The doctor becomes the patient.
My bionic man is now double down on the hips! Hip one was replaced (technically, resurfaced) 8 years ago, thanks to years of playing goal keeper and landing on it. And since those fancy strikers like to shoot on both sides of the goal, we are at the orthopedic clinic now to even things out. Hip, 2- get ready to be replaced with metal.
Eat your heart out, Metallica, because this Metal Man is now exponentially more certified to delay our glide through security at the airport. Or maybe Iron Maiden would be more apropos, because he told the nurse when he was coming out of sedation that his Partner was in the waiting room. And since his nickname for me (Jess 😉) sounds an awful lot like Jeff…he implicated himself as homosexual, with a partner named Jeff.
Which turns out to be a problem after the surgery, when the surgeon went to the waiting room to find said partner, (Jeff), for an update and Jeff isn’t there. So a bit later a nurse opens the door to the waiting room, clears her throat, and says, (please try to picture this-it makes it so hilarious!), “Ahem, -Partner, -for -Andrews! (?)” To which I raised my hand. I don’t know why I did that.
I then gathered my belongings (and my brain), and sauntered back to my six-million dollar partner. But when I walked into the post-op recovery room, the nurse looked at me like… “This dude Jeff has great hair.” She then said- “Who are you???” *Greg answered, “This is my wife, Mrs. Dr. Andrews.” 😳
Seriously man, just don’t talk until the Versed wears off. Just because my degree doesn’t give me letters in front of my name like yours. Plus, the letters I got from my stellar decision to make it official with you, and staying that way for 17 years, is more work than med school and residency, and TRUST ME when I say this. I should get an honorary doctorate just for “partnering” with you on the SEVEN orthopedic surgeries you’ve had since we’ve been together. Including the ones resulting from trying to do TacFit workouts after knee surgery. My Doctorate would be called : What the PhD were you thinking?
After he so adeptly identified me as his partner the nurse still looked confused, and blurted in a southern drawl, “He IMPLIED he was HOMOSEXSHULL.” Eventually she put it together that I was Jeff, and I also realized that I was “Jeff,” and we all breathed a sigh of relief that we were indeed in the correct post-op recovery room. And also because I was assured that Neal didn’t change teams and leave me for some guy named Jeff while I was out purchasing his raised toilet seat.