Monday, February 07, 2011

BowerLeonard

The bowerbird is considered one of the most romantic of all species. In his attempt to court a mate, the male bowerbird will construct a bower, or dwelling, out of sticks. He will then elaborately decorate the bower with colorful objects such as shells, feathers, berries, or rocks. The flashier the bower, the more likely his success.


Leonardism:


Sometimes clinic can be busy. Working with the underserved population carries a high no-show rate, and our schedules are overbooked accordingly. So when everyone does show up, things can get crazy. Like, figure out how to solve 12 unhealthy patients' multiple medic
al problems in four hours while still focusing on preventative health measures and whittling away at a few social issues kind of crazy. Leonard and I handle this intense experience very differently. I rush from room to room, my neanderthalesque brow appearing occasionally in response to the situation, avoiding any distractions. Leonard focuses on being efficient, but periodically requires micro-breaks as a means of respite, and his main outlet is my office. He'll pop in for a moment, we'll discuss a case, I'll ask him for a piece of gum, etc. But when I'm in a patient room Leonard encounters an empty desk - and that's when the magic happens. I'll return to my office to find my dermatology book lying on the keyboard, strategically opened to display a revolting pus-ridden rash. My pens and pencils arranged into the shape of a heart. Or my all-time favorite, a large summer zuchinni given to me by a co-worker leaning against my mouse, the computer screen displaying numerous thumbnails of zuchinni photos from Google Images as though the squash were surfing the web. Each time I'd encounter one of Leonard's "gifts" I'd shake my head and smile, feeling somewhat scandalous for this workplace wooing. The feelings ilicited by a dozen roses would have paled in comparison.

With my new part-time schedule, Leonard and I rarely work together. I figured this special flirtation of his would be yet another victim to all the changes a 12 pound munchkin has inflicted in our lives, and prepared myself as such. And so I wasn't expecting anything special this last Saturday morning as I typed away on my laptop in bed, Leonard making Millie laugh next to me with Chewbacca-esque sounds. The cute/cheesy calendar valentines for Young Women's were finished, and I went to retrieve them from the printer.

When I returned, this is what I saw:

Same joke, different prop.

I shook my head and smiled.
Leonard, consider this post my affirmative response.

6 comments:

Peg said...

Megan,
You are the most fortunate of women.

Mandalynn said...

I love this picture so much I want to make it my screen saver.

Anonymous said...

Megan,
You are so talented as a writer. You remind me of Ernest Hemingway with all your ingenious details. As I'm reading your blog for a second I'm there when it's happening.
I follow your blog and since I'm also in the chaotic but rewarding world of medicine (financial part of it) and also a new mom to a baby girl you make my day when I read your witty words. I just wanted to thank you. Liz.

megan said...

Wow Liz, thanks so much! Hopefully now that the baby only needs to be held 99% of the time instead of 100% I'll be able to post a bit more. I'm happy to have you here!

M & L said...

What a joy to have you in our family!!! Could you consider writing a book?

Mindy said...

This was an amazing post on so many levels. Like Liz said, the writing just keeps you engaged. Plus, I love the details and think your husband sounds terrific!