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Last week I went to hospital. (pause for collective gasps!) I know, I know, I study in a university famous for being strictly traditional and hence not allowing pre-clinical medics anywhere near patients for the first three years. How then, you ask, did I get into a hospital? Did I, in a moment of sheer desperation, dress up as a nurse? Did I slip on some scrubs and do my best J.D. impersonation? Or did I, completely fed up of mindlessly stuffing obscure biochemical details into my brain, walk into the middle of the street, get hit by a car and get sent to A&E (the British version of the ER)?
I wish I could say that I did (it’d certainly increase the hit count on this page), but nope, the answer is much more mundane. In an attempt to pacify clinical-exposure-hungry and whiny students like me, the University has introduced a Preparing for Patients component of the course, which allows us to go interview patients in hospital once a year. It’s to improve our communications skills, and seeing how fantastically excellent I am at communicating my feelings without launching into a full-blown rant, it seems like a very good idea to prevent deprived students from beating up (or more likely getting beaten up by) patients in their 4th year.
So it was that at an insanely early hour, we were sipping coffee in the hospital cafeteria, waiting for our consultant to show up, and being given a rare opportunity to just sit back and observe how a hospital operates. There we were, so ridiculously well-dressed that any half-starved idiot sauntering by could’ve told that we were medical students. (I mean seriously, how many doctors do you see walking around hospitals wearing suits?) It was then that I noticed you could actually tell what sort of doctor the person walking by was, simply by the way they looked at you. Some of them walked past and smiled when we caught their gaze. Some of them were staring off into the distance, lost in thought, and didn’t even notice the crowd of curious well-dressed medics gawking in the cafeteria.
And then there were the surgeons.
These were the ones who walked past you with a sense of purpose, with an expression that sent lesser medical personnel scurrying out of their paths in terror, and with eyes whose gaze could physically melt medical students if you weren’t careful. Several walked past us, instantly recognizable, and those who bothered to look at us did so with a disdainful expression, dismissing our existence as being too trivial to bother their exalted minds. They were Lords of their Domain; entire operating theatres were built as shrines to their greatness. Why shouldn’t they walk around as if they owned the place?....
You should have walked by with a big toe painted on your lab coats to see if that stirred those zombies up! Seriously, we all poop the same and try and hit the toilet when we do # 1 most of the time. They are no different. For the ones who turn up their noses, rough rocks...i guess we all can't be balanced! These people are what I term morally bankrupt. They are Takers and not Givers. Never take more than you can give back! They only see green money and think their poop doesnt stink. Well, if their idea of joy and success is their petty name titie and how much is green at the end of the day in their pockets...then I say what Mr. T. would say, "I pitty the fools!"
Why Do Surgeons Have Such Big Egos?
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