Saturday, September 29, 2012

Play It Again {My Dad is a Doctor, But He Knows Nothing About Medicine}

Originally published February 27, 2012

I am beyond perplexed.

Obviously, the teen female brain has evolved (I'm not even sure if that is the right word here) since I was a teen. At first I thought it was just me, so I consulted an expert in this field - my mother.  She readily agreed- she was perplexed as well. She confirmed what I already knew... I was nothing like that during my teen years.

I found myself shaking my head in disbelief the other night in the car. Here's what went down:

Teen Daughter:  I have, like, this bump on my head where I got hit during practice.
Doc H:  What happened?
TD:  I got hit by, like, an elbow or something. It hurts. I have a concussion.
Doc H:  You don't have a concussion.
TD:  YES, DAD! I have a concussion!
Doc H:  No, TD, you don't. Did you lose consciousness?
TD:  No, but it's, like, a concussion. I know, 'cause, sooooooo many girls on our squad have concussions!
Doc H:  Really? They all lost consciousness?
TD:  No.
Doc H:  Then they don't have concussions.
TD:  YES, they do!
Doc H:  No, TD, in order to have a concussion you have to lose consciousness.
TD:  NOOOO that's not true.
Doc H:  (laughing) Yes, it is.
TD:  NO, It's not. I know they have concussions. They told me.
Doc H:  They probably have minor contusions.
TD:  NO, DAD! Concussions!

(Little Buddy finally can't take it anymore. He chimes in.)
LB:  TEEN SISTER! He's a DOCTOR! He should know! You're not alway right!
TD:  LB, you don't know what we're, like, even talking about! Mind your own business!

Me:  TD, how can you argue with your father who has a degree in medicine?!
TD:  He's not right!
Me:  You have to learn how to be open to the possibility that you may be wrong from time to time and it's okay to say, "Thanks for explaining that to me."
TD:  Well, that's not right. (sulk, pout, texts away on her phone - probably to her BF telling him how stupid we are.)

We get home. Doc H comes out holding one of his med school textbooks.

Doc H:  Look, TD,  (he reads)..."Concussion affects only mentation, with return of consciousness moments or minutes after impact."
TD:  (rolls her eyes) Whatever, DAD!
Me:  TD, just soak it in and you can teach your cheer friends the difference next time it comes up. They'll think you're so smart! (trying to be positive and upbeat)
TD:  Whatever, it's not like they really care about that anyways. (stomps upstairs)

Dear God, give me patience...


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Friday, September 28, 2012

Get Ready, Get Set. . .


Medical Monday BlogHop is almost upon us. Get your post ready for link up this Monday, October 1st!  Link up goes live at midnight Eastern time.

Are you confused if you qualify for the party?
Do you work in healthcare?
Doctor? Nurse? EMT? Chiropractor? Vet? Dentist? Therapist?
Are you the spouse or SO of a healthcare worker/student?
Are you a nursing student? Medical student?
Intern? Resident? Fellow?

Medical Mondays is meant to be a meeting place for bloggers like yourself, where we can build a community of support and friendship, learn from one another and share our stories.

So be ready for Monday to link up you blogpost, and be ready to meet some other terrific bloggers who are living the med life like you.

Help spread the word prior to the blog by posting our info button on your sidebar or weekend post, because the more the merrier, you know?

See you back here on MONDAY!!! Be sure to bring some of your friends along!

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Forgetting to Utilize the "Doc Wife" Card

Yesterday, as I looked out from the terminal and caught a glimpse of the commuter plane we would be flying home on, my stomach flipped and bounced whole-heartedly off my bladder. Yes, I vomited and peed my pants all at once. I found myself starring at a propeller plane.

I don't do prop planes.

Doc H, knowing what I was thinking said, "You booked the flights" in a don't-look-at-me, it's-not-my-fault, defensive tone. 

Sweet baby Jeezus, I just want to get home without falling from the sky.

Thankfully, that prop plane was not our plane. Our plane pulled up and was a smidgen larger with two small jet engines. 

My insides settled. Just a little.

On the inside, I was cursing myself for not fully utilizing my "doc wife" card to it's fullest extent. Why, oh why, didn't I ask Doc H for a prescription of pills which would render me senseless... a state of unconsciousness even more preferable.

I loathe flying.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Warm His Willy

While killing some spare time during this latest medical convention,
I walked around this sleepy town's downtown. 
Guess what?
Seems this town is not so sleepy after all!
Leave it to me to find some spice.

For goodness sake's, Ladies, here what we've all been praying for...
A gift for the men in our lives who are impossible to buy for...
Just in time for the holidays...
Because you know nothing says "I love you" like...

a real fur jock strap.

These people are serious. 
Notice the "shoplifters will be prosecuted" sign
for their most sought after item.

