Dr. Cranquis' Mumbled Gripes
(Disclaimer: Questions related to medical topics will be answered to the best of Dr. Cranquis' (and Google's) knowledge, but the internet-delivered wisdom on this blog CAN NOT AND SHOULD NOT SUBSTITUTE for your Real-Life Doctor's personal attention + examination, and your own common sense too! If you think you're having a medical emergency, hang up and go email 911. The author of this blog takes no responsibility for any medical, relationship, scholastic, financial, or other decisions you may make based on information found in this blog.)
And since people seem to be a bit confused about this: any "real-sounding" patients names are just horrible puns, and not HIPAA violations.
[Context: This previous conversation with Mrs. Cranquis]
Mrs. Cranquis: I rubbed some breastmilk on those baby-acne spots on Cranquis 2.0’s face last night, and they’re all gone today!
Cranquis: Nice!
Mrs. Cranquis: Maybe you should…
Cranquis: NO.
Me while doing/watching gross procedures at work:
Me while just LISTENING to Mrs. Cranquis use the suction bulb to clean out Baby Cranquis 2.0’s nostrils:
- Cranquis: *hacking cough, nasal congestion, etc*
- Mrs. Cranquis *as she nurses Baby Cranquis 2.0*: You know, maybe you'll get better quicker if you drink some breastmilk.
- Cranquis: Oh gross, quit with the breastmilk already!
- Mrs. Cranquis *giggling*: I could make you a milkshake.
- Cranquis: GROSSSSS.
- Mrs. Cranquis: Well they say it's full of immune-system boosters. Who knows, maybe it would cure your cold?
- Cranquis: That would be the WORST thing that could happen.
- Mrs. Cranquis: Why?
- Cranquis: Because then I'm stuck with an amazing cure for the common cold and the most embarrassing explanation ever.
Survivor Stories: What I have learned about being a doctor’s wife
(via wifeofadocstar)
In honor of Mrs. Cranquis, who kept lifting my spirits, soothing my wounds, and pushing me back into the fray all through med school and residency. Without her love, encouragement, and prayers (+ straight-up miracles from God), I couldn’t have made it.
FROM THE ARCHIVES: “If you had one day left on Earth, what would you do?”
Oh man, Coil Shuffler, I think that would be one of the neatest days of my life (assuming that I’m just gonna die of natural causes or something — less cool if I’m awaiting execution)! There’s just something about having a looming deadline (oooh, bad pun) to help you see everything as it “really is”, to make you brutally prioritize what is important and what is not. Suddenly, 90% of the stresses that daily weigh upon me would just become irrelevant, and I could focus all of my mind, energy, and love on the things that truly matter.
Now here’s how I’d spend my last day on Earth:
- Post an invitation on Facebook for any and all of my friends to come over to my house for a bonfire party that evening.
- Call work, notify them I won’t be coming in — ever.
- Empty out my savings account to hire a caterer and an event planner to arrange the party, so that I don’t have to worry about the details.
- Make breakfast in bed for my family.
- Double-check that all my finances, will, and life insurance are in order.
- Take a nap with Baby Cranquis asleep on my chest.
- Snatch up Mrs. Cranquis and Baby Cranquis and the Cranq-dog and meet up with my immediate family for a forest hike and picnic.
- Back home, spend a couple hours writing small messages to the close friends and family who won’t be able to attend the party, while listening to my favorite music.
- Party-time: 3-4 hours of outdoor games, food, music, a projector screen with pictures of my favorite memories, and lots of laughter and tears while reminiscing with old friends — plenty of time for unhurried goodbyes.
- At dusk, the bonfire is lit, and my musically-oriented friends and I whip out our various instruments and have a jam-session praise concert for everyone else.
- Slip away from the party with Mrs. Cranquis to spend the last couple hours alone in our bedroom, talking or not talking as needed.
- At midnight, my last Tumblr post auto-publishes, containing my true identity and reminding all my readers to focus on what is truly important in life: Family, Friends, God, and Living a Whole-Healthy Life.
- Go gentle into that good night.
Seems a bit soon to self-reblog this again — but kinda appropriate with all the 12/21/12 hype going around.
- Cranquis *grumbling over dinner after a long shift filled with "antibiotic-seekers"*: It's like the patients think that I have a magic cure for the common cold but I'm withholding it from them!
- Mrs. Cranquis: Maybe you need to buy a fairy godmother wand at the dollar store, and when they ask you for something to "knock it out", you can just wave it over their heads.
- Cranquis: I'd rather have a fairy godfather baseball bat, and aim for the nose.
So my ever-terrific minion, yourcraysisterinchrist, has set up a “Boy or Girl” poll on the Official Cranquis Facebook Fan Page. I’m sure the results of this poll will be as meaningful as the typical American presidential-race poll, but the Mrs. and I are still curious to see if the results will skew heavily one way or the other!
(And yes, my minion also designed this accompanying artwork herself. Because she is uber-awesome.)
So Mrs. Cranquis gave me a surprise CD yesterday, for no other reason than that we both love Hugh Laurie (House MD) playing music. This is what’s making the house rock as I make pancakes this morning: Hugh on piano, slamming through “Tipitana” with a killer ensemble of blues artists. WOW!
Listening to this track on a Sunday morning — again. And this time, Baby Cranquis is old enough to dance along. Guess that means he gets an upgrade to “Cranquis, Jr” now! Enjoy your day, folks!
FROM THE ARCHIVES: “If you had one day left on Earth, what would you do?”
Oh man, Coil Shuffler, I think that would be one of the neatest days of my life (assuming that I’m just gonna die of natural causes or something — less cool if I’m awaiting execution)! There’s just something about having a looming deadline (oooh, bad pun) to help you see everything as it “really is”, to make you brutally prioritize what is important and what is not. Suddenly, 90% of the stresses that daily weigh upon me would just become irrelevant, and I could focus all of my mind, energy, and love on the things that truly matter.
