Spousal Chatter

{On our way home from dinner last night, Doc H and I were trying to remedy the logistical issue of shipping some furniture (bar stools) we purchased from a private seller (read: used) who lives over 350 miles away to our new place.}

Doc H: How can we get them here?
Me: I could fly and take them to a shipping company.
Doc H: You could drive with your father. We could take the seats out of the minivan and you could bring them back with you.
Me: I don't want to drive 12 hours in one day with my father.
Doc H: You could split the driving.
Me: We would have to spend the night at a hotel.
Doc H: You can do it in a day.
Me: Why don't you drive down with me. Take a day off work! We could spend the night. OH! That would be fun! We could go to the amusement park out there that I love!!!
Doc H: What? Why? Without the kids?
Me: YEAH! I love that place! We could just go by ourselves. It would be as if we were dating!
Doc H: Nooooo.....
Me: You would do it if we were dating. Just because, we are old, doesn't mean we have to act old!
Doc H:  humphhhhhh....

You Think the Life of an Attending Is Easier?

I hate nights like last night.

I always hope Doc H will come home in a good mood. I love it when he comes home happy and had a great and productive day at work. Instead, he called before he left the hospital to say it was a hard day and he was tired, still had to work on his talk for an upcoming conference which was due that very day. It was 6:48pm.

So, despite the fact that we were child-free, and I was hoping for a night out, I whipped into Rachel Ray mode, surveyed the pantry and freezer and whipped up a chicken pasta meal in less than twenty. It was ready by the time he walked in the door looking like this...

While we ate our dinner, his fatigue was palpable. So palpable, even though mustered up enough energy to ask my how my first class went, I felt bad sharing my excitement and joy about my day knowing he was exhausted and still had a full night of work ahead of him. So, I outlined my day in a low-key manner. I just don't have the heart to rub my good day in his bad day's face. Spouses day's should be tethered together, so we can either celebrate or have a bitch fest together.

He quickly inhaled his dinner and went to work. He used to sit at the computer late at night writing papers. Now, it's to put together presentations for talks...

At 11:00pm, I couldn't hold out anymore and turned off the lights. This morning, he left the house under morning darkness to get some work done before he heads into the OR for a full day of cases.

I know he'll be coming home today more spent than a bull in his own personal harem of heifers.

Darn.

Being Selfish and Loving It!

In the midst of everyday life, it's so easy to lose yourself, isn't it? Especially after becoming parents. Let's face it, once the you pop the first watermelon-sized bundle of joy (who later fries your nerves) from your who-who, your life is no longer yours. Subsequent melons just prolong any parent from once again standing in the spot light of their own life. Mothers and fathers are just supporting actors in their kids' lives. Ask them... as teenagers they are more than happy to point out your short-comings or the fact that "you have no life". Unfortunately, sometimes, I have to agree with them.

So today, I fixed that. For the first time in eons, I did something for myself and I FEEL GREAT!  I'm not talking a mani-pedi or a quick bite to eat with my girlfriends. I'm not even talking a weekend get-away with my bffs. While those are all fantastic and appreciated, let's be real... as soon as we get home and someone starts whining, or another starts nagging, the warm fuzzies all flitter away and we find ourselves back in the same exact spot as we left. Today, I did something with a little more substance.

Today, I began my education course in marine mammal husbandry. I have signed on for a year's worth of docent and teaching work. Despite a three hour round trip commute, I am thrilled to be back in the classroom, learning something new and having the opportunity to work with these animals, and share my enthusiasm for these creatures with others.

I drove home today on a natural high....I'm still feeling it as I type this. I feel re-invigorated, energized, and proud to be part of a community of volunteers who not only work to rehabilitate wounded and sick animals, but more importantly, gather scientific data to help further our knowledge and understanding of these fantastic, intelligent animals and their effect on our ecosystem and environment.

I feel alive! I feel I have something in my life that's all about me! I think it's been over twenty years since I've had such a selfish feeling. I'm learning...filling my brain with all sorts of new information and I just thrive on learning. I'm telling you, I could've been a college student for the rest of my life. But, I think the best part is knowing that I'm doing this all for me.

