Letters to Dinah

15 March 2009
“Researchers have discovered that chocolate produces some of the same reactions in the brain as marijuana. The researchers also discovered other similarities between the two but can't remember what they are.”
Matt Lauer
Dear Dinah,
It has been far too long since we have really communicated, what with the crush of rearing children and with our otherwise hectic lives. However, when you head north of the 50-year mark, certain things are brought into closer focus – values, people whom you cherish, things that you wish you really had done.
One thing that I want to do is stay in closer touch with you. Perhaps like twin stars, we have each exerted a gravitational pull on each other through the years, although if that has been the case, I believe that I have probably come out the better for it. Secondly, you say that I always have some amusing stories – medicine certainly gives you those! So, to keep you from becoming a complete couch potato, I will try to send you a good story each day.
Finally, I must say that I have tried to “write” before to no avail. The complications of plot, characterization, etc. just seem to baffle me. I would love to have that talent, but alas, or as the French more dramatically say, “Helas!”, I just can’t do that. But, I do seem to amuse people with my Christmas letters, so if the letters that follow bring a smile to your face, then I will have accomplished my objective.
I guess the first thing that I could tell you is that I never thought that I would reach a point in life when I was working and paying the bills and mom was on medical marijuana. Certainly, that has to be a bit of a turn from my college days in the 70’s! I must say that mom has always had a pretty good appetite and loss of hunger has never been one of her issues. However, she has lost a good deal of weight in the past year, so as an appetite stimulant, her internist placed her on Marinol – a marijuana compound. Now, she always has the munchies.
The other night, I took her to dinner at the local Mexican restaurant. That exposed another issue, in addition to her prodigious ability to eat. I eat extremely quickly, in fact I wolf my food down. Not good, but a habit acquired by too many nights on call. Mom has always said, “why do you eat so quickly,” to which I have to reply, “Because if I don’t, sometimes I go hungry.” In contrast, mom loves to savor her food – a skill that I wish I had, but never have obtained. You put it in front of me and it is gone. I have never suffered through bad times like people from the depression, but if you observed me, you would probably think that I had suffered under Chairman Mao.
So, we end up going to the restaurant and I finish in something like 15 minutes. But, mom plows through all of the various courses, decimating everything in her wake. 15 minutes for an enchilada, then a 15-minute taco. I could have used some Marinol at this point, not for the appetite effects. Endeavoring on, she finished another two items over the next 30 minutes. But, since guilt is the water in which we all swim, I decided that first, I was not a good son for being impatient with this slow pace and secondly, I do know how she loves ice cream. So, I said, “mom, why don’t you get some ice cream?” Well, she lit up like a Roman candle and they brought out the most enormous load of chocolate, vanilla and strawberry ice cream, covered with cherries, chocolate syrup, Special K cereal and whipped cream that I have ever seen. Wincing, I settling in for the duration while she ate every individual bit of the desert over the next 45 minutes. Finally, she looked at me and said, “Steven, there is always time for ice cream.”
Off the top of my head tonight, the story that comes to mind is a story that you might remember from last year’s Christmas letter. However, while I will try to be more imaginative in the future, it might bring a smile to your face in the meanwhile.
I was on OB one night with the OB CRNA when one of the OB nurses came out of a room and said that she had a patient who was progressing very rapidly. She did warn us that this patient was, shall we say, not compliant. That is our nice medical term that we use for people who do not do their pre-partum testing, follow doctors advice or otherwise are just difficult.
We went into the room and this teenage girl was writhing all over the bed. Usually, this indicated time for a stern talk on my part. Consequently, I started my canned lecture, “Listen, Shanika … you have to really be still. We will have a needle in your back and cannot do this procedure if you are not quiet for a few minutes. If we get this epidural in, you will feel much better.”
Well, Shanika didn’t really see it this way. She gave me a very dirty look, rolled over on her back and hiked her right leg up in the air. The baby’s daddy was sitting in a chair with a good view of this and said, “I think I see a head!” Suddenly, Shanika bore down with tremendous pressure and literally, the baby came out like a torpedo and flew about 2 feet, hitting the end of the bed. It would have rolled on the floor if it had not been snapped back by the umbilical cord. Coupled with this, there was a tsunami of amniotic fluid that arced across the room, leaving the room like Pucket, Thailand. Shanika’s first words following delivery were to the baby’s dad, “you *****, you did this to me.” Hallmark moments like this are hard to capture, but dad replied, “you *****, why don’t you shut the *** up.”
At this point, I could not restrain myself. I ran out of the room and I grabbed the counter at the OB desk. The nurses asked me what was going on in there and all I could get out for 10 minutes was, “baby.” Every time I said more, I was overcome with paroxysms of laughter. That, coupled by the fact that every time the door opened we were treated to the endearments of Shanika and baby daddy, i.e., “you *** ****, ” sound bites eclipsed each time the door closed. So, I share with you, this season, the story of Torpedo Baby. Our own sort of Spartanburg nativity tale.
Well, Dinah, that is all for today, but as Scarlett said, “After all, tomorrow is another day.” Until then, ruhig schlafen und lass nicht zu, das Bett Bugs Biss!
A pregnant lady was in an accident and she woke up in the hospital. She noticed she was not pregnant anymore and asked the nurse what happened to her baby.
The nurse said, "You have two healthy babies, a boy and a girl!"
The lady said, "Oh, I must name them," but the nurse said, "You were unconscious, so we called your brother, and he named them!"
The lady said, "But he's as dumb as a box of rocks! So what are their names?"
The nurse said, "The girl is called "Denise."