Now here’s how I’d spend my last day on Earth:
- Post an invitation on Facebook for any and all of my friends to come over to my house for a bonfire party that evening.
- Call work, notify them I won’t be coming in — ever.
- Empty out my savings account to hire a caterer and an event planner to arrange the party, so that I don’t have to worry about the details.
- Make breakfast in bed for my family.
- Double-check that all my finances, will, and life insurance are in order.
- Take a nap with Baby Cranquis asleep on my chest.
- Snatch up Mrs. Cranquis and Baby Cranquis and the Cranq-dog and meet up with my immediate family for a forest hike and picnic.
- Back home, spend a couple hours writing small messages to the close friends and family who won’t be able to attend the party, while listening to my favorite music.
- Party-time: 3-4 hours of outdoor games, food, music, a projector screen with pictures of my favorite memories, and lots of laughter and tears while reminiscing with old friends — plenty of time for unhurried goodbyes.
- At dusk, the bonfire is lit, and my musically-oriented friends and I whip out our various instruments and have a jam-session praise concert for everyone else.
- Slip away from the party with Mrs. Cranquis to spend the last couple hours alone in our bedroom, talking or not talking as needed.
- At midnight, my last Tumblr post auto-publishes, containing my true identity and reminding all my readers to focus on what is truly important in life: Family, Friends, God, and Living a Whole-Healthy Life.
- Go gentle into that good night.
***Pending Cranquis-Mails: 24; Ask Box: Closed***
This year, Mrs. Cranquis and I celebrate 10 years of fantastic marriage. When my musical buddies over at The Really Good Pot Roast asked me to submit some lyrics for them to set to music, I decided I wood go back to my roots and write a love poem for my wife (like I used to do so often back in our relationship’s early days). Here’s what the RGPR built out of it. So, I hope you’ll pardon this blog for branching out, leafing behind the more poplar medical topics, and turning sappy for just a moment.
I love you, Mrs. Cranquis.
(v1.) What if we
Sat in a tree
And watched the world below?
And what if I
Then looked in your eye
And said, “We’re dating now, you know?”
Well we did, and I did,
You and me in a tree.
And now my love,
It’s our anniversary!
(v2.) Then what if we
Sat in that tree
And I offered you a ring?
And what if you
Said, “I do”
And made my heartbeat sing?
Well I did, and you did,
Me and you in that tree.
And now my love,
It’s our anniversary!
(v3.) So what if we
Go back to that tree,
And take our child along?
Will he believe,
That among the leaves,
That this is where our song…
Began?
Well we will, and he will
Just us three in our tree,
Someday, my love,
On another anniversary.
silly8 replied to your post: aeroportage replied to your post: TSK:…
oh my god, do you like Monty Python? if so, I love you more than I already did!
Oh-ho! So, you weren’t expecting that, were you?
I love the Pythons. Mrs. Cranquis can’t stand them. I quote their sketches all the time, and she just gives me The Look. To which I, of course, reply:
It’s been two days now since I basked in the glory. I still find myself floating above the ground. I can still feel the weight of the heavy gown and the velvet tam. I can feel the tickle of the tassel on my ear. My eyes fill with tears at the thought of my classmates – those who toiled alongside me – experiencing the same emotions. The reminders of our newfound responsibility echo in my ears, peppered with compliments from family and friends about the noble, giving, altruistic profession I’ve joined.
As young physicians we proudly take our place on the pedestal that society presents us. How could we not? We’ve worked hard for what we know and, with the help of others in our clinics and hospitals, we can actually save lives. We hear it so often, “I’m so glad there are folks like you who are willing to help others,” or “You are such a selfless person, you’ll be a wonderful doctor.”
The truth is, I am as selfish as they come.
Every time I pick up a book or a journal, every time I catch a baby, every time I hold a scalpel or a pair of Metzenbaum scissors, I steal time from those who love me – my wife, my parents, my siblings, my nieces and nephews, and my friends. I repeatedly send the message that I care more about a complete stranger than I care about my own flesh and blood.
And they’ve yet to make a sound. They just sit there, waiting patiently, until my next text message, email or phone call. They wait until my next vacation, then they tell me how proud they are of the work I do. They tell me how lucky my patients must be.
The truth is, I’m the lucky one. People entrust me with their deepest secrets, their doubts and fears, their health. They allow me to take care of their unborn children, and they allow me to meet their children even before they do. I have the pleasure of placing my stethoscope on my patients’ chests, closing my eyes, and being present with them – in awe of the beauty that is the human body. I experience the joy of hearing a patient say “thank you” even when all I did was listen. I receive far more than I give.
The selfless people in medicine are the people a patient never sees. They are the husbands and wives, the mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. They are the nieces, nephews, cousins and friends. They give far more than I could even imagine, never complaining, only waiting, for the next text message, phone call or email. They selflessly wait for the next vacation.
And I just stand there, gowned and gloved, waiting for the next incredible experience.
Wow!
Reblogging primarily to remind myself to read this to Mrs. Cranquis tonight, followed by a big ol’ kiss of appreciation.
Yes, this is a musical version of my Medically-Correct Nursery Rhyme: 5 Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed.
Yes, this is another collaboration/production by the ever-creative never-predictable always-talented band The Really Good Pot Roast.
And yes, that is Mrs. Cranquis and I making monkey noises like a pair of gibbering idiots (literally having to keep from awaking Baby Cranquis as we howl with laughter around the computer microphone in the dark of the night — I had to refrain from going full-on howler-monkey, for that very reason.)
This whole thing is full of YES. So enjoy.
