19 May 2015
(I wrote this blog nearly a year ago, and somehow never managed to finish it off and publish it. So here it goes. A bit late. Still brought a smile to my lips when I read it though. Thought you might just feel the same.)
So I’ve been doing some commissioned hand sewing work for a friend of mine. The most magnificent goodies. And much as I’d love to share pics, I simply can’t. We’ve got markets starting this week, pretty much running straight through until Christmas, and for now, we’d like to keep the products under wraps.
Anyway, I do most of the sewing at night. Sitting in front of the TV after supper, while my family is all around me. And then, once the kids go off to bed, Grant and I tend to watch a mini-series together, before he heads off to bed. And that’s when I come out to play.
My house is all quiet. Nobody demanding my time. My attention. No one is hungry. Needs help with their homework. Needs me to quiz them for a test. Help them with an oral or a school project. Or drop them off somewhere.
I have some creative time. It is pain staking, detailed work. But it is beautiful. And super rewarding. At the end of every evening, I can look back and see the evidence of my night’s work.
But here’s the thing. I enjoy some company whilst working. Undemanding company.
And it is at this exact point, that I invite the Surgical Interns doing their fellowship at Seattle Grace Hospital, to enter my lounge. But I’m not really all that classist. I’m quite happy to invite the Attending’s, as well as the Chief himself too. All in the interest of increasing my medical knowledge of course …
And let me be straight with you – I’ve been doing A LOT OF SEWING and late night work. Which means that I’m quite happily whizzing my way through the whole Grey’s Anatomy series for about the 3rd time. The joy in “watching” something like this so many times is multiple. Firstly, I know it already. So I can but merely listen. I don’t need to make eye contact with them. And they seem to be quite happy with my divided attention. They’re remarkably undemanding. Secondly, there are no nasty surprises. I mostly know who’s going to be offed. Who’s going to pull through. And who’s going to become romantically involved with whom. Thirdly, I can verbally talk along in some cases, as I know the lines. This is rather scary, as I’ve clearly done A LOT of time, doing Grey’s. Fourthly, I really love the characters. Some more than others. Dr McDreamy is dreamy indeed. It is rather nasty I know, but occasionally I plot on how I’m going to fly over to Seattle, knock off Meredith Grey, and nab him all for myself.
However, this does present a rather tricky problem. These doctors are rather good. And given the fact that I’ve watched 8 seasons already (I know – I’m a few behind, but I’m savouring them before indulging and watching), they’ve covered a lot of medical ground. Loads of extreme cases, covering just about every medical emergency, mystery and illness known to man. In fact, some might probably not be known, anywhere apart from at Seattle Grace. The bottom line, is that this means, that these good docs have a fair amount of experience, with dealing with things out of the ordinary. I’d really have to work hard at making it look like an accident, in case they bust me. And in addition, I’d have to make sure it’s damn near incurable. In case they save her in the end.
Anyway, I’m getting distracted. The thing is this, I’m pretty sure I’d make a rather awesome surgeon round about now. I could intubate and resuscitate with the best of them. But the trick is this – in what area should I specialise? Should I go with Cardiothoracics, Orthopaedics, Neuro, Paediatrics or something else that ends in an “ics”? That is the question.
I find myself randomly wanting to say phrases like, “Push three of Epi”. Or, “Run a central line”. Even though there is no cause whatsoever for saying any of this. Nor the need to perform one of these procedures either. At an ignorant and idiotic driver in rush-hour traffic, I’d like to say, “Do you want me to give you a subdural bleed with a midline shift?” Or, “Don’t make me get out of my car, it is sure to cause Ventricular Arrhythmia”. So many, many choices. And I haven’t even touched on a Pulmonary Embolus yet. Nor a Dissected Thoracic Aorta. And don’t even get me started on the marvels of plastics. I could happily rearrange a face or two…
I’m basically convinced, that if I put my mind to it, and put my sewing down for long enough, to give the study of medicine my undivided attention, I’d be a sure fire candidate for the Harper Avery Award. The one that only exists on TV that is. In Grey’s Anatomy Land. But alas, sewing beckons. It’s fun. It’s creative. And there’s far less blood. Which actually suits me best.
Which doesn’t mean that I can’t indulge my Grey’s side, every so often. Particularly with my children.
Cause in the afternoons, when I do my rounds, going from bedroom to bedroom, with my clipboard clasped against my chest, ticking off what homework they’ve done, and must still do, I can threaten them with obscure medical procedures. Some of them even sounding vaguely plausible…
And then when they take a long time to do something, or follow an instruction, I have to physically restrain myself from barking, “STAT!!!”, at them. (Such fun – particularly when they flinch!)
Denny Duquette - Oh. My. Word.
McDreamy - enough to put anyone into cardiac arrest
I rest my case