Wednesday, April 3, 2019

The Frustration of Being a Doctor's Wife: Where is HE When I Need Him?

The frustration of being a doctor's wife goes without saying.

Before I write on, I want to address each and every woman who is married to a workaholic. It is here where I will remind you I was once married to a workaholic, non-doctor. I get the similarities, but I also KNOW the differences... and there are glaring differences between the two, and for those of you who are married to non-doctors, here is where I, and most likely any other doctor's wife, would love to walk in your shoes...

Quickly, I'll go over the back story:

I had a bad cold.
Cold improving.
Upper toothache, but I figured it could be sinus issue from cold.
I ignored it for a few days.
Toothache worsened.
{Okay, it hurt like like hell. If I was on a deserted island like Tom Hanks in "Castaway", I would've been looking for that ice skating blade, too).
Finally, I call my dentist.
Dentist says you need emergency root canal. Go now!

So here's where it gets ______; choose your word- "frustrating" or "sad". I can 't decide.

My dentist makes me an immediate appointment with a specialist. As I'm driving from my dentist to the specialist, I realize I'm driving to an out-of-town endodontist who I've never seen before for an emergency root canal, and no one knows where I am, or what's going on.

So, I do what any wife would do. I text my husband with this update and sent a photo of the business card with the endodontist's information.

I know my husband is booked and busy all day. I don't expect a return text right away. However, I'm thinking this is a big deal. He'll text me as soon as he sees it. I know he will.

After a 30 minute drive, I arrive at the office, fill out the paperwork, and wait. I meet the new dentist, he completes his testing, and agrees with my dentist. I need an emergency root canal.

I check my phone for his text. Nothing. It's been 50 minutes since I sent him my text.

I am numbed and the dentist is ready to begin. I check my phone. Nothing.

Lots of drilling. An hour of drilling. I check my phone. Nothing.

More drilling. Then some smoke. Nothing.

Two hours in the chair. I check again. Nothing.

I check out of the clinic. Get in the car. Nothing.

I drive myself home in traffic. Nothing.

Finally, at 7:45pm my phone rings.

Me: Hello?
Doc H: Hi, Honey. I just got out of a horrible case. I don't know what going to happen to this patient. She is in real bad shape. She's alive, but I don't know if she will make it. What's going on?
Me: Did you see my text?
Doc H: No, I've been so busy I haven't checked my phone. I finished, spoke with the family, and got in the car to drive home and am calling.

I tell him what I've been through. He felt so bad.

He came home and was visibly upset. This was just that reminder. Something could happen to me or any of our loved ones with hours passing by without him knowing a thing. In this case, five and a half hours. A lot can happen in that time span. He understands and shares in my frustration.

And, yet. I get it. There's always going to be someone is worse condition that I am. They will need him to save their life.

But, every once in a while, I would really like him there to hold my hand, or at the very least, just return my damn text, giving me the peace-of-mind that he knows where I am and what I'm going through during these types of occasions.

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