I should probably preface this post with an announcement. I am pregnant. I think most of you know that already, but just in case. Anyhoo. I told you that to tell you this...
I met up with my co-fellow this evening for the weekend pager hand-off. She told me about our consult peeps, and then she needed to show me where something was. I picked up the tackle box (full of syringes and steroids and stuff for our injections) since my call technically started at 5:00pm, which made it my tackle box. By the way, this is lighter than my purse.
Co-fellow: No, I can carry that.
Me: Why?
Co-fellow: Because, you're...
Me: I'm what?
Co-fellow: You're... heavy with child!
Me: What?! No, I am not. I will be eventually. In three months, I'll let you carry the tackle box.
Co-fellow: OK, ok.
Me: Heck, in three months, I'll let you push me around in a wheelchair!
Co-fellow: Yeah, we'd do that.
Me: Oh my goodness, no you're not.
I'm pregnant, not broken!
w for the win
11 years ago
Yay, congratulations Beth! That's great news!
ReplyDeleteIf you decide that you absolutely MUST travel at or near term, at least come up my way so I can deliver you when you inevitably labor. ("I had no idea this could happen... my due date's two weeks away! Prenatal records? Why would I have that info with me??")
Just kidding, I know you wouldn't be one of those patients.
LaKedra