Dr. Sexypants, MD

It official. The boy who got his GED is a real life doctor, complete with a giant certificate with golden embossed seals and fancy, old-timey writing – two things that are required for anything official.

The end of Mack's medical school run and the shift from regular human to LIFESAVER happened with barely a blip. He went back to Kentucky a week after we arrived in California, did some paperwork, and was home. Then this came in the mail.

There was no cap and gown, no ceremony, no inspired speeches or sentimental goodbyes. Med school was over and done, packed away in the past, with no real lasting effect except that now his hair is 50% gray instead of 25% and there's a fancy piece of paper in our house.


As someone who likes to celebrate her birthday for a month, I just don't understand that. I'd want a 2-month vacation to the Mediterranean filled with decadent desserts and bubbly booze to celebrate my completion of med school (which we all know would never happen because I, unlike Mack, am not crazy.) He wanted a check from his mom and to get on with it.

He doesn't start work until late June, so we're enjoying long days that start with coffee, usually involve the beach, and end with jiu jitsu. It's a routine meant for retired people, and we are so good at it we should get paid for it. We don't, so my days are also spent perusing job sites looking for a gig that's as good as my last one was.

I, of course, am incredibly proud of Mack. But more than that, I am in awe of him. Medical school is a world of people pleasers and over achievers, where the majority of students are cut from the same aspirational cloth. Mack was an outcast in that society, albeit self-imposed, but that he managed to travel the path on his own terms and without changing who he is or sacrificing any of his self-assuredness is amazing to me. I wish I had that fearlessness and confidence.

I fell in love with Mack when he was a cable guy, when he'd leave the house early in the morning to report to work and then sneak back in through the window 30 minutes later to sleep in with me. When I'd watch his dexterous fingers strip wires at work and tap piano keys at home. When he had jet black hair, a smart-ass sense of humor, and just the right amount of muscles. I don't care if he's a doctor or a part-time magician, as long as he stays Mack. So far, so good.