A friend of mine made me blush the other day, which isn't much of an accomplishment, but it made me think a little. I started to tell this story, but thought better of it. But now, I find myself wanting to tell this story. I'm not trying to add suspense. It's actually a terrible story. Anecdote is a better word.
I had a patient not too long ago who was completely gorgeous. She was radiant and beautiful, and it was ridiculous that I would be put in charge of her care. I actively avoided entering the room. She had some problems, and eventually it was far over the intern's head, so it was up to me. It took a while to get things straightened out, but after nearly a week, I still had a hard time looking her in the eyes.
The only point to this story is that this woman could've absolutely had her way with me. If she had told me to give her 4 kilos of Oxycontin, I'd have written the script then and there.
And that was part of why I was avoiding her room. I know my weaknesses, and pretty girls are my kryptonite. I get all nervous and apprehensive. I look down a lot. I am for all intents and purposes quite useless. So I've done some hard work to try to desensitize myself. I made a point to talk to all the pretty nurses in the hospital. I try to smile and be friendly. But still, every now and then, I find myself completely disarmed.