Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The Veil and the Va-Jay-Jay

I think I may be the only bride who had TWO people at her wedding who (how can I put this delicately?)... were well acquainted with her va-jay-jay.
Let me put you at ease right away. Doc H knew of this and was perfectly fine with it. 
When your husband is a surgeon, you don’t spend as much time socializing with friends as you would if you were married to say....a business man. First off, surgeons move around for undergrad, medical school, residency, fellowship and finally (and, hopefully) their dream job, in a dream town or city where they can finally settle in. They find the circles of friends they enjoyed during school and training have scattered all over the U.S. and, maybe even, the world. So, on the seldom occasion we find ourselves socializing outside family, we find ourselves socializing with his colleagues, because the handful of friends he does have, live out of state.
I, on the other hand, have a large pool of friends which live local. Along with my family, who is also local, they are without doubt my saving grace. I thank God for bringing such a wonderful ladies into my life!
Doc H and I wanted to get married, not throw a wedding. We had already done that once before and it didn't work out too well for either of us. For Pete's sake... I even released white doves outside the church the first time around. Doc H and I just wanted to be married, we didn't feel the need for all the wedding 'fluff'. However, our eloping was overruled by family and our four little ones, who were just thrilled at the idea of dressing up and having a fancy party complete with music, dancing, and a big wedding cake. We decided to appease them and throw a very small, family-only wedding. When the engagement news spread, I ended up with a best friend with a wounded heart. We quickly changed the rules of the wedding and decided we would also invite a couple of our closest friends. I invited my best friends from school. Doc H invited a couple of his colleagues. 

We live in a small, small world. I was flabbergasted to learn one of Doc H's colleague/friend was married to my OB/GYN. Oh, goodie! Can you imagine? Oh Sweet Baby Jeezus! The embarrassment! Not only had she seen my va-jay-jay, but she had also worked on my mothers! Oye. Vey.

There we were- me, Doc H, and the Lady Doc who nicely asks me to put my feet in the stirrups so she can stick a speculum up my who-ha.

Despite all the HIPAA laws, there's no privacy for Your Doctor's Wife.

Yep, definitely going out of state for that colonoscopy.

Monday, January 30, 2012

The Doctor's Brain is...ON

Doc H has an inventive mind which seems impossible to switch off. This inability to harness his medical creativity has even been known to interrupt my sleep on occasion. In the depth of night, my REM cycle has been cut short by the harshness of his bedside lamp. I'll open one eye only to see Doc H sitting up in bed with a yellow legal pad and pen in his hand sketching some rough outline of some creative 'what-if' idea that came to him in the middle of the night. The next morning, I'll find his little drawings on his bedside and filter through them. They make no sense to me. I can't make head or tails of them, nor can I tell what they may or might be able to do in the OR. But, when I ask him, he will go into detail about an issue he has encountered in the OR and how this little idea might be able to help him and others with great enthusiasm.
Our home office is littered with drawings, measurements and photographs of prototypes he has fashioned of materials found around the house. My garage walls are lined with office-sized filing cabinets which are busting at the seams with such papers and drawings going back as far as his undergrad years. One of these days, I want to scan all his documents and get rid of the cabinets. Yeah, right. I'm sure I will hang on to all these papers until the day I die...tangible proof the Doctor's brain is always on.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Over-Achieving beyond the Over-Achievement

Only over-achievers make it through surgical training. There's just no way a person with an ordinary work ethic and drive could make it. It's just that brutal. I know I could never do Doc H's job. I find the medical aspect fascinating, but the work load, stress, and weight of being responsible for an other's life would be too much to bear. It would drive me to drink. Really.

So, it shouldn't be any surprise when these over-achievers continue applying their over-achievement personalities once the over-achievement of becoming a surgeon is accomplished. 

I dropped Doc H off at the airport early yesterday. As I type, I am sitting in an empty, quiet house! It's just me and our dog. The kids are out and I find myself reveling in the silence around me. I am going to appreciate it for as long as I can. I am even considering staying in my jammies all day long.

You may be wondering where Doc H is headed...Conference? No. Family visit? No. Vacation? No. Guys' only fishing trip? No. 

Conference planning meeting. You understand my decision to stay home, don't you?