Every man deserves a warm willy.
I'm pretty sure these will go unnoticed 
underneath Doc H's scrubs, don't you?

Linking up at Finding The Funny

Thursday Favorite Things

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

My Conference Post-Its

It's Tuesday! Do you know what that means? It's... 

Only Parent Chronicles
Want to make your own stickies and link up?
Make your stickies here

Monday, September 24, 2012

Twelve Things You'll Find in the Home of a Surgeon

Surgical tape 
{which has been known to solve every household emergency}.

A stent or two.

Filing cabinets over-stuffed 
with research academic papers 
your surgeon spouse has authored.

Medical text books. The ones s/he used in school and 
copies of the ones of which he's co-authored chapters.


White coats. . . 

 and scrubs.


Tons of diplomas and certificates.

Skin markers {which your kids will use on copious school projects, 
because they can find skin markers quicker than a Sharpie}.

Gross pictures mixed in among your family/vacation photos. 

And, lest we not forget. . .
the stop-what-you-doing, 
never mind-your-personal-need-to-eat-pee-or-have-sex,
the Almighty Pager. . .

Linking up at. . .

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Play it Again, Sam, Sunday {Work the Body, Insure the Body}

Originally published on March 20, 2012

Anyone remember Mary Hart from "Entertainment Tonight"? I remember being gobsmacked hearing she had insured her legs for one million dollars...each! I thought, "Who does that? How stupid!"

I'm re-thinking the "let's insure our body parts" notion. In particular, Doc H's body parts. They're kinda important in our house hold. Let's be real, his fingers, hands, arms, eyes, legs, back and brain are instrumental in paying our bills.

Last week, Doc H slept in a bad position and woke up with a crick in his neck. He went to the hospital looking like he needed a neck brace. A few years ago, he had (what seemed to be) a recurring muscle spasm in his arm. Quietly, I prayed to God hoping it was NOT an early indicator of a debilitating disease such a ALS.  When he couldn't read anything anymore, he broke down and got his reading glasses. When I probed about seeing in the OR he told me it wasn't a problem, because he wore his loops. He has a bum knee right now. I've asked him to make an appointment, but I doubt it will happen anytime soon. It will mean taking a day off work and driving to a far away hospital in a far away land... all in the name of confidentiality.

Why do I bring this up now? Well, yesterday Doc H tweaked his back and as soon as it happened, he immediately started worrying about his day in the OR today. He has a big case where he will have to wear a protective 25 lb. lead vest for hours with a bad back. I feel for him, I really do. I've battled my own back problems for years. It's painful and awful.

And the culprit? The heavy job which crumpled Doc H and made him grimace in pain?

The laundry. I'm heading to the gym. Need to save the body. Keep it strong.

Maybe we should insure my body parts, too.  I'm afraid if I fall apart, this house is falling like a house of cards.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Tits in a Box

Remember how I told you I have to dress for doctor? You remember how well the last medical dinner went? I also told about my criteria for travel. Well, this weekend all the aforementioned is colliding into one medical conference. In a non-tropical locale. yippee.

I find myself trying to gear myself up. It's not hard when you know pina coladas and warm sandy beaches are awaiting. This time there's none of that. 

I'm sure it will be nice. I'm sure I may have some fun once I get there.  It's the getting there. The choosing of outfits, the packing of the spanxs, and tits in a box. 

Do you know tits in a box? Do you have a pair of tits in a box? You know, they resemble a pair of boneless, skinless chicken breasts? You use them when there is no bra that could possibly go unseen in that dress? 

The last time I used my tits in a box, was for a dress at a destination wedding we attended in Hawaii. Upon a rushed and stressful packing of our hotel room, Doc H was urging me to hurry up. As I was grabbing my suitcases and bags, he asked if I had forgotten anything. 

Annoyed, I quipped, "NO!"

"Are you sure? Did you check everywhere?"

"Yes! I got it all!"

Smugly, he nodded his head towards the closet and said, "Then why are your tits in the closet?"

With a "hrmpfff", I retrieved my tits and brought them home in my carry-on. 

I wonder how those looked going through the security x-ray.

So, I'm packing them again. . . along with a couple cute dresses, some sexy shoes, eyelashes and spanx.  

Smoke and mirrors, people. Smoke and mirrors.

At Home Take 2

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

No Time to Talk


The number of sentences Doc H and I have exchanged since Sunday evening. Mind you, it's now Tuesday. 

Marital brawl?


Cases. Complicated cases. Early start cases. Long cases.  Late start cases. Cases.

Nine sentences. Barely enough to qualify as a conversation.

"What are you doing today," he asked me as I was still trying to sleep, and he was threading his belt through the belt loops of his slacks.

"I don't know." I don't know anything at 5:30am.

I laid there with my eyes closed for a few seconds, then it came to me. I'm trying to build the website.