Oh! And for these cuties, too. Who wouldn't love to work with faces like these...

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Your Doctor's Wife's Fortune

Wordless Wednesday Link Up

"You'll accomplish more later if

you take some time for yourself. "

Taking time for myself today.

Tell you all about what I'm up to later!

Look Kids! It's the "Liquid Chicken" Truck!

From the age of 4 to 9, LB would only eat chicken nuggets, corn dogs, pizza, plain pasta and quesadillas. Any efforts to expand his dietary menu options were all in vain. This kid would eat nothing outside his "regulars".

I'm not a complete stickler for organic, homemade meals, but I will admit that I do try my best to put healthy food on the table. I cook from scratch. I like to know what's going into my body. After having a few benign tumors removed from my body, I don't think I need any chemicals or additives in there messing with my healthy cells, you know what I mean? 

At his mother's house, LB would dine on frozen corn dogs, frozen chicken nuggets and frozen pizza bites. I'll never forget the day they came to the house and told me the absolutely love chicken cordon bleu. I thought "Wow! Their mom is a fancy cook! How am I going to compete with that?" (See...that's the step-mama in me talking.) Then they asked if I could buy some from the freezer section of the grocery store next time I'm shopping. Nope. Not gonna happen. I figure if I can't pronounce it, it's not going in my shopping cart.

I hated watching LB and the girls chow down on chicken nuggets. It made my skin crawl. Was that really chicken? I couldn't tell.

One summer, we found ourselves driving from Arkansas to Texas. As usual, all six of us were piled in the minivan; all kids hooked into their electronic i-something gadgets. As we drive down the interstate, I noticed we were gaining on what seemed to be a gasoline tanker truck. Doc H came up behind it and we couldn't believe what we saw....

"Haulin' Liquid Chicken"

Me: GROSS!
Doc H: YUCK!
Kids: What? What is it?
Me: Look at that truck! Read what it says.
Kids: (after reading) EWWW...What's "liquid chicken"
Me: It's what they use to make chicken nuggets.

I don't know if my last statement is true or not, but the words just flowed so effortlessly off my tongue and lips....sounded logical to me. I don't even really know what "liquid chicken" is, but I think all moms will agree "liquid chicken" sounds about as appetizing as a bowl of deep-fried cow patties.

The minivan was filled with the sounds of disgust and disbelief of kids. I'm surprised none of them yacked right there and then.

That was a dietary changing day in our family. If you're trying to wean your kids off the nuggets, I highly suggest you track this truck down. It seems to do the job.


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Doctoring in the Kitchen

When we purchased this house, we thought we were purchasing a turn-key home. Since we closed escrow last Spring, we have pretty much renovated the whole kit-n-caboodle with the exception of cabinets and appliances. I like to refer to these unplanned renovations as the snowball effect. You know..."Oh, we can just change the carpet." The carpet is lifted and you find water marks on the concrete slab foundation (which in no way could have been spotted by an inspector) and you must further investigate. This investigation leads to mildew in the baseboards, which leads to sheet rock removal...yadda, yadda, yadda. You get the picture, right?

I thought we were done. I thought we could just relax and enjoy the place for a bit before we start our next phase of planned renovations to the property (which are basically outdoor landscaping and gardening - the type of stuff I love).

If you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen my tweet:

{SIDEBAR: I will note the oven door has been under an appliance repairman's care. One hinge has been acting up and we've been working to get it repaired. Nonetheless, the oven had been working fine up until this last oven fail. We have had our consult and the repair has made his suggested course of action known to the home warranty company. Just like in medicine, the home warranty company must approve use of replacement insurance. We are waiting.}

Nothing like having company over for dinner, your chicken is half raw and the oven door to your hot oven is laying outside on the patio.

(Notice in our desperation to get some food on the table, Doc H carved the cooked top layer of the chicken off. Now our chicken took on the shape of a poor bunny rabbit.)

My blogging friend, Delilah at Confessions of a Semi-Domesticated Mama, tried to guide me towards the silver lining with this tweet:

But, that's not going to happen, when the oven can be rigged back together like this:

Note the fridge doesn't match the oven and micro...
that was the last appliance that failed us.

