After the first few weeks of breastfeeding, Kath’s breasts settled to a C-cup size, which she was very proud of. So I’ve seen my wife’s breasts in all the common cup sizes and they are shapely and look fantastic in each of them.
Anyway, my wife’s menopause has begun and she is carrying slightly more weight now, including some upper body fat that has brought her breasts back to a full A-cup. This has taken away most of the ‘deflated balloon’ wrinkles that breast atrophy had left her with. They are a nice handful now and I love them, but Katherine still complains about clothing she can’t buy because she won’t ‘fill out’ the top.
After adjusting the blind, Kath sits at the foot of the bed, out of reach of my hands but I give her thigh a small rub with my toes. It’s around 4:20pm, our plan is to have an early dinner in Chinatown, so I can then go into Essex to give the planned tutorial from 7:00pm to 10:00pm. Tomorrow, Friday, is a day off for both of us, so we are going to explore the city together.
“I think I’ll need to finish this job tomorrow morning,” says Kath. “The client just messaged me to adjust the exclusions.”
“It’s my own fault,” she continues, “they initially wanted all business addresses excluded from their mail-out. This morning, I asked them why and, of course, now that they have thought about it, they want me to add them back in. That’s going to take a bit more time. I had planned to be uploading about now.”
Katherine describes the crux of the issue. “Unfortunately, their firewall needs manual intervention to open a tunnel for me, so I can only VPN during Arizona hours; they’re on Mountain Time, so they’ll be closed by the time I get back from dinner and won’t be available again until ten or eleven tomorrow morning. That’ll take a big chunk out of our day together.”
“How long will these extra listings take?” I ask.
“About twenty minutes to get the data. It’s probably only a dozen or so addresses, so I don’t need to script anything, I’ll just cut-n-paste,” she explained. “Plus half an hour or so for a final check, before I package it up and send it.” Katherine takes pride in her work, so I know this final verification step can’t be rushed.
“How about we skip dinner, so you can finish it now?” I suggest.
Kath frowns, “Our anniversary dinner?”
“I could order a snack from room service now, and we can meet for a late night dinner instead, after I’m finished,” I adapt.
“I don’t want to walk in the city at that time by myself. You’ll have to come all the way back… Or I could catch a cab to the hospital,” she considers aloud.
Without much thought I suggest, “If you can be finished by six you can come to the tutorial and assist me. Then we can go out to dinner after, when we’ll both be able to drink wine. My work week will be over too.”
“How am I supposed to assist you with medical training?” she scoffs.
“Well, I would like a model. We’re covering the pelvis tonight, but I couldn’t find any training aids as Essex isn’t a training hospital. All I found this morning was a few bits of a cheap plastic skeleton. I’ve got a pelvis with no legs and only L5 and L4 vertebrae. I saw some random bits like a left foot and clavicle, but no long bones or skull. At least you’re complete,” I smile.
“So, you’re going to X-ray me?” Kath jokes.
“No, but I’ll be able to show some movements and muscle attachment points, if you wear your yoga pants.”
“Eww,” she responds. “I did thirty minutes on the orbital machine this morning, my gym gear is all sweaty and sealed in a bag until I get home. I’ve only got my jeans or a long skirt now.”
“How about some sensible undies and a hospital gown? I can demonstrate the spine, sacrum, iliac, and femur relationship if you lie on a gurney.”
“So, you’re trying to show off my butt to your students?” Kath asks, with a smirk.
“I’m sure they’d like that. But seriously, a real body is the best way to learn anatomy. You could be their live cadaver,” I offer. “For science,” I add, finally getting more serious.
“For science,” she repeats, while scrutinizing me. I’m not sure if it’s a question or a statement.
After a quiet pause I take it as a statement. “Well, you better get back to work. I’ll order something from room service to get us through ’til dinner.” I start extracting the menu from the bedside drawer, so Kath returns to her laptop and is quickly engrossed again.
After ordering some grilled cheese sandwiches, I send an email to the hospital’s chief of staff:
—
Hi Jerome,
I’ll be coming in at 1900 today for the EMT Fast Track session I mentioned. Could I get you to arrange these for me please?
