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 Holly Winter Living The Life Of Holly Mar 26, 2003 I know. I am not very useful in certain situations. I can’t help it. It is just the way I am. When I went with Darlin-man for his bladder biopsy, I was more interested in playing with the slit at the back of his gown than helping him button the thing together. And. When the nurse came in to give him his IV, I thought that I would lighten things up a bit. “Hey, Darlin-man, do you want ME to hook up your IV?” I offered, supportively. He chose quickly. “No way. I like nurses.” Poor nurse. She prepared that IV just right. But my little comment seemed to have tested her confidence, which made the prepared vein roll in vain. Oh. She tried to dig that protruding vein back out of his arm, shouting out bits of apologies and encouragement, but it was no use. I had ruined the moment. She finally gave up in vast embarrassment and ran out of the room to find reinforcements. Darlin-man turned to me. “Nurses get nervous when they have to work on the doctors they know.” “You kidding?” I countered. “Nurses wait their whole career for moments like this. Just wait till they put the cathedra in!” Why he was getting this done in the hospital where he worked was a shock to me. Seems like he would change his name and go to another state where they would accidentally remove his kidney rather than having an operation amongst colleagues. So. While he was wheeled into the operating room for a nap, I sat in the waiting room. I pretended not to notice that I was part of the official doctor’s-got-a-girlfriend tour as large groups of staffers in baggy, pale clothing came in to look at the large oil painting that was hanging over my head. “It is new.” The volunteer staffing the room lied. “Oh. And it’s very nice.” The tour would all agree. I buried by head into my laptop and almost missed the surgeon’s after-operation visit. Apparently he was busy during the girlfriend tour and didn’t know who I was. After he left, the volunteer let me know that Darlin-man’s surgeon had been looking for me. I had to chase him down the hall. He started talking about the operation. I couldn’t listen. There was blood on his shirt. Darlin-man’s blood! Oh my god. There must have been some kind of problem with the operation. The blood had squirted all the way onto his shoulder. Four splots. Huge splots. I wondered if Darlin-man had suffered any complications. “Were there any complications?” “No. It went smoothly. As I just said there were just a few areas of concern and we removed them all.” I wondered what the areas were. What was he talking about? I hadn’t asked darlin-man about any areas. Could they be the big C? Why had he lost so much blood? I wondered if I was allowed to ask so many questions. This was just a short procedure. Was it too late to ask what the procedure was all about? Why was he even having the operation, anyway? “When will you know if it is Cancer or not?” “A few days.” The doctor said, nodding his head. Was he nodding because he thought that it was Cancer or because he was waiting for me to ask if it was Cancer? Oh. Man. I was getting tired of all of this. “Thanks, Doctor.” I said. It took a few weeks for me to be able to admit to Darlin-man just how much blood had squirted onto the surgeon’s shirt. “No. That wasn’t my blood. I had a closed operation.” He said. “You mean, that was somebody else’s blood?” I asked, incredulously. “Sure. The shirt was cleaned before he did it. Blood stains. Once I was working on a heart patient and I had blood all down my leg. Luckily one of the nurses warned me before I went and talked to the family. I was tracking blood all over the place. It was pretty funny.” “That was somebody else’s blood?” I repeated, staring blankly at the wall. I crossed my arms and said for the zillionth time, “Darlin-man. You know that you should be dating someone who understands you. A nice doctor like you should be dating a nice nurse, not a writer. A nurse would understand about blood” He tilted his head to one side and twinkled his eyes. “But this is still only our second date, you have plenty of time to learn.” About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com ------------ Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
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