Around the same time I met my husband, I was the office manager for a private practice pediatrician. It was a small, but very busy practice and the staff consisted of myself, my partner in crime and fellow office manager (we were both because we got to choose our own titles! At one point, I was the Resident Biomolecular Engineer - big ha ha until I jokingly said it to one LOL), the nurse, Inna, from Siberia, Russia, and the doctor, Dr. Joy (who hates being called that and is absolutely hysterical and no-nonsense all at the same time). Laughing until we cried was a daily occurrence. My partner in crime was a recovering Catholic who couldn’t seem to shake her guilt, but was eternally optimistic, truthful, and supportive. She was also a belly dance instructor with a bad dog named Sisal. Inna was a brilliant, gorgeous, tall icy blonde who had been the equivalent of a physician’s assistant in Russia, but since her qualifications didn’t translate, she was deemed a Medical Assistant. She was SO much fun and SO good at giving kids shots (is that sick? LOL). Dr. Joy, who hated being called “Dr. Joy,” was the furthest thing from Joyous. She had kind of a dark and twisted sense of humor and was definitely multi-faceted in her personality. Quite a foodie, too. No-nonsense when it came to her job, but incredibly tuned into her intuition. A strong personality as I, myself, and my partner in crime, meek and mild as she was, would drop her jaw and pop her eyes out as I’d tell the Doctor, my boss, what to do. I think Dr. Joy put up with me, more than anything. LOL
So, one day, Inna calls me into one of the exam rooms to help her give a couple of little girls shots. My job inside the clinic, since I’m not certified for anything else, was the bubble blower. I know it’s silly, but I normally loved this part of my job. Our bubble wand was huge and had a ton of holes, so one good lungful of air generated a roomful of bubbles. So, anyway, this dad is passively pleading with his daughters to willingly get these shots, the girls are screaming, crying, and carrying on like little mini banshee’s, Inna’s standing there impatiently (cue mental image of Siberian Ice Princess, which is actually an accurate description of her - being a tall, thin blond from Siberia and all…), dad’s running around the tiny little room a million miles an hour trying to placate them with books, promises of candy and stickers, and choices (yes, choices when there is only one option - get the friggin’ shot). I’m standing there in the corner of the room blowing bubbles at a near obsessive pace (just keeping up with dad!), bubble liquid saturating my hand and dripping down my arm, not realizing that I’m in La-la land, completely zoning out. Chaos with bright, shiny, happy bubbles thick in the room. In my head is an image of me standing in a mental institution, blowing bubbles like my life depends on it. I snap back to reality as one of the girls lets loose with a particularly high pitched shriek and I start laughing. I’m standing there, trying to contain my ill-timed moment of hysteria, while I continue with the bubbles. Joy walks into the room, fanning the bubbles away from her while shooting me a look of, “Okay, enough with the bubbles…” I continue with the bubbles. By now, Inna and the children’s father are fanning the bubbles away, as well. As they manage to tackle one of the girls and get the vaccine into her leg, I get pushed out of the room.
That’s a pretty accurate description of how my days there went, in between the medical billing, and management of transcription files, of course. And keeping Dr. Joy on her toes… I miss that job. Truly. LOL
I’m a wife to one hot Air Force dude, a mother to two gremlins born six months apart (we’re special), and slave to the slightly feral Shoulder Cat and his cohort, The Velociraptor (remind me to clip her claws, please, she clicks when she walks).
