Friday, December 7, 2012
The Doctor's Wife is Grumpy
It is now Thursday. I haven't seen Doc H since Sunday.
On Monday, he flew somewhere. I'm still not sure where. I just know the trip did not meet my requirements for companion travel. I thought it was Chicago, but I was mistaken. I'm thinking Charlotte, maybe Charleston, or Columbus. Those all sound somewhat familiar. He's been traveling so much lately, I can no longer keep track of the destinations.
He had one dinner meeting on Monday evening to prep for the one hour meeting Tuesday morning. It took him all Tuesday afternoon to fly home.
When he finally made it through our front doors, I was already sawing logs. However, I pity his hours and appreciate his efforts which support our entire family, so I got my ass out of bed to say hello and make him an organic, non r-BGH grilled cheese sandwich. We barely spoke. We were both too tired.
Yesterday, he left for the hospital at some un-godly hour for three cases. He called me around 9am. I knew before I answered the phone something had gone awry. He either forgot something, his case had to be delayed due to improper blood levels (or whatever), because he usually never calls on his days in the OR. He is just too busy.
My premonition was correct. After leaning over a patient on the table, he tried to straighten up and threw out his back... AGAIN. The radiologist raced to get him a heating patch and a nurse went on a hunt for ibuprofin. He called in pain and miserable, but determined to finish out all his cases. He did and, again, came home well after I had gone to bed.
For the second night in a row, I pulled my tired ass out of bed and warmed up a piece of homemade, organic, vegetarian lasagne I made for him, under the misguided hope we would be able to share a meal together. In my robe, I sleepily scooped a piece of lasagne out of the pan, slopped it on the plate, and threw it in the microwave. The man deserves a hot meal, at the very least.
As I waited for the microwave to ding, I watched Doc H hobble around the house with a bad back. He resembled the shape of a question mark.
I felt so bad for him.
And it made me grumpy. I am grumpy.
I am grumpy, because my husband works so hard to better the health of his patients. He works so hard in an effort to promote cutting edge medical technologies which will benefit patients. Yet, when it comes to his own health, he will work himself to the ground.
We had a four sentence phone call this afternoon.
I am certain Doc H will be coming home grumpy.
And that's okay.
'Cause, I'm grumpy, too.