|Do they come with a|
People don't become emergently sick at any random hour. No, even though their symptoms and pain have been lurking around for days, they always decide to beckon wildly at the most inconvenient times. It all seems to begin at 3pm as everyone else is beginning to wind down their work day.
My morning wasn't bad. I just carried that sucker in my bra cup like it was a pacemaker outside my body. The box squawked just a couple pages which I forwarded as instructed, via text message to his cell phone.
There are only four buttons on Doc H's pager. Those were enough to thoroughly confuse Your Doctor's Wife. I was panicked. Would I/could I accidentally delete a page? Then what? They'll have to page again, but how many minutes will that waste? I prayed that if I had deleted any it was just a page from a nurse asking for discharge orders or another elementary question which did not demand immediate attention.
Then came a page from a doc from an affiliate hospital. I text. A couple minutes later another page from the same doc. Uh. Oh.
While I did make it through my shower without a page, my cup squealed while I was in the hover position over a public commode. I began to fish it out of its holding place, but was having a bit of trouble which evoked premonitions of the sucker swimming in the toilet. I decided I should let it wait until I could wash my hands. I put those kegel exercises to the test.
I pick up D3 from school. I'm driving on a busy and congested highway...and BEEP! BEEP BEEP! I wish it was a cute little VW bug vying for my attention. I can't text and drive. I can't pull over. I ask D3 to text the page. She does as told.
Before we reach home, my car rings (yes, my whole car. I can't figure out how to turn down the ringer on the hands free blutooth.) It's Doc H. His voice is muffled. Another "uh-oh" moment. He's calling from inside the OR. Normally, he'll break scrub to call when he needs to talk to me. Now, he has a nurse holding his cell phone up to his scrub cap and he's talking to me through his mask. More emergencies, more unscheduled cases equal late night. He hasn't had time to eat and doesn't see any break in the day. Bad day.
My bra beeped while I was in a busy, noisy restaurant. Everyone turned to look as I was fishing it out of my left cup. I was mortified...
And that's exactly how it went and how it continued to go. He came home at 12:30am that night when I handed the pager over to him. He was able to sleep until 2:30am when the pager went off again and he sprinted back to the OR. But this time, the pager beckoned from his side of the bed... so much better than my side.
Now, do you want me to tell you how he couldn't leave the hospital until noon the next day even though he was officially on vacation at 5pm the previous day?
I didn't think so.