The citizen of the world- am I?

I have lived (not traveled) across four continents in my life, so far. I fluently speak three languages and understand one more. Whatever language I speak, I always sound a bit foreign to it, with a bit of an extra accent, which prompts the eternal question: "Where are you originally from, if I may ask?" Of course, it is usually accompanied with typical Kiwi/British politeness and political correctness, leaving me the choice not to answer at all, or to elaborate to the extent I desire at that very moment.
The truth is that in NZ, or should I say in Auckland, everybody is coming from somewhere, which makes it a very multi-cultural, vibrant and fun place to live....most of the time. This very fact makes me mostly feel an organic part of this city, it's multiple shapes, colors, people and traditions make it unique and almost one of a kind place to live.

I'm the citizen of the world

BUT....there is one underlying "BUT", which occasionally raises it's head and shatters my sweet illusion of equality, that I am so possessive of. This "BUT" is so deeply built in in every level  of  every-day living, in the way that all the systems operate, be it education, economy or health related. This "BUT" makes me question my equality, makes me wonder that maybe, just maybe, some of us are more equal then the others.
My impression is that as long as I keep my mouth shut, my European appearance, actually gives me some "bonus points"....until I start speaking..., then the story begins. It is, especially, interesting to experience in work situations, mostly, with the variety of patients, who come to consume health services in the prestige upmarket medical center, that I work in. It all starts with their inability to pronounce my name, even at second or third attempt. I have learnt not to insist on that, because after all, people who really matter did make an effort to remember the four letters of my name. Then comes the question of where are you from ORIGINALLY! Because saying that I live in the area, doesn't seem to do the trick. At this point, I just act according to my mood on that specific day. Sometimes, I would say that I am an Israeli and it has been more then once that in response, I have received a prolonged silence and a cautious look ...After all, who wants to argue with the nurse, who will soon be invading your privates?
Other times, I decide to be Russian, which is many times met by a following response: "So did u catch a nice Kiwi boy, aye?" "No, I have brought my own"- would be my determined response, as if Russian women don't have any other talents, then "catching" innocent Kiwi boys.
Of course, not to be forgotten, another encounter is coming to my mind. On this occasion, I have spent good 45 minutes of my precious time during the shift with a patient and his wife, discussing in details his medical circumstances and giving him the best practice nursing advice, making sure that the message has gone through and was understood (as every nurse normally would do). Only I was completely shocked to discover in the morning, that our valued costumer wasn't pleased with that "foreign nurse's" accent, which is why the information didn't sound credible enough for his delicate taste. He had also not forgotten to mention how he wasn't pleased with the skills of "that Indian doctor"..., who is, by the way, one of the best doctors in the field!
Useless to mention, how frustrated, angry and unapologetic I have felt, BUT hey!!!! He is a paying, white skin, proper British accent, costumer and I am just a nurse, who in my my shorter life then his, managed to learn that we all bleed the same colour.
This motive is often repeated in different variations across various spheres of life, be it healthcare, education, job opportunities, or mortgage opportunities in the bank. Unfortunately, "face control" or accent control (which is a little easier to hide for extra 5 minutes, then the face) still largely influence our collective sub- consciousness.
The only thing that matters, in my view, is the way we choose to go about it. I have, personally, decided to keep my head, my standards and my heels high!

I have found that if I remain confident and proud about who I am, this concept is largely radiated to the people around me and makes them see that the beauty lies in diversity.

My accent...., oh, my accent!!!! It has become inseparable part of our work dynamics, there are items and words that are "named" after me and are only pronounced the way I pronounce it, even in my absence.
"Irit, where have you been?? It has been sooo quiet without you!"- this has become the most precious "I miss you" sentence, I have ever heard and the best proof that we make our world and not the other way around!

The nurse in me: Reality check

After 17 years of nursing, I can confidently say that we, nurses, are unique species. I haven't heard of many other professions that are associated with that many stereotypical concepts and are surrounded by as many myths as nursing. Peeeeeps.....it is time for reality check!

While studying for my university degree, one of my assignments was to find a picture of a nurse in the internet and describe what it portrays. Let me tell you, that back in the '90s, when I have Googled "nurse image", probably first 10 images were of "sexy" nurses, porn "nurses", etc...Makes you wonder about nurse's professional image and reputation...

Well, let me tell you that in reality, we are NOT wearing tight white uniforms that barely cover our bottom, which probably shatters many of the sexual fantasies our partners may have ever had, while considering to marry a nurse.  We are, actually, mostly wearing shapeless boring scrubs, that cover every hint or suggestion of femininity underneath it. We often have stains and blobs on our uniforms and on our shoes, towards the end of the day, of undisclosed origin. It's better to be kept this way for the gentle souls of common civilians around us. My very own hubby, on very early stage of our relationship, declared that he absolutely refuses, under any circumstances, to ever come to my work place. All this happened, after he once decided to surprise me with flowers, being a romantic boyfriend. He came in to Internal Medical ward, where I was working as young nurse, and instead of meeting his "fantasy", his eyes had met ME, wearing those shapeless scrubs, mentioned above, and carrying a bag of undisclosed body liquid in it. For him, it was surely, the red line. Today, 17 years later, my darling still keeps his promise and never ever enters my place of work, but always waits patiently outside. So this is so much for the "sexiness" of being a nurse.

Next on the list is shopping. We all know how shopping is girl's best friend and how shopping is the ultimate endorphin and is better and cheaper then psycho-therapy.....unless you are a nurse.
When you are a nurse, you spend most of your life wearing PJ's of different colors (if you are lucky enough), otherwise known as scrubs or nursing uniform. My luck ,over the past nearly two decades ,split between white classic color in my homeland to traditional black color in my new found home in New Zealand (because everything is black in NZ, the blacker, the better!!! Go the All Blacks!). Being so "lucky", every time I go shopping and get excited about one outfit or the other, the eternal question inevitably pops up: Irit, where and when will you wear this beautiful outfit? I try to fight this question in every possible way. Sometimes I ignore it, sometimes we negotiate, sometimes, I actually win. However, most of the times the nurse in me reminds me of how "lucky" I am ,having my black "PJ's" always on me. These are the moments that make me feel jealous of all the boring office workers, whom I never wanted and never would have liked to join. It is just not me, because I am a nurse!!!!!!

Nursing profession is very rewarding in sense of interpersonal communication and relationships, established with my patients and their families. Seeing someone feeling better then they were when I have first met them are the best reward for me, indeed. Nevertheless, some people are so grateful, that they take it one step farther and describe the nurse who looked after them as an "Angel in white (or black, for that matter:-)" I know that these people are sincerely grateful and only mean to express that. Well, the truth is, my dear friends, that there is nothing angelic about me or any other nurse. Nursing is a profession and not a God given gift! We study hard to become a nurse and earn our diploma, exactly like engineers and teachers and others. Moreover, nurses as a group, are one of the rawest  species you will ever meet.We have seen and touched things that most of the general public finds it hard to even imagine, we have been involved in the situations that could break anybody's hearts, we have dealt with things that would drive normal person nuts. So most of us develop sense of humor that I would classify as black-to-sick side of the scale. It's a survival matter for us. On my first years in the profession, I remember my family refusing to sit with me around the same table for dinner. Being constantly overwhelmed by stories and emotions from my early days at work, I was trying to share them with my family. They claimed that I make them sick. I guess, this is what happens when you are a nurse in the family of engineers:-)
Also, when my family members are trying to look for my "angelic"sympathy every time they have a new scratch or a blister, it's just NOT there!!!! I am sorry!!!! As long as you are breathing on your own and there are no central lines stuck in your veins, you are NOT really sick, my dear!!!!! Anything less then this is not worth getting excited over. On my nursing domestic emergency scale it's not high enough. Just take Panadol, cold compress and get over it! Only if that didn't help, please come back and your complaint will be reviewed again. I must say this rule doesn't apply to my very own kids. It is amazing the shift in my mind set, when it has to do with the little ones. I stop being a nurse, the mum in me is completely taking over.