What you can't notice in this picture are the cardboard wedges Doc H folded and inserted in the gaps of the door to enhance the sturdiness and safety. It really just needs some surgical tape to make it a "true" Doc H repair.

Play It Again, Sam, Sundays

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*!

Weekend Doctor Humor #9

Because you all know how much I dread the colonoscopy...




Posted on YouTube via bowserandblue.

House Calls

credit: www.njtopdocs.com

Have you ever had a doctor make a house call on either you or a family member?  Me neither. Although, Doc H did remove some stubborn sutures for me at home. Does that count?

The seemingly out-dated, impractical service of house calls has all but vanished from today's medical scene.  Deemed "too expensive" by insurance providers, the sick and elderly must make their way to their  doctor's waiting rooms despite pain, chronic illness, and whatever other ailments they endure.

Doc H has always run a very busy practice. He is always on the run...OR, breakfast meeting, clinic, department meeting, consult, emergency, rounds, assist, admin, M&M's, chief meeting, lunch meeting, dictations, emails, phone messages, phone calls, conference call, regional meeting, order CT, order MR, schedule call, schedule case, prep case, order devices, re-schedule call, cross-cover, bump case, reschedule case, counsel patient, counsel family... There's so much more; the list goes on and on and on. Just watching him run in and out of the house as if his drawers are on fire is exhausting.

In fact, I'm guessing he's not feeling that great at the moment. He came home very early by our standards and is in bed sleeping as I type. It's 6pm.

My point? Doc H is one busy, tired man. Yet, despite it all, he will still go out of his way to make an occasional house call...even if, while he's inside, yours truly is dressed up and waiting for a fancy night of wining and dining... in the passenger seat of Doc H's car.

My Father Became a Doctor at 65

My father became a doctor after retiring from high tech at the age of 65. Incredible, right? Well, let me tell you how he did it.

As retirement was approaching, my father had to make some decisions with regards to healthcare and insurance. He researched and completed his due diligence in choosing the right Medicare program for himself, but decided it would be wise to have additional medical coverage.

He questioned me about our coverage. Working for a hospital, Doc H has excellent medical benefits. It even covers parents and in-laws. Upon hearing this news, I swear I saw my father float up off the floor and reach a nirvana I had never quite seen in him before.  He signed up for coverage under Doc H's policy faster than you can say "ganglioneuroma".

credit: http://blog.chargesmart.com
 

A few weeks later, he received his insurance card and immediately made an appointment. He was actually giddy to go to Doc H's hospital for his appointments. He  calls me every time he has an appointment to ask if Doc H will be in the OR or clinic. He wants to know if there is any possibility he will bump into him in the hospital corridors. The hospital is a busy place with tons of people walking, running, wheeling around. The likelihood he will ever run into him is slim. I've told my father this time and time again, but he still calls and asks every. single. time.

Now would be a good time to paint a picture in your mind of my father. My father is a kind, family man with an incredibly naive sensibility about him. He (legally) immigrated to this country in the sixties from South America and somehow, despite the foreign land and foreign tongue, together with my mother, managed to raise a family and send us kids to private school. Sometimes, I have to think his naivete worked to his advantage in life. Sometimes it's better not to realize what's going on around you. You know, the "ignorance is bliss" mentality.

Physically, my father is a man of smaller stature. Maybe 5'9" in height and a slim build. He actually looks something like this.... 

He called me after his first appointment.
DAD: Tell Doc Eche to call me when e can, okay? I, uhhh, have some questions dat I nee to as'.
Me: What about?
DAD: Aiyyyyyy.... nat'in really. I jus ave question bout dese papers da doctor gava to me.
Me: Dad, didn't the doctor explain everything to you?
DAD: Aiyyyy...ja, but steel, I wan' to talk to Doc Eche. I come to da house when e is done operatin' with dese papers I ave. I wan show em so e can splain dem to me.

