The major birthday festivity occurred over the weekend, when I talked to both my parents on the phone. They've been divorced for years, and enough time has passed so that their only shared preoccupation is me. I get regular interrogations via phone and email from both of them, and given the fact that this past year has been--let's be clear about this--completely ghastly, these interrogations have taken on a quality of diplomatic concern I haven't heard since I decided to go to medical school.
The conversations with my 'rents made me realize, not for the first time, how little my life resembles theirs. I spend a lot of time on the phone and on email trying to explain what it is I do, how my life doesn't resemble what they might have hoped, and why it is a perfectly okay life despite being completely opaque and mysterious to them. A few of the hilarious convos I've had with them over the years:
1. "Come visit for the holidays!"
Both my parents worked jobs with regular or limited hours, one as a university professor and the other as a government scientist. They got evenings, weekends and holidays off, not to mention health insurance an employer-sponsored retirement plan. So they are quite baffled about the gyrations I have to go through to get a few days off, and how much I have to work merely in order to cover my bases.
DAD: Hey, aren't you coming to visit?
ME: I'd like to.
DAD: What about this Christmas?
ME: I can't do Christmas, I'm working.
DAD: You're working over Christmas?
ME: Yup.
DAD: Why over Christmas?
ME: Remember the last time you drove by a hospital and they had that sign in front that said "Doctor on duty 24 hours a day"? Well, one of those days is Christmas, and that doctor is me.
I get something similar from Mom, which goes like this:
MOM: OK, when will we talk again?
ME: Well, I'm working this weekend--
MOM: You're working this weekend?
ME: Yeah?
MOM: You worked last weekend!
ME: Yeah?
MOM: So why are you working again this weekend?
ME: Well, someone's got to.
We've been going back and forth on this issue for years.
2. "Where have you been??"
My mother and I talk once a week, but sometimes she calls with random questions and, if I don't answer the phone immediately, she suspects foul play. She will leave five messages in a row on my cell phone, then call my home where Noo will tell her where I am. However, she is one of those diligent ex-academics who insists on verifying all her facts, so she has been known to call the hospital looking for me.
OB RN: Hello, Birth Center?
MOM: Oh hello, is Dr. Chan there?
OB RN: I haven't seen her. May I take a message?
MOM (hesitating): Well, I'm her mother, and I just want to know where she is--
OB RN (immediately sympathetic): Oh, well let me see-- (flags down another OB RN). Wendy, can you go to Med-Surg and see if Dr. Chan is over there.
MOM: Thank you.
Wendy runs to Med-Surg and peers into the charting area, where she sees me with the phone propped on my shoulder. She runs back to the Birth Center and gives OB RN a thumbs up.
OB RN: We have a visual on Dr. Chan, would you like to speak to her?
MOM (hastily): Oh no. No, no. Don't tell her I called, I just want to know where she is.
OB RN: Are you sure? If you hold--
MOM: DON'T TELL HER I CALLED!
Well, of course the OB nurses told me about Mom's call. They're a bunch of moms themselves, and they immediately took my mother's side. "Why don't you answer your phone?" they scolded.
For the record, I've never given my mother any reason for paranoia. I was one of those bookwormy, studious kids who did well in school, went straight to college, and never got drunk, arrested, high, or pregnant. I mean, I actually asked her for a curfew when I was a junior in high school, for goodness sake. After college, I got a job and an apartment and never let my health insurance lapse. I slugged my way through medical school and now I am a tax-paying, fully-employed family doctor. The most subversive thing I do these days is write posts like this, so if I fail to answer my cell phone occasionally, you'd think I'd get a break. But no, uh-uh.
3. "What do you mean, you can't afford a decent haircut?"
My mother is an extremely fashionable, pulled-together woman. I used to be an extremely pulled-together young woman, but over the years I have evolved into a bit of a rolly-polly slob. I admit it. I don't waste much time mourning the loss of my strutting rights, but my mother gets quite indignant about my appearance.
ME (appearing at the door of Mom's apartment): Hi, I'm here!
MOM: Hi. Putting on weight, I see.
ME: You say that every time I visit.
MOM: Well, it's true every time you visit. (Peering at me disconsolately.) Do something about your hair, will you?
ME (good nature wearing thin): What do you suggest?
MOM (with emphasis, as if speaking to an idiot): Get it cut.
ME: I will, if I see a SuperCuts.
MOM: Go to my guy around the corner, he only charges $25.
ME: I don't want to spend $25 on a lousy haircut.
MOM: How is it you're a working doctor and you can't afford a decent haircut?