Now let's go back a bit, to the social aspects of being a nurse. Naturally, a lot of my closest friends are also my colleagues (that was the case before the immigration), fellow nurses. We tend to stick together and this is for a simple reason, that no one else is capable of understanding us the way we understand each other. For example, I have once went for a dinner with my hubby and other two couples. One couple were a doctor and a nurse and another one just simple civilians. I was sitting and chatting with the medical couple, discussing some interesting cases of bleeding, vomiting and other potential symptoms of bowel cancer....all over a nice Italian dinner, when suddenly I have felt my hubby's foot kicking mine under the table and his eyes/body language are suggesting to immediately shut up. When I turned to the third couple, they looked somewhat pale and not very interested in the meal....or the conversation. Hhhmmm....I don't remember having any more meals with those guys:-) So ,with time, I have developed two parallel circles of friends and I intentionally try not to mix between them, because apparently, more then one nurse in the room, or even worse, around the table, may result in indigestion for the others around that same table.
Another things is that there are always friends or even friend's friends, or neighbors who will willingly disclose to me the most intimate sides of their lives and bodies and ask for advise, because I am a NURSE. It may happen at any given time (...after all, I am a nurse, I'm used not to sleep at night...or ever...).

To finish off on the positive side, I have often heard the question: How don't you ever get sick? You always work with the sickest people. The truth is that after probably 3-5 years on the job every nurse has been exposed to sooo many bugs and has developed so many antibodies that it would potentially be a good idea to use our blood for vaccines development. Until then, I would wish everyone to stay healthy and love a nurse!

I am proud to be a nurse from top to toe and have never regretted the decision to become one! 

A day at work- aftershock thoughts

It has been almost three months since I have written a new post. This is not because of the lack of ideas, but rather lack of muse for writing....until today. Today I'm just thinking "out loud",so to speak.

I am in one of the oldest, traditionally women's professions in the world...and no, I am NOT speaking of prostitution, I am a nurse. I have been a nurse for past 17 years of my life. My hand is even shaking to type in this number of years. Nursing is not only my profession, it largely shapes who I am and the way I view life. There is a nurse in me, who is there 24/7, whose inner voice is always heard and whose intuition rarely fails her. Nursing sick and healthy people for so many years, on one hand, and teaching nursing students and stuff, on the other hand, has immensely influenced my way of thinking on so many subjects. There is not a boring moment, when you work with people! And when I only think that I have seen it all and done it all, there is always a patient who will surprise me, challenge me and leave his unique mark in my memory.

Today was just another "normal" day at work...that is if there is anything "normal" about what I do. (My hubby has an "iron rule" to never enter my place of work. He always waits for me outside, as he is absolutely convinced that "normal" people wouldn't do what I am doing there, at work.) There were 9 endoscopic procedures scheduled for the morning and another 9 for the afternoon. It was a very loooong day!

My first patient was a 24 years old woman, who was diagnosed with breast cancer a year ago. Needless to say, she has been through hell with all the therapies involved, taking away her breast and her hair and many other signs of femininity, that are so important to women of every age, especially, young women. And there she was, again facing the fear of the uncertainty of yet another cancer in another location. She didn't say much at all, but her eyes spoke volumes. I could read the fear and the hope, the pain and the determination to win this battle and endless, endless fatigue. "What a way to start the morning.."- I thought to myself . Empathy rather then sympathy is one of the main professional attitudes that nurses should practice with their patients. It is argued that if/when a nurse becomes sympathetic to her patient, she loses her ability to maintain therapeutic relationships with her patient and that alters her professional judgement. I must admit that in 17 years of my practice, I have occasionally sinned in maintaining this distinction and was completely overwhelmed by emotions with regards to certain patients, who just "touched" my heart forever.Apparently, nurses are human too. What an unusual idea... Yet again, it had happened to me today. Being an atheist, I have suddenly noticed that I was literally praying in my heart for this procedure to be uneventful... and it WAS!!!! I felt like we have given this young woman a certificate to live, a certificate that she struggled for with all her might. Suddenly, all my little, every day worries and concerns became so meaningless and everything was seen from a completely different perspective. 

Oookkk....my second patient of the day walks into the room. She is a 93 years old lady, who doesn't have any background diseases and is not on any medications. The only reason she came in today, is because her GP was a bit worried from some of her blood test results and thought it would be a good idea to do some other tests. The lady was wearing bright pink lipstick and matching color of earrings. She declined any help with getting onto the bed and was as sharp as a knife in her speech. While asked about her health habits, she replied that she occasionally smokes cigars and drinks a glass of whisky or a glass of wine every day.  She was cheerfully telling us stories throughout the duration of her procedure. We have found an advanced cancer in this lady's bowel. Of course, it is never a pleasant finding, in any age, but the lady's reaction was truly reflective of her attitude to life, which I found very inspiring in a way. All she said was: "Well, a person needs to die of something..., if cigars and whiskey didn't do the job, something needs to happen..."

As the day went by, for the most part of it, I felt as if I had jumped from hot water to cold and back...The contrast and the conflicting feelings have flooded my mind. We, as people, like to think that we are in control of things, but are we really? We are being taught about the principals of healthy living, of what are the rights and the wrongs in our health related behaviors, but how much does it really matter or important? Where is the balance in life?

I guess, my own, non professional attitude, which is by no means a recommendation, would be to enjoy the little moments of every day, because we never know which one would be the last one. That includes having a drink and a cigar, but also it includes self awareness, listening to my body and doing what feels right for the body and soul. 

typical morning look:)

P.S. This is NOT a professional article. Thus, all contents are purely reflective of my personal thoughts, ideas and feelings only. They are NOT standards of care or recommendations to anything. 

Only in Israel רק בישראל

I am finally back after being away for quite some time, in favor of my "trip around the world in 30 days." This, precisely, will be the theme of my next post. However, today I am hosting my dear other half and my soul mate, Mark, letting him rant all over my blog stage. This post will be written in Hebrew, as the emotions and the contents expressed loose their meaning in any other language.

חופשת מולדת

לא משהו מיוחד, סתם יום רגיל מהביקור שלי בארץ...
התעוררתי ב 5 בבוקר בבית הוריי. למה כל כך מוקדם? כי מישהו ברחוב צפר כל כך חזק שאפילו העיר אותי בקומה 13 וזה אחרי שהלכתי לישון ב 2 בלילה! אני לא מכיר את האידיוט אבל ברור שהוא אידיוט ואני שונא אותו!
לקח לי שעה שלמה להבין שאין סיכוי להירדם יותר כי השמש מצאה דרך להשתחל דרך התריסים הסגורים וכל החדר מלא אור. אני שונא את השמש הקיצית בארץ! 

