There are a few ways to get a cake at work. The least popular is to have a birthday ending in zero. It is a participation ribbon for life; you’ve managed to avoid getting run over by a bus, have some cake. I’ve decided that i won’t be admitting to any more of those decade-defining milestones (4 is plenty), so my opportunities for free cake are diminishing. Today I was surrounded by my surrogate family and given the second kind of office cake- the going-away cake. After digesting all of the day’s events- literally and figuratively- I’m either entering a hyperglycemic coma or floating on a euphoric river of camaraderie and affection.

We spend more of our waking hours at our career than at anything else. I’ve been blessed to work with people who have added richness, warmth, and more than a little sweetness to every day. Here’s to making every day count, and enjoying those moments that come with icing on top.

Practicing ophthalmology is a lot like fixing cars. You listen, observe, calculate the relative possibilities, and proceed with the most likely diagnosis. Of course, if you drop a bolt into the engine, you don’t have to explain to the car’s family why it will never see again. This morning I had the pleasure of introducing the incoming residents to eye trauma, and was reminded of the intensity of those years; the fear of the unknown (and there is a lot of unknown!) obscures the distant promise of a fulfilling career saving sight. I am thankful that I have the opportunity to perform a few tune-ups, the occasional major overhaul, and show the next generation what it looks like to walk alongside our patients for at least part of their journey.