Finding Happiness After a Disappointing Match

Match Day was years ago, but I still remember feeling my stomach drop when my husband read that he matched to the second-to-last program he ranked. His rank list was so long, and he had received such encouraging feedback; it was unimaginable he would match at a program ranked down in the double-digits. I ducked out of the Match Day party to weep, overwhelmed by shock and disappointment, and even a little bit of shame.

The cry you hear repeatedly is "We got our number one pick!" People say it so often it seems like no one gets anything except their first, or possibly second, choice. The reality is the only people who say anything are the minority of lucky students who matched at their top choices. The rest of us are silenced by stigma. Admitting you matched to anything other than number one is admitting that programs didn’t want you. Programs’ decisions for who they want most are largely arbitrary; they’re picking from a pool of well-qualified candidates they just met. This perceived rejection can make you believe the lie that you’re not good enough.

It took time to pick up the pieces of my lost dreams, but I’m grateful we matched where we did. My husband’s training has been solid, and the culture of his residency has been a better fit than he would likely have found elsewhere. His career will be fine. We’ve met wonderful people and had great experiences. We would still rather have our number-one pick, but we are happy and life is good. Life works out, but it can be an emotionally draining journey to make that happen.

When dealing with disappointment from the match, here are my thoughts for survival and growth:

• Don’t envy those who did better in the match. It accomplishes nothing and poisons you and your relationships with your friends who had better luck in this fickle process. So much of it is arbitrary, and chance has a huge role in it. Congratulate your friends for their good fortune, even if it takes time for you to genuinely feel happy for them.
• Don’t resent your husband or blame him for the match results. Let go of the "if only he had . . . ." thoughts, unless there’s a real lesson to be learned that can be applied to future experiences. Everyone has shortcomings and no one knows his better than you, but let them go. Go ahead and hate the match itself if you need to channel the anger toward something.
• "Comparison is the thief of joy." (Theodore Roosevelt) Don’t dwell on what might have been because distant grass always seems greener. We aren’t close enough to see other programs’ warts, so we assume they are better than the life we are living with all its bumps and imperfections. For example, one program we highly ranked seemed fantastic. I spent too much time thinking "If only we were there, then residency would be better, he’d be working less, and life would be wonderful." Several years post Match, my husband spoke at conferences with their residents. The program had education problems and a malignant culture. The wonderful promises they’d made during interviews hadn’t been kept. But because all I’d known was their excellent presentation during the interview process, they’d seemed ideal. No residency is perfect, and if you can’t see their flaws, you don’t really know them yet.
• Don’t badmouth your destination. Whatever institution you’re headed to has people who love it and are proud of it. Disparaging the program or the town can only burn bridges. So sure, tell your mom you’re disappointed, but limit that information to your inner circle and never on social media.
• Dive into your new city with gusto. Every city has something great to offer, whether it’s world class museums, a great park, or a fantastic neighbor. There’s a treasure there somewhere. You just have to find it.
• Establish your new place as home, both physically and in your heart. Home is where you and your partner live. It’s not where your parents live, and it’s not where you used to live. Invest a part of yourself in your new community.
• Build a tribe. It takes a village to raise a child, and it takes a tribe to survive residency. Reach out to your local medical alliance chapter, get to know your neighbors, join a club, and if applicable, jump into your faith community. You will need people whom you can call on during the many times disaster strikes and your resident spouse is not available. Start building those relationships from day one and residency will be far less lonely.
• Build up and encourage your spouse. Being rejected by a long list of programs is likely just the first in a long series of residency experiences that will hurt his confidence and his feelings. Be sure to let him know that you are proud of the person he is and the doctor he is becoming.
• Find things to love in your program. I’m not saying convince yourself this is a better outcome than your top choice, but find the things that can be appreciated about where you are. There’s something to love about his program, whether it’s great medical benefits and research opportunities or fresh cookies in the cafeteria. Find things to be grateful for, even if you have to dig deep. Gratitude seeds happiness and dispels resentments. Choose to be happy where you are.

We are now preparing ourselves for a competitive fellowship match. This time I have more realistic expectations and a better attitude. I understand that matching anywhere should not be taken for granted, and getting the last spot on the list is still an accomplishment we are going to celebrate. If there are any tears this time, they’ll be tears of happiness.


