Stopping a promising medical career in it's tracks.......

Around 9 pm on the day of my Lap Band surgery, a very cute male intern came to visit me. Like I said.... very cute. So, as he perused my chart and asked a few questions, I was very content to sweetly comply. Carmen was dozing in the chair. I was in a drugged haze. So, if there was any moment in my life to enjoy lifting up my top for a cute guy, this was it. It would have been completely legit. But he didn't ask. Instead, he said--in a very nonchalant manner---"I'll be sending up someone to train you to give yourself insulin shots before you leave tomorrow". Did I hear this guy right? Insulin? Shots? Give them to myself? He didn't want me to lift up my fabulously sexy hospital-issued jammies? He didn't want to check out my incisions? "What?" I asked. "Insulin shots." He repeated. "I don't do insulin shots" I heard myself say. "I know. Your blood work suggests you'll need to begin," again.....he said this very nonchalantly. "Huh?" I asked, still wondering why I just couldn't lift up my shirt and be done with it. And, so, the very cute intern began explaining something....not sure what. I wasn't listening. I was busy thinking about my childhood friend Mary.....she was a diabetic. Every time I slept at her house, I'd have to watch her give herself insulin shots.....in her leg. At the time, I remember thinking how brave she was and I felt so thankful that I didn't have to do it. But, there I was......some intern that was probably not much older than my son was telling me that I had to give myself insulin shots....like Mary. "No" I told him. He began talking again. But, I had no intention of listening. So, I told him again.....this time louder...."NO!". So loud that I startled Carmen. Again, the intern tried to speak. "No, I am not taking insulin shots." my voice got louder and I could feel myself getting ready to cry. "But...." he began. "You don't get it, do you? I AM NOT DOING INSULIN SHOTS!" I told him again....this time louder and with much more bitchiness. And, so he turned to Carmen....hoping to get some help from him. "Listen, I am not doing insulin shots! And, don't bother trying to get my husband or anyone else for that matter to convince me..." I warned him. But, he was relentless.....he continued to try to talk. Before I knew it, I was crying and shaking and blurting out obscenities. I was not being very nice or lady like. I was misbehaving. Not sure what happened to the intern.....he must have left quietly in the middle of my tirade. Carmen looked at me....afraid to say a word. I pushed the button for my morphine drip.
Early the next morning, I awoke to see the cute intern once again at the foot of my bed. But, this time, I had no urge to lift up my shirt for him, show him my incision or even look at him. Sensing my displeasure with him, he did not bother to make small talk, he just stood there reading my chart. He bid me farewell and quickly scampered out of the room. The nurse came in a few moments later with a wry smile...."scaring them off on their first week?" Ahhhh.....it was the cute intern's first week!!! How lousy am I? Doing that to him on his first week? "Oh, I feel bad," I told her. "You have definitely been the topic of conversation! Poor kid didn't even want to come back in here this morning!" Ahhh....I felt even worse....ruining a career before it's even started! "He won't forget you," the nurse said.

Memorable. At least I'll be memorable.