T minus two weeks

Two weeks and I'm out of surgery!

Unfortunately I do have to get passed that juggernaut of orthopedic surgery. Aye.

Bye Bye Ro Ro. Hello Diana

So, much to our circle's jealousy, Rohith is out. He's taking a sabbatical...er...earning his Master's of Business Health (or something or other). Its not such the matter that he's going to business school for a year while the rest of us toil tirelessly in the Texas Medical Center's hospitals, but rather the fact that he's going to Milan. Oh, yeah, that little village in Italy.


Yesterday we sent him off right with a nice dinner at Maggiano's. Of course there was too much wine for some, and too much public display of affection for others (ahem....Dowin and Renu) and no shortage of inappropriate conversation. It was wonderful. We also had the pleasure of meeting one of Rohith's pals from his IFMSA days, Krisha. She and Kevin seemed to hit it off quite nicely as they related stories involving bull semen and trolls which is why perhaps that woman in the background looks to oddly perplexed.

It'll be a while until we are all laughing together again with little Rohith, but we will no doubt miss his intractible yet parodoxically dynamic opinions.


Incidently it was also the mythical Diana's birthday shindig yesterday. Needless to say it was practically sacrasanct not to consider going (which mind you a few unnamed people did). The Lounge, the venue for our gyrating celebration, is normally pretty white-boy pseudo-metropolitan (every city has one), but this night there seemed to be a particular brown streak. As various Hip-Hop track as our guide we had no less than a great time of the dancefloor. Now if only I could do this every night.

Happy birthday Diana
See you soon Rohith.

Why Urology Rocks: "...and that's when I broke my penis."

So here's the thing. I can say without a doubt that the whole culture of surgery, a culture where abrasiveness and a combative professional relationship is practically de rigeur, is 100% off limits to me. That was, at least until Urology.

Every day for the last week has been an absolute pleasure. Apparently urologists, despite being a part of the surgery diaspora, are amazing cordial, funny, and thoroughly entertaining people. Perhaps as a result for the absurdity of caring for 'pee pees' (as one uruologist monikered them) they have by nature or design created a nice bastion of enjoyable comfort in the vast dark and painful nation that is surgery. As anyone can tell I think I'm about as fair and balanced about this as Fox News on Iraq, but man-oh-man, I like urulogy.

Here's why. First off, you'll be amazed what difference you can make in one's life just by simply giving the ability to take a nice, unrushed, satisfying whiz. Not only this, but there are countless men out there who's wives (or otherwise) are estatic about what the field has to offer. But why do I like it most? The patient accounts. Here's what I heard today from one thoroughly Texan accented gentleman:

"So I was ridin' my horse 'long side the river and I was comin' up the bank. The horse went down and I went up. When I came down I landed squarely on the horn of the saddle. AND THAT'S WHEN I BROKE MY PENIS."

It goes without question that my 'oh-I-hear-this everyday-and-this-is-perfectly-normal' facade went from stark and professional to replete with compassion and a slight smile. I think he appreciated the melt of the atmosphere. He of course went on to comfortably ask about options for 'bending' and 'size.' And you know what? I hear these entertaining stories everyday.

Aren't I special.