Saturday, April 2, 2011

Don’t Insult the Doc

My dearly beloved has a birthday today. Please don’t tell him about this post.

My orthopedic surgeon flirts with women. When he fixed a tear in my hip two years ago, we saw a lot of each other beforehand, mainly because he had performed my particular surgery only once, on a cadaver. He was eager to have a live patient, and I trusted his hands, but the hospital was not eager to let him have a go at me, him not having actual experience and all. He got the go-ahead about three months after I first saw him, after he went down to L.A. to watch the surgery performed by its master craftsman and studied several of the surgeries online.

The morning of my ground-breaking hip surgery, he paid me a visit in the pre-op area. I had a visitor sitting with me, a beautiful Amazon of a woman from my AA fellowship. He flirted with her outrageously, ignoring me totally, for a very long time. They looked like Jack Sprat who could eat no fat and his wife who could eat no lean (just saying, not because I was jealous, even though I, really, was his ticket to a new lucrative specialty, and I was his FIRST, after all, but I am short and she is tall, and for Pete’s sake! she towered over him, being as he is a little guy, but he probably didn’t know that since she never actually stood up so he could see she was inappropriately tall). [gasp!]

So. Anyway, the orthopedist is a flirt. A shameless one. And usually he flirts with me, but not, apparently, when I’m accompanied by tall, good-looking women. This has happened to me all my life, or at least three times. My theory is that short women are invisible to men when accompanied by tall, good-looking women. It’s one of the crosses we little ladies must bear.

The upshot of all this is that I didn’t invite my tall friend to sit with me in pre-op last week for my hand surgery. I didn’t even tell her about it. So when Doc Do-Little visited me in pre-op, he flirted with me somewhat briskly, wrote YES on my right wrist in permanent marker, and vanished for an hour.

When next I saw him, it was in operating room #4, and I was supposed to be knocked out by an IV drug, but I wasn’t, and not only that, but he was running two HOURS late. So while he did harsh things to my carpal tunnel, which had been numbed, thank God, I yakked with him and the anesthesiologist. He, the outrageous flirt, let fly with an innuendo in answer to an innocent question of mine.

I might have been a little crabby about everything. When he said what he said, I said something back that wasn’t terribly innocent. And because the stupid drug wasn’t working on my sober alcoholic/addict brain, I remembered everything, so I wrote this poem a couple of days ago. I’m toying with the idea of giving it to him on Monday when he takes off my bandages.

Don’t Insult the Doc

Are you done yet? I asked the surgeon
who was cutting up my hand
(I was supposed to be unconscious
and adrift in lotus land).
That is not a pleasant question,
he said with some hauteur;
it could emasculate a man
if he were insecure.
I said I know of an inquiry
that is surely more adverse:
Asking a man, Is it in me yet?
must be infinitely worse.
Oh, good God! cried the orthopedist,
with a vivid reprimand ~
and thus I learned to never insult
a scalpel-wielding man.


Elisabeth said...

Terrific poem here and the story that accompanies it, is amazing.

It's amazing to me how flirting fits in in the oddest of places, on a surgery table, of all places.

If I'd showed such a poem to my broken leg surgeon last year, I suspect he'd blush.

Dianne said...

Wink wink.

Brian Miller said...

hahaha...that is a did count your fingers after right? smiles.

just jane said...

Fantastic poem! Yes, indeed, give it to him. He deserves it! Go for it, girl...Peace, Jane

Magpie said...

First, happy birthday to your hubby!
You're so very funny. I love your humor through all kinds of adversity. I definitely think you should give him a copy.
Reminds me a friend of my teenage daughter who when being teased by her not so nice stepfather about having no reason to wear a bra responded with an inquiry as to why he needed to wear pants.

Helen said...

Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes ... give him the poem. He will love it. I wrote a poem about my gall bladder which had 'gone bad' according to my GP ... my surgeon had me read it on the operating table before I went under (I actually did) ... he said nobody ever laughed in his OR and it was time they did!!!!

Andrew said...

I love it! You have such an interesting perspective the foibles of humans.

All the very best to your husband on his birthday. And to you dear one.

Argent said...

LOL! Give it to him - I'm sure he'll be amused.

Anonymous said...

LOVE it!!

The Bug said...

I love it! I have a somewhat bawdy sense of humor - although I probably blush a lot instead of saying things outright. Just today I was commenting on the shape of a tombstone & pondering the fascination we have with that certain part of the male anatomy :)

Totalfeckineejit said...

That is so funny! How dya likes them apples Orthodoc!

e said...

Great poem and I'm sure he'll like it. Happy Birthday to your other half.

Gabriella Moonlight said...

This is a great post I loved it happy birthday to your dear one and glad you are doing well with your healing, great poem and amazing share! as always!

xo Gabi

crownring said...



Happy Birthday to your hubby! May you both live long and prosper happily ever after.


crownring said...

And I'm glad you're feeling better, Chris....

Man, I wish someone would pass me the brain..........

Steve E said...

Chris, you are SO FUNNY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY to your man.

Just remember, flirting is a two-way connection of four senses. FOUR! Dammmit! When 'taste' is involved, it's no longer flirting.

That's through the second grade, of course. After that, Hmmmmm!


Steve E said...

BTW, If you do therapy well and good, you will never be sorry!

young-eclectic-encounters said...

Sorry it took me a minute to pick myself up from the floor and that's hard to do when laughing put you there in the first place. With multiple health problems I see a lot of docs on a regular basis and one thing I've learned docs are people too with their own personalities and quirks. I would think twice about sending that poem. I did some thing much more innocent, wrote it down, sent it to my doc, and to my shock and horror I got a letter back saying that he would see me for another month while I found another doc and after that I would not be seen in that office again. It turned out for the best, but finding a doc who you both like and trust, especially a primary care doc is not always easy.
Johnina :^A

♥ Boomer ♥ said...

Rich! I agree with young-eclectic-encounters -- don't send it! :-)

Syd said...

Ha, you got him on that one. Very good and touche'. Happy belated to your husband.