Told You It's A Dog's Life

These days, I'm walking around my workplace with a perpetual p***ed look on my face.

It's not my good face, nor my real face. It's just a face that has contorted into being as an unfortunate (by)product of my circumstances.

You see, I've had a lousy week. I've had to deal with mounting non-clinical tasks when the ward deserves more of my time. I've had to put up with incompetent house officers and rude patients. But what really takes the cake is my neighbour's inconsideration - I returned home today to see his car partially blocking my gate but leaving his own unobstructed, allowing me little space to drive into my porch.

Of course, I deal with my problems in ways I feel are non-offensive. I turn on the car stereo really loud, I ventilate to my husband and colleagues, I seek comfort food, I walk around with a p***ed look on my face but making it clear that it is NOT you I am p***ed off with, and I go shopping (I bought 3 pairs of shoes this week). You see, everybody has bad days. Deal with them! Don't take them out on another person, especially if she's your daughter's doctor. In my duty as a doctor, I am bound by ethics and code of conduct. But in no instance assume that because as you raise your voice I try harder to be diplomatic you are in a position to bully me. It is my job to try to understand the reasons behind your hostility, and to provide you with the correct information to clear any misconception, but I will not tolerate any rudeness from my patients. I stand unwavered in my principle - that I am a human being first, and a doctor second. (I later learnt that he has 3 daughters who have thalassemia; maybe he has more bad days than anyone else, but there's still no excuse for abusive behaviour.)

I'm glad the weekend is here.

I'll get my real face back, the one I think my patients like. I promise.