Exploiting my House-abilities

Linda was the perfect infant.

She went to sleep happy. She woke up happy. She was an exceptionally peaceful baby.

So you can understand my terror when 3-week old Linda woke up from her nap that day screaming her lungs out.

There was clearly something horribly wrong with her. Something life threatening: a burst appendix, a strangulated hernia, breast cancer. I wasn't sure what, but I knew it was bad.

Poor Linda could not be consoled. I changed her diaper. I tried to feed her. Nothing would soothe her.

Thankfully, the pediatrician was able to squeeze her into his schedule.

I could not believe the magnitude of the screams coming from that 9-pound child as I rushed her to the doctor. Linda announced our arrival as I frantically ran into the clinic carrying the distressed infant in her car seat.

A nurse rushed us to an exam room and removed Linda's pajamas. She carefully examined her, gingerly pushing on her stomach and other baby parts in search of the source of her pain.

"I don't see anything wrong with her," she shouted over Linda's howling. "Dr. Pintner will be back in a minute."

She left us alone. Me and my pathetically inconsolable Linda.

I said silent prayers for my poor dying child.

But suddenly, my "House-abilities" emmerged.

I looked at her foot. 

What's that?

Her second toe looked like a... could it be??

A little sausage?  Actually, 2 sausages connected by a link.

I took a closer look.

Baby Linda had a string tied around the middle of her second teeny tiny toe. 

The string apparently had come from her footy pajamas (which had just come out of the dryer).

Poor Linda must have been dreaming about break dancing or Body Jam or something, because somehow the string got tangled around her toe in a knot of epic proportions, resulting in a Vienna toe sausage.

I found a pair of scissors and carefully cut the string. Her crying stopped immediately.

The doctor came in, prepared to break some very serious news to us about a burst appendix, a strangulated hernia, or breast cancer. Linda smiled at him. He looked confused.

"She had a string tied around her second toe," I announced, matter-of-factly.  "Take a look."

Her little toe still bore the indentation of the footy pajama string. In fact, It took days for it to fade completely.

Yep. That was ten years before House started getting credit for solving all those medical mysteries.

But, I had my priorities.  I was way too busy being a working mom to exploit my talents as a nerdling genius pediatric infectious disease detective.   

But now that House is retiring, I might reconsider that decision. 

 In fact, if you're from the networks, please contact my agent directly.