Yesterday afternoon, I took my sick son to an urgent care where he was seen by a kind and capable nurse practitioner. She quickly assessed him and wrote a prescription before sending us on our way. I kind of wanted to tell her this story. Kind of…
When our daughter was born ten weeks early via emergency c-section, my husband and I got a crash course in medical terminology. We learned all about NG-tubes, picc lines, desats, brady’s and many more words I hope you boys and girls never need to know.
We spent hours in the intensive care unit each day and picked up invaluable information from the neonatologists and our child’s primary care nurse. For 35 days straight, we sat at our daughter’s isolette reading her chart, working the monitors, and reapplying electrodes. By the end of that journey we felt like medical professionals ourselves.
Our son was born premature a few years later, but because of his heart condition he was immediately transferred to a children’s hospital where they had equipment to better care for him.
It was déjà vu with a twist. We were thrown into a familiar situation, in unfamiliar surroundings. Yet, we figured we were ahead of the game. At the very least, we knew the lingo and could communicate with the staff.
Or, so I thought.
Because I’m sure the nurse practitioner who met my husband upon our son’s admission was quite surprised when she introduced herself, only to have him say, “We’d like a real nurse, not one who’s just practicing.”
Yesterday morning I was giving my son some medicine when I accidentally bumped his head on a kitchen cabinet. Without even thinking I said, “Bonk!”
My son laughed. So I tickled him a little and said, “You’re bonkers!” He laughed even harder.
Then I remembered where we would be fifteen minutes later and I said, “By the way, when we get to school you can’t go around calling people bonkers. I was being silly, but it wouldn’t be nice to say that to your classmates.”
To which he replied, “Okay. I’ll just call them crackers.”
I had fully anticipated the Buckeyes eating Bevo for dinner last night, but apparently our defensive linemen are vegetarians. Who knew? Oh, that’s right…you did.
Congratulations on the victory. A year which gave Mack Brown his 200th win, and gave Colt McCoy an NCAA record for completions, also gave us Buckeye fans our third bowl loss in a row. You must admit, however, that we gave you a run for your money. You can’t tell me you weren’t a little bit worried. Give our quarterback a couple of years, and then we’ll talk.
At the very least, our band sounded better than yours. Oh, and as far as fans go, you can keep this guy…
I thought I’d make sure you don’t want to back out of our little wager. You know, the one where you write a groveling post after Ohio State beats Texas tonight in the Fiesta Bowl.
Just in case you haven’t heard of him, this is James Laurinaitis. He’s going to do some ball stripping, intercepting, serious tackling, and maybe a little sacking. He’s a nice guy, so he won’t pop any one’s head off, but he could if he wanted to.
Actually, you may remember him from scenes like this…
Anyway, I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow.