Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Florence Nightingale Syndrome: What Can IT do for YOU?

I have a confession to make and I trust that it will stay within the confines of this blog posting and my blog's very exclusive, very private readership*:

I'm madly in love with my Valvoline service professional. He's so kind, so caring. He always calls me "sweetheart," he sends me correspondence if he hasn't heard from me in awhile, he is always honest with me - about the status of my air filter(1). He is honorable.

Also, I have this thing on the side with my laundry man. He does my laundry week in and week out. He is committed to me. He folds my clothes so nicely and he even lifts them into my trunk, he is unending in his laundry ways. He doesn't make eye contact with me because, well, he has a wonky eye (2), but still, I can tell he shares in my feelings. And for only a dollar a pound.

I have been considering a lifestyle change due to my lovely maid, Wanessa (3). She is adorable in her fitted sheet changing techniques. She bravely vacuums my curtains and behind my couch once a week. She shows her true strength of character in bathroom and litter box areas. She has changed all of my views - on cleaning.

And last night I had a short-lived thing with a waiter at Legal Sea Foods (4). It was a brief affair - over by the end of my surf and turf. I will always think back on him kindly.

Oh, and that guy from the Arby's who gave me the extra cheese sauce. He was so handsome. I wish it could have lasted - the cheese sauce that is (5).

And don't even get me started on Barack Obama.

I also have to confess, I do have this small thing for my CF doc, Dr. U-Bird^. He is always honest with me. He listens to me even when I'm a crazy coockie biotch. He always informs me if he talks behind my back - to the other CF Clinic staff - in creating my treatment plans. He also cares about how I feel. And he has earned my trust.

In all but one of these situations, I had a small, mostly fictitious crush on my caretaker, because you know what? It works for me. In the Legal Seafoods situation however, in full disclosure I must say, I had an actual crush on the guy.

I would like to encourage all of the CFers out there to ask,

"What can Florence Nightingale Syndrome do for YOU?"

a) It can make you more highly productive in getting things done like oil changes!

b) You'll never do laundry again!

c) You'll have less dust and pet hair in your house and not inahle fumes cleaning the bathroom. Bonus: less germs in the bathroom and kitchen!

d) Clearly, it can make you eat more by constantly seeking that Nightingale Waiter Love high.

e) You will become addicted to cheese sauce. This can only help your calorie intake because cheese sauce is only available in high calorie situations.

f) You will become more politically active and aware! YES WE CAN steal him from Michelle, you'll say.

More importantly . . .
g) It can make you more likely to attend clinic, and to do so with your healthiest, best self present.

Now, obviously I am not suggesting that I, or anyone, should develop actual romantic feelings for their doctors (or their Valvoline service professionals, for that matter). But you should develop a trust for them. If you find that your doctor is not honest, does not listen, does not properly inform you of your care, or doesn't care about how you feel, it is time to find a new doctor. The same is true for your Arby's cheese sauce administrator.

SEVEN Ways To Develop Florence Nightingale Syndrome
In Your Medical Environment:


1) Ask the doctor if you can call her/him by a former lover's name (one you still like).

2) Try to figure out if your doctor looks vaguely like any attractive famous actors. Then squint at clinic.

3) Get dressed up for clinic including perfume. Blatantly ask, "Don't I look great?"

4) Entertain yourself with inappropriate sexual jokes and/or advances during a bronch, PICC placement, or other procedure, then blame it on the "ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-Sedation Meds(6)."

5) At the beginning of your clinic appointment, boldly state, "Let's just keep this between us."

6) At the end of your clinic appointment, ask your doc, "Was it good for you?"

7m) Sneak out of clinic before it's over so you don't have to, you know, talk about it.

Okay that last one is just for the male CF patients out there. This alternative is offered for the girls.

7f) Stay at clinic 'til the next morning. Shower there and then make a breakfast even if your doc has left for "rounds."

Okay Okay Okay, so this might sound a little extreme. I guess what I'm trying to say here is, YOU need to find YOUR way to love CF Clinic. This is my subtextual way. It and Eminem. And the Valium. And it's working for me so far.

Goodnight, Y'All. Mystery Solved,
CG

Notes:
*Duh, everyone can read this blog in the whole world.
(1) Okay, so one time I think he was ripping me off.
(2) I think wonky eyes are adorable so this is not a put down.
(3) Her real name and I'm really straight.
(4) I would have actually done this guy if the topic came up. I waited, it didn't.
(5) My affair with the LS guy lasted longer than that damn cheese sauce.
^A pseudonym I made up according to the secret CG pseudonym creation equation. I sincerely hope Dr. U-Bird gets my tone here. And doesn't sue me for a little humor.
(6) This true CF clinic folklore submitted by Cystic Lady. Available via google chat: 12:01 a.m. 7/2/09


Note to all: I'm just kidding here. Go satire, get your groove on. Best of all, I think I'm the target of my own satire here. Ha!

5 comments:

  1. LMAO!!!!!!

    I responded to your comment on my blog. I have the tattoo picked out I just need the money LOL so like next year maybe :)

    But if you really want to do it would should totally collaborate on it and do like a double posting type thingy haha

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  2. My doctor looks a bit like an Irish Micheal J. Fox, and he curses. I have a bit of a doctor-crush, I must admit. Not neccessarily to the degree of swooning under ansethesia (I save that for my funny, hipster, funky-glasses-wearing, good-smelling sinus-saving ENT), but more of a, I love the way you respect me and my opinions about my body and think I'm smart, and kind of look like Micheal J. Fox, only Irish, kind of way...

    Promise I'll be back on the blogtrain, stat. Loving yours!

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  3. ...and pardon my misspelling of anesthesia.

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  4. You crack me up!! :)

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  5. Ha ha ha! Bill Clinton does it for me! It's got to be the power/control thing that gets me all wound up. Oh, and my new doc is a hottie...in a tiny bit of a dorky way.

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