When my father's  insurance card arrived in the mail it looked just like ours. Now, you may think all insurance cards are the same (with the exception of the name and account number, of course). Not true. Our cards are the equivalent of an American Express Centurion (formerly the "Black") Card. When we check in with the receptionists for our appointments, they immediately know we are either a doctor or the family of a doctor. I guess I don't look like a doctor, because every time I show up for an appointment, I am questioned by the receptionist. I politely confirm her (or his) suspicion is true; I'm not the doctor in the family. I'm merely the doctor's wife.

Later that night, Doc H came home to find my father waiting for him at the dining room table, with all the papers his doctor sent him home with. Doc H looked them over and assured him everything looked pretty good and further explained the test results, what they meant, and how his meds have been adjusted based on these new figures.

Doc H is perplexed and somewhat disappointed the doctor didn't take the time to better explain the tests and medication changes to my father.

DocH: Didn't Doc X go over these with you?
DAD: aiyyyyy.....jes, but, well....juo kno, e use all dese big words, dat I don rehconize, jou know?
DocH: (knowing full well my father understands english almost perfectly, he is a little annoyed and in disbelief a colleague would not make sure his test results and instructions were completely understood) Really?
DAD: E uszed lotta worz I donna kno. I nee a medacine di-shon-airy.
Me: (smelling something funny and getting REALLY annoyed) Maybe you need to switch doctors Dad.
DAD: Aiyyyyy....no, no, no, hijita. I jus nea Doc Eche to splain.
Me: Dad, why would the doctor not take the time to explain this all you and make sure you understand?
DAD: (waving me off) No, is ok. Don worry. Is ok.
Me: No Dad, you need a doctor who will explain this to you. It's not really that difficult.
DAD: No, is ok. Is my herror.
Me and Doc H: What? How?
DAD: Wen da nurse call me in, she call for Dr. Sal Sanchez. So, jou kno, I juss go wit her. Aiyeee, but den she tell de utters I'm a doctor! (he slaps his forehead and holds it there as if he has a headache)...Wat can I do?

That's my Dad...."Dr." Sal Sanchez.

Crunch Time: A Doctor's Taxes

In my DREAMS!
photo: superiortaxcredit.com

It's crunch time, people. Doc H and I meet with our CPA later today. Just the thought of it makes my butt pucker.

I am full of fear.

I hope:

• I pulled all the right information together
• The corporate taxes are all in order - it's the first time I've pulled these together myself.
• I act and seem like I know what I'm doing.
• I paid (I say "I" because I write out and mail the checks) enough in estimated quarterly taxes.
• I don't seem nervous as he punches out a number.
• I don't cry when I hear the number.
• I can write small enough to fit the dollar amount in on the second line of the check (I'm serious about that - the first time I ever wrote out a mortgage check I actually had to void the check because I wrote too large and couldn't fit it all in).
• I hope we have the money in the bank to cover the check. 

And most importantly, I pray I don't hyper-ventilate, faint or wet myself...or worse...BOTH.

Work the Body, Insure the Body

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.

Self-Prescribed Retail Therapy: Apple's Ipad 3

The weekend packed quite a punch around here. I'll go in sequential order...

• My father had been visiting his family out of the country for 2 months. His plane was scheduled to arrive at 10pm. It came in at 3am.
• D3 had to be at a track meet at 7am.
• LB had a sleep-over birthday party at noon.
• D2's Beau Hunk was scheduled to fly out Saturday. For reasons Doc H and I are still scratching our heads about, he will be in town for another TWO months.
• D1 called from college begging for our help. Doc H clearly stated over 3 weeks ago a list of action items which needed to be completed before receiving anymore help from us. She failed to comply. She was hoping she could sweet talk Daddy into doing it like before. Not this time.
• Doc H spent HOURS talking to D2 in private, counseling her and trying to get her to see the big picture with regards to her relationship with Beau Hunk. She mentally exhausted him.
• Then Doc H spent an inexplicable amount of time on the phone with D1, reprimanding her for not following through with their agreement.

After all that (plus a call from the on-call attending with regards to a ruptured triple A), Doc H had nothing left to give us. He was irritated and tired. He couldn't even bring himself to enjoy our green shamrock shakes and green cupcakes, all made by D3, or watch a movie with us on PPV.

