#172. WHAT THE DOCTORS WORE

by admin on February 24, 2011

the doctors were dressed kind of like this!

CHOMP E.R.

instead of ringing in the new year glammed up in sequined gown, updo and 6-inch heels/bow-tie and bowler, esme and mr. noir spent new year’s eve. in the emergency room. 

mr. noir answered the call from the paramedics: christophe had been hit in the mouth by an errant surfboard and was en route to the hospital per ambulance.  i fear esme would have lost her lunch had she been the one to pick up the phone.  as it was, once she and mr. noir arrived, the nurse informed us that christophe had strictly forbidden his mom to come into his room for fear that she would end up on the floor and create a second emergency. 

so it was up to the more stoic mr. noir to witness the gruesome sight, which apparently involved copious amounts of blood.  esme was left to pace and cool her heels in the waiting room, observing the comings and goings of patients and doctors alike. 

new year’s eve seemed to be a good time to catch the local medical community at their sartorial best. our family doctor (female)  arrived dressed most fetchingly in jeans and a snug black leather jacket.  the plastic surgeon breezed in to attend to christophe, very great gatsby in a gray pin-striped suit and mustaches (he was on his way to play a new year’s eve. gig with his jazz-band).  and c.’s dentist made a special appearance looking natty in gray trousers, white dress-shirt and navy blazer.   esme has always thought scrubs were rather sexy, but boy did these guys and girls (sorry pp) clean up well! 

when esme was finally allowed in to see her son, she understood why she had been kept out:  he was attired in a hospital gown over the bottoms of his wetsuit, hooked up to iv’s and monitors with a drain in his mouth, and even after being cleaned, patched and drugged he looked like a grizzled mer-man who had been beaten up in a bar-fight.  thankfully, his injuries are not life-threatening, but we were distressed to hear that he might lose a couple of teeth, and would need plastic surgery on his mouth.  you know how esme feels about plastic surgery, but she couldn’t argue with this one. 

we finally brought the poor creature home, where esme and mr. noir ate steaks, while christophe choked down a couple of percocet with a chaser of banana smoothie.  as i write this, he is much improved and has managed to consume 2 hamburgers.  asked whether he might retire from surfing, he shook his head.

a guy i was talking to in the hot-tub put it succinctly: the most dangerous drug around is not cocaine, heroine, or meth, but….testosterone!

esme

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