While Doc H loves surgery, it is just not enough for him. He finds complete fulfillment when working on multiple projects simultaneously. This year, Doc H was asked to join the planning committee for a large, national medical conference (as if he didn't have enough to do already!).  Late at night, while the rest of us sleep, he reviews papers submitted by other surgeons who would like to present their findings or research at the conference. A couple of days ago, he spent the majority of the day interviewing potential presenters for the conference. He loves hearing and discovering new techniques, novel ideas which may further push the boundaries of medicine.  Cutting edge medical technologies fascinate him. So, off he went and I must say, though he acts like it is just another task on his plate, I can tell he is honored and proud to have been invited to the planning committee. It will look fantastic on his CV.

Maybe Doc H will be part of the planning committee again next year. Maybe, next year, the planning committee will hold their meeting at a destination which features tropical palm trees, plumeria trees and libations with little colorful umbrellas. Maybe, then, I'll accompany my over-achiever.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Hijacked by Cancer

Yep, today's intended blog has been hijacked by cancer. Some people will come up with a four-letter word if you ask them what the 'c' word is. But, there's a word nastier, dirtier, and certainly more debilitating and it is a six letter word - CANCER. No. Not me. Not Doc H, but someone very near and dear to our hearts. 

Chemotherapy, the art of poisoning someone by killing as many cells in their body without crossing the line and killing the person, seems very barbaric to me. Aren't we beyond that? Just the other day I saw this article reporting a possible new way to deliver chemo to patients in a manner which would only kill cancer cells, not healthy cells. Here's the kicker....the brainiac behind this discovery? A high school student. A girl. 

Come on you people wearing white coats in cancer research labs all over the world. Let's get this show over with already! I have faith in you!

I've seen how the FDA can be. Hopefully, they will expedite the process and start a trial using polymers in humans. The mice in her lab are looking great! 

In the meantime, we will do what we can. Doc H will try to facilitate things at the hospital for them to give them some peace of mind and I will have to resort to sending words of support via snail mail, phone calls, start cooking and freezing meals for them, and praying...praying a lot. 

Medicine don't fail us now. We have sacrificed for you. Show us some gratitude here. I hate it when you come back and bite us in the butt. 

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

It’s a Perky Kind of Day

The greatest place on Earth!

Outside good news from our kids (such as ‘Yay! You made the team!’ or any other academic or athletic achievement), it takes a lot to excite me. I’m talking jumping up and down, clapping, smiling type of excitement. When the kids were little, I used to count the days until our yearly Disney trip. Doc H and I would hold onto their hands and we would weave with them in and out of the crowds running to get character autographs, see a show, grab a good seat on the parade route, get in line for a ride, or find the best spot for the firework display and watch in amazement as Tinkerbell flew through the warm, dark night sky. There’s really nothing like seeing the magic of Disney through a young child’s eyes. If you have any children in your life (nieces, nephews, cousins, God-children, etc.) by all means, GO
Today, our kids are teens and the roles have reversed. On our last Disney trip, they were holding our hands weaving us through the crowds, yelling at us to “stay together” and “don’t get lost”. We are a large family of six. When they were little, I would spend the entire trip counting their little heads, “one, two, three, four....one, two, three, four...one, two, three....CRAP! Where’s number four?!!!!!”  Early on we realized we needed more eyes to help oversee our brood, so we mostly travel with at least one set of grandparents. I just have to laugh thinking of how the kids now work hard to keep us ‘oldies’ (mind you both Doc H and I are in our 40‘s - we really aren’t that old!) together and moving towards the ride of their choice. 
Those Disney days seem to be over. It is impossible to get the kids’ all together on the same schedule nowadays. We have different schools, jobs, athletics, tournaments, and competitions to contend with. Traveling all together is becoming a distant dream - at least for awhile. And that is sad.
But today, is a ‘Perk-y’ day. Yes! I am punching a hole on my ‘surgeon’s wife benefits’ card.  I researched airfare for one of Doc H’s conferences and the excitement finally hit me...7 days in Maui! Room, paid for (he’s been asked to moderate and give a talk). His airfare, paid for. My airfare, points. SCORE! Of course, I will have to share Doc H with his colleagues for three days, but the remainder of the days belong to just us! WooHoo! While he is working, I will be pool side, sipping on ridiculously expensive, but very cutely garnished pina coladas. After a couple, I may even throw my inhibitions to the tropical winds and expose my old pregnancy stretch marks for tanning. Everything looks better tanned, right? 

