My husband, the Doctor.

OK.

Maybe not really.
But a girl can dream, right?

Luke started his first rotation a month ago and had quite the adventure.
(A more accurate word for "adventure" might be "life-altering, career re-thinking, drama-filled saga.")
He got to dig through colons, hold parts of the body that no male should ever hold, meet some colorful personalities, and be elbow deep (literally) in guts, blood, and well... other stuff.
Lets just say he won't be going into surgery anytime soon.

But it was pretty fun to get a phone call every now and then that went something like this:
"Sorry I had to stay late but we had an exploratory laparotomy on a patient that turned out to have a Krukenburg tumor so we had to do an ileocecectomy with transverse colon resection and double anastimosis, a total histerectomy and bilateral salpingoopherectomy."
To which I would respond,
"Oh, cool. We went swimming."


He was super unexcited when I showed up at the hospital with my camera in hand.
But I didn't care.
Because I am the family documentator.
And this must be documented.

So after a few seconds of him begging me to put the camera down and looking over his shoulder to make sure the other students couldn't see what I was doing, he gave up and walked away.

I suppressed the deep urge to whistle.

What is it about a guy in uniform, ladies?
I do not know.
But I like it.

(It is really nice to know that if the medical profession goes under, he'll always have a job as a runway model.)
Work it, Luke.
Work it.