THE SURGEON COMPLEX

                                                         Eileen Cichello

I am married to a man with what I call a "surgeon complex."  You know the scenario I mean…the surgeon standing at the operating table, hand extended for the lowly nurse to slap the needed instrument into it. I think somewhere in his heart Sam sees this as the road not taken.  Why else would he bark out such orders as "Pass the hammer", "Where's the masking tape?" "Pass the pliers" ad infinitum when we are working together on a project.  At one time I was a nurse so I don't take kindly to this.

We don't work together on projects very often because dire results can follow.  I tend to rush into things and want them done NOW. Sam spends time getting all his tools together (for me to hand to him), measures everything, checks to see it's level, cleans the area first, etc., etc., and so-forth.  Meanwhile, I'm foaming at the mouth, scowling and muttering under my breath things like, "Just do it!" I want frequent coffee breaks, Sam wants to keep on working. I want to stop after awhile and leave the rest for another day.  Sam wants to finish the job.

Some of this may be inherited. We seem to have passed it on to our kids. Years ago, I assigned John, then around ten years old, and Michael, around eight, to wash down a very grungy wall by the back stairs

Talk about the apple not falling far from the tree!  When I came by later to check on their progress, John had cleaned a huge area in helter skelter fashion, leaving streaks and missed spots.  Michael had cleaned an area the size of a notebook.  It glowed!  I decided if we just put the two together we'd have the perfect balance.

I cannot tell a lie.  I do have to admit, when Sam does a job, it stays done.  Everything is square or plumb or whatever it's supposed to be.  My handyman efforts turn out less well.