big man

There is an attending named Dr. Warren (name changed) in the PICU at Justin's hospital, who has the "old nurse demeanor." She thinks paper charting is where it's at. She doesn't smile too often for fear of losing all her hard-earned terror. No nonsense, to the point, lives are on the line. She is an older woman, unmarried, no children, whip-thin, keen eyes, mouth a line, peering over those glasses at the underlings scuttering about beneath her. She is excellent at her job. She DOES save lives. She is NOT Patch Adams.

This week Justin has been on 1:1 care with a six-week-old baby girl. 1:1 means that this child is not doing well, and it is Justin's job to sit next to her and make sure she doesn't die. He has no other patients or responsibility, just this: make sure she is breathing and her heart beats.

Dr. Warren came into the room the other night, and Justin snapped to attention. The piercing face took in the entire situation.

Dr. Warren's face suddenly and horrifically broke into a sunny disposition. "Well, how is my big man and the little baby girl?" she asked jovially.

......

Justin stared at the woman as if elves were crawling out of her ears. Dr. Warren, continued as if she had not just interrupted the flow of reality. She went over the baby's chart, checked the patient and left.

"WHAT?!" Justin sputtered out at the closed door. "Are we there yet? I didn't think anyone got there with you!"

The shudder was still visible as my husband relayed the traumatic story to me. He assured me years of intensive counseling might not set it right.

Everyone likes him! I swear that He is secretly Captain America, everybody's best friend. (Except of course for Iron Man. But give Justin and Tony Stark a week together, and I bet my husband would be Stark's "Big Man" too. ... Which is really all I need right now: my husband engaging in superhero bro-mances.) So to the rest of the planet: I know he's adorable, endearing, strong, smart, and funny, but lay off. The Big Man's mine!