It’s Sinking In

Today, we went shopping.

Now although I understand that this is not exactly blogworthy material, it was something of a milestone because:

    1. I don’t shop. It’s not something that I do. It’s not something that I enjoy. It’s just not fun for me. Yes, I am that girl. Sue me.

    2. The shopping-spree was of a completely academic nature.
    I know right.

Ever since we started our first clinical rotation, Intro to Clinical II late last year, my mother has had this obsession with how I look when I’m in the hospital. I’ll admit, I always imagined I would at least look professional, but she took it to a whole new level when (with a conviction that I can only call religious, yes I stole that from Glee) she started dictating what I was allowed to wear any time I step into the wards as a non-patient.

At first, I humored her. We live in separate provinces, so all I needed to do was dress up for about a week, post plenty of group pictures on facebook of me in my white coat and her outfit of choice, and then boom! Problem solved.

Only, I guess I looked so professional and doctor-y (ha! Wait till I tell her how our Registrar nearly had a stroke when I tried to do the respiratory exam on a patient) that she made it her new mission to ensure that I always look professional and doctor-y.

So today, I went hospital-clothes shopping.

I kid you not.

Among my purchases was a pair of formal-looking pants and some new pumps. I fought off the “practical and comfy” crocks with every ounce of strength left in me after an entire hour looking at shoes. (An hour, people.)

Then I got home and dumped the stuff in my room. Next to my stethoscope, which I’d brought down with me because our holiday assignment had been to witness deliveries so that later this year we don’t look at clueless as our nametags suggest. And it hit me.

I just bought pants for the hospital. Which I am going to wear in the hospital. The hospital I am going to be working in. Not just observing but working. As in, in a few weeks.

Then I watched some Grey’s Anatomy.

Because after that kind of a revelation, what else can a person do?



Filed under random, ranting

3 responses to “It’s Sinking In

  1. enkay

    Mother knows best. I had to buy formal black pants and comfy shoes from Green Cross before we started going to clinics last year. Then when I got home after the shopping spree, my mom took a photo of me (doctor’s coat and pink steth included.) She sent it to a couple of family members. Now everyone calls me ‘Doc’. But my mates still wear jeans and takkies to clinic. We don’t do much except urinalysis, BP, waist and arm circumference (for children) and other basics so we are still pretty much ‘observers’. I guess it will be different when we go to hospitals in 4th year.

    • Enkay, you speak truth. My mom made one of my doctors-coat-and formal pants pics into her profile picture on facebook. Now everyone wants medical advice. 😐 I too was also that random in the formal black pants while my clinical partners all wore denim miniskirts. MINISKIRTS. So even though I often felt overdressed, at least I never felt underdressed 😐

  2. I wore jeans in hospital for my entire third year, mainly because they are the only long pants I own because I AM TOO DAMN SHORT FOR PROPER PROFESSIONAL PANTS.
    But the proud rents also decided it is time for half-a-doctor to look more professional, so yay for people with sewing skills who can make long pants short enough for me.
    P.S: Grey’s does the trick every time. I don’t care what people say.

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