Monday, May 5, 2008

Diagnosis: Butterball

We are supposed to meet every doctor in the practice because any one of them could be on-call when Alexander decides to make his grand entrance. At today’s appointment we met “Dr. David.”

While English was his first language and he didn’t appear to have a mouth full of peanut butter, he was almost impossible to understand. He had a very quiet voice and spoke very quickly. The best way I can describe it is he sounded like a turkey whispering. Everything sounded like a meek little “gooble-gooble-gobble” when he spoke. I got so tired of asking him “what was that?” that I finally just started furnishing him with answers to questions that I am not even sure he asked.

Doctor David: gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble?
Steph: Um… uh… I guess about twenty-five weeks?
Doctor David: Gobble?! You haven’t urinated for twenty-five weeks? Ba-GAAWK!!!

Yes, he spoke *just* clearly enough and at *just* the right times to remind me that I should never furnish answers when I don’t understand the question. It worked in college, but not so much in real life.

Anyway, at least Dr. David was very nice. (Of course, that is an assumption since I couldn’t understand 70% of what he said.) If he is the one that shows up to deliver the baby, I just hope we have someone that speaks turkey on hand to act as an interpreter - preferably someone fluent in the “meek turkey” dialect.

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