1. Visitor’s pass for Katherine Barlow, DoB 12/14/1972. She’ll be assisting me tonight.
2. A gurney or (preferably) massage table on wheels, plus a patient gown, towel, box of gloves, skin pen, and some isopropanol wipes.
I saw a massage table in the Fracture Clinic this morning. That one would do fine.
I’ll need some extra floor space so we’ll use the Prayer Room, I presume it’s available? Could you make a room booking until 10:30pm for me and check the BMS to make sure the heating will be on tonight?
Thanks, Jason.
—
A gurney is a stretcher on wheels, like found in the back of an ambulance. BMS is the computerized Building Management System. And a skin pen is a skin-safe marker pen you probably associate with cosmetic surgeons; they leave a semi-permanent mark that will come off after a week or so, or straight away with some rubbing alcohol (hence the wipes I also asked for).
Composing this email made me think about what I was asking of my wife. The whole idea of having Katherine assist was a spontaneous one to solve our dinner dilemma. Spontaneous decisions aren’t really my style. Usually I’m methodical, meticulous, and precise to the extent that it frustrates others – but I’m trying to be less rigid. I’ve learned that the medical world accepts my pedantic precision because lives are at stake, but in social settings, I frequently have to bite my tongue and not correct other people’s medical vagueness.
The towel I asked for would be an additional modesty device because hospital gowns are definitely imperfect coverings. Kath would be in her bra and undies so the opening at the back of the gown would let me show her lumbar region while the towel can cover her lower body, just as if we were using the massage table for its intended purpose.
The ‘Prayer Room’ I’m booking is on the top (fifth) floor. Most Essex staff probably still call it the ‘Chapel’ as it was known before the renovation. Now it’s a multi-faith space, I suspect will most frequently get used for Islamic Salah (daily obligatory prayers). I’m an atheist, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a moral compass. My compass strongly points to this being a good move, the space should welcome all religions when it reopens – if that’s achievable. I recall a discussion on Monday with the interior decorator who described the difficulty of not offending anyone. She came up with some pleasing pastel colors for the walls (“but not too colorful or it’ll look like an LGBT rainbow”). The graphics for the faux stained-glass was her greatest challenge (it’s actually a machine-cut vinyl transparency). She found almost every image has some religious iconography that can be misconstrued. In the end she mostly chose floral depictions for the window art, plus some adaptations of Renaissance paintings depicting Greek and Roman mythology. Dead religions don’t seem to represent a threat, so it was safe enough to incorporate artwork like Botticelli’s Birth of Venus if the nudity was left out. Even then, she had to rework some of it because one of the trees looked ‘like a burning bush.’
Although the top-floor refurbishment is finished, the Prayer Room hasn’t re-opened to patients yet, so I know the space will be available for us tonight.
When room service arrives, Kath eats at the desk while she continues her work. She is happy to keep drinking water from her sipper bottle. I consider the juice in the minibar, but can’t justify the cost, so I also choose water to go with my cheese toastie.
After snacking, I get back to refining a lesson plan for the evening, but soon decide I can think about that in the shower. I want to be freshly shaved in preparation for our anniversary evening of an intimate dinner and a king-size bed. Once our respective work duties are done for the week, of course.
The shower has a clear glass screen and I’ve left the bathroom door open, so I can see Kath talking on her headset. Good, her upload must be ready and someone still seems to be there in Tucson to receive it.
With washing and shaving complete, I’m just standing there enjoying the water and thinking about getting out when Kath shows impeccable timing by standing up, stretching, then shedding her bathrobe with a quick flick of her shoulders. She is coming to join me.
“A second shower?” I note, as she steps in.
“I want to get ready for your students. Even if I am just a cadaver, I want to smell like a fresh one.”
“And what about me? Would you shower twice for your husband or is Luscious Lavender only for the kids in class?” I ask, referring to the sickly sweet body wash provided by the hotel. I pump some into my hands, rub them together, then start at Kath’s clavicles, spreading the soap down her sternum and then outwards to circle her breasts, closing in towards her nipples.
“You’ve studied every inch of my body. Maybe I’ll enjoy some new attention from the class,” she smiles. We’re flirting. Kath didn’t just join me in Boston for our anniversary dinner – anniversary sex was definitely a factor.
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