Starting clinical rotations as a junior medical student is
rough. But perhaps the most intimidating rotation of all is surgery. The OR is
a scary place, full of rules, both written and unwritten, and there is an exact
protocol you must follow at all times in order to not contaminate anything, as
you try to keep the environment as sterile as possible. You feel a bit like a
bull in a china shop at first, trying not to touch anything or get in the way,
yet at the same time trying to help out and make your presence known to impress
those inherently grumpy attendings.
My first surgical rotation three months into my clinical
year was Orthopedic Surgery. Stereotypes exist for a reason, as most
“orthopods” as they are commonly called are, in fact, former jocks. It is 100%
a boys club, complete with raunchy jokes, womanizing, power tools and pushups
between cases (kidding about that last part…sort of). My first day of
Orthopedic surgery I remember being glad that I had my surgical mask on as it
hid my fear that I’m sure my mouth gave away in some form as I have a big mouth
and an expressive face and most people know immediately what I am thinking
without my having to say a word.
The Ortho trauma attending was a large intimidating man, as
were his residents. They all turned toward me with half-hearted interest as I
walked into the scrub area and introduced myself, feeling a bit like an
intruder in the men’s locker room after football practice. They were nice
enough, told me to scrub in and get my gloves and gown ready. Being it was my
first time in the OR I had zero idea where anything was, as it is a complicated
yet organized system that takes some time to learn. As I stood there, helpless,
yet not wanting to bother them again with such a lame question of “so where are
these gloves…?” my guardian angel in scrubs suddenly appeared.
At first glance he was relatively unremarkable, and similar
to the appearance of the rest of us in our generic blue uniforms, scrub caps,
and mask. But then I looked into his eyes. The most beautiful shade of
blue-green, they were kind, and I could tell he was smiling at me underneath
his mask. “Hi, I’m Sam,” he said. I’m sure I croaked out my name back, but I
was too enamored to really remember. “You must be the new medical student?” he
said without a hint of condescension or judgement.
Sam showed me where the gloves were, and more. He taught me
about the layout of the OR, where to stand, and what excited me most was that
he tied my gown for me. Surgery is sexy in it’s own right, and sometimes Grey’s
Anatomy isn’t too far off. As I stood there by a patient with his mangled leg
that my attending and resident were trying to piece back together, I quickly
grew bored of watching and began daydreaming about Sam. Where is he from? What
is he doing here? I wonder how old he is-he didn’t look that old, definitely
thirties, he had some greys sprinkled within the luxurious wavy brown hair
poking out underneath his scrub cap? Is he married…I didn’t see a ring! I must
find out the answers!!
As that case ended and we prepped for the next one, I found
the chance to talk to Sam. I learned he was from a nearby state, and that he
was the circulating nurse for the orthopedic rooms, usually the trauma room.
The circulating nurse is kind of second-in-command to the surgeons, as they go
get supplies and make sure everything is functioning as smoothly as possible
during the operation. I had not met many male nurses, especially ones that were
within my dating age range and smoking hot.
I was only on
Ortho surgery for two weeks before switching to something else, so my time with
Sam was brief but glorious. He was the bright spot in my otherwise
not-so-bright days, and I credit him fully for helping me survive my
roid-raging, tantrum-throwing intern and frustration at being relegated to
suction and traction duty (really all you get to do as a third year, anyways).
I’m a huge wimp and thought it would be too forward to just ask Sam out, and so
when the time came to say goodbye I was kind of hoping he would make some sort
of offer to continue our two weeks of flirtation maybe over coffee, dinner, or
his bed. But much to my disappointment, Sam was not working during my last day!
Huge bummer.
Over the weekend I realized I couldn’t give up so easily;
hot, no wait, make that DECENT and dateable men are hard to find in Augusta,
GA. I had finally found one after 3 years, and this was my chance. I had to
talk to him again. I decided to turn to the Yellow Pages of my generation for
help: Facebook.
So I knew his name was Sam Morrison, and although generic,
surely he would be the only one at my school with that name. To my surprise though, there were two
Sam Morrisons listed at my school. One of them was a medical student two years
below me, so definitely not it. The other one for whatever reason, had very
little information and no profile picture! That’s odd, I thought. Oh well, what
do I have to lose? If it’s the wrong one, I’ll just defriend him later, no harm
done. A day or two later my eyes lit up as I received an email stating Sam had
confirmed my friend request!! Yes!!!
But my excitement was short-lived. As I pulled up his
facebook page, I did the usual scan: Profile pic? Check! A cute one
too, he was water-skiing, ok, so he’s outdoorsy, that’s good. Age? 36-ok, not
too bad, I like older men. Relationship Status? M.A.R.R.I.E.D.
