I cracked up on the inside when I looked at the picture. It was of Dr. Woods and Dr. hmm . . . let's call him Dr. G. He spent a year in Chicago doing a gastrointestinal fellowship, and he also coined my pregnant nickname "Big Belly Betty," which caught on quickly. Dr. Styles especially loved that nickname. Anyway, Dr. Woods and Dr. G were posing next to a person dressed up like a giant Fleets enema with a comic happy face and a long orange tip. I took the picture at a sanctioned field trip -- the three of us traveled to Conway to see the giant colon. It was on display at a school gym - a massive colon replica complete with cancer and hemorrhoids. I got a picture of Dr. Woods next to the hemorrhoids. Love that pic. Despite being pregnant with Jack, I crawled through the colon to view all of the bigger than life-sized wonders I normally peered at through the microscope. I remember they gave away a calendar - colon cancer survivors in bikinis. There were some amazing-looking women who had survived colon cancer. My favorite part of the trip was eating Stoby's cheese dip at one of my old college restaurants. Maybe because I was pregnant, and I loved food so much. Or maybe just because I love cheese dip. I found someone dressed up like a colon polyp in the bathroom at the gym and got my picture taken with her - she looked like a red velvet Hershey kiss with cool, black-framed glasses. Very polypoid.
I didn't tell John any of this, but I did tell him that it wasn't a rocket ship birthday party. I pointed to another picture with me in it, and told him that he was in my belly, then. He looked surprised, then hugged me and grabbed his backpack for school.
The picture above is of a giottos rocket blaster - a wonderful surprise free gift I received with my $12,000 microscope (I am still paying off that scope). It costs $8.34. I know this because I love it so much I bought it for all of my partners and some of my pathology friends last Christmas. It is an amazing tool that uses only air, not chemicals, to blast the dust off of your scope (so you can't kill yourself by huffing it, like dust-off). I deliberately leave my protective covering off of my scope because I love to use it so much, and it looks cool. Dr. Woods thought it looked like an enema, so I warned everyone in my group not to lend theirs to him, in a note I tied to it with green and red ribbons. It has so many other uses - dusting computer keyboards, entertaining my son on rare visits, and attacking the flies that like to migrate from the hall to my office.
So anyway, rocket ships and enemas. That's what I've been thinking about this week. Now you can draw some of your own comparisons.
I feel like I have been on a rocket ship today - in addition to work, I decorated my mother-in-law's hospital room with flowers, candy, National Geographic magazines, and crossword puzzles. She had her hip replaced today, and is doing well. In post-op, status post morphine, she smiled and told me she was in "la la land." Good for her!! I was also in the final stages of ordering cupcakes, party platters, and buying plenty of Diet Hansen's for Sicily's second annual cupcake and pool party tomorrow - this year she picked the invitations (mom! she looks like me! brown hair!), made the guest list, and spent many mornings on the way to school composing the poem on the invite. "Mom, I just love summer breeze. It sounds so good. I love saying it. Summer breeze. It has to have summer breeze in it." Her rhyme attempts were often comical, but ultimately lovely. I also ordered invitations for a bridal luncheon I am throwing for Annie in August. WHEW!!