In Good Hands

The look in my wife's eyes as I walked in the door on Friday spelled trouble.

Not the standard "The cat is barfing on the carpet" trouble or "Our daughter didn't do her homework again" trouble. This was, "Something is very wrong, and I'm very scared." In other words, TROUBLE.

While I had been counting the minutes until our early release for the Labor Day weekend, my wife had spent the day wondering if she was on the cusp of a major medical crisis. After three days of serious back pain which she only briefly mentioned to me, she had awakened on Friday with the pain radiating into her chest. Then, as the day wore on, she began experiencing bursts of tachycardia (rapid pulse rate) and hot flashes.

The only thing keeping her from calling me and asking me to come home early was my daughter's sixth birthday, which she was busily preparing. But when I walked in the door ready to serenade my kid with a warbled "Happy Birthday to You," I realized that those plans would have to wait.

With my mother and father stepping in to manage the birthday party, we drove to the emergency room.

To give you some context, my father-in-law passed away suddenly ten years ago from heart failure. He had experienced no symptoms and simply died in his sleep after a post-shower nap one afternoon. Understandably, this has made my wife very concerned about her own cardiac health. As we pulled in to the hospital parking lot, she was terrified that she might be suffering a cardiac event of her own.

I will make a long story short (by compressing the four-and-a-half hours we spent in the ER waiting on a battery of tests) and say that it turned out to be a "perfect storm" of a radically pinched nerve, dehydration, and anxiety. To say we were both relieved is a massive understatement.

Rather than go into the minutiae of our ER stay, I'd rather address this blog to the physician's assistant who handled our case at the hospital. Her name is Nicole Atallah, and she is a graduate from Midwestern University's PA program as well as an occasional adjunct faculty member.

Ms. Atallah didn't reveal her educational history until we were on the cusp of leaving the ER, when I mentioned I worked at Midwestern myself. But on the drive home, I couldn't stop thinking about how lucky we were to have a Midwestern grad overseeing our case.

That may sound a bit like a bit of subtle PR spin to you, dear readers, but nothing could be further from the truth. You see, I know very well the caliber of education that students at Midwestern University receive. I spend my weeks employed by the University telling the stories of their training in our publications, I speak to the students and faculty constantly, and I observe them as they work together toward their goals. Thus, I know first-hand how exacting is the educational regimen that these students undergo, and how well-prepared they are as a result when they move on to practice their craft.

After a summer of graduations, I have become accustomed to hearing the happy graduates hesitantly express their inner uncertainty about whether they are ready to put their training into real-world practice. Here is my message to you, graduates - you are ready. Your faculty have spent years ensuring that you will be ready; the stakes are far too high to risk sending unprepared candidates into the world.

Nicole Atallah was ready on that Friday night to take care of a stricken woman and her frightened husband. Her professionalism, her competence, and her diligence were exemplary. But then, she's a Midwestern University alumnus; I would expect nothing less.

On our drive home, I was relieved for more than just the good news about my wife's health. I was relieved because I knew that during those four excruciating hours among strangers in the emergency room, we were always in good hands.