השלמתי עם מצב, קמתי, צחצחתי שיניים , עשיתי שכיבות שמיכה והכנתי קפה. הקפה בארץ נהדרת במיוחד, בהשוואה לארה"ב! על זה אני לא מתווכח וכאשר זה מגיע לקפה , אני יכול ללמד את טרומפלדור על ציונות.
היות והבוקר נדפק, החלטתי לרדת לסניף הדואר ולברר כמה יעלה משלוח לחו"ל. קנינו מתנות ובגדים ואשתי חששה שיהיה  משקל עודף בטיסה ונצטרך לשלם על זה. אני כבר מזמן מתכנן לבקר בסניף הדואר. הוא כאן , מול בית הוריי, אבל כל פעם שאני מגיע לסניף הוא מפוצץ באנשים קשישים ועובדים זרים, אשר מקבלים כסף או משלמים חשבונות. תמיד אותם אנשים. כאילו נתקעו בעידן לפני האינטרנט ומסרבים להתקדם למאה ה- 21.
אם הקשישה מקומה ראשונה בבניין של הוריי הגיעה לדואר, אפשר לשכוח מכל העיניין -הגברת כבר תדאג לזיין את השכל לפקיד עד סגירת הסניף.השעה הייתה 8:00. אמרתי לעצמי, אין סיכוי שהזקנה המעצבנת קמה לפניי היום. היום אני אגיע בפתיחה ואשאל את כל השאלות. אוי, איזו תמימות! כאשר הגעתי לסניף, אומנם השכנה לא הייתה שם, אבל היו לפחות 20 זקנות אחרות ,אז לקחתי מספר מהתוף. מספר 922. על הצג מעל הדלפק הופיע מספר 756. שאלתי את עצמי,  איפה 166 הלקוחות שלפניי ולא מצאתי תשובה. האמת , זה גם לא חשוב. לקוח מספר 756  החזיק את הפקידה בדלפק מספר 2 במשך שעה. פקידה בדלפק 3 דיברה בטלפון ולא קיבלה קהל. דלפק 1 היה סגור. הייתי נחוש להשאר והחזקתי מעמד שעה שלמה למרות שסה"כ הגעתי לחופשה של 12 ימים. אחרי שעה נשברתי. לא יכולתי יותר לראות את המספר 756 על הצג מעל הדלפק. קמתי ועזבתי. אני שונא את דואר ישראל!
בדרך חזרה  נתקלתי בבן של שכנה מדירה שמול דירת הוריי. כשעזבנו את ישראל, לפני 4 שנים, הוא היה בן 15 אז עכשיו הוא היה אמור להיות בצבא. אבל הבחור במעלית היה דוס כשר למהדרין. לקח לי זמן לזהות אותו. שאלתי מה קורה , הוא ענה "ברוך השם!". כוון שאני כזה מניאק בנפש שאלתי אם הוא סיים בית ספר. הוא ענה" לא". זה רק חימם אותי ושאלתי אם הוא עשה צבא. הוא ענה "לא". כבר בחדר מדרגות שאלתי מה הוא עושה. הוא ענה "לומד תורה". לקחתי נשימה ארוכה והסתובבתי לדלת שלי. אני שונא דוסים!
אבא כבר קם ושתה קפה. הוא תכנן ללכת לביטוח לאומי ולשלם דמי ביטוח עבורי והמשפחה שלי. אנחנו תושבי חוץ, אז יש תעריף מיוחד עבור אנשים כמונו שרוצים לשמר את זכויות הביטוח הלאומי בישראל. ברגע שהכרזנו שאנו עוזבים לחו"ל, פנקס תשלומים  של הביטוח נשלח בדואר לבית הוריי. הבעיה היא שהשנה הפנקס לא הגיע. אבא כבר 3 פעמים צלצל לביטוח וכל פעם הבטיחו לו לשלוח את הפנקס אך לא קרה דבר. עכשיו אבא רצה לנסוע לביטוח לאומי , לעמוד בטור ולבקש את הפנקס כדי שנוכל לשלם . נזכרתי בלקוחה 756 ואמרתי לאבא "עזוב ! לא רוצים את הכסף שלנו , אז לא צריך להתעקש !" .אני שונא את הביטוח הלאומי!
אז מה נעשה?- שאל אבא. כי אם ביום חופש בן אדם והבן שלו שהגיע מחו"ל לא הולכים לסניף הדואר או לביטוח לאומי, חייהם ריקים ונטוליי משמעות. הרי לא נלך להסתובב ברחובות קרית מוצקין תחת שמש קופחת של חודש יולי ! הסתכלתי ברשימת המשימות שלי וחייכתי. לא הכל אבוד! צריך להגיע לבנק ולסדר בנקאות באינטרנט על מנת שנוכל לנהל חשבון מרחוק. אבא גם חייך. זה כבר נראה רציני.
נסענו לסניף הבנק בחיפה שבו התנהל חשבוננו לפני שעזבנו.   עד שהגענו , עם פקקים וחיפוש חניה, השעה הייתה כבר 10:30. ציפיתי לחזור על חווית 756 (ראה התחלת הסיפור), אבל סניף היה ריק. חוץ מלקוח אחד, איש שמן מאוד ולא מגולח במכנס קצר שישב במחלקת בנקאות פרטית. בחור חייכן בכניסה היה מאוד נחמד ושאל מה אני צריך. אחרי שהסברתי לו, הוא הפנה אותי .....למחלקת בנקאות פרטית! מכאן ראה חווית 756 כי אין לי כוח לתאר איך הזמן לא זז במשך 50 דקות בסניף שמלא באנשים שמתעלמים מקיומך.
הייתי מוותר, אבל אבא...אז נשארנו. אחרי 50 דקות השמן עזב, אבל זרק מהדלת שהוא חוזר עוד מעט.
התיישבנו מול הפקידה. התחלתי להסביר מה אני רוצה, אבל היא קטעה אותי ושאלה איפה אני גר. אמרתי: בחו"ל. אז היא מיד שאלה למה אין לי חשבון תושב חו"ל. הרגשתי אשם ואמרתי שלא ידעתי מקיום חשבון כזה . חוץ מזה , כשעזבנו עוד הייתי תושב ישראל. אז היא אמרה שחייבים לפתוח לנו כזה חשבון וזה לא יעלה דבר. את העובדה האחרונה היא ציינה שלוש פעמים. התחלתי לדאוג שהבנק לא יפסיד כסף עם כל החשבונות החינם הללו. הפקידה ביקשה דרכון וחתימה שלי ושל אשתי. הסברתי שאין עלי כרגע לא דרכון ולא אישה. אז הפקידה הדפיסה ערמת טפסים וביקשה לעיין ולבוא לחתימה באופן אישי עם דרכונים בהקדם האפשרי. כאן סוף סוף קיבלתי חזרה את זכות הדיבור ושאלתי מה עם שירותי בנק באינטרנט? את התשובה לא קיבלתי כי השמן המניאק חזר והתפרץ לשיחה  שלנו. הוא הניח תיק מסמכים על השולחן ואמר שיש לו את כל הניירת ומגיע לו 40 אירו החזר. ב20 דקות הבאות היינו עדים לוויכוח בין הפקידה לשמן על ה40 אירו שמגיע לו. לשיחה הצטרפה גם מנהלת בנקאות פרטית ושלושתם ניהלו ויכוח מעליי ומעל אבא שלי. הם לא סיכמו דבר והמנהלת אמרה שיש לה יום עמוס והבטיחה לבדוק את העניין ולחזור אליו עד סוף היום. "סומך עליך! "-אמר השמן, " אחרת אני אחזור שוב!". אני סומך עליו שיחזור.
הפקידה והמנהלת שלה פנו אליי ואני חזרתי על הבקשה, אבל שוב קטעו אותי. "אתה משלם מס הכנסה בארץ?" -שאלה המנהלת. עניתי שלא. "אז אתה חייב במס בארץ!". עניתי לה שאני לא חייב שום דבר לאף אחד ואם היא תתן לי לסיים את המשפט , יש סיכוי שאשאר בבנק שלהם, אף על פי שנראה לי שיש להם לקוחות גדולים יותר שדורשים תשומת לב של כל הסניף בעניין החזר 40 אירו. היא צבטה אותי במבט שורף ואמרה שבנק  מתנהל לפי הנחיות בנק ישראל בעניין הלבנת הון ולכן היא חייבת לשאול את כל השאלות ולמלא טפסים. עניתי שאם היא תקשיב עד סוף אולי יתברר לה שאני לא מלבין שום  הון, סה"כ רוצה גישה לניהול חשבון באינטרנט. המנהלת הסתובבה לפקידה והראתה לה להוציא טופס מתאים. אחר כך היא עזבה ואני הרגשתי הקלה. הפקידה הדפיסה טפסים , אני חתמתי והיא הודיעה בחיוך רחב שמעכשיו יש לי אפשרות לניהול חשבון אינטרנט . שאלתי האם זה כולל גם מתן הוראות בחשבון, הפקידה ענתה שלא, רק צפיה ביתרה. אם אני רוצה גם לעשות תנועות בחשבון, צריך לחתום על עוד טופס, שאין לה מושג מהו והיא צריכה לשאול את רפי. היא קמה ונעלמה ל20 דקות. אני אפילו לא שמתי לב לאיזה כוון היא הלכה. כעבור 20 דקות היא חזרה עם עוד טופס . חתמתי גם עליו. הזמן טס בבנק! כשסיימנו כבר היה כמעט 14:00. אני שונא את הבנקים בארץ!
יצאנו מהסניף ואבא שאל אם יש לי עוד סידורים. אמרתי שכבר עבר לי החשק לעשות סידורים בארץ וביקשתי להקפיץ אותי לרכבת. אני קבעתי לקפוץ לחבר ילדות בנתניה. את הסיפור הזה אני כותב ברכבת.
הרכבת דווקא הגיע בזמן לתחנה, רק 18 דקות איחור, אבל זה לא נחשב.
היא כמעט ריקה. בקרון שלי רק אני וחייל ששם רגליים על המושב ורואה סרט ב"פול ווליום "בנייד שלו. לפי הקולות , זה "מהיר ועצבני" .
יש ברכבת אינטרנט על חוטי ומיזוג אוויר.