What the F??? Married? Um, where was your ring buddy? And
how come you never brought up your wifey in any of our in retrospect
not-so-deep conversations, huh? I felt betrayed. The good ones are seriously
always taken. Although disappointed, I finished my scan by habit;
employment, hobbies, wall, photos, friends….strangely, he had no other pictures
and no wall posts. That’s weird, I thought. Is he just a huge loser, or what??
As I got down to the friend sidebar I was even more shocked
by what I saw. Sam only had 1 friend….me. What the hell? How is that possible??
At the time facebook’s interface had a section that told how long someone had
been a member. As I scrolled back up I realized why I was his only friend-he
had JUST joined facebook, like 3 days ago. Whoa.
The gravity of my impulsive internet stalking didn’t really
set in until the next day, when I told my friends over dinner what happened. My
med school classmates love teasing me about the stupid shit I manage to do, and
this situation was no different. Of course they all wanted to see this murse
who had stolen my heart, so I pulled up his facebook page so we could all have
a laugh.
But the joke was on me. After the debate about his hotness
status, I noticed he had actually added a few pictures, and more importantly,
the name of his wife. I am very methodical about my checking out of the
opposite sex on FB and have an algorithm that keeps me on track. Step 1) Are
they married or in a relationship? Step 2) If no-->
proceed to picture stalking. If yes-->
check out wife or girlfriend to assess for hotness equality in the
relationship. Step 3.1) If significant other hotness is greater than or equal
to object of interest, shrug your shoulders and move on, content that even if
said object isn’t with you, at least he’s with someone of equal or greater
hotness than you so life is probably fair. Step 3.2) If significant other’s
hotness is LESS than object of desires hotness-->
bitch and moan to friends or mother how life isn’t fair and why is he wasting
time with HER when he could do so much better.
I wasn’t quite mentally prepared to see the wife yet so I scrolled
down to see if he had any more friends. Friend count was now TWO…me, and….his
wife. My mouth immediately dropped open and my friends started howling in
laughter as I stared at the screen in disbelief.
My sarcastic and best med school friend Catie between fits
of laughter managed to get out: “Wait a minute, so you added him as a friend
basically the second before he joined facebook, before even his wife?!” Yep,
that pretty much sums it up. As the night grew darker and the wine bottles
emptier, we debated on how I could bow out of this situation as gracefully as possible.
I couldn’t defriend him now,
because that would totally be obvious since I made up 50% of his
friendship pool, and then he would think I was REALLY psycho. Messaging him to
apologize for the awkwardness was also out of the question, because what if the
wife hadn’t noticed? Then I would be bringing it out in the open, and things
might be even more awkward. We agreed the only prudent course of action would
be to wait until the friend pool went up to at least 20-30 people, then I could
defriend possibly without him noticing? Men are oblivious anyways.
As the next few weeks went by I waited in angst as the
friend count went up agonizingly slow. Four, then seven…nine…ten. Argh! Doesn’t
this guy have any friends?! Geez!!! I had thankfully moved to another surgery
service in the hospital across the street, so chances of crossing paths were
slim, yet all the while my radar was up for those blue-green eyes and kind
smile. I mean, he must totally think I was CRAZY-who does that?? And what does
his wife think? I’m sure she added him, and was shocked to find that her
beloved husband’s facebook friend virginity had already been stolen by some
stupid medical student. I can only imagine how that conversation went:
Wife: “So…Sam, who is this girl friend of yours?”
Sam: “Honestly, I barely know her. She rotated through my OR
and was totally helpless. She was the first person to send me a friend request.”
Wife: “That’s weird. So you guys spent some time together
talking huh? You sure that’s it?”
Sam: “Sweetheart, I seriously barely know her! I have no
idea how she even knew my full name (name badge) or that it was me, as I hadn’t
put up a profile picture yet and she had already added me as a friend! (I’m
psychic) It’s really weird, don’t you think? She’s young and probably just
another crazy, sexually-starved medical student (ok, so half-true).”
Wife: “uh-huh, sure.”
Finally, the friend count went up to 21, and I couldn't wait any longer. I haven't really seen Sam since, as I chose to get as far away from Augusta as possible for the remainder of my third and fourth year clinical rotations. As the shame of my awkward internet encounter faded, I must admit that I haven't quite learned from this mistake, as I still friend my crushes on FB fairly regularly. But in 2011 I think all of us have more than one friend, so I haven't encountered this particular situation again...although, I have graduated to more awkward in-person encounters.
Lesson learned: There is no dignity in Facebook.
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