No Longer in my 20's...

Today, at 1100 New York time, I turned 30. It has been precisely 30 years since shortly after my birth, when the obstetrician told my mom that she had just had a beautiful boy, she, expecting to have a baby girl, responded with much surprise "a boy?" This prompted the obstetrician to do a double take by examining what was beneath the sheets and exclaiming, "Well, in this country, we call this a boy!"

I cannot believe how swiftly the last decade passed me by. I suppose, before you know it, I will be getting my AARP card and telling the stories of turning 30 "a long time ago" to my grandchildren. Shahrzad has arranged for us to go with the Baha'i community of Charlottesville to an Indian restaurant in a "pseudo-surprise" manner! Well, I essentially learned about it before it happened. Below, you will find a picture from my 29th birthday, when I was still in my 20's:

Lasik part deux!

Nearly 15 months after my parting with my glasses for good, I had a "touch up" lasik procedure to treat the residual 1.0 astigmatism in my right eye. I was dreading the microkeratome and the formation of a new flap, but surprisingly, the surgeon said that he would just "pick up" the old flap. I asked curiously whether the old flap is easily accessible. To my amazement, he responded, "The flap never heals!" Zap, zap, ... and the smell of burning cornea permeated through my nostrils. 30 seconds later, I was good to go. Now I have the eyes of an eagle, supposedly, a perfect 20/20. In Canada, aside from being 1/2 price, they have the zioptics, which is hard to find in the US. This technology "shaves" less cornea and therefore leaves more room for future treatments.

Here is a picture of my aunt Aghdas, celebrating her 79th birthday, followed by a picture of Shahrzad and I, with my new "naw-ruz-gift-to-myself" shirt!

Sweet sixty-two

After a long year that included many trips to the hospital for radiation, chemotherapy, pain therapy, and blood transfusions, Mr. Saririan took a deep breath, reflecting on the difficult year that just came to pass. Mrs. Saririan looked on with pride, as she has been instrumental in ensuring the best care, day and night, at home. We sat at Quartier Perse, the famous restaurant of Persian cuisine in Montreal. Mr. Saririan made a wish and blew out the candles as the rest of the family all cheered him on for overcoming much of the difficulties of the past and achieving this new milestone. We all wish to celebrate the 63rd birthday together in the same location next year.

Deed-O-Bazdeed

You may think that in North America it is difficult to observe the age-old tradition of "did-o-bazdid," or to visit one another, immediately following the new year, as a means of strengthening ties, re-establishing relationships, or paying respect to the elderly and the sick. Often, the distance one needs to travel is prohibitive as people no longer live within reach of one city. Mostly, the tradition of did-o-bazdid has transformed itself to phone calls immediately after the hour of the new year, and people compete to be the first to call.

In Montreal, however, with a large Iranian and Baha'i community, one still finds a flavor of how paying visits to another was observed in Iran. Since Mr. and Mrs. Saririan have been through a trying and challenging year with his illness, the community felt that the Saririans get priority to be amongst the first to be visited. In a matter of moments, the Saririan home was filled with many cheerful souls and well-wishers who had come to brighten the day. Below, you may find some pictures of did-o-bazdid a la Montreal!

Glorious Celebration

The late Persian singer, Farhad, reminisces about the events of Naw-Ruz, and the anticipation of the new year that help him get through the winter. He says, "بوی عیدی بوی توت بوی کاغذ رنگی ..." I shuffled through my memories as we sat by the ornate, symbolic Naw-Ruz spread known as the Haft-Sin along with the Saririans:














Then in the evening, we went to the celebration of Naw-Ruz, hosted by the Baha'is of Montreal at the Holiday Inn. Nearly a thousand diverse people, including French Canadians, Haitians, Arabs, and Persians would simply greet you with "Happy Naw-Ruz!" We listened in amazement as a fiddler named Marie Claire took our breath with her masterful rendition of Acadian folk music, followed by another flawless Jazz musician. Then came the dance, which was as diverse as the audience. What a night!

Happy Naw-Ruz!

Embracing Naw-Ruz

No matter were we may be, we plan to be together for Naw-Ruz, the Persian New year that is celebrated at the very moment of the vernal equinox. To be exact, the hour will strike this year at 13:25:35 Eastern Standard Time. Naw-Ruz signifies perhaps the only hour all Iranians can agree on and recognize as a symbol of national identity regardless of ethnicity or creed. It is a time of family unity, re-establishing ties within the community, and remembering those who are not among us. Shahrzad and I flew to Montreal to observe Naw-Ruz with her family. Tonight, we plan to paint the eggs, not for Easter, but for the table ornate with seven items that share the letter "s" at their beginning. The addition of eggs will signify fertility, as a symbol to look forward to a fruitful year. I will particularly miss Tahereh and Zia, and Shahrzad and Babak, as I celebrate my 12th Naw-Ruz away from home and my immediate family. My prayer this year is to be reunited in this coming year with my family, so that we can all exchange gifts when the hour strikes at the time of the next vernal equinox.

Here is a picture from Hoda's wedding, where the family was together. I will have some Naw-Ruz pictures coming up soon:

Two Sayings

Here are my favorite two sayings that I learned in the world of medicine:
1. Absence of evidence does not signify evidence of absence.
2. Common things are common, and uncommon things are uncommon. Uncommon manifestation of common things is more common than the common manifestation of uncommon things.

Shahrzad and I are visiting the San Francisco Bay area. We have a most spectacular view of the bay from the window of our hotel room. Pictures and stories to follow soon.

Beware of the Leprechauns!

Happy St. Patrick's day! On a more stern note, though, today marks the third year since president Bush's famous speech in which he gave the 48 hour ultimatum to Saddam Hussein. Shahrzad and I were on our honeymoon in Quebec City, and I remember telling her thar Bush's speech will likely change the political landscape of the world...

