I'm not sure why I look so distorted in this photo, but here I am at a grantee meeting, getting ready to participate on a parent panel discussing Project Access, an initiative to improve the access to and healthcare for children and youth with epilepsy. Before the parent panel, I gave a presentation that I've given before, titled "Reflections with the Spice Island Queen." Some of you might remember the wonderful exchange we had here on the blog with a young medical student who was considering applying for medical residency in pediatric neurology. She contacted me with a request to ask my readers what sort of doctor they wanted for their children, and when I posted her plea, you answered in droves. You can read that post and the comments here. If I could figure out how to do it, I'd give you a link to see my Power Point, but I'm not that computer or blog savvy, so if you'd like a copy, please email me and I'll share it with you!
I used that post for a presentation and have now shared it with over 100 professionals in the epilepsy world. It's a testament to the power of our community that this one exchange has inspired a whole bunch of people to not only continue their work improving the lives of children with epilepsy and their families but also helped to spread and sustain the whole concept of "family centered" care.
My trip was a whirlwind one -- barely 24 hours from Los Angeles to D.C. and back, but I caught up on New Yorkers on the plane, gazed for hours at my seat-mate's arms that were covered in the most interesting tattoos (and restrained myself from stroking his arm as it was so smooth and decorative and sexy), watched with interest when the same seat-mate pulled out a lined notebook and began to draw incredible flowers with colored pencils, went back to reading MORE Magazine (for women over 40), closed my eyes and jolted awake with my mouth hanging open, mortified that I had perhaps snored and the man with the beautiful arms had perhaps heard me!, surreptitiously ate a package of cherry Twizzlers and finished a memoir on my Kindle.
I'm home now and have much to share with you about an event this Saturday in Los Angeles, but I'm going to bed, my own bed.