נראה לי שיצא אחלה היום!

נכתב על ידי היהודי הזועם, שרק רצה להינות מחופשת מולדת,

   מרק ביאליק, בעלי היקר

tourists in our own country

!

It's all in the head

Let me start from the end today: We are cleared for flight!
I have never thought that this phrase will bring so much happiness into my heart.
15/5/2015- The day in life, when everything went from "All good, thanks!" to "Could be much better, thanks for asking!'
9:00- Me and my 6 years old daughter (Maayan) arrived to her weekly swimming lesson, still having 10 spare minutes to start. These 10 minutes were enough to fall backwards,while playing in the swimming pool and to bump her head on the pool's marble edge.
This unfortunate accident triggered the whole new journey for us, introducing us to the multiple dimensions of NZ healthcare system, which I would like to share in this post.
11:30pm- What had started with a non remarkable "head bump", followed by a little bit of a cry and an ice pack, evolved, later on that day, into drama, that brought us to "Starship"kids hospital's ER doors in the middle of the night. Leaving my sleeping son behind, I have entered the world of the "unknown"..., or maybe should I say that being a mummy-nurse is not always necessarily helpful, as too much knowledge endures with it too much stress, worries and meta-physical pain.
2:30am- After what had seemed to me like eternity (which wasn't, of course, on the other side), was finally decided that my daughter should undergo CT scan. Since the decision was made, it took only few minutes for it to be processed. Not before a nurse with a "Toy CT machine" approached my daughter and briefly explained to her in a playful manner about the scan, promising to reward her with an ice block after the scan.

"CT  scan" toy

 Surprisingly enough, it has worked miracles on my daughter and she had instantly willingly enjoyed her "free ride" to radiology department and asked me to wait outside, otherwise, the nurse wouldn't give her the ice block. I was stressed and amazed at once...Children always remain children, I guess......We just need to know "which buttons to press and when"...
Diagnosis- "Your daughter had suffered a scull fracture of Rt. occipital bone with brain concussion and contusion of the front lobe. No obvious hemorrhage is currently seen."
Cold, sweaty chill is running through my skin and my bones, my mouth is dry, all my knowledge of English language has deserted me and I stand there speechless, staring at the doctor, hoping not to be asked any questions.
2:30am- 6:30am- Waiting...again...,this time to be taken to Ward 26A, Paediatric Neurosurgery ward for farther monitoring and observation. While in ER, we were provided a private room, without a door, just a curtain, but Maayan( my daughter) was quite exhausted ,on her bed, with pillow and two blankets. She fell asleep, I could see a frozen expression of distress and pain on her little face. Here I was, stressed, exhausted and left to my own thoughts, curled in a hospital arm chair. Everything that I have ever learnt in Neurosurgery classes, during my studies, all morning events of the fall and the day that followed, started running on a speedy rewind through my head. I couldn't close my eyes, thinking what I could have done differently to prevent this injury, because I was right there, right next to her when it happened. The painful answer seemed to be "NOTHING!" It was just a miserable accident!!!!!
Everyone in ER was very kind and empathetic, I was offered a tea and a snack twice. Even though, ER was quite busy, I could see by the movement of nurses and other staff members around the place, it was remarkably quiet and no stressed families were seen overcrowding the medical staff area or the office window. There was "Code Red" alert, but everyone was just knowing exactly what to do, again in a very quiet manner....Rambam ER comes to mind...
6:30am- Maayan has woken up exactly on time for another "Free ride", this time to Ward 26A, room 7. We were welcomed by a smiley nurse and a nursing student, who followed her like a duckling (...reminded me of my good old days as a clinical instructor...). I was immediately offered a bed in a hospital hostel, as there was no available bed near my daughter's bed. The room, itself was quite spacious and well equipped and we shared it with other three children, who sustained brain injuries and needed to be under constant observation. One of the beds was missing, because it was in Neurosurgical ICU unit, awaiting the boy who was fighting for his life. Even his toys were waiting ,with somewhat sad expression, sitting on the window...

