Back in June, we were on our way to Northwest Arkansas for a family reunion. We received a phone call that began to be the turning point of our lives. Scott had been working many hours doing his clinic job and fulfilling his extra inpatient hospital duties unique to this job. Not only was he away from home a lot on weekdays and weekends, but the call phone was ringing all throughout the evening and night, especially during times when I needed help with the girls--dinnertime, or putting them to bed. We had hopes this would change as a partnership with a well-known childrens hospital was in the works. This would be great for our family as well as the nurses, restaurants, gas stations, etc. in Waco, because it would make this hospital potentially the premiere pediatric center between DFW and Austin. The phone call informed us that the partnership had been turned down, and they were basically believing a different children's hospital would come through. This partnership would potentially happen, but the first offer was ready to go, and for various reasons we could not wait years for the second hospital to develop and implement their plan, especially since there was no guarantee about what they would do.
This was the first clue that we could not stay in this job forever. After hopes of trying to get help with the call demands or inpatient demands were denied, the heartbreak started to set it. Their clinic is awesome, but we felt they weren't getting the respect or consideration even to the level of the other clinics. Our hands were tied with what was the perception of the clinic and work hours, and the reality that they were working a clinic job and an inpatient job. Let's just say, you can manipulate data and downplay "oh it's only 7 calls" to justify not solving the problem. It was difficult to be told to see more patients to cover new rent, and then in the next conversation be told to block off schedules (meaning don't schedule patients during those times) to deal with having to go back and forth to the hospital after deliveries that needed to be transferred.
Now what? I was in a lot of turmoil, because I didn't want to move, but we could not figure out any other way to make things work. I was constantly feeling uneasy, because it was hard to grasp if we were here long-term or if we were to go. I told Scott, "I almost want to ask God for a sign so that we at least would know whether we were staying or going." If we are staying, we know to try to make it work at all costs. If we are to go, we can begin that process of changing our plans to be here forever and then figure out where we were to go. I felt a bit selfish to ask God for a sign if He wasn't ready to reveal that to us just so I could relax my mind from all of the muddled thoughts in my head about it all. But then how else do I know what to do? We talked it over, and Scott wondered if asking God for a sign was like putting Him to the test. I literally opened the Bible to see if we would get any direction, and the page it fell open to was in Isaiah. Isaiah 7:10-14 "Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz, ask the Lord your God for a sign, whether in the deepest depths or in the highest heights. But Ahaz said, 'I will not ask; I will not put the Lord to the test.' Then Isaiah said, 'Hear now, you house of David! Is it not enough to try the patience of men? Will you try the patience of my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign" We both looked at each other in shock and said, "it's pretty clear we are supposed to ask for a sign, and it would almost be like we were disobeying to not ask." So we prayed and asked God to show us a sign and that we would be open to seeing it. This is the part of the story where it is just starting to get exciting. I can't wait to tell you more, so stick with me now that the boring details are out of the way!
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Ramadi, Iraq 2006-2007
I promised pictures, but I just can't do it. These pictures are not for the fainthearted. I cry my eyes out every time I see them. We have some of these pictures on our computer, because Lucian Read was gracious enough to go out there and document what Scott and our heroes were going through. I haven't posted like I said, because I just could not choose what to post. Lucian has a slideshow on his website of the pictures. I thought it would be best if you made the decision whether or not you wanted to see them. Once you have made that decision, you can go straight to his link to view them, because you can stop the slideshow if it gets to be too much. Plus, anyone getting on my blog will not see the pictures immediately. This is the reality of war, folks. If you hover your mouse on the right or left side of the pictures, the red arrows will appear and you can go faster or slower. The descriptions of what is happening is at the top of the pictures as well. Our soldiers would immediately line up to donate blood when their comrades were hurt. Sometimes the men and women cared for our insurgents--a lot of countries would not do this.
Please view these pictures only if you are prepared to give respect to these men and women. Please do not view out of sensationalism; I beg you. These show the horrors of war as they are; be prepared for legs amputated and some gory images. I wanted you to have to work for it, so I'm not displaying the direct link.
http://lucianread.photoshelter.com/gallery-list?_bqO=20&_bqH=eJwzsfQOTyxxKjE3THY3iUrNCHYN9inKiSiONDexMjWyMjKwsgqN93SxDTUAAh9nr_Iqn_yyID9fAODdENg-&pagVar=collections_galleries_list
click on the "Iraq: Ramadi Surgical Final" button on the lower lefthand of the page. Then click "view slideshow" so you will be able to see all 54 images. Or you can leave the images small as to not enlarge the detail and hover your mouse over the thumbnail to get the description.
