I’ve heard that it is nearly impossible for a medical transcriptionist (MT) to type the word “plural” (word tense) because it always comes out “pleural” (having to do with the lungs). We just can’t help it. We type medical terminology all day long! It inevitably filters into our everyday lives and conversation. Sometimes we type the wrong word because we’re used to typing a similar medical word and our fingers just take over; other times, we type the wrong word because our expander automatically expands an abbreviation into a long, incorrect word or phrase. Whatever the reason, my husband seems to think I cannot separate myself from my job when it comes to written or oral communication.
Well, of course I can! Sure, I love my work and it is a major part of my existence, but I am a human being and I have a life outside of medical transcription. I can hold a “normal” conversation. Hmmph. He doesn’t think I could say or write much of anything that wouldn’t contain references to medical transcription, anatomy, pharmacology, or anything medically-related. Well, mister, I’ll just take that bet. There’s more to life than my job. I'm not some kind of nut who can't speak or write plain English. I am the most normal person you'd ever meet.
How normal am I, you ask? Well, here are some normal things about my life. I was born on Septic the 27th, which makes me a Libra. Libras are known for their desire to have everything peaceful - no phytes, no Battle signs, everything in fluid balance, and that describes me perfectly. Eye was born in Memphis, but am a transplant to Maine.
My family is normal, too. I have a sister who is really into genealogy. She has been going to cemeteries to look at old family Graves disease. My son nose everything about computers and all that digital stuff. He dose programming on web sites and works on a MAC anesthesia computer. (He also has a dog, Toby, a lab.) My daughter is a stay-at-home mom, but she is an expert in keeping kids safe in automotive crashes. She is an instructor for children’s cardiac seat classes. She doesn't have a dog, but does have a black CAT scan. My son-in-law and daughter-in-law are both teachers, so they have to interact all day with their pupils. My husband is a retired Pasteur. Make no bones about it, we’re all normal. I'm not pulling your leg. I’m sure this may come as a shock-wave lithotripsy to you, but I’m one of many perfectly normal people in my normal family.
We love living our normal life on the coast of Maine. We used to have a 2-car garage at our old big Victorian house, but now in our little home O2 we have to Parkinson in the driveway. But that’s OK. Down our road is a little pathology that leads to the ocean. Mainers love the ocean. They enjoy saline and digging muscles and finding a PERRL in an oyster occasionally. If you look out into the sea, you can sometimes see a navel ship pass by. Except for moving to Maine, I haven’t really traveled much. I’ve wanted to go to France for a lung time now (I took 21-French cystoscope in high school) but my mom is of Scottish descent, so visiting Glasgow coma score would be a treat, too. I definitely want to avoid Chorea - so much danger over there in that part of the world right now.
I also have normal hobbies. I don’t golf or bowel or anything like that, but I love to sew. My sewing room is in the same room as my home office, so I can sit here and look around at all my creative tools. I have a whole thread display on the wall in every color of the rainbow - Lymphazurin blue, yellow jaundice, red reflex, Lyme green, peau d’orange, white cells, gray matter - a beautiful soft palate, keeping all my creative gastric juices flowing. I store my bigeminal patterns in a nearby box so I can choose what dressing or skirt to make next. I’m pretty conservative treatment in my sewing choices when I sew clothes. I don’t follow all the latest fads in sterile fashions. With my window right beside effects my computer, as I listen to the sinus rhythm of the music on my iTunes, I can open the prep and drapes and look out my window pain and see nature in all her gory - trees, grass, rocks - and that’s just a tiny ejection fraction of all the stuff we have in our yard.
Sure, MT is fascinating, but I don’t let it rule my whole life. Of course, I am busy, with a lot on my platelet, and life still has its challenges. If I had a magic arthroscopic wand, I would T wave it and say “Abra cadaver” and everything would be perfect. But I’m content. I know there’s light at the end of the carpal tunnel. The days ahead are promising, and my suture looks bright.
See? I am completely normal. I wrist my case.