My perk! Yippee!
Normally, I am quite frugal. I don’t spend money on myself. I’m not a great shopper. In fact, I hate it. Probably because when I do shop, it costs me a pretty penny. I do like designer. Always have. Shoes (or should I say Choos) have always posed a particular problem for me. Therefore, I limit my mall trips for myself to very few and far between. I’m talking years. But for this conference/vacation... I may just have to shop for something ridiculously cute to wear while sipping my cute, yet ridiculously expensive cocktails while I wait for Doc H...in Maui.


Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Dressing for Doctor

Recently, I finally surrendered to pains which have been nagging me for way to long. Much like the plumber with the leaky faucet, we, Doc families seem to be walking case studies of a plethora of ailments, aches, and pains - especially the adults. If something's hurting, I just wait until Doc H comes home, mention it in passing and wait for a response. Usually, I get no response other than a nod (translation: I have no idea. You’ll probably feel better in a day or two) or the raise of an eyebrow as he turns to walk toward me to better assess the situation (translation:  It’s probably nothing, but I better take a look so she doesn’t get mad at me when she goes to her doctor and is prescribed meds).
My recent ailments sent me through a variety of departments. I went to my GP who then sent me to Podiatry and Radiology and then Podiatry sent me to Physical Therapy (oh, and let’s not forget the mammogram my GP ordered)...all within the hospital where my husband not only practices, but is Chief of his department. 
Today was PT day. I woke up late, threw on my comfy warm clothes to drop the non-driving teens off at school. I broke the speeding limit a couple times on the drive home to make sure I had enough time to shower, do my hair and make-up and put on my work clothes for my visit to the doctor. Was I going into the office afterwards? No. Was I going to meet with a client? No. Was I going out to lunch with colleagues? No. I was dressed up because Doc H asked me to do so.
Now, don’t go getting your panties all twisted up in a wad. Doc H is the furthest thing from a controlling husband (and I know. That was my first husband.) However, I will admit my eyes rolled as my jaw hit the floor when he made this “dress for doctor” request. Here are his reasons:
As a patient - While many doctors give the same service and attention to all, some doctors do not (think Dr. Alex Karev from Grey's Anatomy). The patient who comes in looking disheveled and unkempt with grubby clothes may not receive the same level of attention and care as a patient who comes in looking clean, groomed and neatly dressed. Now, I know it’s not right and I am glad Doc H is very open-minded and non-judgmental. He is the first to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. He enjoys working with the underprivileged and finds it very rewarding.
As Your Doctor’s Wife - Apparently, I (and I mean, we, to those of you who are in my club) need to represent. Even if I am not feeling well, I still need to look my best and put my best foot forward. These are his colleagues and just as we like to be proud of our husbands, they like to be proud of us. Plus, despite HIPAA laws, you don’t think word would leak that you were there, right? I can just hear all the NA and MA's talking at lunch, "Did you see Doc H's wife? She came into clinic today. She looked awful!" Or my worst nightmare, "What does he see in her? She's homely looking!"
Can’t wait until the day I need a colonoscopy. I may have to go out of state for that one.

So, I see Doc H's point. Besides, is it really that much harder to dress for doctor? 

Sunday, January 22, 2012

How Facebook Saved My *BEEP*

The archaic beast
It’s happened more than once and I’m positive I’m not the only doctor’s wife out there whose evening plans have been abruptly thwarted by the archaic, high pitched beep of a hospital pager. 

We’re out to dinner... a semi-date night. These types of dinners are not a ‘real’ date night, because we know that we may have to flag down the poor wait staff and ask for our dinner to go. A movie is COMPLETELY out of the question no matter how quiet the hospital seems. We tried a movie. Just once. We didn’t even have time to ask for a refund. We just ran straight through the lobby, across the parking lot and straight for the car. 

