Phlebotomy, Pancakes and Hippocrates

. I had an early morning doctor’s appointment this week so we we’re done at like 10:00 a.m. Although, they had to stick me not once, but twice, so I looked like a conscientious heroin addict with tape and cotton balls stuck to both arms when it was time to leave.

We have to leave the house around 6 a.m. for these appointments so it doesn’t leave much time for a balanced breakfast of Frosted Flakes and chorizo shooters. I’ve been experimenting with foods lately and I’m getting a better idea of what foods I can eat, so I suggested breakfast after the appointment – an option that wasn’t on the table in the middle of my treatments. I had heard about a place in the South Loop called Orange on Harrison so we decided to give it a shot. We passed on the Seuss-inspired green eggs and ham – rumor has it that it’s more novelty than delicacy; however, the Mrs. ordered up the half stack of jelly donut pancakes and it did not disappoint. Except for the fact that it wasn’t a full stack. I went with the frushi, which is sushi with fruit instead of fish. Kind of in the middle on the novelty/delicacy scale, but tasty despite being more rice than fruit. Cool joint with those funky server chicks that don’t appear to give a crap about their job but actually do a pretty good job bringing the service. They must all be hopped up on the orange-flavored coffee.

It was a pretty nice day and now that we were nourished, we did what any normal fun loving couple would do when playing hooky. Yep, we drove up to Old Town to visit the International Museum of Surgical Science. I’m not risking a sunburn for either of our crappy ball teams. Parking was a bitch, but we were justly rewarded when we found out that Tuesday was free day at the museum. Unfortunately, the place was accordingly packed and we had to jockey around the other three visitors there that afternoon. But it was well worth it to see the primitive amputation kits, trephination drills, an iron lung machine, early prosthetic devices, the first x-ray machines, the story of the Japanese dude that developed anesthesia (as well as the earlier chloroform rags that it replaced), an old-school wheelchair, and the Hall of Immortals featuring statues of bitchin’ medical celebs from Hippocrates to Lister (who suggested that it might not be a good idea to have a gallery of coughing, dirty orphans in the OR during surgeries). Those are just some of the highlights – we went through the place pretty quickly and it still provided over 1-1/2 hours of spine-chilling entertainment. There were also two rooms containing art exhibitions inspired by medicine, although each room inspired us only to look at each other and say “huh?”. Giant oil paintings throughout the museum depicted scenes including primitive amputations, trephinations, and operating rooms with galleries full of coughing, dirty orphans. A visit to this place will make you thankful you were never an 18th century patient of any sort and you will never complain about a visit to the doc again. In case I didn’t make my point yet, perhaps you ladies will enjoy the picture of the vaginal speculums that I took for you. So shut the heck up and go get your pap smear. It’s for your own good.

On the way out, the Mrs. added to her collection of museum t-shirts to further solidify her nerd status. As if the visit alone didn’t do it. But I think that’s a status symbol in med school.

We finished off our day in the city with a couple rolls of sushi at a cool little place around the corner, and then started our trek back to the ‘burbs. As soon as I got home I needed a nap, and I somehow was able to avoid any nightmares of trephination. However, the frushi and sushi combo were probably responsible for the dream about drowning in a rice paddy.