Sunday, January 23, 2011

The Doctor Who Distrusts Her Own Profession - A Case Study - Part One

My desire to become a doctor began when I was two and a half years old, when I was rushed to a dentist by my Aunt, a nurse, when I lost my two front teeth after my brother, a four year old with a broom, knocked me out of my crib. My aunt and that dentist stopped the blood and relieved my pain. They were my heroes. For the next several days, I talked incessantly about how they saved me. At that tender age, Dr. Dentist, DDS was the same as Dr. Pediatrician, M.D., and my Aunt, she was a lady doctor with a pretty dress and an awesome cap. Hey, I was two, but that confusion then may well have laid the groundwork for my future medical adventures. And that groundwork was based on misinformation. As for the "every nurse must be a lady and pretty to boot" (and my Aunt Kathy was both, as well as smart as hell and tough as nails), well it was 1965 and political correctness had not yet been invented, and bras were several years away from being used as fuel.

I would write more, but I'm using my smart phone and my fingers have gone numb. Editing and wittier anecdotes to follow after a suitable recovery period.

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