I asked if I could do anything to help. He calmly said, "No, I'm just so frustrated and irritated."

Ok. I guess I'll just watch the movie with the teens.

I watch him go upstairs. I see him come downstairs and out to the garage. An hour later, we're still watching the movie. I'm sitting in the same exact spot as when I last saw him. I see him walk upstairs with a package in his hand.... Could it be? Is it?

Well, yes, it is...

Apple touts the new IPad 3 has Retina display, 5MP camera, and Ultrafast 4G LTE technology.  I need to add another incredible capability the Ipad 3 possesses...

Mood Enhancer.

Since that little piece of technology has made it's way into our home, it been all smiles and "Oh, wow"s, "Honey, check this out...do you have this app on your Ipad?"

I LOVE seeing Doc H smile!

Thank you, Steve Jobs. What a difference an Ipad 3 makes.

Weekend Doctor Humor #8

*******WARNING - Not suitable to watch with children in the room*************



Via djganster4564564 on YouTube

Looking for Guest Posts

I mentioned my vacation plans back here.

I would love to offer fellow bloggers an opportunity to write a guest post while I'm sunning and drinking expensive tropical drinks with an orchid bloom floating around in them.

Ideally, I would like unpublished pieces which fall under the following categories: humor, teen parenting, marriage, or medical life.  If interested, please email me at yourdoctorswife@gmail.com for more information.

Thanks, everyone!

Sex on the Brain?

I wish a could spend a day in Doc H's brain. I would just LOVE to know what's going on in there. I have my own theory, but it is completely unproven.

Time and time again, I have asked Doc H, "What are you thinking?" or "Whadda' think?" or "What's on your mind?" and, of course (what kind of wife would I be without this one), "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!" No matter how the question is phrased, I always receive a vague reply which never satiates my burning desire to know how the man I married and love thinks.

I have read tons of the research. If I believe the various articles I found on the web, because Doc H is beyond the age of 35, sex is no longer the #1 thought on the brain. Apparently, the thought is still incredibly prominent, but just no longer the leader.

That's nice to know, 'cause I hate to think he came to a full and complete stop at a busy intersection at a green light and actually sat there 'til I screamed, "IT'S GREEN!" due to visions of me swinging from the chandelier naked.

The Adult Brownies Are In the Freezer

For Medicinal Use Only, Right? 

As mentioned before, we have an older friend who is currently battling lung cancer. She is as feisty firecracker and after two rounds of chemo, she is kicking cancer's booty all over town! Great news!

Her daughter, who is around my age, hosted a dinner for family members the night before she was to meet her surgeon. Doc H and I were so touched to be included in this "family only" affair.

When we saw our cancer-stricken friend, we were so pleased to find her looking great! Of course, she wore a head covering to hide her shaved head, but besides that cancer identifier, she looked normal-- good weight, good mood, good appetite.

No more pain, no more morphine, no more nausea. All thanks to....you know it's coming.... pot medicinal marijuana. Her daughter, Missy, tells us how she had got hold of some adult lemon pound cake. She didn't know how strong one slice would be, so she tested a slice out on herself. And good thing she did! Apparently, the medicinal stuff is really strong and she told her mother the proper dosage was half a slice.

It should come to no one's surprise that one firecracker gives birth to another firecracker.

At dinner, we were all laughing over the lemon cake stories. I don't know why (perhaps it was the wine), but I found it appropriate to let Missy know I have never experienced marijuana (or any other drug while we're at it). Yes, I am a prude.

I have never seen any one's eyes roll back into their skull quite like Missy did in my life!

Missy: WHAT! NEVER?!!!
Me: Never!
Missy: WHY?!
Me: I went to Catholic School and they scared me half to death. I was afraid my kids would be born with three heads!
Missy: OH, NO WAY! We can change that! I'm sending you home with brownies. I've got brownies in the freezer for Mama Firecracker. I'm sending you home with those!

And so she did...with this prescribed dosage and usage instructions...

Dosage: 1" x 1.5" pieces only. Give yourself one hour to experience the full effect of the brownie. Have fun!