Now, for the record, I can afford a decent haircut, but I won't spend a whole lot of money on one because my hair grows like some kind of invasive weed species and it seems like an exercise in futility for me to invest more than $15 on a haircut.
4. "All you doctors are morons and control freaks, let me tell you what my doctor said to me...."
Both my parents are in mercifully good physical health, having been healthy people all their lives. This should be a proud accomplishment, but in recent years they have begun to notice certain symptoms--joint pain, nasal congestion, tension-type headache--which are not a big deal to most people but seem to cause them a great deal of concern.
MOM: Hey, I know this isn't our day to talk, but--
ME: I'm at work--
MOM: I know, I know, but I have a problem and I just want you to tell me it's not serious.
ME: Well, what is it?
MOM: The left side of my nose is stuffed up.
ME: The left side. Oh.
MOM: Is that significant?
ME: Not really, not compared to the right side. Now if it had been the right side--
MOM: Be serious!
I usually tell my parents to go to their own doctor, and to their credit, they do, but these routine exams result in more questions than they answer.
MOM: Listen, Dr. Thorough said my thyroid was abnormal.
ME: Your thyroid function?
MOM: Yes. I have the lab results here. (Sound of paper rustling.) It says the T-S-H is 5.9, which is high.
ME: A little bit, yes.
MOM: So if it is high, why did Dr. Thorough say I have HYPOthyroidism?
ME: TSH stands for thyroid stimulating hormone. So if it is high, it means your pituitary has to produce more stimulating hormone in order to get your thyroid gland to function properly.
MOM: What does my pituitary have to do with it?
ME (sighing): How much endocrinology do you want to hear about?
If the conversation leads to a question of treatment options, it quickly descends into absurdity.
MOM: Dr. Thorough says I should take Fosamax because my bone scan results are worse than they were last time.
ME: Okay, maybe it's time for you to take it.
MOM: But I don't want to.
ME: Here we go. Why are you telling me, then?
MOM: Because I want your advice.
ME: Why do you want my advice? You never do anything I suggest.
MOM: You can't expect me to take advice from a doctor whose diapers I once changed, can you?
I swear, I'm not making any of this up.
Sorry, Mom and Dad. Consider this gentle satirization of your loving concern my birthday present this year.
Happy belated birthday to my favorite writer! Parody schmarody, you nailed it. (Except if they're reading this now, in which case I plead the fifth.)
Posted by: Clara | April 30, 2009 at 11:57 AM
Love this post theresa! And much love to your parents, parents are rockstars. all of them. I'll be blogging about my mom this week, she's coming to visit from the east coast, along with 2 relatives who will be visiting from India. Just a hint of what's to come in the blogging world...
My mom purchased plane tix to Los Angeles from an airline that advertised no extra fees for 1 extra suitcase per person. She's bringing suitcases of things for us, including a new toaster oven and many more shampoos (although we have 2 years' worth of shampoos, from her, still in our linen closet). It's all because "these things are lying around the house, are you going to say no to them? they're free. plus you're looking at moving to another state, why not carry all the shampoo and granola bars you need with you? you'll need a toaster oven too, since you'll be splitting what you currently have with your brother when you move."
And they're coming to visit us (my bro and I) in Los Angeles, a city with many great things to do. For JUST FIVE DAYS. First thing my mom says -- "So, shall we go to Las Vegas or San Francisco?" (thanks for the respect for our grand city, mom).
Lastly, I face similar questions, like why can't you take a few days off, just move your patients to other days, switch with someone last minute? You've gained weight... and the whole checking on me thing. I love my mom dearly, don't get me wrong (you hear that, Theresa's mom?)
Happy birthday :> Here's to a wonderful year ahead...
Posted by: los anjalis | April 21, 2009 at 09:44 PM
Hahaha! I must say I agree to all of the above! My parents (not divorced & with me about half a month each month) are just like yours. They cant understand doctors work 24/7 for the whole year, that sometimes they cant find us (unless they have our hospital pager #, LOL), that sometimes our appearance is the least of our concern (my mom constantly harps that I get a new wardrobe to complement my medical profession, sigh!) and that it's always better that they go to another doctor coz they never, ever, take our advice! sometimes I think they just "consult" me over their aches & pains just to see if I learned something in med school and that I'm *really* a doctor, LOL! but that said, I love my parents. They've been very supportive through the years..
And yeah, before I forget, happy 41st birthday doc!! =)
Posted by: issa | April 21, 2009 at 08:54 PM
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!
Posted by: WarmSocks | April 21, 2009 at 02:23 PM