Sad, but hopeful toys awaiting their owner to return from Intensive care

After some sleep and numerous examinations, pain killers and mummy's TLC (Tender, Love and Care), Maayan felt somewhat better and decided to explore the place. Paradoxically again, she didn't feel intimidated by hospital environment at all, she soon found that there is a play room in the ward. Playroom contained a lot of  medical "toys" and helped children to come to terms and learn about the procedures they needed to undergo. Everything was so very clean and quiet. Not even once had I noticed any of the toilets or other hygiene facilities in less then "clean" condition. Soap and hand sterilizers were located EVERYWHERE! Meals were always served and collected in timely manner. Maayan had actually loved the food!:-)

Visiting hours were very strictly obeyed. The ward would be locked between 2-4pm and after 9pm, to allow sufficient rest to the sick children and their parents. Personally, for me, it was a great struggle, as I almost didn't get a chance to see my son and husband, or to take a proper shower without worrying for my daughter. One of those moments when you feel so deeply lonely and start questioning the decisions that
brought you so far away from the family and close personal support group.
Three days later: Discharge with recommendation for 2 weeks off school!!!! I am cautiously happy to finally go home, but many things still remain uncertain as to recovery time, possible permanent side effects, or even how we will manage our routine from now on.
...Here start the "miracles" of NZ. On the next day of our return home, while struggling to manage Maayan's headaches and create the perfect environment for her at home, I was unexpectedly contacted by a lady, who introduced herself as an occupational therapist (OT) from "Children's brain rehabilitation centre", who will manage Maayan's case. She, empathetically, asked about Maayan and her return to home process and then politely asked permission to visit us the next day. I, of course, agreed, but I was honestly skeptical about  the possible positive impact that her involvement may have on Maayan's recovery. The meeting took approximately 1 hour, during which the OT addressed every possible aspects of Maayan's well being, starting from physical restriction and going on to social aspects of her long stay at home. She came up with a list of recommendations. I have honestly treated this list as an "un-doable", having in mind my vast experience of rehab. services in my own homeland.
The very next day things have just started to happen "miraculously". Let me please emphasize one more time, I DID NOT specifically ask for any of those services, as I didn't know ,at the time, they existed! So what exactly was/is included in our rehabilitation programme?
1. Physiotherapy assessment and treatments at our house, by the brain injuries pediatric physio-specialist.
2.Visits to rehabilitation specialist to assess her progress.
3. When the time was right, our Case Manager paid a visit to Maayan's school and have assessed the environment and have liaised with the school teachers about the safest way to welcome Maayan back to school. She was allocated with her "quiet area", where she could rest, had a "buddy" who would keep her safe during the school breaks. I was receiving written reports via e-mails about Maayan's progress. In felt and still feel so overwhelmed with this remarkable team effort of everyone around to make Maayan's recovery as smooth as possible.
4. As the time went by, it seemed like the main problem for Maayan has remained her hyper-sensitivity to noise and direct light. The school contacted directly our Case Manager to seek for the best solution. On the very next day she was provided with noise proof ear muffs.
5. One other major obstacle for me was my return to work, as Maayan can only manage short days at school so far. It is very important for her not to be overtired, as this always triggers her headaches. Once again, the system has come to my rescue and ACC (which is a form of National Security for injuries) has provided us with babysitter for Maayan for 3 hours daily. That would allow me to return to normal work schedule, while having the "peace of mind" that Maayan will be picked up on time from school and stay home under supervision until I come back from work.
For the first time in my life, only in NZ, I have felt that I am happy to pay taxes! I am so endlessly grateful for all the attention, the great will and the help, I have received from the public healthcare system. I would, of course, prefer not to have such experience in my CV, but it makes me realize once again: Yes!! No place in the world is perfect, but this place (NZ) is certainly tries its best to be! ...And that's good enough for me:-)
Despite having all this incredible help and support, the first six weeks of recovery seem to go unbelievably slow. The newly acquired gentle balance is so fragile...And the BIG question remains: Should I or should I not cancel my tickets to our long awaited family trip around the world, or..."fingers crossed" may we go ahead with the plan???
15/6/2015, 9:00am- Nervously awaiting our appointment with the neurosurgeon. Minutes don't seem to move....
                 9:20am- CT scan reviewed- no intracranial air detected.

"You are cleared for flight! Have a pleasant trip, Maayan and come HOME (to NZ) safely!"

P.S. I wouldn't be able to finish this post without thanking, from the bottom of my heart, my MacMurray family (my wonderful work colleagues and management), who were there for me in every step of the road. I wouldn't be able to get through this without their remarkable support (mental and physical)! I am, of course, very thankful to my soul friends, who ran to the hospital to cheer me up, straight after long day at work, to friends who didn't hesitate to share a joke...or two..or more.., who gave me endless energy to go on...And last, but not the least, my dear family (my son, who was left alone at times and proved times and again, that he can be fully trusted and is fully capable of functioning, when needed. My dear hubby, who needed to jiggle and coordinate EVERYTHING, who is always there, for better and for worse!!!!!!

Only in New Zealand

This time I will start with disclosure: It has been  a long time since I was planning to write a post about the uniqueness of this amazing place that I live in. However, the final idea and the inspiration for writing this post are totally credited to my Facebook friend Racheli Ben Haim-Faler.

Only in NZ a lost penguin or a seal can make it to the front page of main national newspaper and stay there for the entire week.
Only in NZ could the government pass a new legislation, "Mondayizing" holidays that fall on a weekend day, so Kiwis wouldn't feel robbed of their well deserved day off.
Only in NZ , on Monday to Wednesday, the main talk of the day would be about the past weekend experiences and on Thursday to Friday, it would be about the plans for the upcoming weekend. Life is busy making plans!
Only in NZ can you find quite impressive variety of Gluten Free options in every restaurant menu, but virtually nothing can be found for Diabetics. NZ is among countries with the highest incidence of Diabetes. Something (NOT) to be proud of!
Only in NZ you can cross the road diagonally on X-shaped intersections, creating seemingly chaotic movement of pedestrians at the intersection.

Only in NZ policemen are not carrying any weapons and are happy to give health advise (smoking is bad and so is speaking on the cell phone without speaker:-) with a smile to any passerby.
Only in NZ coffee culture is, at least, as good and developed as in Israel, making it very difficult to choose the next spot for coffee tasting. They are all amazing!

Only in NZ everything is served with butter on the side, no matter how sweet or sour the meal in question is.
Only in NZ when driver sees a road sign of a Kiwi bird, he/she slows down by 90%, to minimize the already minimal chance of driving over one of NZ's most precious symbols, a bird without wings, during the day light.

Only in NZ a traveler is made to clean his shoes at the entrance to/ exit from every National Park/ reserve, by a request sign and detergents provided, without any direct supervision. I have never seen anyone avoiding the duty.
Only in NZ you are requested to "Only leave your footprints" in all National Parks. And this is precisely how people act. (...Carmel forests come to mind, after Independence Day celebrations...hhmmm...)

Only in NZ can you find farmer's produce sold on the road sides and in rural areas with "Honesty Box" as payment method. A buyer is expected to leave the money in a box and take change if needed. The farmer won't be found anywhere near, he is busy with the important things!

Only in NZ people are often walking with their bare feet on streets and their feet remain surprisingly clean.
Only in NZ you can drive for 45 minutes on an absolutely empty gravel road, thinking that your are definitely lost, and then reach your destination and see a car park full of cars.

Only in NZ black color is the color of national pride rather then grief (Go The All Blacks, Black Caps, Ice Blacks, etc...!!!!!!!!!). On a national flag referendum one of the proposals for the flag is Silver fern on the black background.