"Did you get my text yesterday about the password? I need to access the website."

"No. I was in OR all day."

"What is it? I need it."

"I'll have to look it up. . . I don't know."

Don't we make a smart pair?

I blame it on the ungodly hour.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Post It Tuesday

I've got a ton of random thoughts that I can't possible blog about them all, so I've decided to let them out on Post It Tuesday. Thanks to Ducky, one of the new loves of my blog life,  at BATCRAP CRAZY for turning me on to it!

Here they blow...

Only Parent Chronicles

The Doctor Travels

In the last four weeks, Doc H has completed three of his 6 scheduled business trips.

During this time, I have learned I could never be married to someone whose occupations requires a huge amount of travel.

When he travels, I feel alone despite the kids. Yes, we talk on the phone, but usually it is late at night, there is a time difference involved, and we are both tired. There is a disconnect, and well, I like to be connected to my husband.

Luckily, most are quick, one night trips for one meeting. I thought conference calls and webcams were supposed to eliminate such nonsense.

We text, and every now and then things get so spicy {did you catch the sarcasm?}, Doc H will send me a picture along with some text, he thinks will further amuse me. . .

"Look! The room comes with a Napoleonic robe"

:::sigh::: I love my husband.

Monday, September 17, 2012

First and Second Weddings: Oh, How They Differ!

10 Differences Between a First and Second Wedding

1. You consider eloping via a Las Vegas drive thru chapel in your minivan with all the kids in tow, but realize that won't do when your youngest asks if he'll get a toy at the drive thru.

2. You hunt for months for the perfect wedding dress the first time around. The second, you buy the first dress you try on... off the rack.

3. Your children are in your wedding pictures.

4. You don't register for anything, ask for no gifts, and TRULY mean it.

5. While hundreds attended your first wedding, you only invite the important people in your lives to your second wedding. . . family.

6. Not only do you have a DJ for your guests' entertainment, you also have two arts and crafts tables to entertain the children. 

7. A white dove release seems incredibly stupid.

8. You foot the entire bill for your wedding. 

9. The first wedding took over a year to plan. The second less than six months. You are not particular about specifics or details. It really doesn't matter that the dye lots on the ribbons don't exactly match. 

10. You consider the wedding a formality. You really want a marriage.

But most importantly. . . 

This time, you KNOW you're making the right decision by marrying the man in front of you. There are no question marks running around inside your head. You KNOW this marriage is right and the love you share is a healthy love which can withstand the the inevitable hardships life will throw at you.

Join in on the fun at. . .

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Teen Parenting: The Beau Hunk Continues to Traumatize

I'll say this. . . teen parenting is not for the weak or weary.

While D1 gave me a run for my money for about a year during her prime teen years, D2 is going to be the death of me. Or more specifically, the Beau Hunk will be the death of me. At this rate, I'm afraid I'll find myself in form of ashes in an urn by next week.

If you are unfamiliar with the Beau Hunk saga, go ahead and click here. It's teen drama at it's very best.

If you remember the last break up, (that would be break up #17, if you're counting) came about just as the Beau Hunk departed for Boot Camp. Our hopes and dreams of this being the final break-up were quickly shattered. One letter a day from D2 and the loneliness, hardships, and stress of boot camp chipped the frost off the relationship and before we knew it, D2 was invited to Boot Camp Graduation.


He was home for a little over a week and we barely saw D2 during that time. Never once, did he come to the house to say hello to us.

Today, he continues his training back at the same base he completed Boot Camp. Apparently, he is given weekends off and has asked D2 to fly down for a weekend visit. He would purchase her ticket.

Let me remind you, she is 17 and he is 19.

We said, "NO!"

I have news for you.

We are AWFUL, MEAN parents.

So, I ask you. . . is there any circumstance that would deem such a trip as appropriate?

I think not.

The Beau Hunk continues to traumatize ME!

{Click here for the next Beau Hunk installment}

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Play it Again, Sam, Sunday: {The Back Side of Medicine and Technology}

Originally published March 6, 2012

Technology and medicine have come a long way.

Thanks to the Internet (and Al Gore) my husband is, sometimes, able to field pages from home. From our home computer, he can pull up medical records, look at a patient's CT scan or other study to determine if he needs to go in or not. Technology has definitely been a game changer, not only for the doctors but patients as well.

For instance, once my father was suffering from a bad, itchy rash. He was trying to describe the rash to Doc H over the phone. Doc H suggested he Skype him with his webcam. We were amazed at the clarity of the picture and Doc H was able to diagnose the rash and made treatment suggestions. Viola! Tele-medicine.

