"Good luck"
I used to aspire to be a doctor.
Helping people; diagnosing, treating, and releasing patients. All while looking phenomenal in light blue scrubs. I had only one roadblock that would keep me from achieving my goal: I am extremely squeamish. I could never stand the sight of blood, nor could I picture myself sticking someone with a needle. I wouldn’t be able to perform even the smallest of procedures.
Last summer I was getting a (cancerous) mole removed from my hand and asked the man cutting it out “What if I want to be a doctor but cant stand the sight of blood?”. Hoping for a reassuring answer, like “Oh everyone is like that and that’s just something you get over.” I instead received a condescending, “Good luck.” accompanied by a mean-spirited chuckle. I hated him.
Perhaps the doctor wasn’t as mean as I remember, but that’s how it worked in my mind. With that “Good luck” my career aspirations were shattered- and how could I not hate the person who did this to me?
Of course, I never really wanted to be a doctor. No, that dream came from an over-admiration for my older brother Chris along with my love for the sitcom Scrubs (which, by the way, has really started sucking over the years).
I still have yet to think of an ending to this story.
Helping people; diagnosing, treating, and releasing patients. All while looking phenomenal in light blue scrubs. I had only one roadblock that would keep me from achieving my goal: I am extremely squeamish. I could never stand the sight of blood, nor could I picture myself sticking someone with a needle. I wouldn’t be able to perform even the smallest of procedures.
Last summer I was getting a (cancerous) mole removed from my hand and asked the man cutting it out “What if I want to be a doctor but cant stand the sight of blood?”. Hoping for a reassuring answer, like “Oh everyone is like that and that’s just something you get over.” I instead received a condescending, “Good luck.” accompanied by a mean-spirited chuckle. I hated him.
Perhaps the doctor wasn’t as mean as I remember, but that’s how it worked in my mind. With that “Good luck” my career aspirations were shattered- and how could I not hate the person who did this to me?
Of course, I never really wanted to be a doctor. No, that dream came from an over-admiration for my older brother Chris along with my love for the sitcom Scrubs (which, by the way, has really started sucking over the years).
I still have yet to think of an ending to this story.