We live in the Land of the Free, and the Home of the Brave; be thankful.
Please view these pictures only if you are prepared to give respect to these men and women. Please do not view out of sensationalism; I beg you. These show the horrors of war as they are; be prepared for legs amputated and some gory images. I wanted you to have to work for it, so I'm not displaying the direct link.
http://lucianread.photoshelter.com/gallery-list?_bqO=20&_bqH=eJwzsfQOTyxxKjE3THY3iUrNCHYN9inKiSiONDexMjWyMjKwsgqN93SxDTUAAh9nr_Iqn_yyID9fAODdENg-&pagVar=collections_galleries_list
click on the "Iraq: Ramadi Surgical Final" button on the lower lefthand of the page. Then click "view slideshow" so you will be able to see all 54 images. Or you can leave the images small as to not enlarge the detail and hover your mouse over the thumbnail to get the description.
We live in the Land of the Free, and the Home of the Brave; be thankful.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
February 13, 2007 Return from Ramadi, Iraq
I digress from our Wilderness to Promised Land journey a little bit today, because today is a special day of remembrance for us as a couple. I do apologize that some of the previous information is a little confusing, but I don't feel at liberty to give all of the details. After this part comes the exciting part--the part where I share how God has been leading us.
Six years ago today, Scott returned from 13 months in Iraq. Sometimes it's too hard to think about, because if I sit here and think about how I did not lay eyes on him for 8 whole months before he came back for 2 weeks of R&R (Rest and Relaxation) to go back for 5 more months of separation, it makes me want to cry. To me, that's the most absurd thing I've ever heard of--that a married couple would be apart for that long. And then some of them don't even return home, which is a whole other level of sadness for another post.
I wanted to publicly share some of the photos that Lucian Read and Yuri (TIME), professional photographers took while embedded with them. They were the only photographers willing to come out there, and we are so appreciative. Most of what you see in the news is from the Green Zone in Bagdhad, which is well deserved, too, but Michael Fumento www.fumento.com was the only reporter who was willing to come to Ramadi and report on how dangerous it really was. I treasure the words Michael wrote, and the pictures from Lucian and Yuri, because Scott knew what he was doing every day, and he could envision my life, but I had no way to picture what his daily life was like. Some weeks we talked 20 minutes and didn't talk again for 10 days. Some weeks it was 20 minutes every 3-4 days (you were allowed 20 minutes, because the lines were so long). At one point when we thought he was going on a dangerous mission, I made him call me every day before he was supposed to leave. Since I was living in Germany, he was only 2 hours ahead of me, and every morning I expected an e-mail from him. When there were mornings that I didn't have an e-mail, it usually meant 1 of 4 things: there had been a mass casualty, there were soldiers who had been killed, so they cut off communication until families had been notified, or they had a power outage of some sort, or something had happened to Scott. Talk about relief whenever he was able to communicate again. I always felt that sadness no matter what--imagining someone was getting a knock at her door, or I started being jumpy about what if I had a knock at my door. Thankfully he did not go off the post much (an American soldier did not want to step foot off the post--you were automatically a target out there). In Tal-Afar, they were seen as heroes, because they had gotten rid of the 400 terrorists living there who mainly attacked civilians. Ramadi was the hot-bed for Saddam Hussein's loyalists, so as far as they were concerned, we did not need to be there. The concern I had was that once in awhile Scott would be told at the last minute to jump in a vehicle and go along. I never knew when these would be until after he had gotten back safely, but it did cause anxiety when I didn't hear from him. Often he didn't have time to call, because they were so busy taking care of people once they got to Ramadi.