By Anon.

Making friends: Where there is one, there are many

I’ve always been envious of natural networkers. Extroverts. People totally in their element walking up to strangers, shaking hands and striking up a conversation out of thin air.

Me? I’m an introvert and struggle with social anxiety, so making friends when residency brought us to a small town where everyone seemed to know each other was a challenge.

I was basically friendless for almost a year. When my husband was at work late on weekend nights, he would text me to ask what I was doing.

My responses didn’t vary much from week to week.

"Watching Netflix."

"Reading."

"Petting the cats."

He would encourage me to join some of the other residents who were off work that night and going out to dinner. As if I would ever do that.

Even though my job and a volunteer opportunity doing marketing for the local pet shelter took up most of my time, I still hadn’t met anyone I could call up to hang out with on the weekend when my husband was busy working.

That year was lonely, but eventually I made friends. How?

I made one friend at first. Just one.

My co-worker encouraged me to attend a networking event of local young professionals, which I did. I had a death grip on my water glass and made awkward conversation with the few people I had met in the nine months we’d been living in our new town.

Then one dear, sweet girl – one of those extroverts, and the wife of a resident in a different program – approached me. She started chatting away and even invited me to go out for drinks with a group of her friend. As nervous as that made me, I agreed to go.

This continued for a few months – she would invite me to another event or send me a Facebook message asking if I would like to come with her and her friends hiking, volunteering or to a concert. I went each time even though I was mentally coming up with excuses to say no.

To my surprise, her friends accepted me, and before I knew it, I had more than one friend.

I was going to book clubs, girls’ movie nights and concerts in the park. I was laughing and smiling more. Now, when my husband texts me asking what’s on Netflix when he’s at work late, I’m not always home. Sometimes I’m actually out having dinner with friends that I made myself.

We’re approaching the end of residency, and I’ll be sad to leave these friends. I don’t know if I’ve made lifelong friendships, but I’m grateful I met the people I did and for the girl who took me under her wing.

I hope I will have the opportunity to do that for someone else.

~ Marisa Z.

When it rains it pours

by: Jennnifer Engorn

We've all heard the phrase “When it rains it pours,” and the same could certainly be applied to snow. In fact, during my husband's fourth year of Medical School, living in the mountains of Virginia, we experienced a blizzard of epic proportions- both literally and figuratively.

My husband, I believe, was made to be a surgeon. Not just because of his bluntness or his ever-so-logical way of viewing situations. Not just because of his dexterity or physical and mental stamina. My husband was made to be a surgeon because of his hard-working nature, his teamwork mentality, his perseverance, his ability to think quickly. He has adaptability, sound judgment, ethics, and incredible compassion. Most of all, my husband was made to be a surgeon because that is what he wanted, hoped for, worked for and invested his life in. He is a man that puts his heart and soul into everything he does, and refuses to give any less than 110%. Orthopedic Surgery was no different.

Jeff spent all of his Medical School career preparing himself for Orthopedic Surgery residency. With whatever free time he had, he shadowed Orthopedic Surgeons- on days off, weekends, holidays, birthdays- you name it. He spent his entire research month of school waking up at 3 a.m., so that he could commute for an hour and a half in one direction, just to shadow an Orthopod in the area. I paint this picture not only to rave about my husband, but also to show how much he had invested and how much he had on the line. The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward...or the loss when things don't go as planned.

Fourth year of Medical School started off with Jeff taking Step II of his boards and leaving the following day for his first of five month-long audition rotations. This left me with one friend within about a hundred mile radius, and five hours from any family. Needless to say, this was a time with many stresses. Little did my naïve mind know, the struggles were only beginning.

About a week after Jeff left for his first audition rotation in Tennessee, his grandmother- to whom we were extremely close- had a massive heart attack on her way to the casino with a friend. Yes, the casino- she was in remarkable shape- and this came as a huge shock. With Jeff working about a hundred hours a week and barely able to have a phone conversation, this left him in a helpless position and me as the sole representative for our tiny family. I went to Baltimore, where our families were, to visit his grandmother in the hospital and then in Hospice. During this time, Jeff's mother- who is also one of my very best friends, lost her best friend of twenty years to Cancer. Shortly thereafter, Jeff's grandmother also passed away. My heart was so heavy with grief, with sadness, and with loneliness for my husband. Jeff came home on a Friday night after his fourth week in Tennessee, we had the funeral for his grandmother on Sunday, and a few hours later he left for his next rotation in Ohio.

