Snow and a Rash

Our best Williamsburg snow in five years arrived yesterday. Somewhere between 8 to 12 inches of fluffy white wonder. The last time I experienced a foot of snow it was while working in a hospital in Philadelphia. Brandon graciously drove his 25 week pregnant wife home very slowly through the snow in the early morning hours after finishing an ER shift. It took over an hour to get home. The significant snow before that, Brandon and I walked a mile up to the hospital because as a fourth year medical student I was certain that it was essential that I show up to work (thoughts like that helped me make it through medical school...). So when the snow came down densely yesterday, on a Saturday, I shared a smile with Brandon, commenting how wonderful it was to have a snow and no where to go. A few hours later, as the wind continued to blow snow sideways, a neighbor called panicked. Her young child, a beautiful girl who has spent a lot of her first year in the hospital, had been sick for several days and now had a rash. The urgent care was closed, the pediatrics office was not answering...what did I think she should do. I asked the questions, listened...but you have to look at a rash. I walked a mile with lots of layers on to go and look at Natalie. I brought my stethoscope, my cell phone and I felt like this odd combination of a neighbor and a Mom and a doctor and a friend. Natalie did have a terrible looking rash. I told them how to avoid the ER, when they would know they had to go regardless, and that she was actually doing really OK...right now. I walked back home, thinking it all through...like I always do, which is why I have a hard time as a doctor. The wind was still blowing, the snow was still falling fast and the gray clouds would soon turn into darkness. Did I give them the right advice, or lead them astray at the time it was easiest to make it to the ER? I came back home to hot chocolate chaos, but somehow making a neighborhood call felt more real and attached to my life than when I use to come home to the fullness of kids after a day at the office. So I settled back into dinner and life. Today when we came back from sledding, there was a pot of black bean soup at the door and two beers (my husband was oh so glad); a message on the answering machine said Natalie was doing better and to enjoy the meal. It made old time medicine feel real and good: soup for a rash. A very different medical snow story for us.