This deployment plays a part in our current situation emotionally--there were times at his previous job and current job where I have felt he wasn't respected. It seemed they forgot that he had been practicing pediatrics before we got here, and that he had spent a year putting traches in soldiers and stabilizing them (adult trauma medicine). Their "clinic" consisted of cardboard boxes holding their supplies, and wooden beds painted white that were hosed off afterward. He had been in the worst situations; together we knew how to handle when things aren't perfect. When you're in these scenarios, you work with what you have, try to come up with ways to be the most efficient, because every second counts, and above all, you serve others. Maybe I shouldn't feel defensive when someone tells him "you, know the 'perfect' job is not out there," in response to our new job, but I do. We know that--better than I think most doctors do. Not because I think we are superior to anyone else, but we certainly know what is not perfection. In the last year of his position in Germany he would be on call for one week and the other pediatrician covered the other week (this was back when they still had to attend C-Section deliveries). There were nights we would get a phone call in the middle of the night--"come quickly, the baby is blue" and he'd jump in the car and race over to the hospital. To put things into perspective, he only works a few hours less now than he did then. We also know how good it can be if administrations and doctors and staff work together. We know of some amazing clinics around the country, and we are so proud of what they've accomplished in helping children and families get the best care they can. We turned down other jobs like that to come here, because we had a dream that Scott could replicate what other cities are doing right here in Waco, together with administrations and colleagues. Now we have learned it is better to join in with people already trying to accomplish this dream. Both hospitals here are good hospitals--but they do not place priority on pediatric care, and that’s their choice to make. We are not leaving because we have an idealistic, unrealistic dream about what the perfect job is for Scott. We are moving, because a) we feel strongly God is leading us to Nashville, and b) this particular job is hard, and the reality became very clear it's not going to change anytime soon. His clinic is wonderful, but he is also doing a hospital job on top of it, and there is not time for both when you are raising a young family, and there are other jobs out there without the added inpatient responsibilities.
I'm not expecting people to remember this deployment; thankfully, it’s definitely in the past. It just hurts when I hear some of the things he has been told, and if we were in a movie, I have a monologue ready J "we know what a less than perfect job is. Scott knows how to work hard, and he's not afraid of it. He's been in situations that were less than desirable, but he did his job to the best of his ability. He has worked outside the walls of a comfortable clinic, treating soldiers and civilians and insurgents who had been blown up by bombs. We are not naive. We know what amazing opportunity is out there, and we know how difficult of a fight it has been here to try to achieve efficient, excellent care for our children." For some reason I feel compelled to explain our side of things--I'm not asking for sympathy, and we are not bitter--but I do think there is a misconception from the administration and maybe a few other physicians about his current situation and why we are leaving. We love his clinic, staff and patients, so it makes it very heartbreaking to go. Now back to the original subject--thanks for letting me put my thoughts out there :) I want to share these pictures, because I think our soldiers are honorable. They bring tears to my eyes, because the photographer caught the emotion and tension of each moment.
Tell you what, I'll focus on our heroes tomorrow. There are too many amazing pictures to choose from. That way, you can appreciate these men and women without my monologue beforehand :)
Six years ago today, Scott returned from 13 months in Iraq. Sometimes it's too hard to think about, because if I sit here and think about how I did not lay eyes on him for 8 whole months before he came back for 2 weeks of R&R (Rest and Relaxation) to go back for 5 more months of separation, it makes me want to cry. To me, that's the most absurd thing I've ever heard of--that a married couple would be apart for that long. And then some of them don't even return home, which is a whole other level of sadness for another post.
I wanted to publicly share some of the photos that Lucian Read and Yuri (TIME), professional photographers took while embedded with them. They were the only photographers willing to come out there, and we are so appreciative. Most of what you see in the news is from the Green Zone in Bagdhad, which is well deserved, too, but Michael Fumento www.fumento.com was the only reporter who was willing to come to Ramadi and report on how dangerous it really was. I treasure the words Michael wrote, and the pictures from Lucian and Yuri, because Scott knew what he was doing every day, and he could envision my life, but I had no way to picture what his daily life was like. Some weeks we talked 20 minutes and didn't talk again for 10 days. Some weeks it was 20 minutes every 3-4 days (you were allowed 20 minutes, because the lines were so long). At one point when we thought he was going on a dangerous mission, I made him call me every day before he was supposed to leave. Since I was living in Germany, he was only 2 hours ahead of me, and every morning I expected an e-mail from him. When there were mornings that I didn't have an e-mail, it usually meant 1 of 4 things: there had been a mass casualty, there were soldiers who had been killed, so they cut off communication until families had been notified, or they had a power outage of some sort, or something had happened to Scott. Talk about relief whenever he was able to communicate again. I always felt that sadness no matter what--imagining someone was getting a knock at her door, or I started being jumpy about what if I had a knock at my door. Thankfully he did not go off the post much (an American soldier did not want to step foot off the post--you were automatically a target out there). In Tal-Afar, they were seen as heroes, because they had gotten rid of the 400 terrorists living there who mainly attacked civilians. Ramadi was the hot-bed for Saddam Hussein's loyalists, so as far as they were concerned, we did not