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Show ' ; ' "' .... - . :. 0 by Ruth Hamilton Ash odor's Wife doctor had given methree pink OUR family lozengesjust and, still full of this proof of his generosity, I told my mother, "When I grow up, I'm going to marry a doctor." Sure enough, when I fell in Iqve for the final time, it was with a doctor.. But af ter fifteen years, the smell of peppermint gives me the same reac- tion as the odor of ether a slight nausea. And being in the background almost comes naturally now. I've learned that, as far as the patients are concerned, I'm just an appendage to the doctor. V ve resigned myself to being introduced with "This is the doctor's wife" and then being inspected to see if I'm worthy. Of course, I'm not, but they don't have to make it so painfully clear. Unworthy or not, I'm very much in the public eye, as witness this episode relayed to me by a friend. I was in the beginning of my second pregnancy and my husband's waiting room was flowing. One good old soul shouted to her neighbor, "I hear his wife is going to have another, and the first just a baby. And him a doctor, too!" Well do I recall my explosive remarks after I'd pushed our two daughters downtown in their baby carriage. Patients 1 knew and patients I didn't, know drooled, "Aren't they cute! They both look exactly like their father." And they didn't; they looked like me! Contrary to custom, my husband has no picture of me in his office, yet the Town Tippler is not better known. How often I've raced downtown, dressed most casually, for some rapid purchase. Invariably, several of my husband's patients would tell him, in disapproving tones, exactly what I wore. 'Isn't your wife putting on a little weight?" was a popular question while the patients were watching for signs of that boy we never had. And there were other questions which made me snarl inwardly. "Aren'tprtujejLjous when he has so many women patients? He's so good looking!" Of course he's good looking. I help to keep him that way. I see that his clothes are in good condition. I remind him that he needs a haircut. I realize I always look tired from lack of sleep, but I had hoped I retained a few vestiges of beauty to keep him faithful. And in regard to being faithful, I'm going forth and deliberately kiss another man one of these days. I want to know again what it's like to kiss a man who doesn't smell of ether and antiseptic. "I suppose you were a nurse before you married the doctor?" That question generally comes from some patient who has had me on the telephone for fifteen minutes or more trying to wheedle free advice. . 6 FAMILY WEEKLY MAGAZINE APRIL II, 1954 'No," I answer sweetly. The response is always, "Oh, too bad." I can fairly feel the patient considering what menial work I must have been engaged in before I lured the doctor with my wiles. Now let us consider the doctor's real mistress, the telephone. You look at the telephone and see see a fiendish leer and an innocent invention. horns. When I consider what that monster has swallowed : the children's birthday parties, the wedding anniversaries, the Christmas dinners, dinners replete with important guests, and mere good dinners I cooked myself. Have you ever been wakened not once but many times at four or five a.m. by a booming voice saying, "Aren't you up yet, Doc ? I wanted you to drop around and see the Missus some time today." Or have you been asked to change the baby's formula at two a.m. while the baby was held to the phone so you could hear he wasn't getting enough to eat? And I estimate it takes five telephone calls always at night to get a baby delivered. "This is the police" might give some wives a shock past midnightbut I've learned it means just f another accident case. I presume you agree that most husbands are t-minded. Well, doctors head the list. I go through myrhusband's pockets not for money but. for tickets and messages. I'll never forget the time football I found two tickets for the Army-Nav- y game the day before the game. To my splutterings, my husband replied, "Ohr did I forget to tell you about those? We're all set to go." I should like also to probe into this delusion: You lucky souHTou "ngver need to call a doctor for your children." The truth is, they have been raised practically without benefit of. medicine. Not for me the satis absen- faction, of a thermometer. My husband believes ; women use it too frequently. In fact, our children don't know how to act toward a doctor. Once when we were out of town the trained nurse in charge of the children suspected appendicitis, she promptly called a doctor, a man full of years and honors. The examination tussle was memorable. Nancy yelled, "You hide under the bed, Ruth, .'; and I'll bite him." convenient most on the She did part of his anatomy. To this day that doctor keeps his distance when he meets our daughters. Perhaps this is not the time to mention that I reared the children. Not for me the satisfaction of a husband to nudge at P.T.A. meetings. And you guess who disciplined the darlingsl Their father has never been treated to a muttered, "You're an . old meanie." I've learned to smile meekly while the doctor beams when people admire the healthy, happy youngsters. But will your imagination stretch to what I'm muttering? I do have a life of my own at times, but it's not when I would choose. I have grown accustomed to scintillating for two at a dinner party my husband had to leave. Our friends know well the call, "Howard is tied up. Would you mind taking me?" But the year I had a new evening gown and spent the entire Cotillion dance alone will long be remembered. I've grown slightly used to it after fifteen years and am gradually attaining the wiles hostess. of a Now that some of the symptonls have been uncovered in this diagnosis, next comes the prognosis. What of the future? "This slight nausea will pass; take the doctor's ( word fof it. And I'll take peppermint every time. In the long run, it's stimulating! . dime-a-dan- Looks just like the Doctor ce |