These are completely unrelated topics, despite what you may think. One medical, one less so. Can you guess which is which?
First up: I am still coughing. After hacking for a couple weeks, I finally dragged my stubborn self to the non-husband, actual MD-having doctor, who proceeded to tell me that I have exactly what my actual-husband, not yet MD-having Dr. D told me I have. I am equal parts annoyed and impressed.
Mr. RealMD did, however, offer up the hypothesis that perhaps the aggravated coughing symptoms I encounter frequently when I get colds may have to do with me being asthmatic, to which my reply was "Aw, maaaaaaan... I thought I grew out of that geeky inhaler crapola!"
Turns out, probably not. I am now the proud owner of two new inhalers, which I plan to bedazzle with rhinestones in defiance of their innate dweeby-kid connotation. It'll catch on, just you wait... dweeb/diva chic. Dweeva.
It took all of my willpower not to make some quip to Mr. RealMD about how I obviously didn't drink enough urine as an embryo. (Confused? Read this.)
In other news, allow me to share with you a snippet from my evening at home with Dr. D:
Cuddling in front of the kitchen sink after dinner dishes, as we are often prone to do, I noticed a faint but distinctly smoky smell on my husband's clothes.
"Were you hanging out with a smoker today?" I said accusingly, appalled by the notion that the physician Dr. D is assigned to for his current rotation might actually be crazy enough to puff on the ol' cancer stick.
Dr. D leaned back from me slightly, looking confused. "No...," he said, trailing off and obviously thinking back on his day.
And then his face fell into a half smile, half grimace. "Oh. Gross."
It took me a few seconds longer, but finally the part of our dinner conversation when we shared what we did that day came rushing back to me. More notably, the part where Dr. D told me all about the procedures he got to assist today... mainly, the one where they cauterized flesh repeatedly.