Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Married Texting

What can I say? 
I love Doc H's humor and our banter.

What would a marriage be 
without humor and banter?

Yesterday, Doc H texted me a photo of our contractor, Midas.
Apparently, everything he touches turns to gold
and then he bills us for his miracles-
each and every hour.
If you can't make out the picture, 
consider yourself spared.
It's just a whole lot of coin slottage going on...





So, the man has a point.






Monday, November 18, 2013

Dear Residents,

Dear Residents,

I understand my husband is your Attending. I understand your wanting and need to impress upon him your diligence, your competence, your outstanding ability to care for his patients when he is out of hospital. I get it. Really. I do.

However, if you are about to hit "SEND" on a text that begins with "FYI-", please take pause to consider the day and take a glance at a clock.

You see, dear Resident, your attending sleeps with his phone right by his bed. In turn, that means I sleep with his phone. I'm sure you get the picture, right?

FYIs at dark-thirty in the morning are not received well. Emergent issues are that, and are dealt with at anytime, but FYIs? Not really.

So, I propose the following:

Compost the text.
Set an alarm on your phone for a decent hour, considering it is the weekend and your attending IS NOT on-call (say 9am, for instance).
When the alarm chimes, hit "SEND".

I assure you, your attending will appreciate it.

Your Attending's Wife will appreciate it even more.




Thursday, November 14, 2013

Feeling the Pinch

Last night, I sat in a dark car with our fourteen year old son for over an hour. We sat and waited and waited for over an hour in the hospital parking lot while the smell of the Chinese food in the back seat took over the car. We waited. I knew exactly what was going on. We were feeling the pinch.

We were there to cater dinner to a group of physician's for an after hour meeting. Doc H confirmed the dinner order with me earlier in the afternoon, he mentioned he was heading into the OR. Five hours later, we were there with the food and Doc H was still in the OR.

I texted.
I called his cell.
I called his office.
I emailed one of the other doctors.
I PAGED.

Zilch.

I know there's an OR nurse who's responsible to return his pages. I KNOW this.

My phone never rang.

And you know why?

They're feeling the pinch. Everyone is overworked. Every department is understaffed. The baby boomers are booming, and even out here, in the parking lot, we're feeling the pinch.

And, I'm afraid it's going to get much worse before it gets any better.




Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Cars Need Oil

Do you remember my recent encounter (well, okay it was a few months ago, but it still feels like yesterday) with a flat tire?

Apparently, just like deaths, flat tires come in threes.  Yes, since that flat tire, I had two others (on different cars) to contend with. Additionally, the spare tire wench on my '97 minivan gave out and I had to deal with fact I was dragging my spare tire behind me on the highway. I was an hour and twenty minutes into a four hour road trip. By myself. Okay, that is a bit of a lie. Our hyper-active pooch was with me. 

So, it should have come to no surprise to me, when over two hundred miles from home my check engine warning light illuminated my dashboard as Doc H and I drove to experience a newly opened bar.

In a huff, we pulled over. It was now dusk, and darkness was just a short arm away. 

I told Doc H it could be low oil. In the driver's seat of my car, and unfamiliar with the dash layout, he spent time fidgeting with the bells and whistles of the car trying to find an oil level indicator. 

I explained the hoity-toity car lacked an oil indicator. It has a coochie warmer and a coochie cooler, but no oil indicator. The check engine light was the oil indicator. It's amazing what money doesn't buy you.

Frustrated with the situation, I busted out my passenger side door, walked around to the the driver's side, where I opened Doc H's door and popped the hood. 

I grunted and huffed as I looked for my box of tissues. It was time to get my hands dirty and I knew it.

While my man flies high at the thought of getting his hands dirty with blood and guts, getting his hands dirty with engine grime does not appeal to him. At all.

Reluctantly, he followed me under the hood, where we checked the dipstick. 

Low oil. Effffff meeeeeeee.