Only in NZ bio-security is something that is taken way more seriously then civil security and dogs in the airport are for the purpose of sniffing foods, rather then explosives.
Only in NZ taxi driver will give you a free lift just because he was driving in your direction anyway.
Only in NZ can the boss at work admit his mistake and declare that his top priority is to keep his employees happy at their work place.
Only in NZ on the employment interview, the interviewer means exactly what he says, no hidden sub-contexts to be found (trying to silence my Israeli trained mind).
Only in NZ the ultimate point of reference for the progress in the world is either UK or Australia. Nothing else really matters.
Only in NZ ratio of sheep to humans is 16:1.

Only in NZ all National Parks, most of museums and many other tourist attractions are free of charge. (Australian Blue Mountains with 12$ per hour parking rate in the middle of the forest, come to mind...)
Only in NZ "Work- life balance" is something to die for(...or to live for, for that matter:-)!
Only in NZ "Mid-winter Christmas" was invented, because waiting for the real Christmas is taking too long!
Only in NZ can you find a church with a welcoming board stating: "Two of every kind are welcome."

Only in NZ the average age of nurses is 45, because there is no rush to work...or study...
Only in NZ you can't sue anyone for financial compensation due to injury, because national institution ACC covers all the expenses. So why take personal responsibility for anything....?
Only in NZ and two other countries in the world (Israel and Denmark) there is a health service for mothers and their young babies, called Plunket, because "prevention is the best medicine". (This logic got, unfortunately, lost somewhere ,along the way, in Israel).
Only in NZ sun protective lotion is offered for free use to public in every public place in the sun.
Only in NZ permitted alcohol level limit was 4 times higher then in the most western countries until just few months back.
Only in NZ when someone talks to you about his/her partner, you never know who exactly they are talking about: male/female, husband/wife/bf/gf/flatmate/business partner????????
Only in NZ average number of sexual partners for women is 23,4 and for men 16, in their lifetime (as per big Durex survey in 2012). This is when 'easy-going" and "laid back" culture gets an additional meaning.

Only in NZ I have chosen to raise my children and enjoy everything this wonderful country has to offer.

Post- double immigration effect

It seems only natural for me to write on immigration topic, especially, after living through two immigrations in my own life. Nevertheless, I must admit, that it is not an easy mission to pen something sensible about such diverse experiences. I have first immigrated with my family from USSR to Israel at 11 years of age. Needless to say, that next 24 years spent in Israel have significantly shaped me and made me a person I am today. Being a teenager in an immigrant family is a topic on it's own, not today's one, though...My second immigration, on the other hand, was a fully conscious decision, which we have made as a family. Consequently, almost four years ago, I have packed my life in boxes again and moved literally to the end of the world, otherwise called New Zealand.
Being an immigrant at least once in a lifetime changes one's life forever, let alone, twice...
Since making lists is something that proved to work well in my previous posts, I will try to make a list again, of twists in my mind due to immigration experiences.
1. Language salad- One of the privileges of a young age is the amazing flexibility of our brain that allows us to quickly absorb new languages. On initial stages, it's a matter of survival, of getting on with basics, finding your way from A to B, explaining your classmates that you are not an alien and not an idiot, you just don't speak their language yet. Later on, as years progressed and with them my broader understanding of the cultural context of the spoken language (Hebrew, in this case) , I have gained more confidence and gradually Hebrew became my second- equal to Russian language. All the new knowledge that I have acquired in Hebrew became virtually impossible for me to discuss in Russian, due to lack of sufficient Russian vocabulary.The more I have used Hebrew in my every day life, the less I have used Russian, but my accent stayed right there, refusing to let go. Russian had, sadly, remained on the level of 11 years old girl....and that was the case until I have met my hubby, who gave it a serious push up. It wasn't until much later in my life, when I have started travelling the world and, in fact, planning my next "big step" of moving to NZ, that I have realized my priceless gift of knowing two completely useless languages, outside of their respective countries of speech. Today, in NZ, I feel how my kids repeat the same old pattern and how the battle now is to preserve our precious useless languages and not to succumb to English fully.As far as I am concerned, third language will always remain third...I am only afraid that in case of stress and emergency, I will have a black out and people will find it (even more...) challenging to help me:-) In every day life, my resolution is to speak out, not to shy away, as funny as I might sound sometimes, I choose to laugh with others, rather then take offence.
Here are few of my "pearls of wisdom":
- I like to rinse (instead of dip) a biscuit in my tea
- I have once said to my patient that he has a pale leather (rather then skin:-)
2. What/Who is "normal"? Sense of "normality" is very variable and is dependent on cultural, mental and geographical aspects, but we, humans, are constantly sub-consciously measuring ourselves and others on that spectrum of "Normality". Some of us are more conformic to the concept, some are less, but it's always on our minds. In a foreign country "normality" of myself and others is constantly questioned and being put to the test. The deeper I dig , the blurrier are the borders. What is considered "normal" in one place is absolutely unacceptable in another.
~Kiwi people (...as opposed to Kiwi birds and Kiwi fruits:-) can be often seen walking on the streets with their bare feet. Interestingly enough, their feet are reasonably clean despite that fact. In Israel walking with bare feet would be considered completely distasteful, wierd and even potentially dangerous.
~We, Israelis, have a habit of speaking out loud, using our hands. In NZ it may come across as rude or aggressive.
~Kiwis have a very "laid back" nature. Sometimes, when applying for a job and naturally expecting to hear from potential employers within a reasonable amount of time (2 weeks or so...), I and Mark were receiving replies even after 2-3 months, not even remembering what was exactly the job in question. In our Israeli shaped minds, it was "normal" to assume that our application must have been declined, since no response was received within our (again!) reasonable time frame...
The realization of lack of absolute "normality" and acknowledgment of diversity makes me much more open- minded and adjustable person
 3. Life is NEVER boring! Being an immigrant gives me an external objective view on the country welcoming me and also, after few months, on the country, I have left behind. Despite the relative comfort of knowing English on time of arrival to NZ (as opposed to NOT knowing a single word in Hebrew on arrival to Israel), I still needed to struggle daily with language difficulties, cultural gaps and constant minor day-to-day issues.
Let me start with the Kiwi accent (the one that Kiwi people produce)- On initial stages I was absolutely terrified by it, it didn't even sound like English to me. Having a common sense and knowing the general context of a conversation, I could have managed to carry on, as long as the person was in front of me and I could see his "body language" in action and also use mine. My stress was sky rocketing whenever the phone was ringing. The fear of not understanding the person on the other side of the line ,or even worse, misunderstanding him and sounding stupid on reply, had paralyzing effect on me. And I was willing to do virtually ANYTHING to avoid phone conversations.
My own accent- the one that speaks volumes for me and even the politest of people, I have met here, couldn't help themselves asking me about my "exotic" accent. My friends at work even "renamed and re-branded" some of the widely used medical terms, to make them sound with "Bialik" accent. I have decided to take pride in it, rather then offence.
Cultural gaps- Wow, what a strong expression! These "gaps" or differences do exist, indeed, but second time around, they don't seem to me as deep or significant, as I would have perceived them as a teenager.One of my "brightest/darkest" memories of first days in Israeli school, was getting into a physical fight with a girl who made fun of my "Russian" clothes and appearance. Back at the time, it was super important to me to be "popular" among my peers. Today, 25 years later, I'm  confident with who I am and can't be bothered to make any efforts to make people "like" me, so they either do or don't! Today, when the Israeli in me takes over, I can speak out loud(er) then the average Kiwi person, I can be very straight forward and "call rock a rock", I'm not always happy to join the "laid back" nature at work (but I am getting there...:-) When the Russian in me takes over, I remember my childhood spent in a communist country and think that actually, it did have some positive aspects, such as self-discipline and sense of collective responsibility, which wouldn't hurt my kids to have. It does also contribute to our "Friday drinks" in a shape of Vodka with my Russian accent. When the (new) Kiwi makes attempts to come out of me, I am always happy to busy myself with finding the perfect costume for the next dress-up party, or stay for drink at work on Friday evening, or take interest in the Royal family..., or Lorde.., or cricket..., or rugby( Go All Blacks!)
A term of "Darwinian intelligence" comes to mind, when I think about the many impacts of immigration on one's life. Darwin stipulated that “Intelligence is based on how efficient a species became at doing the things it needs to survive.” 
For me, almost everything that seemed to be an absolute truth, becomes irrelevant in the New Zealand. The differences begin with the way I say Hello, my sense of humor, what I like to eat, what I like to wear, etc... It feels like a complete loss of reference that needs to be rebuilt as fast as possible, for my own survival and success. Only my own open mindness and flexibility, I reckon, will enable me to call my immigration story, a successful one in a time perspective.

