MRS.S and M&M
I’ve only been at St. Azrael hospital for less than three months, but already I have had Regulars. Regulars, or Frequent Fliers, are patients who come into the hospital periodically for various exacerbations of their chronic medical problems. You treat their infections or congestive hearts or kidney failure as best you can, and hope they don’t snap back like a stripper’s G-string.
Mrs. Szklokoscski wasn’t a true Regular, since it was only the second time I’ve seen her so far. Her health isn’t all that poor and her Past Medical History list is pretty short. She’s just got bad osteoporosis – brittle bones. But her little story had an interesting little story within it, which is why I felt like writing about it I guess.
“Hi Mrs. Szklokoscski, you’re back,” I greeted her and sat down, hoping she wasn’t back due to anything I did or didn’t do.
“Oh hi, it’s nice to see you again, Dr. Scott. Just not under these circumstances,” she looked at her hip.
“I just got this hip replaced last week as you know, and I was doing great with the physical therapy. Then I twisted with a grocery bag and heard a snap and,” she frowned, “I knew it was my hip again.”
“Yeah, sorry,” I half-frowned too, “The orthopods (orthopedic surgeons) will fix it. Don’t worry.”
“I was doing so well too.”
“You’ll be in better shape after this operation than you were the first time around. You’ll do great. Trust me,” I reassured her, more for morale’s sake, than reality’s.
As far as sick people go, she’s my easiest patient. Medically, there’s nothing for me to do except get ortho to fix her hip, and talk to her a little every day (me, not the surgeon, heaven forbid). I’m just a cheerleader with a medical degree (and a bachelor’s in microbiology).
A tech came in to get a routine EKG.
“Wow, that’s quite a name you have,” the tech said. He had dark curly hair and a goatee, with lots of hair and a gold chain visible in the open V of his scrubs top. He was definitely hairy enough to be a surgeon, but way too chatty for one.
“A good Polish name – that no one ever gets right,” she smiled.
“Well, it beats my name. Motaro Motaro,” M&M said.
“You’re joshing me now,” Mrs. S said.
“That’s what his ID badge says,” I confirmed.
“I wanted to change it, but it’d kill my grandfather since I was named after him.
“You’d never guess, but my daughter is half my age,” he was a cornucopia of weird life anecdotes,
“I’m 32. My oldest daughter is 16. I got married when I was fifteen.”
“My goodness that is young,” Mrs. S said as he placed the EKG stickers on her chest.
“It was an arranged marriage. Didn’t even get to see her until the day of the wedding. First time I met her she said, ‘Hi Motaro, nice to meet you. I’m your wife.’”
He told it like he’s told the same story a hundred times.
“Been together for sixteen years,” he beamed in pride.
“You’re still a young’un,” Mrs. S trumped him, “I’ve been married for fifty.”
“You win,” Motaro Motaro conceded and handed her prize to me – a nice and normal EKG sheet.
When M&M left, Mrs. S turned in her bed slightly, winced and said to me,
“I’m glad you are back to see me again. You’re so kind.”
I quietly excused myself. I don't really know why she said that. I didn’t do anything and it wasn't even my story. I just sat there for a bit, which was kind enough I guess.
Like one of my old teachers, Dr. Joychat, would say,
“Don’t just do something. Stand there.”
I'd recommend sitting, though.
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ALTERCATION
Amy's mom and my brother got into a bit of a confrontation yesterday. While I've been away from home, Amy's mom went to our house to help Amy pack this weekend.
Sun Su, being his helpful self, tried "feeding" his baby sister Ooseung. Apparently, he was putting the spoon into her mouth too far and she was gagging. Amy's mom saw this and immediately separated the two and whacked Sun Su on the bottom and yelled at him. When my brother saw this, it put him into a rage and he started yelling at Amy's mom about hitting Sun Su because "only Amy or Scott can hit him" (we just tap his padded diapered butt).
Amy's mom couldn't understand why my brother was upset. She was trying to teach Sun Su the only way she knew how and in an immediate as possible fashion.
My brother was being protective, even instinctive, toward Sun Su because he's come to love him a great deal with each day.
Part of this difference in views is cultural. Hitting in Corea is not quite the social and legal taboo as it is in the United States. There are Corean games, children's games, that involve slapping, pinching, or hitting the other person, usually across the arms (cousin Kevin has welts to prove it). It's kind of funny and kind of shocking when you first see it.
Even so, I feel similarly to my brother. I just don't like the idea of my two-year old boy being hit by his granny harder than to just get his attention. Unless it's by his umma (Amy).
Either way, I don't feel anyone was at fault, really. Same message, different delivery.
It will just be nice to come home and see my family every day after work for a change (when we move into our new house).
"My family" ... that still sounds kind of "hokey" in a way. I suppose I am just older than I feel.
The funny thing about having kids is, when you talk about them, they make you feel older. When you play with them, they make you feel younger.
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