Doc H drove us home with my aluminum foil "doggie-bag" in my lap, while being adamant about not wanting to take part in my experimental foray in brownie-land. Well, that's no fun.

The brownies remain in my freezer. I'm taking them all back to Firecracker. She'll need them after her next round of chemo.

I still remain a brownie virgin.

Meet the Surgeon Day

Nothing really exciting in here

Once again, I found myself in an medical exam room. This time it was for my mother. After a year of trying to rehab a herniated disk, she has exhausted all possible methods of treatment and is left with surgery as a last option.

My mother was nervous about meeting this surgeon. Why? I don't know. For months, she has been diligently doing her physical therapy exercises which have been unsuccessful in relieving pain. Her quality of life has suffered. She has not been able to travel, garden, or even sit long enough to watch an episode of Modern Family. Currently, she is moving thanks to strong narcotics and she hates them. It is obvious to our family and Doc H surgery is absolutely necessary.

This was not our first trip into the exam room together. It was just me and my mom when I was diagnosed with a tumor (many years ago). It was just me and my mom when she was diagnosed with colon cancer.  And, today, it was just me and my mom again. So, I guess this answers the "why" question in the previous paragraph.

We had a fifteen minute wait in the exam room, but we're okay with that. We understand what's going on and what's at stake. If you don't, click here.

The surgeon came in and was very skilled at putting patients at ease. He took his time discussing my mother's medical history, symptoms, and reviewing her studies with us. We (well, really, I - my mother was a bundle of nerves) listened intently on his suggested course of actions. I probed this young surgeon to be a little more specific by sharing my mother had recently retired from the hospital he slices and dices in for over 40 years.

I asked questions, why this and not that? Prep? Recovery? Re-hab? Why not take care of these other potential future issues while you're in there? What are the risks, how many of these procedures did he perform a month? Will he be working with residents? (The answer was no. Good. Not that having residents involved in a case is a bad thing. It just would have led to another whole line of questioning and I was already pressed for time myself.)

Grandma's got issues

By the end of the appointment, our questions had all been answered. My mother was at ease and felt comfortable to go ahead and schedule surgery with this Doc. The doc turned to me one last time and asked if he had answered all my questions. I assured him he had.

Then he asked me one last question...

SPINE-DOC:  You work in medicine, too?
ME: Oh, god, no! One person in a household tethered to a pager is enough! My husband's a surgeon.
SPINE-DOC: Ah! (smile) Got it!

I guess he figured I know enough to be dangerous or a pain in his a**. Either way is fine with me...as long as he knows I'm there and I've got Doc H right behind me.

************************************************
In case you were wondering, Grandma got to keep her clothes on, but I did remind her to wear appropriate panties...just in case.

Spring Break Gone BAD

Let me tell you, if you're a parent and ever get to the point where you're filling out a FedEx Airbill and holding your "adult" (read 19 y.o.) child's spare key, you know it's Spring Break Gone BAD. Real BAD.

Nothing like getting a phone call almost 10pm telling you she and her roommates decided to leave the state and take a two day drive to a popular college Spring Break destination. And by the way, she's already been there a whole day. Last night the entire wallet was lost along with the car keys at a beach party.

Daughter #1: (After breaking the news) Could you please call the bank and cancel all ATM and credit cards. I lost my car keys, too. Can you FedEx my spare key? Oh, and all forms of identifications are gone also. And, oh, when I left I only had $100 in my bank account so could you send me some money?

Unsanctioned Travel = No Money Honey

So, there I am at 11pm on the phone with the bank canceling cards, making sure there have been no unauthorized charges over the last 24 hour period. In the meantime, after having a rather terse conversation with his ex (D1's bio mom) about the situation at hand, Doc H is doing his best to let it all go so he can concentrate on a very tough case he is performing early in the morning on some poor 81 year old.

Doc H is done bailing out D1. I stand behind him.  Doesn't mean I'm not calling everyone asking if they have heard from her or biting all my nails down to the nub. It's tough love on both sides of the coin.

