His new orthopedic surgeon is a friend of a friend, who worked my husband's hand job in over his lunch hour on Monday. He's our age with a fantastic sense of humor. Don't ask me why it's important to me that the surgeon be funny, but it just is. (He also happens to be a fantastic surgeon, thank god.) And I know this because my husband post surgical instructions were to elevate his hand as much as possible, take his pain meds and lastly, for me to give him a blow job. Craig. Not the surgeon. In case you were confused. I'm still confused as to whether it was one dose or refills.
Turns out, Craig is kinda a pain in the ass as a patient. Because he's a doctor, he knows things. Sometimes that's good, sometimes not. And he views the instructions as flexible. Like taking off the dressing, it states expressly not to do in black and white on the discharge paper. Then, I have to do all the driving and Craig doesn't like me driving. So he's constantly telling me where to turn and what lane to be in. So I was all getting irritated with his non-compliant attitude. When I realized the whole sexy nurse gig is all about power and control. And I was totally in charge.
Be a good patient and I'll give you a pole dance in that sexy lingerie I only sport annually on your birthday. I consider this my doing my part for pain management. Of course one thing led to another. Because my husband has never been on pain meds before, I had no idea that while they reduce pain, they prolong everything else. Everything. So now, I'm a bit some and in some pain myself.
Until, it starts all over again.
"I can have a glass of wine", he says.
"No. No you can't. It says on the paper. I can show you.", I reply sternly.
"I can have narcotics, but I can't have wine?"
"Well, you can't have them together dumbass! Now, be a good a good patient and take your drugs."
Then, of course, he wants to be rewarded for his good behavior...
How soon can Monday come so he can go back to work? I'm exhausted and I'm running out of lingerie.