The weeks came and went, barely seeing Jeff for a few days per month- if that. We celebrated our first anniversary with a friend's wedding the night before- where we left the New York wedding at 2 a.m. so    that Jeff could work an early shift in NJ. I then proceeded to continue the drive alone to Baltimore, where I spent our actual anniversary with my family. That was okay, though, because I was hoping it would all pay off on February 10- Match Day. On February 10, Jeff received an email stating that he did not match, despite having five interviews- a comfortable number for D.O. Orthopedics. We spent the rest of the day, and week, calling programs for General Surgery and Emergency Medicine. Jeff got phone calls from Internal Medicine and Family Medicine programs that were also trying to recruit. He received interview offers but, because he had not yet gotten his results from his COMLEX PE, no program could take him. On the night of Wednesday February 12, I called my mom repeatedly, as we had been staying in close contact and I had not heard from her all day. I was finally able to reach her on her cell phone at 11 p.m. when she told me that she was at the hospital. The HOSPITAL?! She proceeded to explain that my grandmother, who was an active, driving, still-working woman suddenly could not get herself out of the bathroom earlier in the day. They ran numerous tests and discovered that she had a brain tumor and would need immediate surgery. I was stunned. Additionally, the forecast was calling for a huge snow storm, making a visit to Baltimore impossible for the foreseeable future. By Friday, Jeff had signed a contract for a Transitional Rotating Internship position in NJ, and my grandmother had her brain surgery scheduled. We were all still in shock from the week's events, and we were snowed in, with over a foot of snow, in our townhouse with our two dogs in Southwest Virginia.

The weeks and months to follow were depressing. Jeff and I moved to New Jersey and started to build a life there, and my grandmother made leaps and bounds in her miraculous recovery. She began to walk again- first with assistance, then on her own, and soon it became her new favorite activity. A few weeks into his TRI position, Jeff noticed a new Orthopedic program listed on the AOA website. He called and emailed them immediately and heard nothing back. Then, about a week later, he was contacted about his inquiry and they asked that he send his CV, ERAS application, Letters of Recommendation, etc. immediately. Within two days of doing so, he was contacted by the program director personally, who asked for the phone numbers of Attending physicians that he could speak to on Jeff's behalf. Granted this was a Saturday and time was more of the essence than ever before. Jeff, fortunately, had built exceptional relationships with many doctors over the past few years, and he found several in his cell phone that he could have the program director contact. We waited on pins and needles for any feedback or updates.

Early the next morning- on the one-month anniversary of moving to NJ, Jeff received a phone call from the Orthopedic Surgery program director who offered Jeff a first-year position, to begin immediately, at his new program in Miami. We were shocked, thrilled, and emotional. This truly felt like a miracle. The past six months had been a roller-coaster of emotions, and we were finally able to see the positive experiences. Now, here we are, about 3 months after he got his Orthopedic residency offer, and my husband is happier than ever. Although intern year has its own set of time commitments and demands, Jeff is happy and eager to handle them. My grandmother, is a walking, talking and now driving miracle, as well. I feel so blessed to have my loved ones so happy and healthy, for which I am thankful every single day. We now live in Miami, with Jeff in his first year of Orthopedic Surgery residency, an the weather has yet to be lower than 80 degrees. Although the blizzard of life that occurred in February will never leave our minds, we are eternally grateful for all of our gifts, and we see no snow-tangible or metaphoric, in our forecast.

Moving to new places is like finding the right relationship

Moving to new places is like finding the right relationship

by: Whitney Crisafi
 

DrH and I just completed a move to the great Mid-West for his first year of residency. We'd lived on the West Coast, the East Coast, and the Caribbean, so seeing the Mid-West just made sense (plus, the program seemed like the perfect fit). While our great Buckeye state has its quirks, we are settling in quite nicely. We can almost see ourselves wanting to stay forever! But, don't get me wrong. I, personally, have not always been so adventurous. Growing up, I was ignorant of anything east of Utah and moving to the East Coast was not something I particularly took to. It was cold. And windy. And full of pot holes.

