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Tuesday, December 20, 2016

My Husband Thinks I'm Scary

Yes, as the title says, sometimes my husband thinks that I'm scary. I don't mean in the sneaking up on someone and saying boo very loudly sense. I'm also not referring to the did-you-have-anything-to-say-to-me-like-happy-birthday-because-apparently-you-forgot-you-big-poop! sense. Although the latter could conceivably happen. Of course, it would be said in an exceedingly calm and therefore frightening tone, driving the person on the receiving end to want to confess to anything at all just to let the interrogation end.

No, what scares him at times is something else entirely. I just have this weird thing from time to time. Trust me, he hasn't been the only person that I have left wigged out. You see, sometimes I seem to know things that I shouldn't know. Or I say things and then they happen. For example, one morning I planned to ask my coworker how his pregant wife was feeling. Without even thinking, I asked how Juniper was doing. His face went blank and a bit pale as he asked how I knew that Jennifer's family always called her Juniper. I didn't know, it just came out of my mouth.

Then there was the time I asked another coworker about her son Isaiah. I asked her how My-saiah was doing in school. Again the blank stare and the question. How did I know that she called him My-saiah, and that only at home? I didn't know. Maybe my brain has a tendency to be able to figure out automatically what someone might use as a nickname for one of their loved ones. Who knows?

The thing that Trent finds uncanny is that I will say something random and then it happens. The most memorable incident occured at a followup visit with the Dermatologic Oncology Department at the hospital. As a transplant patient, Trent has to be monitored for possible skin cancers. A few months after a treatment to prevent skin cancer growths, we were in to check the results. As the nurse checked his vitals and such, she remarked at how young and smooth his skin looked. The resident (this is a teaching hospital) also remarked about how wonderful his skin looked.

I sat there in the exam room with my face all red and blotchy from rosacea and lupus. There were tons of blemishes and bumpiness all over my face. The clear skin of most of my adulthood was a fond memory. After the resident left and while we were waiting for Doctor Theresa (her first name), I told Trent that I wished that we could afford a laser treatment to get rid of some of the horrible redness in my face.

Doctor Theresa came in and decided that she wanted to do a biopsy of an annoying spot on Trent's head. We would need to wait ten minutes or so for a procedure room to be prepared. Only a minute or two later, Doctor Theresa and the resident were back in the room. We started to stand up, saying that the wait had been very brief. Doctor Theresa dismissed Trent's comment and said that they were back to talk to me, not him. There was going to be a demonstration of a new skin laser the following month and they needed demo patients. Would I be interested in helping them out by getting a free laser treatment? Heck yes! Within a month, I had the laser treatment and got rid of a great deal of the redness. Shortly after that, I was prescribed antibiotics for the rosacea and the breakouts went away. Pretty amazing after simply telling my husband that I wished I could improve my skin, wouldn't you say?

There have been other incidents along the way where similar things happen, but there was one recently that I think really did kind of freak Trent out. We order his anti-rejection drugs once a month from the specialty pharmacy, and they are delivered to our front door by UPS. I remembered on a particular morning that we were supposed to receive a shipment that day. Of course I remembered this while seated on the throne of meditation and deep thought. I swear that there's something about being surrounded with plumbing that makes the brain's functions increase or improve.

Anyway, I called out to Trent that we had a shipment scheduled to arrive that day. He asked if he should check to see if it was sitting outside the door, and I said that might be a good idea. He opened the door and saw no package. As soon as he shut the door, there was a knock from outside. He looked at me with the same blank expression I had received from my former coworkers. He opened the door again, and there was the package. Within a few seconds of me saying to check. Trent picked up the package and turned toward me. "I don't want to talk about it. Honestly, I'm kind of freaked out right now." I giggled and tried to say something, to which he repeated that he really couldn't talk about it. 

I can't help it, I guess sometimes I'm just a bit uncanny. I think about someone or mention them, and we get a call or text or email. I mention a movie that I wish I could DVR and it's on cable the next week. And I have about a 99.9% accuracy rate in the baby gender prediction category. Maybe I'm just lucky. Or weird. Or maybe Trent's right. Sometimes I'm just a bit scary. 



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