The Setup

Having been roped into a 13 day working fortnight, I trudged into work on Saturday to meet my consultant for the morning ward round. We worked our way thru our ward and then did the morning tour of the nursery to check out our 'bili-babies' cooking under the lights. As we fnished up for the day my boss offered to buy me coffee and so I gratefully accepted and we purchased some cafeteria quality beverages and sat down. Usually this sort of thing is not that uncommon on a weekday, a token gesture of thanks from the boss for our hard work. But I was very taken aback that the boss (who is by no means a workaholic) would take time on a Saturday (when he could have gone home to his wife and kids) to buy me coffee, sit down and have a chat.

And so we talked. We talked about careers (as every consultant seems to want to brainwash their JMO into doing their speciality), family, social life, love life and the rugby (such a consultant thing to ask about). He asked about my father and being a paediatrican knew nothing about it, but could sympathise seeing as his father-in-law had Alzheimers. He seemd very taken aback that I was so young for a resident and asked all the details of my accelerated education.

Later that afternoon I was sitting in the nursery when a midwife started chatting to me. "Dr X says that you're only 24? Is that true?" Somehow the cat had been let out of bag. "I have a daughter who's 23... she's a bit of a hottie... you should see her... she has a boyfriend, but I don't like him... I like you... I'll bring in some photos of her for you to see"

Today I rocked up to work and my registrar giggled in her high pitched NESB voice over the phone "Can you come ot the nursery? One of the midwives has some photos she wants to show you... " Thankfully an emergency Caesarean tied me up in theatre long enough for the midwife to finish her shift but when I arrived I found the other RMO, my registrar, my consultant and a coven* of midwives discussing my age and my apparently impending nuptials with the midwife's daughter.

I turned an awkward shade of red and looked at the floor.

That very lunchtime, I had had lunch at my old hospital (the Zoo) with Dr E and Dr T. Dr E (fresh back from her honeymoon) said she wants to set me up with some nurses on her haematology ward.

Do I have some kinda sign on my head saying "Desperate and dateless"? Is it a sign of people's admiration of me? Or their pity of me?

* I have decided the best collective noun for midwives is the one used for witches. Grrr they make my blood boil!