J.D. sometimes gets into fist fights at work. Or rather his patients try to pick a fight with him. He of course stays calm, cool, and collected (that's generally the mode he operates in anyways, even with me...). His patients will swing at him, try to bite or kick, and this often happens in the confines of the ambulance! A medic's only recourse is to try to grab the flailing limbs and strap them down to a stretcher. Or prick them with a sedative. Once they get the unruly patient tied to the stretcher, they'll often still spit at the medics (I bet you're asking where do I sign up for this aren't you?).
One day there was a patient that was in a diabetic coma, which can cause people to act violently, so was hardcore fighting my husband and the other medic. Between the flailing fists and thrashing legs they managed to get some sugar into this guy which brought him back around. When they explained that he'd tried fighting them, the patient looked askance at my 6'4", 300 lb, Offensive lineman in high school, all star rugby player husband and said, "why would I do a fool thing like that?".
I'm a terrible cook. I once burned water, true story, it evaporates and then the pan starts to burn. Luckily, J.D. is an excellent cook. He comes home after a twelve hour shift fighting hooligans and cooks dinner for me.
Gratitude: I'm grateful that as big and bad as my husband is, he's a softie when it comes to those he loves
Quote: "being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage"-Lao Tzu
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