 Every day for me is like a daily practice of my "Darwinian intelligence"

From grief to life

April is a very loaded month of the year. It is loaded with high intensity polar emotions of grief and sorrow vs. joy and happiness. It took me a while to sit myself down and try to put in writing my emotional storm of thoughts.
The month starts with Holocaust Remembrance Day. Every day is actually Holocaust remembrance day, but this day is one of a few internationally acknowledged. Every year of my life the realization of what have happened there, in the darkest times of our history, hits me stronger and stronger. Every year I participate in ceremonies and hear the stories of survivors, who are , unfortunately,left fewer and fewer in this world. Their stories today seem to be of a particular importance, because soon there won't be anyone to tell them. I sit and try to remember every detail, look at their face and try to investigate every wrinkle, that tells the story of their life, of their enormous suffering, but also the eternal proof that "we are here to stay, forever." One of the most memorable stories was told by the youngest Schindler's list survivor, she was only 7 years old at the time, who shared her story with the Jewish community of NZ. She was a guest of Auckland university and kindly agreed to honor us with her presence at community's ceremony too. Such gesture is not obvious at all, since crossing the world in this age and coming all the way from Israel to NZ, would be difficult even for a young person.
...And the SIX MILLION...How do you ever comprehend that??? How do you explain it to your children? At what age do you start exposing them to the topic?
                           
                                             6 candles for the six million

This year , I have taken my 11 years old son with me, for the first time... He didn't want to go, he said that he knows "everything", because they have studied at school...I made him come...He was completely silent throughout...I could see how he finds it difficult even to form a question in his mind. I have decided not to "press" too much, not to "dig", just let it sink in his mind...I am sure that by next year, his thoughts will grow bigger and I am just hopeful I will be able to provide the answers and maybe we will just search for them together...And my six years old?????? How do you even start delivering this in such a tender age?
I find that living out of Israel and not having these complex issues as part of a school curriculum, makes it much more difficult to deliver to children and make them want to listen and actually absorb the magnitude of the topic.
Shortly, after Holocaust remembrance day, came IDF Fallen Soldiers and terrorism victims Remembrance Day. On this day all of Israelis (inside and outside of Israel) paused to remember the fallen soldiers. Virtually everyone of us knows a family who has grieved because of war. Virtually everyone, however young or old, knows a soldier or a civilian who was...and no more...This grief is , very sadly, continuously updated and ongoing and it is with us every day, but on this day it becomes unbearable. This year, it has been estimated that close to 25% of Israel's Jewish population had visited military cemeteries. It would have been translated to one million NZ population or 75 million American population, but neither that many Kiwis, nor Americans, attend their respective memorial ceremonies. We, Israelis, do! It personally touches each and everyone of us. In NZ, we had quite an impressive ceremony this year, with considerable number of community members in attendance. The grief of personal loss reached NZ too, with one Kiwi Jewish family who lost their son in "Protective Edge" operation and another sad story was told by a brother of fallen soldier, who made it his mission to travel around the world and tell his brother's story. For me it was another evening of rivers of tears, bringing up memories of a lost class mate. Bringing up thoughts of whether it will ever stop. Bring up emotions of mixed guilt and sense of relief of not living in Israel anymore. What a pain, heartache...almost physical...
                         From Auckland's memorial ceremony, 2015

I ask myself is it morally acceptable to "escape" this pain sometimes? Maybe just for one year? To pretend that there is no remembrance day this year (it's relatively easy, when living overseas)?  Because those who sacrificed, sacrificed it all for us to live on. So how can we "take a break" from their memory?
On the very next day came ANZAC centennial Remembrance Day. This day is quite new to my repertoire of grief and ,to be honest, I was absolutely emotionally exhausted. Yet, I realize that I live in NZ now and it's history is now my history too. So I have pinned a poppy to my chest and honored the brave Kiwis who were mercilessly  slaughtered in an absolutely unnecessary battle on a Turkish land of Gallipolli by Ottoman Islamic aggressor, defending the Royal Crown and the ally forces.Sounds like history is a bit repetitive, but getting into politics is not my current intention.
                             ANZAC memorial in Israel, near Gaza Border

I will just finish up by sharing one story . While asking a patient about his health history, drinking habits is one of the routine questions. One patient (50+ years old), last week, replied to me, that he only drinks once a year, but he drinks a lot on that day, 6 bottles! When I asked if he wouldn't mind to explain himself, he told me that his grandfather had 6 siblings, whom he ALL lost to WWI. Ever since, he "celebrates" ANZAC at the cemetery, by drinking a bottle of wine for each uncle and a potential family that he had lost.
ANZAC is a National Holiday in NZ and is celebrated by having a long weekend, followed after dawn ceremonies of remembrance. Exactly, like Israelis celebrate Independence Day, right after Remembrance Day. I, personally, find the sharp switch very difficult to adopt to and it takes me a while to "get going". But, I guess, it shows, that we, people of different nations, choose LIFE.
                 We are the light of freedom, for which many died in darkness!

