was one of the more entertaining events of the reunion. The ultimate goal was to have everyone run about 5km around the track. Many of the adults finished the whole race and all of the kids took at least a lap or two. Though it seemed like they were way more preoccupied with crossing the finish line than actually running the race.

Of course, there could only be one winner. And that winner happened to lap the next closest competitor, but no one was really paying attention to those sorts of details. I suppose in the end, the real winners were everyone who participated. The theme for the reunion this year was "Go The Distance," and believe me, we all did.

And, while everyone else got gold medals for their respective performances, I received the honor of going through the "Spanking Machine." There is nothing quite like having 30 sweaty individuals smack your own sweaty butt while you army crawl across artificial turf. If that's not incentive enough to win the race next year, I don't know what is.

As always, the reunion was a lot of fun. On the last day we went to church in SLC to see Jake become a deacon and then hit the road for the drive home. The 2008 reunion was a great success (thanks Ashley for putting it together). And we'll all see eachother again next year... and who knows, maybe I can get Cami to write something about the 2009 reunion. But probably not.