Sometimes, the beep can be satisfied with a phone call - some lengthy in duration, some short and sweet. Other times, we’re allowed to finish our main course, but don’t think of ordering another glass of wine (that’s me, not Doc H) or a dessert, ‘cause HE’S GOT TO GO!
Our night can quickly go from this...
Early last year, we considered a move. We finally felt we could afford to move to a larger home in a better neighborhood. We combed through active real estate listings every day. Every weekend, we toured homes and....nothing. We couldn’t find a house that suited our needs and desires (for a price we were willing to pay) enough to pry us away from our current home. Our current home is small for a family of our size, but it has been good to us. We have re-modeled it to our liking. I have personally planted over 300 bulbs I had imported from Holland in the garden.  Our kids have grown up in this house. What have we put down in this house? Oh, yes.. ROOTS. And this house has one other aspect to it which is incredibly valuable in these types of scenarios...It is within walking distance to the hospital (in comfortable shoes). 
Normally, when the beep brings our life to a screeching halt, it is an irritation which brings a bout of tolerable frustration which is usually quelched with a very active and cogniscent round of ‘let’s focus on the postives’ as our car comes to only a rolling stop at our drive way and I jump out. 
However, it is when ANOTHER hospital (where Doc H has privileges) beeps for back-up that really chaps my hide and leaves me unguarded and ill-prepared. So much so, that one dark night, I found myself sitting outside the main entrance of a hospital as Doc H was inside one of the ORs working on a poor chap. I had already been there over an hour and it was going to be a long wait.  

... to this.
I know. I KNOW!! I should’ve known! The second I took the curing iron to my hair on a night my husband could possibly be called in, the night was DOOMED! 

I took to people watching for awhile. I saw green scrubs, white coats, blue scrubs, sweats, jeans, hospital gowns, and pj’s even! Doctors, nurses, patients. hospital visitors, volunteers, vendors, and even a very late and weary looking UPS man walked by. I looked at them and they looked at me. Dressed up in my best date night clothes (you know, the ones that make you look skinnier than you really are, the bra that hoists the girls up and around your neck like a choker, and the shoes that make you look as tall as you possibly can look without falling over), I must have looked like a pitiful case, cause I began to feel uncomfortable and desperate for a way home. OH, why didn't we drive two cars?!  My wallet didn’t hold enough cash for a cab ride and I wouldn’t dream of paying that much in fare anyway. I grabbed my phone and updated my status. 
God bless Facebook!
“Anyone in the __________ Hospital area and headed North? I could use a ride...now.”
I didn’t expect anything. I threw my phone back in my purse. In less time than it takes to say ‘ruptured abdominal aeortic anuerysm’ my phone rang and I HAD A RIDE ON IT’S WAY!
Thank you, Mr. Zuckerberg! I treasure you and your little website! You saved my *BEEP*!

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Weekend Humor

Best Patients For Surgery

Five surgeons from big cities are discussing who makes the best Patients to operate on.

The first surgeon, from New York, says, 'I like to see accountants on my operating table, because when you open them up, everything inside is numbered.'

The second, from Chicago, responds, 'Yeah, but you should try electricians! Everything inside them is color coded.'

The third surgeon, from Dallas, says, 'No, I really think librarians are the best, everything inside them is in alphabetical order.'

The fourth surgeon, from Los Angeles chimes in: 'You know, I like construction workers ... those guys always understand when you have a few parts left over.'

But the fifth surgeon, from Washington, DC shut them all up when he observed: 'You're all wrong! Politicians are the easiest to operate on. There's no guts, no heart, no balls, no brains and no spine, and the head and the ass are interchangeable!

For more medical jokes click here

Friday, January 20, 2012

Get a Stomach and Hardened Heart ...or Learn to Compartmentalize Like a Man

First, I must chronicle an incredibly rare occurrence in our home. Last night, I got home from a meeting at 10pm...late, but not that late. The house was quite, but the lights were still on. I was just shocked to go upstairs to my room to find DOC H ALREADY IN BED! Before me! Trust me, this NEVER HAPPENS!

Last night the roles were reversed. I was the one walking into a dark bedroom, stumbling around trying to make it to the bathroom with only the illumination of the TV lightly filtering the room. 
After kicking off the heels, washing up and becoming one with my jammies (is there anything better than life in jammies?) I slid my weary self in between the cool sheets and I think I may have even smiled a bit as my head hit the pillow and I shut my eyes. 
My husband was watching a comedy on TV. No problem. Normally, I go to bed with the TV on and he’ll come in after I’ve already fallen asleep, and turn it off. “So, how was your meeting?” he asks as he chuckles at the TV.

Me, extremely fatigued, “Huh?”

“How did it go?”


“What do you think?” Chuckle. Chuckle.

