Having had a bit of minor surgery this week (contributing to the lateness of this post, but I’m fine, no sympathy needed)…I really must take this quick opportunity to send kudos out to our merciful angels in white.
Never mind the ability to smile, make small talk, and go out of their way to be comforting to total strangers who are not always as kind in return; they manage to do it at the drop of a hat, in any environment at any horrendous hour of the day.
People like that deserve all the credit in the world as far as I’m concerned. This, from someone who doesn’t like her job, and God help me if I had to pretend that I did in the course of it.
It’s easy to see why so many romances are written involving characters from the world of medicine. What’s more enticing than receiving the undivided attention of an attractive person intent on making you feel better? One smooth, lazy reading of your pulse. An expert manipulation of the needle, delivering the IV in one fell swoop. Those little plastic bracelets stamped with your name, as if your angel had claimed the rights to you.
And most of all?
Most of all, one of those heated blankets to tuck in around you in the freezing confines of a hospital room?
The hell with sex. If that doesn’t make you moan, leave the hospital. You’re already dead. That, my friends, is true ecstasy.
So next time you’re looking for something to read, consider a medical romance. And give our angels a nod and a smile next time your paths should happen to cross.
They deserve it. And a whole lot more.