Below is one of my favorite pictures with Shahrzad, at the holiday party for the department of anesthesiology, Dec 2005:

Three years, and counting!

Yesterday, Shahrzad and I celebrated our 3rd anniversary. I cannot believe it has been three years! We have had the blessing of a wonderful time together, and a family that has been supportive and loving from the beginning of our relationship in 2000. I am very lucky to have someone like Shahrzad as my wife. If you are reading this, Shahrzad, know that I love you more than ever.

Good Ol' Times

You may have noticed that Iranians tend to live in the past. This perhaps reflects partially their dissatisfaction with and the need to distance themselves from the current turn of events as well as a sense of pride in the historic accompolishments of a land that once ruled the world. It very much resembles the notion from the movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," where the father of the protagonist always pointed out that the origins of most things in one way or another came from Greece. Well, the Persians think the same, except that they substitue "Greece" with the "Perisan Empire."

On a lighter note, I personally reminisce about my own past, and often daydream about what has come to pass. In my imagination, I stroll down the path I took many years to go to high school, and I painstakingly recreate every detail of the road, the trees, the buildings, and even the aroma of Persian food that permeated the streets as I returned home and walked through the neighborhoods. I also remember the gathering of the Baha'i youth, the guitars, the songs, and the drama of living the teen years in the tumult of a nation struggling to find its own post-revolution identity. Now, when I go to conferences where I meet some of the old gang, we replay the same songs and re-create the same ambiance. It is a way of dealing with homesickness; it is a way of living in the past.
Here is an image from the Chicago Conference, 2004:

And here is a picture from a get-together Charlottesville, a town that is soon to become part of our past:

Chahar Shanbeh Soori on Saturday

Our anniversary usually coincides with chahar shanbeh soori. Of course, even though chahar shanbeh soori is supposed to take place on Tuesday evening, the event is usually observed on a weekend in America as a matter of convenience. Much like 13-bedar that for some reason is always observed on a Sunday! It was an amazing evening outside where two or three thousand Persians danced to the tunes of DJ delbar, and oh, yes, some even took part in fire-hopping, where they exchanged their "yellowness with the redness of the fire!" The other amazing thing is how the typical Persian-American teen who can not speak a word of Persian to save her life can so masterfully lip-synch to the tunes of Kamran and Hooman and every other Persian pop star from LA! We met up with Malahat and Ehsan, as well as Nima Heirati and his fiancee and Pouya Aflatooni (Niloufar's brother).
Here are a couple of pictures from the memorable evening:

When it all hits home

Today, I learned that Dana Reeve, the wife of late Christopher Reeve, and a writer and actress in her own right has passed away after a fairly short battle with lung cancer. In the medical community, physicians perhaps have developed a double standard with regard to lung cancer, the number one cancer killer for both men and women in North America. Because of its strong association with smoking, the first thing that is mentioned after lung cancer is the smoking status of the patient. If the patient denies such history of smoking, the next question would be, "Are you sure?" This approach makes one have less pity for the lung cancer patient, because we are assuming that this is a "self-inflicted" problem. With other cancers, such strong associations are not immediately appreciated. As such, the healthcare provider may have more pity for the leukemia patient than the lung cancer patient. It is noteworthy to say that while lung cancer is mostly associated with smoking, 10% of patients afflicted with this disease have never smoked in their lives. Dana Reeve was an example of this. She made this known publicly perhaps to try to break this impression of a self-inlicted disease among healthcare providers and lay people alike.

My father-in-law is suffering from lung cancer. Every time the news of a lung cancer patient death is announced such as Peter Jennings and now Dana Reeve, it worries me that he may lose his fighting spirit. Having someone in the family with the problem makes it very real. It is not a story that you can casually browse on-line and dismiss. It penetrates you very deeply. I was examining these feelings today in the OR while providing anesthesia for a mastectomy in a 50 year-old breast cancer patient. Suddenly, the scrub nurse stated that she can no longer be in the room. She took the sterile gown off and on her way out of the room whispered in my puzzled ears, "I have breast cancer."

It all hits home.

Here is a picture of my father-in-law with my wife this January:

Sedentary we are...

I was thinking of one of my favorite comedians, Russell Peters, who is Indian in origins. He talks of how immigrants after many years in North America develop such a sense of belonging that they start making fun of other people as being immigrants! Worse yet, they make fun of the American ways of doing things. They point out things in Americans such as the sedentary lifestyle, couch potato, lazy, etc. Today, after engaging in much the same behavior myself by observing some very large patients undergo gastric bypass surgery, I got on the road to come home. Just before turning onto our street, I found myself reaching toward the mailbox through the rolled down window of my car, trying to retrieve the mail. Then I paused... Either I have become Americanized, or I am utterly hypocritical in passing judgement on the rest of my fellow citizens!

Here's an unrelated image. A blast from the past, the ABS conference in Toronto, which I believe was taken in 2002 (notice how much thinner we all were!):

Peddlers, Privacy, and Street Noise

I am moving to blogspot from blog.com after some technical difficulties with posting and limits on uploads. At any rate, today, something got my attention. Perhaps for the first time in our neighborhood, I heard someone blow his horn. "Such an invasion of privacy," I thought, but soon I realized that hearing these noises was commonplace back in the motherland. In addition to the horns, in Iran, there were the peddlers and their portable microphones and amplifiers selling services and products ranging from exchanging salt for stale bread to giving your cotton bedding a make-over! Noise was a part of daily life in Iran, and it was to some extent amusing to sit on the balcony and in some way feel connected to life outside of home. Now in America, no one fixes your bedding, no one offers you melons at your doorstep, and worse yet, you have to throw away your stale bread and buy your own salt!

Below, you may find a picture of the cart of a beet seller: