Conversation with My Wife (89)
After the Interview with The Doctor
So my wife was officially diagnosed as having a gallbladder that needs to be removed and destroyed. We’re doing okay, being careful about her eating (and my cooking) before the operation. Oh, and I may have had a tiny, barely-noticable, hardly-worth-mentioning meltdown before the diagnosis.
We went to see the doctor who will be performing the surgery for the pre-operation consultation. I went along because this is something we need to start doing anyway (two sets of ears, two sets of memories, etc.) as we get to be a certain age. Also, I was raised by an RN who taught me a healthy skepticism toward the medical profession; IOW, I’m more likely to ask questions or call BS if I don’t like something. Also, Abby Norman’s book may have my paranoia levels up about doctors not listening to female patients.*
The session with the doctor went well, and we were happy when we walked out.
DEB: I liked him. If likeability of a doctor translates to confidence on how he’ll do, I feel pretty confident.
ME: Couple things I liked. One is that he checked your background before he started explaining about the procedure.
DEB: Yes! “Do you have any medical background?” Then he still explained it like I was an intelligent adult, not like I was a pre-schooler.
ME: I thought his diagrams were good! Then also, even though I was there, when he was explaining things he explained them to you. He checked me occasionally to make sure I was paying attention and not lost, but he was talking to you almost entirely.**
DEB: I’m glad you asked the question about the trapped gasses. I guess I just figured that that’s how they do the surgery, so whatever.***
ME: And did you see his face when he explained it?
It was a reaction familiar to anyone who is enthusiastic about their profession. Computer hardware geeks explaining how they got SATA cables to lie flat, or baseball geeks explaining obscure rules, or crochet geeks describing how the hook thingie did the stitch thing with the yarn stuff,**** we all get this excited look when we explain this cool thing. In this case, how the doctor gets most of the gas out of the abdomen before closing up. With sketches!
DEB: I think it’s going to be okay, honey.
*Still working on it, Abby! I owe you a review when I’m done.
**I have a problem with this. Goes back to when my boss and I, while I was in computers back in the Navy, went to a computer convention aimed at Federal employees. It was a work day, so we were both in uniform. On the main floor, we stopped at a booth and asked one of the salesmen a question. Well, actually, it was my boss, Val, who did. And the guy answered me. She asked a follow-up. And the guy answered me. Even setting aside that I had two stripes while she had three, so it was obvious who was senior, she was asking the fraking questions and the guy was ignoring her! Val saw I was doing a slow burn and got us moving before I said something stupid. And — surprise! — we didn’t bother to keep the literature from the booth.
***Deb’s brother Doug had his gallbladder out a few years ago. He was overall positive about the experience, but he said the gas they pump in to distend the belly to create more working space is very uncomfortable for a few days after the surgery, because the body isn’t designed to remove gases from there.
****No, I wasn’t actually paying strict attention when my wife explained her latest project. Shut up.
