My Gastroenterologist is Fun

I can’t believe I haven’t yet mentioned Dr K. He’s another part of my (ever growing) treatment team; he’s the gastroenterologist. Now Dr K is quite the interesting man. He’s Indian, and has like the coolest accent, kind of like Abu from The Simpsons, you know what I’m talking about? But the thing that makes him really different, really suuuuper special-borderline-creepy from any other doc I’ve ever seen, is that he’s, like, a toucher. And a feeler. And a caresser. And a murmer-sweet-nothings-in-my-ear’er.

But it’s not creepy (well, after awhile, anyway).
I swear.

It’s just him. Maybe it’s just his culture?

The first time I met him, I was freezing cold and anxious out of my mind, in pre-op. I was wearing one of those giant tents they call hospital gowns, and some nursing student was poking at my arm, fascinated, while trying to put in the IV, kinda like I did in 7th grade when I was dissecting my earth worm. So he came in, caressed my hair, and said, “’Ello. My naaame is Doctore K_____. I weell be veery gentle weeth you. Do not worry.” And with that, he was off in a blur in his knit wool sweater with reindeers on them.

I looked at Bran, freaked out. Holy fetch. I mean, right?

So now I’m in the OR. I’m lying there, feeling vulnerable with my stomach exposed, and before the surgery begins, the nurse starts spouting off what I’m here for:
“The patient is Brienne B______. She is here for a PEG tube insertion—“ but Dr K cuts her off, and says, “Yees. Bot does her chart say that sheee is a veeery sweet gerl?” And the nurse says, “Yes, it says right here that she’s VERY, very precious.” And I’m thinking, Holy suck, holy suck, put me out, knock me out, hurry hurryhurryhurry! I feel weird and uncomfy. And Dr K says, “Veery good, veery good. I’ll be veery geentle.”
And then I was out.

I didn’t see him post-op. I went home, in incredible pain, and Big B called Dr K on his cell phone after I’d been home for about 30 minutes telling him something wasn’t right. So Dr K tells him to take me right to the ER. While we’re driving, the sweet man calls Bran LITERALLY FIVE TIMES to make sure I’m okay. By the time I reach the OR, my ER doc told me that he’s already called a few time to see if I was okay. "He's certainly attentive," she says. Damn right, lady!

I see him the next day, and he told me, “I could note sleep at oll last night. I was soo worried abooout you.” (He said all this while holding my hand and sitting next to me on my bed.)

But by now, I’m kinda okay with it. He doesn’t do it in a creepy way, but in a seriously genuine I care about you and I like touching you but not in a way that could take away my medical license type way.

He actually once saw Brandon downstairs by the gift shop at the hospital with ‘Lil C. He came up to him and was talking to him about me, but when he initially came up to him, he held out his hand to shake it. Now Bran likes to give a good handshake, a real manly one with a good squeeze. But, apparently, Dr K does not share the same opinion about how handshakes should be conducted. Bran said it was like holding a limp, cold fish, and after B squeezed it, he tried to let go, you know, cuz handshakes should reaaalllly only last about 2 seconds, but sweet ‘ol Dr K just kept holdin’ and clingin’. So Bran started to squeeze again, because he didn’t know what to do, and he got so stressed out, he couldn’t even process what he was saying about me, because all he could think about was that damn handshake that was about as constant as the North Star. Needless to say, it must have been a pretty sweet sight to see them holding hands in the lobby. Because that’s exactly what B said ended up happening. Poor Husband!

He’s so attentive. He calls to make sure I’m okay, he gives 'Lil C “Meeelk chocolaut.”
And he especially, especially loves to hug my legs.
Probably because I'm so precious.

My gastroenterologist is fun.

[ADDITION:] Oooh! Oooh! I forgot to mention that the name of his practice is THE GUT WHISPERER. Isn't that the show that Jennifer Love Hewitt used to star in? haha