"Almost 40" thoughts

I know I am not 40 years old yet. I have just now started "scratching" the number from the very bottom, but , I guess, it's a little bit like with weddings. When it starts happening all around you, it affects your thoughts as well. This is, definitely, this time in my life, when my dear life companion and many "significant others" are turning this corner in soon coming future.I still enjoy the privilege to observe them from "distance", how they go through that crisis of changing the index number and everything that is involved. I breath with relief, convincing myself, at times, that I still have plenty of time to go and do things differently when I "grow up".
Today I have woken up to the sunny/rainy morning of sobriety and determined to summarize what I have learnt about this life so far. I would love to give it a "selling" title of "15(...or any other number) things I have learnt or known", but the truth is that I have no idea how many things I will come up with. Let's see:

1. Age is just a number- on an emotional-mental level, I must agree with this statement. We should act as we feel and not according to what society expects from us at certain age. I have known a lot of wonderful people, who had done some unbelievable things in their advanced age, but I have also known people who were less fortunate. As a medical professional, I also know that our body is like a machine, the older it gets, the more maintenance it requires. We shouldn't ignore the inner "noises" that it makes. Prevention is the best way!
2. Having a baby at 40- Many of my older girl friends were trying to convince me throughout the years, that having the last child at around 40 years old, pumps in a lot of young energy, together with hormonal flow and is basically like the drug of youth. They claimed that I was still too young to understand and the day will come. Well....ain't gonna happen in my case!!!!! I will feel much younger and liberated when I am finally able to go on a multiple days track to Milford Sound (NZ South Island) together with my both kids, not worrying for their sleeping routines, nappy changes, breastfeeding, rather then being endlessly tired, caring for a baby. Circadian clock is a powerful thing!
3. Life is too short for drama- The move to NZ really gave me a whole new perspective on little and big things in life. The only BIG thing is the health of myself and my family and their well being. In other words, nothing else is worth wasting my neurons on, they are not regenerating!!! Just remembering the endless amount of the intrigues at work and the amount of stress that it had generated in my life...I could have saved myself from so many grey hairs that I now need to dye meticulously every two month, to look as if nothing touched my hair:-)
4. Toxic people in my life- Absolutely something to get rid of! The move to NZ, again, helped a lot with this. It just naturally occurred. I reckon, that as I approach 40, I am confident enough in who I am and I don't need any reassurances from anyone. Trying to make people to like me is not my thing anymore, they either like me for who I am or they do not. All others may just "un-follow" or be "un-followed".
5. It's OK not to fit in- This thought would be absolutely unacceptable for me just few years ago, in my 20's and early 30's. Today I know that it is way more important to live to my full potential and find a place where I would desire to fit in, rather then flexing myself into something that had come across first.
6. Resilience- Today I know that I am way stronger then I ever knew. Nothing is the "end of the world." I have been through enough hardships and stress, to know that there is life after it, as well. Life is stronger then anything! Time heals..., but also deepens the wounds sometimes...
7. It's an absolute waste of time comparing myself to others- I know it on a personal level and I know it on a professional level, as well. Just as much as there are no two people who experience the same disease in a similar way, because everybody's body and soul are unique and these experiences are incomparable. On that same note, my successes and my failures are just my own, unlike anybody else's. Things that will make me feel better, won't necessarily help my friend, or the other way around. I am special and unique!
8.  The realization that people who look over-confident and lead perfect lives on TV screens and magazines are just as f****ed up as everybody else, if not more...- Nope, they don't know more then me about anything. Their personalities on TV are just staged and "fotoshopped",even if they are not actors. Everyone is just a black box, full of their own sh*t, that I wouldn't want to mix with mine.
9. It's OK not to be a parent who "knows EVERYTHING", like my parents attempted to be- In a so rapidly ever-changing world, it's OK to search for answers together with your children, to teach them that "knowing" is not always the key, but " knowing to ask the right questions" is! Especially, in my reality , where every generation of my family was growing up and living in a different part of the world, in a different reality. I want to teach my children to see the human in me, the one with emotions and doubts, the one who is ever growing ,together with them and dynamic, rather then stiff and rigid.
10. Maintaining my own style- Ever since I gained consciousness regarding my looks, which was in early teenage hood, I was trying different styles, different looks, different images, until one day the style became my own. Until ORANGE  color became literally my trade mark and my nears and dears started saying that "Orange is way more then just a color for me". It's a powerful feeling, that regardless the seasonal fashion, I am identified by own style. I am my style! 
11. Knowing my goals in life- I finally know what I want. By saying this I mean that I know what I realistically want, not when I will "grow up", but now, in this real life. I also know what are my boundaries and rather then wasting time on fantasizing about becoming "rich and famous", I prefer to invest my energy in creating as much perfect "work-life" balance as possible. I am also quite good at it, I must say!!! 

We only live once! There are no general rehearsals! It all happens today!

P.S. Did you know that "Facebook" is the second most popular word that starts with "F"?

           The next most popular "F" word would be "Fabulous at almost Forty!:-)

Friday Drinks

Here comes this time of the week again, that is symbolic of the entire work culture and inter-personal relationships at work place, in this magic land of New Zealand. The magic starts spreading its spell since the early morning hours of Friday, when everyone comes to work, carrying small packs of yammi goodies. There is this glow in people’s eyes, even though tired by the end of the week. Nevertheless, expecting something extremely relaxing and positive to happen , to finish off the week on a positive note.

The clock is ticking…., end of the day is nearing….patients countdown begins…tick-tock, tick-tock…it’s almost six o’clock…wine glasses begin to magically appear on the table in the staff room…lemons sliced…bottles…all sorts of different bottles…goodies are making their magical way from paper packs to the plates on the table…almost no patients left in recovery…one last effort…tick-tock, tick-tock,

It’s Friday “Drinks o’clock”!
Friday, 6 o'clock at work

"Friday drinks" is perhaps the most important time of the week, socially speaking. This is exactly the time, when all the informal conversations are conducted between colleagues themselves and also between employees and their management. This is the best time to hear about future plans of the company, hear all the recent "gossip", which is so vital for better understanding of the dynamics in the company, that influence each and everyone involved, directly and indirectly. This is also an opportunity to address some of a more sensitive issues in a very relaxed atmosphere, over a glass of wine, when all the formal boundaries seemingly unfold, but yet are there in a very gentle, reassuring way. And last, but not the least, this is the time to laugh, to learn about each other's non professional sides, get involved socially, plan extra activities and just to be reminded that people who work with me side by side also have humane lives and interests. As the famous saying goes: "Alcohol is a social lubricant!" 
I, personally, find that this little tradition, called "Friday drinks" turns my colleagues into my second family, in the country where I don't have any (apart from my immediate one). Realization of that is very essential for my existence. Every Friday NZ becomes a little bit more of a home to me... 
What amazes me the most is that not in any negative way this Friday mingling affects our every day professional relationships, but only makes our mutual trust and reliability much stronger. And this is completely contrary to the main stream belief in my homeland of Israel, where alcohol is strictly out of boundaries in any work places or between work colleagues, especially, the big bosses. This is not to say that people are not socializing at out of work hours, but not as a recognized institutional tradition. 
I find that "Friday Drinks" is only one of many examples of a Kiwi "Happy", "Easy going" nature. One other such example would be multiple dress-up parties. No, Kiwis don't need any special festivals such as Purim, for putting up absolutely awesome dress-up parties for adults even more then for kids. It involves all levels of society, from simple workers to top management. Here again, "hiding" behind the costume, there are no more boundaries or hierarchical restrictions. By the way,the amount of effort and thought that is being put into finding or creating a perfect costume, is quite remarkable. As far as the parties go, one for all and all for one!

Gastroenterology conference final dinner, 2014

Favorite movie character Birthday party, 2014

 ...and one more

Where do I see myself in all this, you may wonder...? Well...what started as an anthropological observation for me, I have happily adopted into my new reality. I find myself pleasantly concerned about my next costume or type of drink that I would like to try ,or the next place I would like to explore in the City. I must admit that I like my new "problems" more then the old ones, at times. The possible reason for that might be lying in Einstein's relativity theory:-) I like my new "problems" so much, because my reference point and my previous experiences are so complex. Everything is relative in this life!