This morning, I got a little teary-eyed over a spreadsheet. And it wasn’t even related to my job.
Nope, it was a happy kind of spreadsheet, one spelling out Dave’s next year as an intern. I thought I’d already come to terms with this whole “doctor” thing – after all, I sat through six hours of various graduation ceremonies, ate a cake with a picture of him in a white coat emblazoned on the frosting – but apparently it didn’t really hit me until I saw all those rotations lined up, side by side, in Excel.
Like, wow, he’s really doing this thing, huh? This is actually – finally! – the real deal. He’s going to help people and sleep very little and become more and more like my dad.
And while I’m still a little creeped out by the whole “nephrologist: the sequel” thing, still a little incredulous that people are going to trust the kid who can’t install our blinds to fix their bodies, I mostly feel very, very proud and blessed and inspired when I think about the two new letters that go before his name.
So yes, I was beaming like a Jewish grandmother this morning, eyes tearing just a bit as I scanned through the spreadsheet. I didn’t even understand most of the rotation names strewn across the document, but one little label, planted squarely in May 2012, caught my eye. “Vac,” it said. Vac as in vacation. Vacation as in honeymoon. Honeymoon as in…oh, wow. I guess we’re doing that thing too.
Like I said, welcome to the next chapter.