I'm not going to lie: it was easy to complain about the things I didn't like there. The Costco was always crowded. Our power went out for 14 (14!) days. For some reason the city hated dogs. It was easy to lose perspective. Adjusting to a new place is never easy. For some who had a hard time adjusting to where DrH went to medical school it was easy to complain about say, people getting mugged or the water going out or the grocery store not stocking their favorite licorice for months at a time (that was just me). And just when we felt somewhat settled, it was time to move again for The Match. All this moving made me want to have a nervous break down. 

However,  on a cold night as I was doing the dishes, I had a thought. Because my best thinking occurs over dirty plates and the lack of a dishwasher. 

Moving to new places is like finding the right relationship.

 Remember when you were 16 and you had your first "serious" boyfriend and your dad was just like, "What are you doing?! Don't you want to just date a lot of people and...find out, you know, the type of person you like....what you like and don't like? Or never date anyone ever?" 

Yeah, moving is like that.

I've lived in quite a few different places. My hometown was homogenous and my mind. was. blown. when I moved to California for the first time. Every time DrH and I move, there are different aspects of our new city to get used to. That's the tough and, ultimately, the awesome thing about moving so much.

You get to experience different "types" of cities. Different people, different cultures, different food, different weather, different attitudes, different religions. Somewhere along the way, you find you have preferences you didn't even know you had! You find yourself thinking where you want to live when you ultimately (finally) settle down. Whether a big city with tons of nightlife is your thing. Whether the most important thing to you is having nice weather year round (what did I say about staying in the Mid-West...?) or whether you don't mind having to put on a thousand layers when you go outside with your crazy dog who has to go to bathroom in complete, uninterrupted privacy. If you like having a car or think walking everywhere is awesome. If good quality grocery stores that stock the best peach cobbler ice cream in the world are a want or a need (Need!).

Or whatever.

The point is: it's a pretty amazing opportunity to live in so many different and new places and experience so many different cities. Even if you don't exactly enjoy where you're currently living. Even if you're basically at the mercy of The Match. It's a challenge. It changes you.

And when you finally find the right place and finally settle down in one spot (which we will. Someday!)...well, that...that will make all the other places you've lived seem pretty worth it. :)

(At least that's what I'm going to tell myself as I brave the Mid-Western winters.) 

What I learned about being a doctor’s wife from being a doctor’s kid

What I learned about being a doctor’s wife from being a doctor’s kid

by: Emily Roberson

My mother is a cardiologist. She started medical school when I was two and finished

training when I was 13. When I started dating my husband, everyone in my family

laughed - “Why would anyone do this twice?”


Many years later, we’ve survived med school, residency, fellowship and now the first

few years as a practicing physician. We have three kids and a happy marriage, and

the lessons I learned as a doctor’s daughter have served me well as a doctor’s wife.

So here they are:

1) It doesn’t matter what day you celebrate on, just that you celebrate – The

year I turned 16, my mom had to work on my birthday. My dad and sister and

I went out to dinner. We told the waiter it was my birthday and I got cake.

Then the next night, my mom was working, but we tried to go out anyway.

She didn’t get done in time to meet us. We told the waiter it was my birthday

and I got cake. That weekend, my mom was off so we went out to dinner as a

family. We told the waiter it was birthday and I got cake. You see where I’m

going here – instead of a birthday, I had a birth-week (and a lot of cake).

Bonus tip: Have your birthday cake and sing in the morning before and

work, so you aren’t waiting for the doctor to get home.

2) Nobody wants to be at the hospital on Christmas – When I first married

my husband (when he was in medical school and still had Christmas off)

his mother was worried about how we would do Christmas Dinner. How

would we organize it with the two families? Would she need to change her

traditional time? I had to laugh. We have one family Christmas tradition. We

open our presents and eat Pillsbury cinnamon rolls. If my mom has been on

call, we wait till she gets home; if she’s working, we do it before she leaves.

