The start of this story is scary.
Abby (wife, pregnant) passed out. We were together when it happened, which was good, and we went to the hospital where the doctor wasn’t worried, which was also good.
That’s the whole story—it started scary and ended in an okay place. But a lot happened in the middle and that’s what this is about.
First, we arrived at the hospital and Abby wasn’t thrilled to be there. Which is fair. Hospitals, generally speaking, don’t make you feel happy to be there. Kind of like a Smoothie King—I know I’m making a healthy decision by walking in, but why are you charging me so much, and would you really be upset if I keeled over and died right here? That’s the vibe.
Our hospital visit started with a nurse coming to take us to the doctor. The nurse also had a wheelchair for Abby. Which she refused. Which led to the nurse insisting. Which led to a somewhat tense back and forth with me sitting in the middle not understanding either side and even more conflicted about which one to take.
Eventually, the nurse said, “Look lady, I have to take you in the wheelchair. It’s a liability thing.” So that settled it. Turns out the phrase “look lady” is pretty effective.
But Abby still had a point to prove and that point was that she did not need this wheelchair. She sat on the very edge of the seat with her back perfectly erect, giving her the air of a visiting royal dignitary. She never leaned back, never slouched, never looked down, and said hello or waved to every doctor, nurse, and patient we passed.
A true queen of the people.
When we did make it to the room (which for the record was very far from the entrance and worthy, in my opinion, of wheelchair usage), Abby hopped out of the chair before it had even stopped rolling, skipped into the room, and jumped onto the bed. I kid you not, a literal hop, skip, and a jump.
Part of me thinks she expected the nurse to apologize or say something like, “Wow miss, you were right! You’re in perfectly good health and don’t need the assistance of a silly medical professional like me.” But that didn’t happen. The nurse rolled on without a word.
Now, if you thought Abby was just going to lie down on the hospital bed, you haven’t been paying attention. No. Edge of the bed, feet dangling off, shoes still on, and purse wrapped over her shoulder like she was preparing to pay the bill and leave.
The doctor, however, arrived and did not offer to check us out. Instead, she asked one million questions (I counted). The only question that slowed her interview down was this: “Have you been drinking enough water today?”
Let’s pause here. I know Abby well enough for this question to make me laugh out loud. The reason for that is because no one, and I mean no one, drinks more water than Abby. Not even Tom Brady.
Because I know this, I’m now laughing. And because Abby also knows this about herself, she’s eager to respond to finally get some of the respect she feels she deserves, so she says, “Oh yeah.” Kool-Aid man style.
The doctor doesn’t blink and hands Abby a cup for a urine sample. Up until this moment in my life, I’ve assumed that peeing in a cup is something no one wants to do ever, for any reason, at all. Wrong.
One hop, skip, and jump later and Abby is into the bathroom and back out with a full cup of translucent liquid. Again, and this is true, the doctor says, “Did you fill that up with water?” And Abby, with a grin that brings to mind the moment when the grinch’s heart grows three sizes, says, “Nope.”
To which the doctor responds, “I’ve never seen clearer urine in my life.”
And that is how one of the worst days I’ve ever lived turned into a moment I will never forget. If only because Abby has not stopped reminding me of how clear her pee was that one time.
Thanks for reading this far.
- jd
(Note: If you were forwarded this email by a very neat friend of yours, you can sign up to receive it on the first Friday of every month. Cheers.)
What I’m Writing
One sentence paragraphs don’t always work
I’ve read enough LinkedIn influencers’ posts to know that a string of one-liners does not make someone a poet.
“To write is human. To edit is divine.” - Stephen King. He’s right. Here are five ways I try to do both at the same time.
Other humans keep getting in the way of my structure, my rhythm, and my routine. It’s almost like we were made to do just that.
I’ve asked a lot of people this and haven’t heard a satisfying answer. What do you think? Hit reply and tell me. No wrong answers.
What I’m Reading
I started the month with Sherlock Holmes. First, a short story (A Scandal in Bohemia), then a novel (A Study in Scarlet). I’ll say this: Holmes is a captivating character. I’m glued to every word of his dialogue. Yet, and this is mind-boggling to me, he’s stuck in plot-driven stories. A character of his magnitude deserves to commander the story and lead the entire way. Instead, Arthur Conan Doyle sends him chasing hints and clues, which left me wanting after both readings.
The other book I read this month was The Ocean at the End of the Lane. It read like a cooler Wrinkle in Time and was so stinking fun (and terrifying). I felt like a kid again reading it. Would highly recommend.
What I’m Drinking
I had an avocado margarita this evening and it was incredible. I also spelled avocado and margarita wrong when I typed that just now. Might’ve been a stronger drink than I thought…
Question of the day is this: what is the last thing you bought for yourself that has brought you a lot of joy? This is not a trick question. And if you’re tempted to respond by telling me that happiness isn’t found in material possessions, don’t. I’ve read that part of the Bible too. I get it. I’m asking because I just bought myself some new golf shoes, which is something I rarely do, and they have been an absolute treat. I look fantastic, and I’m playing what may be the best golf of my life. That is joyful to me. Is it the meaning of life? No. But we don’t always have to get super deep down here. Keep it easy. What was that purchase for you? And, if you’re comfortable sharing this (no pressure), how much did it cost? The second question is based on a hunch that sometimes it’s the inexpensive things that bring us a disproportionate amount of joy. Because as I’m writing this, I’m remembering that we also bought a new car last month. But I just told you about my new golf shoes. That’s so dumb. After all the thought and calculations that went into the car, I can feel Abby reading this part of the email and shaking her head (but let’s be honest, she’s been doing that since she read the subject line).
And that's Abby!
So good