On Guinea Pigs

A sort of rite of passage for the medical student is dissecting a cadaver. For the medical wife I would argue that we also have a rite of passage: being the guinea pig when our husbands are learning the physical exam. Every medical wife knows exactly what I’m talking about. Your husband comes home excitedly and wants to look in all manner of orifices in your head. At that moment, you become a guinea pig.

In my case, I didn’t become a guinea pig suddenly. No, it was very gradual. My husband and I would be talking and then I notice him looking intently at my eyes in a suspicious way. Or we would be hugging and suddenly he would tug on my ear for a better look. Or we would be holding hands and he would look fixedly at my forearm and hand, while at the same time I can literally see him reciting the muscles in his head.

Then once they start learning how to use all their various instruments, you’re really in for it. I was just about blinded when he did an eye exam before PC realized he could adjust the brightness of his ophthalmoscope.  Then he would tug my ear in various directions trying to find my deeply embedded eardrum. Then of course, he had to look up my nose (that’s not embarrassing). And finally in my mouth (don’t do this after eating).

I actually genuinely enjoy “helping” PC in this way. So often I feel helpless as he stays up til all hours and rigorously studies, so it’s nice to help in this seemingly insignificant way.  So I embrace my guinea pig-ness and look forward to “helping” when I can.