This is just #1. We still have 2, 3, and 4 to go. Sweet Baby Jeezus save me or at least send me down a bottle of Xanex... I don't think the bottle of vino is going to do it tonight.

[Drumroll, Please] The Sunshine Award!

A simple look at my archives, will tell you just how new of a blogger I am.  Your Doctor's Wife is only ten weeks old in the blogging world...an infant, really.  I am new to all of this and you all have been so very warm, welcoming, and supportive...Thank you!

I was completely unaware of blog awards until pretty and cool mommy Nika Corwin at Just Another Tired Mommy awarded me the Sunshine Award for my post "The Backside of Medicine and Technology" (if you haven't read it, please do! Then you'll see why I am giggling at the irony of the award name...it really should be The Moon-shine Award!) Be sure to check out Just Another Tired Mommy! Thank you a million times over!

Here are the rules that go along with the award:
1. Include the award's logo in a post or on your blog.

2. Answer ten questions about yourself.

3. Nominate ten to twelve other fabulous bloggers.

4. Link your nominees to the post and comment on their blogs, 
letting them know that they have been nominated.

5. Share the love and link the person who nominated you.

Without further ado...here we go:

What is your favorite color?

Color me any shade of purple, from lavender to aubergine. Our new place came with a rose garden, which was not in bloom when we purchased the place and I fell in live with this beauty this summer... 

I don't think I've ever seen a lavender rose before. Have you?

What is your favorite animal?

This is no surprise to Doc H...

Favorite non-alcoholic drink

Mint iced-tea! I grow my own mint in my yard just for this purpose. I mix in a bit of o.j. and sugar to sweeten. 
















Favorite number

Never had one, but if I have to pin one down I would have to say...
to represent every member of our whacked out family. 












Facebook or Twitter 
Until I began blogging I was a Facebook die-hard. However, since blogging I have been amazed (and I don't use that word lightly...it is completely over-used. There are is a plethora of other words out there, people! Discover them! Use them!) at the power of Twitter! 






My Passion

Hands down my husband and family. They are at the forefront of my actions, my thoughts, my everything. Writing is my second!

Favorite Pattern

I am a sucker for handbags, but refuse to pay thousands for one stinking bag! That being said, a girl can still admire and love a classic pattern, can't she?

Favorite Day of the Week

Friday- I always have fantastic images and ideas of what our weekend will entail. Lovely family time, good laughs, memorable moments. I am happy looking forward to relaxing and enjoying the weekend with my family. By Sunday, I am left looking back at a weekend which has been infiltrated by uninvited guests (BFs, friends, teen 'tudes, Doc H's pager etc.) and wondering what the hell happened to my Norman Rockwell weekend?

Favorite Flower 

I grew this biggie in my backyard.

I love tuberous begonias. If you are an avid gardener try growing some of these beauties! They are a little finicky, but once you find the right spot in your yard and learn to please them, they are sure to stun you and all that lay eyes on them! They come in different colors and varieties. They don't like hot climates, so if you live in Las Vegas, Palm Springs, FL, TX, you are out of luck. Sorry... 






My List of Must Read Blogs & Sunshine Award Recipients:


To my first blogging friend, who helped get me on my feet by adding me to her list of blogs on her sidebar which led my first readers to me... 
Confessions of a Doctor's Wife


She doesn't post often, but when she does, it's usually a gut-buster or incredibly though provoking...
Mama's Way

I feel for this guy... how many of our husband's have these types of stories to tell?
Funny stuff... Living in Kellie's World

My first introduction to the Step-Mom Blogging club... An honest look at the uphill battle of step-parenting... No Drama Step Mama

Which side of the bake sale table are you on? Confessions of a Semi-Domesticated Mama

Funny stuff from the front lines of the world of medicine...Anonymous Doc

Just Another Doctor's Wife writes about the resident's life, and just about everything that comes along with it.

For the Foodie in all of us, but want to make it simple (and yummy!) Nelly's Pantry

Stacy Uncorked for funny stories, music Mondays, and plenty of blog hops.

Misadventures in Motherhood...very funny lady! The title says it all.

