I'm Dr. Rock and Roll: Proud

It’s funny how life happens, isn’t it? You can discipline yourself, developing habits to improve, but it only takes a moment of inertia to kill your momentum. Most of the time, we curse our lack of drive, lamenting the day’s (or week’s) lost opportunities, but this only leads to more resistance to movement. I remember the old physics lessons, where it takes significantly less energy to KEEP something moving, than to get it moving in the first place. I’ll never forget Uncle Dave (who I memorialized here), the busy ER physician who was completely committed to his leisure when not working. He had a shirt that proudly proclaimed, “On a cellular level, I’m actually quite busy.” I’ve chosen not to become a slave to my productivity and listen to my instincts. One thing remains, however; I remain observant to life happening around me, even if I don’t happen to “be in the game” at the moment. After a long period of observation, I’m ready to gather my thoughts that occurred during my hiatus.

I’ve spent the past few weeks reveling in the accomplishments of others. We love it when we receive recognition from others, and sometimes we can be envious of their success. Even worse, we can find ourselves delighting in the misfortune of others, something the Germans refer to as “Schadenfreude.” But if our attitudes are healthy, we realize there’s enough to go around, and we should root hard for the success of others, knowing that someday it will be our turn to, as the current expression goes, “get our flowers.”

In my music wanderings, nothing illustrates this concept better than the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, as polarizing of an entity that you’ll ever see. I’ve long held that the “hall of fame” concept in any category is flawed once all the “no-brainers” have received the honor. The 2025 class was just announced, and let the nonsense begin. Annually, there is a parade of criticism centered around “who got in that shouldn’t,” as well as the “how come they’re still not in?” crowd. Even when someone gets the nod, there is even the griping about how they “should’ve gotten in years ago” (I’m looking at you, fans of Warren Zevon). I will admit, I banged that drum for Foreigner and Peter Frampton last year, when I had the privilege of attending the ceremony in person. Here’s the thing about achievements, though – whether you’re deserving or not, it is what it is, and you should revel in it. The inclusion of hip hop is a controversial inclusion in a “rock and roll” entity, but if you’ve been selected, accept the honor with grace. Who was I to complain about Mary J. Blige when she decided to turn her acceptance speech into a 20-minute self-improvement seminar? She had the microphone, and no one stopped her. I’m just glad Ozzy Osbourne quipped that he wasn’t going to “bore us with some fucking monologue.”

Rock and roll, baby!

It's more subtle in medicine, but no less worthy of celebration. Diabetes may be the best example. It is a maddening condition, and even after 25 years of practicing medicine, it still finds ways to surprise me. Like a hall of fame, some patients find success in their treatment when they don’t deserve it, and some will do everything right and still find blood sugar control elusive. I am not shy to admit to my diabetic patients that I would be an absolute failure in the beginning, given my current bad habits. But there is something special about when the patient does figure it out, and celebration, while it may seem odd on the surface, is totally justified. I recently had a patient get an A1c I hadn’t seen in the ten years I’ve been caring for this person. And I’ll never forget what this patient once told me: I keep trying because you’re the only doctor I’ve ever had that has seemed to give a damn about me. Celebration-worthy indeed. I will celebrate anything with my patients, and my favorite tradition is to take pictures with my patients when they turn 100 years old. I inducted my latest member this past week, in fact.

A girl and her puppy.

Which brings me to my favorite celebration of the past month: my daughter’s college graduation. Bella was a dream, long before she was a reality, and her dramatic arrival into the world came at a time in my life when everything was changing: new job, new home, new town. I was a doctor without a net, and her mother and I faked it until we found our flow. It was very clear that our offspring intended to do things her way, to the surprise of no one in particular. She had her own way of crawling. She was late to learn to walk, but when she did, she mastered it in a matter of hours, at the insistent urging of my uncle’s “Come on now, get up!” every time she fell on her butt. Looking back now, her unshakable spirit was obvious. She was the perfect combination of my wife’s sweet disposition and my stubborn drive (to be fair, my wife has that too, but I have to claim something). She essentially got kicked out of preschool because she taught herself to read, and there was nothing left to teach her. So, at 4 years of age, she started kindergarten and never looked back. The honors teachers took notice of her, and she challenged herself with harder course work. She even joined the marching band and allowed me to relive some of my favorite high school moments again. But through it all, I worried – my daughter had a good heart, and I didn’t want her to be a victim. My fears were forever put to rest when one of her previous teachers said to me, “Never mistake Bella’s kindness for weakness.”

Her name in lights!

We were so ready to celebrate her high school graduation. She was even excited about the pattern in the year: 2020. As everyone reading this now knows, that dream was not to be. No party. No ceremony. We watched graduation in our pajamas, on television: a ridiculous production of still pictures and pre-recorded speeches. I will always have a special place in my heart for the Class of 2020; they were deprived of so much. Undeterred, Bella packed her bags and headed to the University of Central Florida. New school, new friends, cut off from all that was familiar. I tried hard to remember how easily I assimilated to college when I left her. But I never had to deal with a global pandemic, and after a rough start, she adjusted and flourished. We vowed that we would make it up to her when she graduated in college, and we delivered. Our family descended on Orlando and attended graduation. Watching my sister help her decorate her mortar board will be one of my enduring memories.  After the following week of enjoying each other’s company, we went on a 4-day Disney cruise. I remember my debts, and I pay with interest.

Crystal blue waters

Why is the Friday night before graduation so magical?

The Disney Wish!

I don’t remember much about my numerous graduations. My medical school graduation was the greatest accomplishment, but it’s a hodgepodge of images mostly. I remember who was there, and it was surreal. It was like getting married a second time; you know, the party’s in your honor, but everyone else remembers it better than you? Maybe it goes back to that concept of “deserving” again; I really didn’t feel like I deserved it, knowing I could’ve worked so much harder. I also tend to play down things that are a big deal. But one thing about May 3rd was for sure – this was a BIG DEAL to me. I’m not sure if I rank any of my accomplishments above this one, maybe because I was too close to my moments. I’ve been there for all her accomplishments, great and small. I’ve seen the full evolution of a fine young woman, and it fills me with a sense of pride. Her mother and I toiled long hours to make sure that she had every opportunity to succeed. And that fills us with PRIDE.

The graduate!

It’s impossible to go through this process with your child without reflecting on how you performed as parents. None of us are perfect, least of all me. With all the advice from well-meaning family members and pop psychology, it’s quite easy to feel “less than.” You’re not teaching them the right things. You’re not disciplining them enough. They shouldn’t be getting in bed with you. But I’ve taken a new approach to parenting: the greatest testament to your job as a parent is raising a human that has the potential to teach YOU things. Yes, my experiences guide them, but we could all benefit from a fresh perspective, and I’m proud to say I learn from my kids every day. Maybe that’s why they still like spending time with their parents. I watched so many parents ridicule their kids about their interests; I’ve begun to wonder about the damage it causes. I will continue to learn from people who “have the goods,” no matter if they’re younger or older.

Hyperspace Lounge on the Disney Wish

One more thing, in this season of graduations: although the speeches can be boring, something about the conferring of degrees hit me. They grant you the degree with all the "rights and responsibilities." How often do we demand our rights, only to neglect our responsibilities? Or, if we're working hard, we worry so much about our responsibilities that we forget our rights. Be mindful of the healthy balance between the two.

Be well, my friends. Find something today that fills you with pride.