My Son is a Dick

Phone rings at the office. Wonderful Staffer knocks on the door to interrupt me with a phone call.

My wonderful staff is well aware of the extraordinarily limited circumstances under which they are permitted to interrupt me with phone calls. One of these is when the call is from one of my children.

"It's the Jock," says MWS.

I excuse myself, exit the room and take the call. Here are the first words out of his mouth:

"I just got out of surgery."

I do not have an implantable cardiac defibrillator, so it takes a moment for my heart to resume its regular rate and rhythm as my mind races: Surgery! Accident? Fracture requiring open reduction? Other medical emergency? If he were scheduled for something elective, surely he would have told me.

Finally, after a period just long enough to catch my breath, he continues.

"Yeah. I saw a carpal tunnel surgery, and a knee get scoped, and I got to hold a kid's arm up after they reduced a fracture of his radius and put a cast on it."

As I gently exhale, I recall that the Jock's major is Athletic Training and that part of this semester's activities include shadowing an orthopedic surgeon.

"You know you're a dick," was all I said to him.

I could hear him smiling as he said, "Yeah, I know."