Nightingale Syndrome
Last night was our book club. There were a couple of us there that are regulars and quite a few new people. The girl (who is actually a lady, but everyone that is within ten year of me either direction is a girl) who hosted the bookclub, called me the day before because she had never hosted before. She has recently had a baby and we talked about that and for some reason I told her that I had a crush on my babies original pediatrician. She acted kind of strange about it.
When I got off the phone I thought, what the heck is wrong with me? Why do I tell people this stuff. I honestly don’t think that they care and then they probably just look at me and think she doesn’t even like her husband, she like her sons’ doctor.
It is not like this is a huge secret to jj. I tell him who I have crushes on and he tells me who he has crushes on and it is not like we do anything about it. Anyway. I was telling him the other day about this crush and how I always seem to have crushes on my doctor and Gentry’s doctors. These are people who are taking care of us, people who make us feel better when we are sick, people who help rid us of our health problems. I really like my gyno and get misty when I talk about him and how he saved my life when Gentry was born. I really think that we would have died if he had not been so on top of things. For this, I will always have a crush on him. It has probably been two years since I have actually seen him, I always see the nurse practitioner.
jj said this is called Florence Nightingale Syndrome. But isn’t it true that soldiers and people who have been wounded fall for the people that are taking care of them quite often. It is an intimate relationship. You share things with them that you would not share with most people. They take care of you and see you in really intimate ways. To me, the patient, it seems to be personal.
But, jeez, I want to learn to keep my mouth shut. I need to tell this to people who are not going to think that I am crazy.
Also, I am watching the neighbors daughters. They must be smoking a little pot, because they have got the munchies and I am tired of feeding the little carnivorous hounds. Seriously, they are not asking for food, they are asking for fishies, cookies, pop, and every other non-food item that I have. These two girls have gone through half a gallon of milk in half a day. Little girls. One is four and one is two. Then they are going potty every 15 seconds and guess who gets to wipe them. Me. And guess how much I enjoy wiping bottoms that are not my own or my babies. Not that much.
I don’t think anyone could get Florence Nightingale Syndrome on me. I would seriously be like suck it up. You are missing an arm and asking for way to much painkiller and that is seriously a drag. And wipe your behind?!? Use your good arm. Geez.