The rest of the day is eating popcorn, watching movies and playing with your

toys.

Bonus tip: You don’t have to celebrate on the actual day. Thanksgiving

Dinner tastes just as good on Saturday.

3) Don’t call a million times asking when they’ll come home – when they can get

home, they will get home – Sick people are inconvenient. They don’t follow

schedules. They don’t care about your dinner reservation. If you don’t want

to lose your mind, you have to remember that your doctor wants to leave the

hospital. Just sometimes they can’t. My sister and I used to page my mother

endlessly to ask when she would be home. Now, I understand that this only

made her irritated and delayed her return. I’m a grown-up now, so I really try

not to call.

Bonus tip: Bring a book or magazine if you are meeting your doctor at a

restaurant. That way you are not that lonely woman waiting at a restaurant,

you are that independent, interesting woman with a full life... waiting at a

restaurant...

4) If it’s really important to you, schedule it for a day off – My mother is famous

for underestimating the amount of time it will take her to do something. She

would say, “I just have to round, I’ll be done by 1:00.” So we would make

plans to go to a movie at 2:30. Of course, 90% of the time, she wouldn’t be

done and we’d be waiting at the theater. The lesson I got from this is that

if something is really important to you, tell the doctor and get it on the

schedule, early.

Bonus tip: Sometimes this doesn’t work, there are always emergencies, but

you shouldn’t stop trying.

5) Be the cruise director – When I was growing up, we went camping. My dad

packed us and organized us and got us out there. We picked my mom up

when she got off work and took her with us. When you’re in the woods,

staying in a tent, you have to interact with each other. Maybe camping

isn’t your thing, but something is. It is really easy to get used to the doctor

being gone and to forget to make it fun when they are home. Don’t wait for

vacation; plan special times as a family.

Bonus tip: You are going to be the one organizing everything, but know that

your doctor will probably come in and mess up your planning. My dad always

complains that my mom repacks everything he packs – don’t stress it... It will

be a funny memory someday.

Those are just a few of the lessons I learned about being a doctor’s wife from being a

doctor’s daughter.

Why I get on Stage in a Sparkly Bikini and Flex

Why I get on Stage in a Sparkly Bikini and Flex

 by: Emily Sanchez Otero

On Nov. 1^st, 2003, I was on stage doing my first Figure competition in Sacramento, CA.  Earlier that morning, I had driven the two hours north from Stanford, where I was a senior, a pre-med History major, a Pi Phi sister, and a very independent woman.  Period.  My boyfriend (DrH, now), was snapping pictures in the crowd, cheering.  He was an honors-bound, pre-med Biology major who had just finished his Medical School applications.  Smart as hell and hot, too.  But, right then, he was my #1 Fan.  And, I was in the spotlight for once.  It felt scary…and nice.  I got 13^th place.

Fast forward six weeks.  I was sitting in my 1998 forest green Saturn in the parking lot outside of Student Health, and I was crying.  The test was positive.  DrH was in St. Louis at his first Medical School interview and he was on the other end of my cell phone call—surprisingly calm.  “We’ll make it work,” he said.  “St. Louis seems like a great place for a family.” 

And that was it.  That was the end of me as an independent, sky-is-the-limit, might-be-a-doctor, too, intelligent, Woman.  Everything changed instantly.  And, eight months later, I was a mom living in the Midwest, married to a medical student, too uneducated (with my Stanford degree) to get a job that would pay enough for childcare.  I spent my days nursing and trying to figure out how to live on $1700 per month (DrH’s MSTP stipend).   There wasn’t a pretty wedding or a diamond ring—just a civil ceremony and a $40 band…that I bought for myself.  But, I knew that I was lucky to have snagged a future-DOCTOR.  So, I played the part of young, happy, new wife-and-mom.  I worked tirelessly to lose my baby weight and to figure out the ins-and-outs of WIC and Food Stamps and Medicaid.  Meanwhile, my new husband disappeared into his books, getting smarter and smarter and smarter…while I just got older.

