Friday, November 7, 2008

Is there a Doctor in the House???

    by Jeanne Adams
    I like doctors. I like them in person, on television and generally, as human beings. There are a few exceptions, trust me. However, for the most part, I think anyone who is willing to dedicate their lives to listening to people worry, whine, sob, and express various bodily functions toward said doctor deserves not only a huge salary but possibly sainthood.

    There really isn't enough money printed to get me to do this. Any of it.

    Start with med school. From the hazing to the weed-em-out-tests to the brutal rotations through specialties you would never contemplate (podiatry, anyone?), there pretty much is nothing fun about med school. I think of it like nine years of intensive, mental boot camp. People yell at you, spit on you, make you wade through unmentionable substances - everything I've ever seen on every movie about Marines in training - and what do you get for this suffering? Well, like the Marines, you get to go do thankless, dangerous stuff. Woo-hoo!

    Come to think of it, they should probably pay Marines and Nurses what they pay Doctors, considering the workload.

    I'm tellin' ya' - NOT enough money printed to get me to do this.

    I do understand the challenge. Really, I do. I love intellectual puzzles. I love solving things. I even like the kind of physical challenges posed by being a Marine. Very cool. What I don't like is the massive, perpetual downside.

    The most innocuous downside is still substantive. Blood, and lots of it, some of which might bear diseases that can kill you. Now I'm not afraid of blood, or bothered by the sight of it, and I'm more than willing to splash around a considerable amount of blood in my books, and make other people wade through it.

    Hey, a girl's gotta have her fun. :> However, I would not, will not (with a fox, or a mouse, or a goat) do any of said wading myself.

    Then there's those other noxious substances. I'm sure the nurses on our Bandita Team can wax very grim about those "other" substances.

    SOOOOO not going THERE.

    Why then, you ask, am I going on about this heinous topic? Well, last Sunday, I spent three hours in the ER. Not the attractive one on television with various attractive Slavic or swarthy, heroic doctor types. No. The real one. With a very sore, very hurt little boy who couldn't figure out why a fall off the bed HURT so darn much. Not like he hasn't done it before, right?


    This time, he broke his collar bone. OUCH.

    Where's Dr. McDreamy when you need him? Nary a studly man in sight, except my equally worried spouse.

    Come to think of it, he'd look good in scrubs, or in that white lab coat. He's got a serious demeanor, very trustworthy. He'd make a splendid doctor, since he doesn't faint at blood or that other stuff.

    (He used to play rugby. Does that tell you anything?)

    But no cute guys in scrubs appeared. The nice man who helped us with our son's injury was about five-seven (my height), with big glasses and a nice smile which he reserved for my husband. I like to look at my husband that way too, but I'm not particularly thrilled when other MEN do. (No offense to gents of that persuasion, but HEY! MINE!)

    Harrrrumpf! However, the doc pronounced the collar bone broken as he perused the x-rays, informed us that there isn't much to do about it, gave us Motrin and sent us home with a very weary, confused little boy.

    I have to confess that I'm going to engage in a bit of Writer's Revenge. What is that, you ask? Ah....I'm going to write this guy into a book and kill him off.

    Really.

    It wasn't that he was bad, its just that he wasn't GOOD. Kind of like the "red-shirt" guy they joke about at Star Trek conventions. He's the scapegoat that beams down with the exploration party and gets killed. Yep. Expendable. Grins.

    Anyway, like everything in my life, good, bad, and odd, it'll end up in a story at some point. That's the way my mind works even when I'm not engaging in Writer's Revenge. The doctor in the book won't look the same, but will act the way this one did. He may even become a she, since then it'll be even more fun to kill him off for looking at my hubby. *VEG*

    So here's some questions for the day:
    Have you ever broken a bone? Did it become a "weather-wise ache?"

    Have you ever actually seen a doctor as gorgeous as McDreamy, the ER guys, or the generally elegant guys on General Hospital?

    If you are a doctor (or play one on TV), was medical school as bad as it seems from the outside? Or is it worse?

    Nurses? Same question...

    Last but not least, do you engage in Writer's Revenge?

    Let's hear some stories, guys!
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