Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
At the risk of appearing churlish
Edited to add: It’s 11:14 PM. Only 46 minutes left of call in this community. Oops, make that 45. After that, several weeks will pass until I’m on call again.
What the hell will I do with myself?Â
You knew I couldn’t leave Crescent City without
. . . one last narrowly averted airway disaster. I guess the Fates figured I still had a few hairs left to lose (or turn gray).
. . . one last patient who made us glad we keep disposable plastic sheets on our exam chair. Actually, we’ve had TWO of these people, and I’m still seeing patients until the 12th. Somehow, I think we’ll go through a few more of those sheets.
. . . one last brainsucker. For the fourth time, why are you here to see me today? Hint: it should have something to do with your ears, your nose, or your throat.
. . . one last (but not least) misguided attempt to convert me.
More on that one below the cut.
I’ve been open with my patients about our motivations for this move. Many of them know know about my wife’s problems; they know we’re leaving because we’ve run out of good options for medical care locally. Two and a half years, we’ve tried to get things straight. Sudden as my exit must seem to the community, for us, it didn’t happen overnight.
Some folks think I need outside intervention to help with our problems. Today, I received a pamphlet entitled “The Best Gift,” wherein I learned the answers to the questions, “Where did I come from? Why am I here? Where am I going?” Right.
I know this is a well meaning “gift,” but it really, really doesn’t help. My wife suffers from a lack of expert specialist medical care, not a lack of faith. (She lacks faith, too, but she’s hardly suffering for it.)
When I read things like this pamphlet, I wonder if I grew up in a different culture, because this stuff makes NO sense to me.
Meh. I’ve been trying to write about this, understand it, but the words escape me. All I can say is . . . enough. Please.
D.
…do people pee in your chair?
Yes. Fortunately, their pants usually get in the way.
You know what you do with yourself. Pack and write.
I used to give rides to an incontinent woman. My car never recovered…you get to leave that seat behind, right?
u need a vacation
Ummm maybe I should not confess this but I laughed so hard I peed my pants and my husband’s car seat about 2 weeks ago. We were only 2 blocks from the house. Hard to imagine, I know. Fortunately he has aged leather seats that can take it.
You know I want to feel sympathy for these people that are losing you. I really do but in the back of my mind I keep thinking, “la la la Walnut and family are moving near me ha ha ha…they will undoubtedly be visiting the bay area. I will be seeing them soon. ha ha ha” I am a selfish brat-erina. It’s all about me and your wife, of course. Yes?
Oh I see now perhaps I am the brainsucker
CD, you could never be a brainsucker. We’re looking forward to seeing you, too.
I could send some Jehova’s Witnesses your way. Maybe they could show you the way to light instead of eternal damnation. 😉
If you have a good solution to pee stains and smell, I’d be glad to hear them. We’re housetraining a new dog.
A. Put plastic on everything.
B. Throw away plastic.
Then there’s what might be called Hoffman’s Law: if your waiting room has chairs with absorbent cushions, those cushions will be used to absorb bodily fluids.
Way back in ’99, we had a fellow who was waiting for his wife. He got one seat wet, decided he didn’t like to sit in the wet spot, and moved to another chair. He nailed three chairs before I had finished examining his wife.
For pee stains & smells, there’s an enzyme-based product we’ve successfully used called Nature’s Miracle. They’ve licensed the formula to other companies – this is the brand we’re currently using.