In 2010, however, everything changed.  My youngest was two and potty trained, and with three kids under 6, we were DONE.  I had given up trying to live on nothing, as we had private Kindergarten and ballet lessons to pay for.  (It wasn’t our kids fault we had them too early; they would not lack any opportunity if we could help it.)  So, I was working as a personal trainer every free minute I had.  While the job was stressful and the hours painful (most people work out before or after work), it inspired me to get back to my own fitness goals—to get back on stage. 

Looking back, the idea of competing at that time was just short of insane.  Prepping for a fitness competition is 16 weeks of working out at least two hours, daily.  It is a constant ache of hunger, and never-ending stress—prep meals, do workouts, practice posing, repeat.  The process is hard for a single person with no kids.  For a working (50+ hours per week) mom-of-three, with a husband just about to start his away rotations (one of them would be 2,000 miles away for eight weeks); prepping for a show seemed impossible. 

And, it was…almost.  It was a messy, difficult, stressful, emotional experience that almost tore my marriage apart and made me question my ability to be a mom.  But, on July 9, 2010—seven years, 2,000 miles and three kids away from Sacramento—I stepped back onto the stage.  And, my DrH was there, just like the first time, cheering me on, supporting me like I had him through his MD/PhD years.  It felt so strange, so scary…and so good.  I got first place in Beginner Figure and Novice Figure, and I was hooked.  DrH carried both of my trophies around with him all night while we celebrated, and he bragged about me to anyone who would listen.  It was good for both of us.  It was healing; we felt like we were back on track.  He had felt bad for what life had taken from me, and I don’t think I realized it until that night.  But, there we were, on the other side of the hardest seven years of our lives…and we hadn’t just survived; we had killed it!

That, my dear Doctor wives, is why I am a Figure competitor.  It gives me something to think about besides “when is this going to be over?”  It distracts me from the impossible life that we have chosen and gives me a chance to make and follow my own dreams, now.  It makes me feel like I’m not “just getting older,” but rather, getting a little bit better.  But, most of all, it gives my marriage a brief moment where I am the one on stage.  My competitions allow my DrH a brief reprieve from being the star and give him the chance to be the supporter, the encourager, and my #1 Fan, again.  It turns out that we both needed that.

(And, hey, let’s be honest…the sparkly bikinis are super duper fun, too!)

Remaining Romantic in Residency

My name is Celeste Holbrook.  I'm a sexual health educator and consultant, and I am married to a PGY4 Emergency Medicine resident.  I talk to a lot of doctor's wives in my practice as it is so very difficult to continue to remain sexually intimate with a partner who has such a grueling and emotionally taxing schedule.

I recently wrote an article for my own blog that takes a humorous approach to foreplay with a physician.
http://www.drcelesteholbrook.com/physician-foreplay-seduce-a-doctor-according-to-their-specialty/

Celeste Holbrook, Ph.D.

Sexual Health Consultant and Educator

www.drcelesteholbrook.com

I guess you could say I had it pretty easy growing up

I guess you could say I had it pretty easy growing up. Besides living out of state for the first couple years of my life (which I obviously don’t remember) my family moved once. I was 13 years old and it was a mile up the road. Neither my schools nor friends were affected.  While I couldn’t admit it then, my teenage years were easy and carefree. I lived with both of my parents and my 3 siblings and we had what we needed. My biggest challenges were AP tests and upcoming swim meets and water polo matches.  Oh, and boyfriends.  Life was just fine and change was a term I probably didn’t even understand the exact definition of. In fact, since we are only OMSIII, I still probably don’t…

Imagine my reaction when I found out we were moving out of state for medical school. Out of state?! What a swear word! People in MY family don’t do that. I had been married for almost 4 years and would have my second child by the time we moved. It was the end of the world, clearly. I guess I should mention that we moved one whole state away, which turned out to be about 11 hours driving. Knowing what I know now, I should be embarrassed for my “Drama Queenery.” But then, this was HUGE. I didn’t even know what to expect. We would be moving from Salt Lake City, UT, a place where I felt extremely comfortable and protected, to Phoenix, AZ. All I knew about Phoenix was that it had cactuses, scorpions, and it was one hundred and a billion degrees in the summer time. None of those things have proved to be wrong, but I’ve found so much more.