“Interesting. Great program. It will be great,” I mumble. Realizing he was wide awake, I deflected the conversation. I just couldn’t muster the energy to properly enunciate words. “How was your day?”

Chuckle. Chuckle. Serious voice (probably a serious look too, but my eyes were closed. I was already standing on the porch of the Sandman's house). “Remember the pneumonia patient I told you about?” My eyes fly open. Young lady, Professional. Recently married. Pneumonia. Just pneumonia.  “I had a conversation with her tonight. So sad. She went septic and is going to need some amputations. She said she didn’t want to live anymore.”

“Well, what did you tell her?” I’m full alert and awake now!

“I tried to re-assure her that she would be able to walk and get her to see a bigger picture.”

Can you imagine?!!!! Pneumonia! Just pneumonia! Amputations over pneumonia! No computer, no phone. no texting. Needing someone to help you with the most basic necessities? Yes, I’m talking the 3 P’s...pee, poop, and period! Oh, this poor, poor, young lady!!!! Not being able to brush or braid your child's hair? I feel a churning in my stomach. Doc H turns off the TV and rolls over onto his side.
There I lay, wide awake, in the pure, quiet darkness with the ghastly image of surgical amputations on my brain. I worry for her. Her new husband. I pray he has the fortitude to adapt to this unforeseen version of their life together. Flat on my back, now staring at the ceiling, I am completely grief stricken and horrified for a complete stranger. This is going to haunt me all night.

Coming from my immediate right, I hear a soft snore. I need to learn how to do that.  *SIGH*

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The Bomb

The Bomb - as in phenomenal - not atomic, or catastrophic failure. That’s my husband. There. I said it. If he reads this, I’m sure he’ll never let me forget I felt strongly enough to  float that sentiment out into cyber space. 
My mother was incredibly impressed with him the day we met. She spent her forty-two year nursing career working at a prestigious hospital. She knew doctors, their ways, work ethic and... egos. She found Doc H patient and attentive when she knew others would be annoyed and aloof. When we announced our engagement, his staff threw us a wedding shower in the clinic. My mother was quick to note, “Oh, they must all really like him. Not every doctor would get a shower!” As usual, my mother was right. They adore him. Praise of his work, his kindness, his willingness to help ALL. These were the recurring themes I heard from his staff, nurses and medical assistants. Along with the “Oh! You’re so lucky. He’s so handsome!” which was nice to hear, but also made me feel a little less significant each and every time I heard the phrase. Only the older ladies would mention the handsome part and I whole-heartedly would agree with them. The OR nurses felt compelled to tell me how patient he is and how nice it is to work with someone who doesn’t yell at them even under them most stressful situations. 
Yes, I am lucky. We are living a great life. I want to put that out there. I woke up in the middle of the night worried I was sounding too whinny. I am not an unhappy wife. Nothing could be further from the truth. I count my blessings each and every day and even sometimes shake my head and smile to myself in disbelief...How in the heck did I manage to land here?
For every negative aspect of being a surgeon’s wife, there are a multitude of positives. My husband makes sure of it. From flower Thursdays to GNO’s to solo vacations out of the country to spoil-me-rotten gifts, he makes sure I know he appreciates and values me, the work I do and the support I lend to him and our kids. However, it is his cards that make it all worth while. When he takes pen to paper, taking the time (yes! the time!) to put his thoughts, appreciation and love into sentences that melt all the hard, frustrating times away. On occasion, I have found myself rummaging through the cards, re-reading them just to remind myself that I am not alone. 
In the big picture, it’s okay that I’ve been waiting for him for over two hours for dinner. So what if I went through the trouble of curling my hair, applying eyeshadow, and am even sporting the most UNCOMFORTABLE push-up demi bra from VS? Someday, he’ll make it up to me. I know he will. He always has.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

No Zzz's for Doc

I'm imagining Doc H is like this at the moment....

While he doesn't wear those funky white clogs, I'm sure he's dreaming of zzz's right now.

We enjoyed a nice family dinner last night with extended family. We laughed and carried on...talked football, New Year's Eve parties, kids, and everything else under the sun. Doc H missed it... was called into the hospital on MLK holiday. He finally dined on the reheated dinner I brought home for him when he returned home at 10pm .  Not a bad work day for him. Until....

2am. The beeper. The beeper. It's a sound that I can only describe as worse than nails on a chalkboard times 1000. The sound is amplified when it comes piercing into your sleep, abruptly halting any hopes of REM sleep I had for the rest of the night.

