Sexual Tension
On my first day as a medical resident in clinic, one of the patients on my roster was listed as having a chief complaint of "genital rash." No big deal, I thought to myself. I am a young, progressive, body-positive doctor. Everyone has genitals! I am unfazed by genitals! Let there be a genital jubilee in my clinic! I'll make s'mores!
But when I walked into the room and saw the patient-a 24-year old guy with not-small shoulders and a great big smile-a policeman, for the love of God-my hands got clammy. I was torn between the urge to flirt and the urge to bolt. But I am a doctor now, so I faked…
I have heard through the grapevine that certain people are not so interested in reading what I write here because it is, and I quote, "too sad."
It's never occurred to me that my job is especially sad. Yes, I'm surrounded by sick people, and yes, most cheese danish to be found in our hospital is abysmal. But by this point, most of my colleagues and I have created so much distance between ourselves and our patients that it takes a lot to really make us feel sad about our work. Plus, we can always bring in danish from outside the hospital.
With the exception of the occasional paperwork…