need to be there. The concern I had was that once in awhile Scott would be told at the last minute to jump in a vehicle and go along. I never knew when these would be until after he had gotten back safely, but it did cause anxiety when I didn't hear from him. Often he didn't have time to call, because they were so busy taking care of people once they got to Ramadi.This deployment plays a part in our current situation emotionally--there were times at his previous job and current job where I have felt he wasn't respected. It seemed they forgot that he had been practicing pediatrics before we got here, and that he had spent a year putting traches in soldiers and stabilizing them (adult trauma medicine). Their "clinic" consisted of cardboard boxes holding their supplies, and wooden beds painted white that were hosed off afterward. He had been in the worst situations; together we knew how to handle when things aren't perfect. When you're in these scenarios, you work with what you have, try to come up with ways to be the most efficient, because every second counts, and above all, you serve others. Maybe I shouldn't feel defensive when someone tells him "you, know the 'perfect' job is not out there," in response to our new job, but I do. We know that--better than I think most doctors do. Not because I think we are superior to anyone else, but we certainly know what is not perfection. In the last year of his position in Germany he would be on call for one week and the other pediatrician covered the other week (this was back when they still had to attend C-Section deliveries). There were nights we would get a phone call in the middle of the night--"come quickly, the baby is blue" and he'd jump in the car and race over to the hospital. To put things into perspective, he only works a few hours less now than he did then. We also know how good it can be if administrations and doctors and staff work together. We know of some amazing clinics around the country, and we are so proud of what they've accomplished in helping children and families get the best care they can. We turned down other jobs like that to come here, because we had a dream that Scott could replicate what other cities are doing right here in Waco, together with administrations and colleagues. Now we have learned it is better to join in with people already trying to accomplish this dream. Both hospitals here are good hospitals--but they do not place priority on pediatric care, and that’s their choice to make. We are not leaving because we have an idealistic, unrealistic dream about what the perfect job is for Scott. We are moving, because a) we feel strongly God is leading us to Nashville, and b) this particular job is hard, and the reality became very clear it's not going to change anytime soon. His clinic is wonderful, but he is also doing a hospital job on top of it, and there is not time for both when you are raising a young family, and there are other jobs out there without the added inpatient responsibilities.
I'm not expecting people to remember this deployment; thankfully, it’s definitely in the past. It just hurts when I hear some of the things he has been told, and if we were in a movie, I have a monologue ready J "we know what a less than perfect job is. Scott knows how to work hard, and he's not afraid of it. He's been in situations that were less than desirable, but he did his job to the best of his ability. He has worked outside the walls of a comfortable clinic, treating soldiers and civilians and insurgents who had been blown up by bombs. We are not naive. We know what amazing opportunity is out there, and we know how difficult of a fight it has been here to try to achieve efficient, excellent care for our children." For some reason I feel compelled to explain our side of things--I'm not asking for sympathy, and we are not bitter--but I do think there is a misconception from the administration and maybe a few other physicians about his current situation and why we are leaving. We love his clinic, staff and patients, so it makes it very heartbreaking to go. Now back to the original subject--thanks for letting me put my thoughts out there :) I want to share these pictures, because I think our soldiers are honorable. They bring tears to my eyes, because the photographer caught the emotion and tension of each moment.
 |
| Mass Casualty on its way--notice all the beds outside |
 |
These vehicles would come rolling in fast with their injured
|
 |
| this makes me cry every time. he just lost his friend and comrade, and the chaplain is with him |
 |
| Scott is in background talking with interpreter |
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
The Beginning of the End of our Wilderness Journey
As I said before, we planned to stay in Waco for at least 20 years. It wasn't until Scott's contract wasn't renewed at Hillcrest that our security of staying here was shattered (You can read more about that here). I will admit that many times before that happened, a still, small, voice in my head kept saying "don't get too comfortable." I didn't know what that meant exactly--would we be called to overseas missions? Last year I started reading blogs of people who lived places with the 4 seasons, and my heart was longing for the weather and lifestyle we had in Germany. Last Spring I realized we had asked God for one more year in Waco, and I started to panic--we were approaching that one year, and should we stay or go? I settled down, knowing that God would reveal it whenever I needed to know. Scott's job was long hours and lots of phone time, but we had hopes it would get better. Previously at Christmas, phrases like "we've got big plans for peds" were being told to us, so we thought this would turn into a more permanent position. Little by little things were getting more difficult, and I was seeing jobs come across our desk for 8-5:00pm jobs with no call as this is trend more of the larger cities are going to--hospitalists to do the inpatient hospital care. Scott does not mind being on call for his own patients, but there were additional responsibilities that were not equally shared with other clinics. I longed for a life where we had our weekends and evenings back instead of feeling we were back in residency. Suddenly, Scott's sister moved to Northwest Arkansas, and some of the blogs I had been following were from that area. We were on our way to visit them in June, and we started wondering if maybe we should look at whether or not we would want to live there, too. Scott had some pediatric connections, and we tried to envision ourselves living up there, but we weren't as excited about it as we thought we would be.
