For some strange reason, the memories that give me the best laughs have been medical-related.
Case in point: When I was 9 years old, I went to my cardiologist's for my annual check-up. The nurse, "Miss Mary" (that's what I called her), was asking me which finger I wanted to be pricked for my blood work. She asked, "do you want me to draw it from Mr. Index? Mr. Tall Man? Mr.-" I immediately interupted her and said, "That's not Mr. Tall Man. That's 'The Bird'"
My father's eyes got big and Mary gave Dad a look as if she were saying, "Where the *bleep* did she learn that?" My dad immediately said, "I don't know." (which is true, he didn't and I honestly can't remember if it was from school or TV.) Thankfully, Dad and I remember that incident with great fondness.
Now, the next story cracks me up but embarrasses the daylights out of someone else. But, before I can tell you said story, I need to give you the backstory.
During the first 6-8 weeks post-transplant, I could NOT wear a bra. My scar was vertical and straight down my chest and it just flat-out HURT trying to wear one. In fact, my first weekend out-of-the-hospital-post-transpalnt I tried wearing a bra while out doing errands with Mom and Dad. As soon as we were done with our first store (Wal-Mart) I immediately climbed into the van, shut the side door, and yanked my bra off. THAT HURT! (In hindsight, duh! Of course it hurt! My scar was still healing!)
During the first month or two, twice a day, my mom would "paint" or put medicine on my scar. We'd just go into my room, I'd lift up my shirt, she'd apply the medicine and that was that. My sisters were staying with family at the time so Mom and I got used to this routine.
On top of everything else, I was experiencing the physical side affects from Prednisone. Mainly, increased weight gain and all of that. Where did that added weight go? Let me put it this way: I was suddenly well-endowed.
After about a month of living in Boston with relatives, my sisters came back to St. Louis...and poor Sam (who was only eight years old at the time) got an eye full!
Mom and I went into my room like always and I lifted up my shirt like always.....but Sam coming into my room was not like always! The poor girl walked in and immediately Mom and I saw her pointing at me and than screaming, "I'M GONNA GET THOSE?!" (yes, pointing at my you-know-whats) Poor Sam! She was quite traumatized. ;-)
EVERYONE started cracking up. I still can't mention it to her without a teasing glint in my eyes and a small blush from her.
I'm sure I have many more hilarious moments but for the life of me, I think of them. :-)
Case in point: When I was 9 years old, I went to my cardiologist's for my annual check-up. The nurse, "Miss Mary" (that's what I called her), was asking me which finger I wanted to be pricked for my blood work. She asked, "do you want me to draw it from Mr. Index? Mr. Tall Man? Mr.-" I immediately interupted her and said, "That's not Mr. Tall Man. That's 'The Bird'"
My father's eyes got big and Mary gave Dad a look as if she were saying, "Where the *bleep* did she learn that?" My dad immediately said, "I don't know." (which is true, he didn't and I honestly can't remember if it was from school or TV.) Thankfully, Dad and I remember that incident with great fondness.
Now, the next story cracks me up but embarrasses the daylights out of someone else. But, before I can tell you said story, I need to give you the backstory.
During the first 6-8 weeks post-transplant, I could NOT wear a bra. My scar was vertical and straight down my chest and it just flat-out HURT trying to wear one. In fact, my first weekend out-of-the-hospital-post-transpalnt I tried wearing a bra while out doing errands with Mom and Dad. As soon as we were done with our first store (Wal-Mart) I immediately climbed into the van, shut the side door, and yanked my bra off. THAT HURT! (In hindsight, duh! Of course it hurt! My scar was still healing!)
During the first month or two, twice a day, my mom would "paint" or put medicine on my scar. We'd just go into my room, I'd lift up my shirt, she'd apply the medicine and that was that. My sisters were staying with family at the time so Mom and I got used to this routine.
On top of everything else, I was experiencing the physical side affects from Prednisone. Mainly, increased weight gain and all of that. Where did that added weight go? Let me put it this way: I was suddenly well-endowed.
After about a month of living in Boston with relatives, my sisters came back to St. Louis...and poor Sam (who was only eight years old at the time) got an eye full!
Mom and I went into my room like always and I lifted up my shirt like always.....but Sam coming into my room was not like always! The poor girl walked in and immediately Mom and I saw her pointing at me and than screaming, "I'M GONNA GET THOSE?!" (yes, pointing at my you-know-whats) Poor Sam! She was quite traumatized. ;-)
EVERYONE started cracking up. I still can't mention it to her without a teasing glint in my eyes and a small blush from her.
I'm sure I have many more hilarious moments but for the life of me, I think of them. :-)
Remind me to tell you one of Ian's hospital stories...a bit of a dirty word and right now it's a pain to type on this itty bitty iPod. Hugs & love ya!
ReplyDeleteMe, aka Tonks/AnaMarie
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