Southern Hospitality... NOT

It's time for another blog post - that makes 2 this year, I'm on a roll!

Today in clinic a patient came in with his home health nurse.  I went in the exam room to get his pillow for his wheel chair, and his nurse followed me to gather the rest of his belongings.  My attending was still in the other room talking to the patient's mother, and the elderly female nurse stood in front of me staring at my ID badge.  "I recognized your name, and I was wondering if you were planning on continuing your work here or going back overseas," she stated with an eerily calm demeanor.  At first, I thought she meant she recognized my name from the hospital and her other visits with this patient.  Then, I realized with a crushing blow of racism that she recognized me as a foreigner.  Was it my yankee English that made her suspicious? Did I inadvertently slip into my mom's accent? Was she just screening every vaguely foreign person she met (even if they did look like an innocuous pediatrician in a cardigan) for suspicious behavior to report to Homeland Security? Are my eyebrows significantly bushier than usual today? I responded that I was born and raised in Colorado, and she seemed confused.  I was confused too because I don't encounter this stuff much... maybe out of willful ignorance.

--By Farrah, who was asked by an attending physician once if her favorite movie was Aladdin because she looked like Jasmine.  She didn't know if she should be flattered or offended, so she just nodded.  

Reasons to get a roommate besides Teddy

This morning at 3:14 am, my alarm started its mighty wail. I leaped out of bed, unaware of the time or the implications of the alarm going off. I went straight to the wall and turned off the alarm as if I had walked in the door from the garage and nothing was wrong. I finally took in the alarm's unfamiliar phrase as I typed in my code - back door open back door open back door open. I looked at the back door, and it was OPEN. Teddy was hiding under my bed shaking - a very useful watch dog. My phone started to ring as I stepped toward the back door. The alarm company called to verify I was still alive. Talking to the security guy on the phone, I verified my safety code without really considering if I was safe or not. Security guy asked if I need the police. I replied, "I don't think so, nobody's here. I just wonder why the door is open." He said obviously, "maybe you didn't close it all the way." Uh, thanks dude for your insight. I closed the back door, and set the alarm again. Teddy and I sat in my room revved up and wondered what the next step should be. It was very windy and a little rainy outside. It was probably the wind, plus teddy is afraid of rainy weather which explains his persistent shaking. But then I thought, what if an intruder had intimidated Teddy into this fearful behavior. I decided if I ever wanted to sleep, I would have to search the house for intruders. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find. I sleuthed through every room like a detective from Law and Order, my back against the wall sneaking to the doors, then busting though each door knife pointed forward. I was reassured after my search, and I settled back in bed with the knife on the nightstand. I let Teddy climb into bed to help calm him down. Teddy promptly pooped in the bed - parasympathetic rebound is the pathophysiology, an hour long clean up was the result. Now, needless to say, I cannot sleep - though my bed is now in perfect condition to prevent SIDS - no bedding or pillows, just a warm outfit on firm mattress. The washing machine is producing the noise of a large unbalanced centrifuge unaccustomed to the weight of a duvet and pillows. I may just have to invest in a new bedroom set.

This is not the first time Teddy has soiled a bed. Back in our Boulder days, Teddy soiled my sister Sami's bed when he wasn't feeling well. Sami was in Denver that weekend, so I started to clean everything with the hope she wouldn't find out. In another battle of washing machine vs. duvet, her bedding ripped and the washing machine flooded. I started to sew everything together, hoping I could still salvage the situation. The rip was right in the center after repair, and I went to the fabric store looking for something to help. I bought her name in iron on letters and ironed them over the sewn up tear. She got home shortly, and I told her I had a surprise for her. She went up to her room and emerged with an extremely confused look asking why I had labeled her comforter. I hurriedly replied, "Teddy pooped in your bed, your comforter ripped in the clean up, there's a small flood in the bathroom, and I have to go to work now. I'm really sorry! byyyeeee."

--By Farrah, who's sleeeeeepppyy