His end of the phone conversation makes it's way up the stairs and into our room. I am drowsy...trying to piece it all together in my mind. He is alert, gathering data, asking the pertinent questions. I hear (in an authoritative and decisive voice, "Alert the OR. Let them know we are coming. I'll be right there." He is now in, what I like to call, "I have to go save a life" mode.

It's freezing outside. He runs out to his car to start defrosting. (God bless those poor doctors in Minnesota!) He is in his robe and slippers. He comes upstairs, turns on all the lights to dress. I cover my eyes with a pillow. From under the pillow, I fight to put my words in semblance, "What's happening?"

"I have a ruptured triple A in the ER." he says as he is scrambling to get dressed, brush teeth, comb his hair.  I am so sleepy, I don't even answer. I know what that means. I don't need any further explanation. I know how the day is going to play out. We've lived this scenario PLENTY.

What's a triple A, you ask? It's bad news, especially if it has ruptured. He or she is bleeding out- all the blood just pooling. Time is definitely of the essence.

I was hoping I would see Doc H home early this morning for at least a shower and cup of coffee before clinic. No such luck. I hope he found a couple of minutes before rounding and clinic to catch some zzz's.

Late Doctor. Bad Doctor!

Well, this is the repetitious complaint that sent my fingers flying over the keyboard. (I got an A in my high school typing class. We typed on old IBM ribbon typewriters. Yes, I’m not a youthful doctor’s wife looking at my future life through rose colored glasses. I'm living it! And it's not all rosy.)

"Why is my doctor ALWAYS LATE?!"

This one question could be the genesis for a novel. Shondra Rhimes could start a whole new television series based on this question. So, instead of boring you with a novel of reasons, let me paint the different scenarios that are going on behind the scenes ALL THE TIME:
  1. A patient came into my husband’s clinic who needs a CT/angio/ultrasound. STAT! HE (not a MA, NP, or RN or NA) has to write the order, call the department, schedule, and document. NO, NO ONE ELSE CAN DO IT FOR HIM!
  2. He was called into the OR because, someone’s mother, father, brother, sister, son or daughter was bleeding out and needed his expertise. When it’s your family member, will you be thinking of the poor soul who is waiting for the doctor in his clinic?
  3. He is taking his time educating another patient about their health, so they can make an educated decision as to their future medical course of action. If your problem is as serious, he will take the same time with you.
  4. He is winding down the appointment before you...”Your wound is looking good Mr. Joe Shmoe. Keep cleaning it and changing the dressing. Is there anything else I can do for you today?” “Oh, yes, Doc H! I almost forgot! My wife’s been asking me to show you this lump.”
  5. His schedule is booked solid for two weeks, yet the clinic/office squeezes you (and others) in within the next 24 or 48 hours, due to insurance “doctor access” rules.
  6. You are a VIP (very important patient) along with the....wait for it.....THOUSANDS (not hundreds) of other patients he must care for. So, when you bump into us around town, he may not remember your name, but I can assure you he can list your current or last ailments on your last clinic visit. 
  7. It’s clinic day, but a colleague from a different department, needs his opinion on  a rare case and treatment is time sensitive
  8. But you say, “I booked the first appointment in the morning and he was STILL late!” Yes, because he was operating on someone’s child all night long. He got in bed at 6am and over-slept 30 minutes when his alarm went off at 7:30am. 
  9. His patient of over 10 years was admitted to the hospital last night while you were sleeping. Despite being “off” last night, he felt the need to go in and check on his patient and ended up staying longer than expected talking with and reassuring his family members. He is working on 4 hours of sleep.
  10. He has slept only 6 hours over the last 36 hours. Many, in other professions, would simply call in sick, or head in to the office late after sleeping in. He may be late, but he is there for you.
I’m going to end it at 10 reasons today. I’ll continue on as time allows me. Doctor's wives don’t just sit around eating bon bons all day while polishing our diamonds. I’ll leave that story for another day.

In the meantime, PLEASE remember... My husband and his colleagues work themselves to the bone for you, his patient. Cut him some slack. I promise you, he is not running late because he doesn't value your time, or your schedule. He hates running late as much as you do.  It means he won't make it home in time to eat dinner with his family or worse, see his kids (and wife) before bedtime.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...