I grew up on the east benches of Salt Lake City. When I looked out my front room window I would have a majestic view of the towering Mt. Olympus. Whether is was Spring, Summer, Fall or Winter that peak had all sorts of secrets to offer my eyes when I peaked through the blinds. It is beyond beautiful.  When we wanted to roast marshmallows, we drove 5 minutes to the mouth of the canyon and were immediately buried in towering trees and 100 foot cliffs and our ears were inundated with the sounds of rushing water. The parks around my home had the softest, greenest grass and everyone in the neighborhood had lush gardens full of colorful flowers. When we wanted to cool off from the “hot” summer we sped up Parley’s Canyon to the legendary Park City, and just a little further to beautiful lakes and rivers.  It really was a dream. Even the dreaded winters were beautiful (when blankets of haze weren’t covering the valley). So the biggest problem I had with Arizona? It’s beauty, or lack thereof.

We had just driven through Las Vegas and I’m not sure what I was expecting to see but I wasn’t seeing much. There was a pile of rocks there and a bigger pile of rocks over there. Then there were cactuses. Those entranced me for two miles and then I realized something: there were no mountains (at least what I consider a mountain) and none of the “trees” had leaves on them. Wait, were there any trees? Then we finally got to our destination and I opened the car door. You know that feeling when you open your oven door when it’s 400 degrees inside? I felt like I was walking into a 400 degree oven.  I had come to a conclusion. Arizona was ugly. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly.

We had gotten settled and I hadn’t really changed my mind about what I thought about the physical appearance of my new home. That was until we experienced our first monsoon. It was the beginning of August and the wind was blowing dust like mad.  I was receiving warnings on my phone about a massive dust storm, the “mythical” haboob. They DID exist! Once the dust died down, nature performed the most awesome light show I had experienced in my life and then it started to pour. Like buckets. And guess what? It was BEAUTIFUL! That night I turned a new leaf (hahah, leaf, those rarely exist in AZ). I was going to find all the beautiful things Arizona had that Utah didn’t. Now don’t get me wrong, I still laughed when people told me I was lucky to be living so close to the mountains that I could go hiking everyday. Sorry, but those “mountains” you speak of are literally the size of the sledding hill at the local park back home. And those “hikes”? Those were more like a walk around the block. But on a more positive note, here are some of Arizona’s beauties I discovered with my change of attitude:

-Sunset: The myriad of colors those things produce on a nightly basis are breathtaking. And there are no mountains to get in the way of those. Nothing but a wide-open spectacular of the sun retiring for the day.

-Cactuses: While there are countless numbers of these pokey creatures ALL OVER the state, did you know they bloom? Yes, those painful plants actually produce a flower. And not just a simple flower, they are gorgeous.

-Bunnies: Everywhere. But cool nonetheless. There isn’t a lot of wildlife back home that come out at night to eat your grass. I mean, they’re a lot better than raccoons and skunks, but unfortunately cause just as many stains in the road as one another. I may or may not be a culprit.

-Coyotes:  Beautiful? No. But completely awesome and different? YES! Just a few months ago I was on a morning jog and was greeted by a coyote that thought it was being sneaky by running along side me concealed by the brush.

-Road Runners: Beep Beep. Enough said

-Lightning: I know I already mentioned this before, but it’s definitely worth mentioning twice. When it storms here, it is lightning non-stop. I could just stand outside and stare. But I don’t, that would be dangerous…

And much, much more.

This experience on finding the physical beauty in Arizona has been so refreshing to me, and the farther along my family moves in our medical journey, I’m realizing how metaphorical it is. There will be so many times where we are let down and things don’t go the way we planned or hoped them to go. But there is always beauty. Beauty exists everywhere. Sometimes we just don’t see it at first because we haven’t experienced that type of beauty before. Whether it’s finding the beauty of being alone, or changing jobs or specialties, I believe beauty can exist in every situation, we just have to open our eyes and hearts to see it.

And for those of you still dwelling on the fact that you have no idea what a haboob is or if it is an actual word, it is. They say it on the news, so it’s real. Now watch this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vQMuwRjI6s

Don’t you just want to go stand in that? I do. But husband says I can’t. I’ll get something called Cocci. Whatever THAT is.