Chest hair and mobile phones

We’ve all heard of stories of wives visiting their husband’s workplace unannounced only to receive a far greater surprise themselves… well, here’s mine.

On Friday, Steve had forgotten his mobile phone, leaving it recharging from the previous night. As I was heading out anyway on a number of errands, I decided to drop it in to him.

I knew that for the current two weeks he was “assisting” the theoretical training component of the Physiotherapy Upgrade Training Program. I didn’t know exactly what this meant beyond helping translate when the Singaporean lecturer and the Khmer translator got a little stuck.

Also, I had helped collate the student’s notes so knew the topic “Cardio pulmonary and Respiratory Physiotherapy”. I had even read some of this with interest as I had just recently been to hospital with our 20 month old Mr Happy who had difficulty breathing during a bout of bronchitis.

But on the way there, I realised that I had no idea where the actual course was being held on the medical training campus. Undaunted, Mr Happy and I walked around asking a number of people and were finally pointed in the right direction.

Climbing up two flights of stairs with Mr Happy on my hip, we finally arrived and I peeked in the door marked “Physiotherapy Training Room”. I think if I had just peeked I could have returned home to wonder, but with the extra weight of my “Happy” load momentum took over and I stepped inside.

The room seemed to be dark, but I don’t know if that was just because my attention was immediately drawn to the muscular white chest that I thought was only well-known to me. I could hear the lecturers’ voice booming but I couldn’t see him. He and my shirtless husband were surrounded by a sea of students with outstretched arms waving mobile phones capturing the lesson on video for future reference.

Shocked and mildly amused, I decided to pass the phone to our friend who is an Australian physiotherapist here to assist Steve with the clinical training to follow this two week course. She was on the outskirts and I hoped to remain anonymous. It was not to be so as nippled Steve spotted me and called out “Hi”. Twenty heads turned to follow his greeting.

I hastily passed the phone to our friend as Mr Happy entertained the crowds. I apologised to the lecturer, questioned Steve with my eyes, and split.

Next time, the phone will remain at home recharging.