Wednesday, March 13,
2002.
How much Baby Boy weighs: 3 1/2 pounds.
We probably watched
each other's video game prowess
at Pinball Pete's in Ann Arbor during college
... Mark
B .
Listening To: "J" (k-pop)
MUTED
I've been in a different place these past few weeks.
Not an angry or bitter place. Much worse than that. I've been feeling quite listless outside of work. A pile of apathetic sloth .... I just didn't feel like doing anything at home. (Oh the drama. I feel much better lately.)
Uninterested in all the things I've been interested in. Korean things. K-pop. Exercise. Drawing. Female beauty. Porn (obviously, very different from feminine beauty but still associated with my libido).
And I haven't been able to quite figure out why. This isn't another depressing entry though. I made sure I wouldn't write until I was feeling better. I've already overrun my quota of depressing entries (at least the ones in my head).
I feel better. Most of these things have come back, but in a muted form for the time being. Asking myself lots of questions lately. Foreseeing the futility of some things. Letting go of certain dreams. We'll see.
I finally finished a drawing (above). Shadows are my favorite thing. So intimate and embracing. She's a pretty accurate picture of my mood lately.
I've started listening to my Korean language tapes in the car to and fro work again. I even look at my Korean book at stoplights.
And I've finally gotten my slothful ass to the gym this week.
I'm a few weeks behind on some emails too. I'll catch up.
DO YOU SMOKE AFTER SEX ?
Work has been interesting.
I'm in clinic this month. Clinic is basically "the doctor's office." You know, when you have a cold or a sprained back or a sore in your labia majora and you see the doctor. I'm that doctor this month.
Actually, the residents see the patients and go over the cases with other attendings, like me.
I haven't done this clinic/office stuff in nearly three years though. I feel a little inadequate in the "new" setting, but the residents are actually quite good. I'm used to the more acute in-hospital setting, for instance:
"What? Your back hurts? *beeper goes off* STAT urinalysis, blood cultures, abdominal ultrasound, and C.T. to rule out pyelonephritis / gallstones / retroperitoneal bleed / adrenal hematoma / disc herniation !! ... On the day of discharge too, fucking figures!" *answers beeper for chest pain on another floor*
It's been fun and a welcome change of pace. Calmer. Less drama and more comedy.
Yesterday, we had this 50-year African American lady come in complaining of an ulcer in her labia majora (that's "outer camel toe" for you lay-people). She thought she burned an ulcer down there from all the friction "after having rough sex for 24 hours straight with my man!" *opens legs*
Actually, we think it may be a herpes ulcer but her story is funnier. Either way, she'll be fine.
I might add that she looked a lot younger than fifty. Exercise of any kind is good.
BABY BOY,
THE SEQUELAmy had a second ultrasound today. I don't know why. Maybe it's the ob/gyn's preference. Baby Boy is fine but still nameless.
I met Amy in the ultrasound room again, five minutes late, red-faced and breathing hard, just like last time. The receptionist at the desk didn't even have to ask my name. She just called back and said, "The husband is here."
Baby Boy was moving a lot, as usual. And his head is really low in Amy's pelvis actually. According to Amy,
"I'm going to have to keep my cooch extra clean, now that Baby Boy's head is right there. Hahha!"
I don't think my Amy used to talk like that before I met her.
We saw his heartbeat. Four chambers pumping quickly in perfect timing. We even saw him kick and YAWN!
I held Amy's hand and she got a kick out of watching the baby on the monitor.
Just two months. People think Amy might deliver early because she looks about nine months pregnant right now. Some actually suggested she might have twins. The possibility never occurred to me before. Yikes. My eyes got bigger than Amy's areolae just thinking about that.
Speaking of her beautiful ever-increasing areolae, I must admit I am looking forward to tasting what sweet nectar her breasts make after Baby Boy gets his share. I can't imagine what guy wouldn't want to taste his woman's milk. I mean, isn't that the whole primal reason we like sucking on those things? Make whatever Oedipal jokes you want, but at least I'm in touch with my primal sexual desires. It's liberating.
I'm starting to worry about Amy's welfare. For one thing, she's blood type O-positive. That totally sucks. That means she can only accept Type O. Not Type A, or Type B (like mine), or Type AB. Just O, the rarest type. She's not interested in donating blood for herself in case she needs it.
She likes to watch those baby delivery shows on TV. They've never shown a delivery as bad as the one I was drenched in during my ob/gyn rotation as a medstudent though. You don't let camera crews in the room when there's an inch of blood covering the floor.
Amy already made this beautiful baby album and she's putting the ultrasound pics in it, including the baby's penis pic, slightly modified as below.
"Look baby! Now that's the money shot!" she said as she showed me the pic above.
No, she definitely didn't talk like that when I met her.
But it's my fault. I told her what "the money shot" meant a couple months ago. I've created a monster. But a loveable pornerific one.
P.C. or not P.C. ?
... the American question...I got a few helpful emails regarding my massage experience. A few people in particular reinforced that it's okay to tell the massage therapist what you want. The "light touch" massage is actually easier on them as well.
"Massage therapist" and "massage spas" are the proper terms.
"Masseuse" and "massage parlors" have historically bad connotations to them, like "Oriental" does in the USA.
Thanks for the info Jesse, Sari, and Athena. (Sorry if I missed anyone.)