It was on our way to NWA that we received a crucial phone call that really hit us like a ton of bricks. The hospital made a decision that was not in favor of pediatrics, and frankly, was a negative decision for the Waco and Central Texas area. We felt very insecure about what was about to happen in our lives. We were heartbroken, because the pediatric clinic was going so well, but the situation now seemed impossible. Consistently when the pediatricians brought up their concerns about the call volume or inpatient demands they were downplayed, and we felt more and more turmoil. The crucial decision made it clear that the job Scott had was not going to change. As I said, we were heartbroken. How could something going so well (their clinic) not be valued enough to try to help them? The hospital had such an opportunity with the other hospital sending most of its pediatric cases to Temple.
We still had a little bit of hope, because Scott thought that maybe if the administration and other doctors realized the impact of their decision (so many of his patients come from within a 45 mile radius of Waco), they would see the value of improving the pediatric floor. Having a center for pediatric care in Waco would not only help the hospital (if parents or grandparents see their children/grandchildren are well cared for, they will 100% fall behind that hospital), and people would come here to eat at our restaurants, shop, when they were coming for their appointments. Our 120,000+ population (Waco alone) would not have to drive to Dallas, Fort Worth, Austin, or Temple to receive pediatric inpatient care. Having a floor that nurses wanted to work on would retain good nurses and provide them jobs. Our children are the most vulnerable of society. Why not provide them the best care in a location where parents don't have to drive 1.5 hours to get good inpatient care?
It was on our way to NWA that we received a crucial phone call that really hit us like a ton of bricks. The hospital made a decision that was not in favor of pediatrics, and frankly, was a negative decision for the Waco and Central Texas area. We felt very insecure about what was about to happen in our lives. We were heartbroken, because the pediatric clinic was going so well, but the situation now seemed impossible. Consistently when the pediatricians brought up their concerns about the call volume or inpatient demands they were downplayed, and we felt more and more turmoil. The crucial decision made it clear that the job Scott had was not going to change. As I said, we were heartbroken. How could something going so well (their clinic) not be valued enough to try to help them? The hospital had such an opportunity with the other hospital sending most of its pediatric cases to Temple.
We still had a little bit of hope, because Scott thought that maybe if the administration and other doctors realized the impact of their decision (so many of his patients come from within a 45 mile radius of Waco), they would see the value of improving the pediatric floor. Having a center for pediatric care in Waco would not only help the hospital (if parents or grandparents see their children/grandchildren are well cared for, they will 100% fall behind that hospital), and people would come here to eat at our restaurants, shop, when they were coming for their appointments. Our 120,000+ population (Waco alone) would not have to drive to Dallas, Fort Worth, Austin, or Temple to receive pediatric inpatient care. Having a floor that nurses wanted to work on would retain good nurses and provide them jobs. Our children are the most vulnerable of society. Why not provide them the best care in a location where parents don't have to drive 1.5 hours to get good inpatient care?
Monday, February 4, 2013
For Sale
Many of you received our letter after New Year's explaining that we are moving to the Nashville area. It has been an unexpected journey to get to this place, and I look forward to sharing what happened along the way. Just as God had the Israelites construct a Tabernacle, because He wanted to meet with them in the wilderness, He has been with us during this wilderness journey (as so many before).
I wanted so desperately to share with everyone while it was all unfolding so you could be amazed right alongside us, but we had to keep it secret until the contract was signed. I look forward to telling you, and hopefully even though we know the end of the story it will still encourage your faith. Selling a house with 2 busy, young children is difficult. You can pray it sells quickly for my sanity of trying to keep it clean and picked up!
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