I bring this all up because we recently experienced another first in technology and medicine--a blunder, really. A doctor colleague of Doc H's has been should I phrase this... hemmoroidal issues. This particular doctor (let's call him Doc O'Roid), is the exact opposite of Doc H. When Doc H has any issues, he will make me drive him to a far away hospital where no one will (hopefully) recognize him. Doc O'Roid felt comfortable enough to make his appointment right there in the hospital where he works. Good for him! Great for his wife! She doesn't have to drive him outside of town for his appointments. (Honey, if you're reading this, I really don't mind. Honest. I don't really don't mind, cause you'll be driving me out of state for my colonoscopy.)

Doc O'Roid was a little miffed when his colleague, Doc I-Fix-Roids wouldn't break protocol and documented his appointment and reason for the appointment for all the MAs to see. Humiliating, right? These are co-workers knowing your anal business. Bad.

Then the bad got worse. Infection and pain set in. Doc O'Roid needed help. It was his back side and he couldn't see...he couldn't make a self-diagnosis. What's a Doc to do? Call the wife, that's what. I imagine it went down something like this:

DOR: Honey, come help me!
Mrs: What?
DOR: I think I have an infection, can you grab my IPhone?
(Mrs comes in the room with the camera. DOR moons her, grabs his cheeks and spreads them. She dutifully snaps the photo.)

Doc O'Roid texts the photo of the infected area to his friend and doctor, Doc I-Fix-Roids.  Doc O'Roid (who is home using sick days and heavily medicated at this point) mentions the text to Doc H.

At the hospital, Doc H runs into Doc I-Fix-Roids. Doc H asks if he received the lovely photos on his phone from Doc O'Roids.

Doc I-Fix-Roids: Huh? What picture?

Then it all came together for Doc H. He remembered awhile back he tried reaching Doc I-Fix-Roids on his cell phone and a strange lady had answered. Doc I-Fix-Roids had changed his cell phone number.

I'm thinking that lady is changing her phone number today, too.

Friday, September 7, 2012

...and Then She Felt Me Up

Every morning, I wake up and have a good sense of how my day will be. Get up, get dressed, make coffee, drive to school, come home, blog, do some house chores and errands, pick up kids, homework, dinner, blog, lights out. Next day... REPEAT.

However, every now and then, even while doing the most mundane and repetitive of chores or errands, life throws you a wrench. That just happened to me, and I feel as if I've just walked into a different dimension... a parallel universe, if you will. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. 

For ten years, Doc H and I have been utilizing the same dry cleaner. Kim, and her husband, Sam, are a married Korean couple. They know us, they know our clothes. They are sweet, hard-working people, who speak very little, very broken English. But she loves to talk to me and I always do my best to understand her. I always repeat back what she says to let her know I've understood her. I think she likes that, because she always smiles and nods her head as I repeat back what she's said.

I walked in her store front to be greeted with a broken "Allo, Meh Smi(th). Ow ah you?" Our conversation is exactly them same every time I see her.

"Ow Daw-ta Smi(th)?"

"He's good, Kim."

"Ohhhhh... e bee-zee daw-ta."

"Yes, yes, he is busy."

"Mmmm... pee-po seek. A-way pee-po seek. Noh goo fo dem."

"You're right, it's not good to be sick."

"Ohhhhhh... Daw-ta Smi, e bar-ree bee-zee ma."

"Yes, he's very busy."

"Ohhhhhh... e ty-yah ma"

"Yes, he's tired quite a bit. You're right."

As per our usual, it is at this point I pay and she carries the laundry out to my car and hangs it up. Really, I don't know why she does this except to say that she is very nice. I always tell her I'll get it, but she refuses to let me carry it. 

I unlocked the car, opened the door and the clothes were hung. And, here, is where life skidded a bit, went off the tracks, and I found myself in alternate universe.

"Ohhhhh... Meh Smi! You lew skee-nee! You lewz... you lewz.. ma-nee... ma-nee...

"No, I just lost a few pounds, Kim."

"Ohhh.... noooooooo."

And that's when it happened. She walked over, busted through my personal space barrier, and laid one hand on my stomach and the other on the small of my back. She ran her hands up and down my torso as if she was fluffing up a pillow. She "fluffed" me from my navel to the underside of my cups. 

I felt my boobs shift around a bit in their respective hammocks. Beside Doc H, my Ob/Gyn, and the lady who administered my mammogram, Kim is the only person to touch the ladies in EONS. I was frozen, no movements could be made, no words could be formed. Finally, Kim said...

"Ohhhhh... you goo.. you bar-ree goo!!! O-kay, see you ness ta!" She smiled and waved at me as I walked around to open my car door.

Dazed and stunned, I just answered back, "Yes, see you next time."

I plopped in my seat, dazed and bewildered. WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?! DID SHE REALLY JUST FEEL ME UP?

Yes. I believe she did. I believe she felt me up.

And you know what? She did a pretty good job at it.

Link up here this weekend...
At Home Take 2
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