The next morning, I was scheduled to head home by myself. Doc H would be hanging behind a few days to deal with contractors and the like. Truth be told, he had to pay them and I couldn't stomach the thought of being around when that gi-normous check changed hands. I was fleeing in an effort to protect myself from making a ugly disgrace of myself.

That morning was like any other car emergency I've dealt with recenty. I kissed Doc H goodbye, and headed to the nearest auto store...alone. There I called my fancy car dealership, explained the scenario and asked what oil I should purchase. 

I must admit, I felt like I was wearing body armor as I walked into that auto store. The salesmen jumped all over me, which screamed... Oh, here's a good one! This broad doesn't know what she's doing!

I told him I needed oil, "Castrol synthetic blend, please... and a funnel. please." 

"What oil weight?" 

Okay. So, he had me there. Thank God for the internet.

I know they were looking outside their window as I popped my hood just outside their front door. I admit it took me a second to locate the oil cap, but I attribute that to my insistence that I do not need reading glasses. But, really, why must there be so many caps on an engine? It all seems so unnecessary. 

After locating the oil cap, inserting the funnel, and successfully pouring a can of oil into the car without making a livid mess, I hoped I made a further impression on my peeping toms by whipping out my Mama gear... water bottle, clean rag, and wipes to clean all the engine grim of myself.

As I cleaned up, I smiled to myself and gave myself proverbial pat on the back, thinking... You've come a long way, Baby. Last time you ventured to do this you had your high school boyfriend on the ground laughing as he watched you struggle to pour the oil down the dipstick hole. Who's laughing now?

Boo-yah!

Monday, November 4, 2013

Medical Monday {November, Volume 2}

Nothing like hosting a group of surgeons at your home for a dinner meeting. That's what I did this past weekend. 

When Doc H first mentioned it, I froze in terror at the thought of having to cook for the group. I love to cook and seem to have a bit of a knack for it, but it was the "what should I cook" that terrified me. How does one please a group when you are completely unaware of their dietary needs? Vegetarian? Vegan? Diabetic? Paleo? Allergies? The thought made me sweat.

Then my Doc H said, "Don't worry, we'll have it catered." And I kid you not, a halo burst into a flaming glaze of glory around his head and I heard fellow angels harmonize behind him. I not sure if I've ever felt such a sense of relief in my life.

So, we catered, we cleaned the house, and I, the kids, and the dog, evacuated the house. We didn't feel the need to be subjected to blood and guts talk all night long.

But, you know what we do want to be subjected to??? 

YOUR MEDICAL MONDAY POSTS!



Are you confused if you qualify for the party?


If you have a pager interrupting your life... you DEFINITELY qualify!
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Intern? Resident? Fellow?

You get the picture, right? Come on, now... don't be shy! Let's keep growing and meeting new bloggers, so we can build a community of support and friendship, learn from one another, and share our stories.

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Friday, November 1, 2013

Halloween Festivities

Halloween has always been a busy day around our house.

It just happens October 31 marks many things to celebrate in our household, so Doc H does his best to take October 31 off every year. Some years it works, and some years it doesn't. That's just the name of the game when you're living with medicine.

This year, we were successful!

So, while all the kids are in school, we celebrate!

Even before noon, we were like this...
When I showed this pic to Doc H, I asked,
"What do our drinks say about our personalities?"

So shortly after noon,
I was like this...
Doc H asked me to wear this.
I believe it was the wine.

And then the some of the kids came home from school for just a quick second, only to scatter to various Halloween festivities, because that's just what teens/young adults do. Who want to spend Halloween with their old fogies... right?

But some teens needed rides, so I morphed into...
Yes, that is my forehead.

...my best Harry Potter, and we rode my Nimbus 2000 into the Halloween traffic.

Finally, after teen drop-offs, Doc H and I arrived to our own Halloween party where we hung out with the likes of a Princess Witch, a Monkey, a Scarecrow, a Medicinal Marijuana Hippie.  Personally, I found myself following Dr. Indiana Jones around the party all night long. He is one cute BABE!





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