Doctor Baby

Yesterday I went to the dermatologist. I've now seen a doctor and a physical therapist at Southwestern Medical Center; both had residents hanging on their every word. It was fun to watch them learn . . . until yesterday.

Yesterday, I sat on the paper-covered patient's bed thinking that some sick person must have felt forgotten andcome up with the term "patient" as they waited for hours - with great patience - for a doctor to see them. As I was thinking such grand thoughts, I watched a young girl in a white coat walk into my little examination room.

And in an instant three things flashed into my mind:

1. You look like you just graduated high school
2. How on earth did I get lucky enough to have to talk to someone YOUNGER than me about MY acne
   - and -
   
3. How old must I be if doctors are looking young?

Just as I finished my horrendous thoughts, she awkwardly stuck out her hand, looked me nervously in the eye and said (in this order):

"Nice to meet you Laura."

(pause)

"Oh, my name is Dr. X."

(another pause and a slight slump of the shoulders)

"Joanna."

And at that moment, I realized that she was fresh out of med school and that I didn't mind talking to her about topical cream at all.

Everyone's got to start somewhere.

Twenty-seven years ago, some doctor looked into my mother's nervous eyes, handed her an 8 lb 12 oz baby Laura, swaddled and ready to go home, and rolled us right out of that hospital. All the while my mother was wondering how they were letting her leave with a baby and did she know what to do with a daughter?

And so we learn.

Residents practice on patients. Moms learn how to parent on their firstborn (younger siblings should appreciate us for taking that one for the team). And the next time I'm so nervous about doing something for the first time that I introduce myself backwards, I hope someone will smile and have patience with me.