Please be sure to check out these wonderful blogs and let them know Your Doctor's Wife sent you via the Sunshine Award! 

Tomorrow...The Sunshine Awards

New winners will be revealed tomorrow....stay tuned!
(It may be YOU!)

Thanks to Nika at Just Another Tired Mommy for recognizing Your Doctor's Wife!

Weekend Doctor Humor #7

Posted on YouTube by ZDoggMD.  Check out his website for more medical laughs!

Girls, Girls, Girls...Carpool Conversations

Carpool duty landed on me yesterday. I LOVE being carpool mom! I learn more in one car ride about what going on in D3's life in one 45 minute car ride than I do all week long. I'm talking the good stuff...boyfriends, potential dance dates, who's together, who's not, who just broke up at lunch today and why. Isn't that what all moms want to know? We want to stay on top of things before their little young lives go sideways and we have a mess to clean up? It's as if they forget I have ears. I'm basically a fly on the wall and I love it!

Here's what I learned yesterday..Power Couples...in high school. Who knew? Anyone? Not me. One power couple just broke up and D3's friends are trying to encourage her to ask a certain boy to the upcoming Sadie Hawkins dance.

BFF: D3, you should TOTALLY ask Steve to the dance!

D3: No...I don't wanna.

BFF: Why? He's soooooo cute!

D3: I'm going by myself.

BFF: If you and Steve became boyfriend and girlfriend, you guys would be, like, the new Power Couple in school. It'd be so freaking awesome...

D3: EWWWWW! NO!!! Kissing him would be like kissing my brother or something. It's not right. We've known each other since we were, like, 5! Gross.

BFF: You're soooo picky!

I will say, I do think Steve is a cute kid and very well mannered. I wouldn't mind them dating in group situations...plus I know his parents and where they live. But, I'm thrilled D3 feels confident enough to go to dances solo. 

PICKY - a word moms hate when associated to their children...until they become teens.

Your Doctor's Wife and Taxes

I'm working real hard. Trying very hard to get motivated...to do taxes. Well, not do them really...just gather all the numbers together to hand over to our CPA. The last time I did my own taxes was almost two decades ago and I believe it was on a 1040 EZ form.

I follow many blogs written by medical students, residents, and their wives. I find it amusing how they have all already filed their taxes in hopes to receive their refund any days now and here I am...waiting till the last possible second to file mine. (To those friends of mine- just wait, the tides will change! Hang tough!)

Doc H and I will be sending a check with ours. We always do. A big. fat. check. The type of check that makes your heart palpitate. The type of check which sends you flying to the liquor cabinet to self-medicate. No matter what we plan with our CPA, how we manage our deductions, it never fails. We always end up owing the IRS and State.

This year should be interesting. In 2011, we sold all our stock in Doc H's start-up to the acquiring company, bought our retirement house (aka The MoneySucker we pray won't break us), and I left the workforce. I know, you're not crying for us and I don't expect you to. We are very fortunate and lucky to be where we are, but, nonetheless, writing that check hurts. BAD.

Every year prior to this year, I would sit and listen to the numbers just roll off the tongue of our CPA as if she was telling me to write a check for just a buck. She was so matter-of-fact about it. If I had to deliver that kind of news, I think I would turn all motherly and apologize for being the bearer of such bad news, give soft pats on the back, dispense hugs, and say "I'm so sorry" profusely and at nauseum. I might even shed a tear for the the poor couple. Our CPA just pushes a computer printout with the amounts and addresses of where to send the checks and tells us to have a good year.

I think Doc H hates the walk out to the car and drive home afterwards. The conversation is always the same:

Me (being overly dramatic and overly exaggerating): WHY DO I WORK! My entire year's income just goes to taxes!
DH: (trying to be supportive) No, it doesn't.
Me: I think of all the time I spend with clients and away from our family! For what? (totally decompensating; in 2009 I even cried)
DH: (reasoning) Think of all the write-offs.
Me: It's not worth it!!! Oh. my. god. I have a headache now.

This will be the first year we won't have that conversation. I know I'll feel good about that. Yet, I'm fairly certain once we hear our numbers we will walk to our car in silence and completely numb.