So Much For Vacation

 My dear brother Barry takes far too little vacation. He worked 25 of the past 26 Xmas periods in the PICU, since he felt as the only Jewish guy, better to give Xmas time off for his colleagues. Of course, that was when his boys were on break, and it would have been nice...

One year, Wifey put a stop to that. She called his colleague Patti, the head of the PICU, and asked if SHE could give Barry off. She did, and we all took a great cruise together. It was fun and memorable -- but by the following year, he was back in the unit.

Recently, he realized he had taken so few vacation days, he would lose them. I think there is a limit to how many can accrue to be taken "at the end." So last week he told me he was off -- maybe we might meet for breakfast. Of course we might.

I was looking to flee my house as the demolition was beginning on some new bathrooms, so we made plans to meet at Bagel Bar East up in North Miami. The drive was 40 minutes for Barry and an hour for me. We feasted, and I asked if he wanted to go visit D2, whose house was close, so that I might bring her a Greek salad for lunch. Of course! I figured we'd both stay until about 3 at the latest, to beat the traffic home, even though in Miami you can no longer ever beat traffic, you can just turn a 1.5 hour drive into a 1 hour drive -- one that years ago took 30 minutes.

Alas, D1 had other plans. She called around 3, picking up Little Man. There was a problem with Baby Man -- he had fallen off a bench on Saturday, hit his head and had a little bruise, and the school called -- he wasn't himself. D1, who as Barry agrees "knows too much medicine," feared it might be a traumatic brain injury.

I wasn't really concerned -- we had spent the whole day with them Sunday, and I knew typically serious stuff goes South pretty fast. Still, D1 couldn't get ahold of her pediatrician, and was very worried.

So Barry, D2, and I piled into D2's Jeep for the 4 minute drive to D1's house -- we arrived the same time as she did. The Baby Man seemed fine to me -- walking, laughing, and responding. Still, the highly trained Pediatric subspecialist was going to have a close look, and we went inside. Barry and I sort of rolled eyes at each other, but WERE concerned that both the teachers and D1, who know Baby Man best, said something was off. After assessing him, Barry asked D1 to take Baby Man's temperature. Sure enough -- nearly 102. That clinched it -- probably an ear infection, or bad cold, that accounted for his being a bit wobbly and cranky. We returned to D2's house -- concierge medical visit by well overqualified doctor complete.

Now it was the HEIGHT of rush hour, and we did the only logical thing: had D2 pour us a couple of drinks -- a vodka for me, Maker's for my brother. D2 had a glass of wine.

Barry explained to D2 that his mentor in NYC, at Peds Residency, told all the baby docs that over time, they would be able to see a sick kid from across a crowded ER. Since Barry became a Pediatrician in 1991 and a Critical Care one a few years later, he sort of has that skill down.

I remember years ago, visiting him when he was on duty. He told a nurse a patient was to be discharged. Oh -- good lab results. No -- Barry pointed out -- the kid was in his bed playing a video game. "Generally a kid playing a video game doesn't need to be in the PICU." I always recalled that lesson.

So my family stole Barry's first vacation day. I thought of Michael Corleone in III: "Just when I thought I was out -- they PULLED me right back in!"

I texted last night, though I can never really thank him enough -- though the day DID bring a couple of laughs. Barry always wanted daughters, and he got 2 through me -- though they can be a bit high maintainence.

The work continues at our house today, and I plan to hide in the library. Hopefully no medical consultations are needed.