In case you were interested...

When I told my father that I was going to pursue a medical degree, I was a freshman in college.  It was just enough time between this revelation and summer vacation for my father to try to talk me out of it.  Before going on, I must reveal that my father is a General Practitioner and has been in private practice  for 50 years.  He has been my role model in my professional development and a colleague with whom I seek advice.  However, upon hearing that I wanted to be a physician, he wanted to make sure I had the intestinal fortitude to persevere in the rigors of medical training. So he did something that changed my life forever.  He arranged for me to work as a Nurse's Aide (NA) at my hometown hospital.  If you are not aware of the hierarchy on the wards from a nursing perspective, then let me enlighten you.  Top tier: RN's.  They are in charge of dispensing medicines, making decisions regarding when or if to call the physician and generally being in charge.  Then come the LPN's.  They also are in charge of dispensing meds and caring for the patient, generally doing everything a nurse does but getting significantly less pay for it.  If you want to know who the LPN is on the floor, look for the person with a chip on their shoulder.  If I did everything the RN did but got paid about half of what they received, I think my panties would be in a wad as well.  Then came the NA's.  That was me.  The NA had the distinct pleasure and responsibility of bathing, shaving, changing (both diapers and bed linens), disimpacting (that's right.  Disimpacting.  I don't think I have to tell you what that is because we all know that there really is only one cavity within the body that gets so backed up that manual evacuation is the only answer), enemizing (is this a verb?) and overall gopher and scut monkey.  Before I could begin, there was a training orientation that was required.  I had to learn the aforementioned hierarchy, learn to check vital signs (blood pressure, pulse, respirations), and generally have it drilled into my head that it is a privilege to care for the sick-I was literally an extension of the team and I must care for the patients as I would care for my own family members.  Well I can tell you that I took this VERY seriously.  I was going to be a DOCTOR by God!  This was what I was called to do.  Why did my Dad try to talk me out of it?  Of course I could handle this.  Please.  I was going to be the reincarnation of Marcus Welby or even better, Trapper John, MD.  So the day finally came to hit the wards.  I put on my uniform with pride (white shirt, pants, and shoes) and strut into the hospital.  I report to the Head Nurse and she tells me to go help a group of NA's and RN's that were having problems cleaning a mildly combative lady with dementia.  I stroll down the hallway and begin to hear moaning, squealing, and crying.  I then hear what I assume to be a nurse telling someone to "Be still!  We're almost done!"   I was appalled.  I must go and help this damsel in distress.  A white knight riding in to save her the humiliation being wrought upon her by the vile nursing staff.  I enter the room and there were 6 nurses/staff around a bed that contained a very tiny, frail, and wrinkly octagenerian.  One of the nurses yells to me, "Get over here and hold her hands down.  Watch out.  She is a mean old hag!"  I assume my position at her side and pick up her hand and slowly start to rub it.  I say in the most soothing voice that I can muster- "It's ok, ma'am.  I am here to help you.  Just relax.  Please.  Calm down.  Shhh...."  Her body seemed to relax, her eyes focused on me and became as big as saucers, welling with tears.  She then said "Oh, Oh, Oh. Please help me.  Please free my hands..."  I told her that I couldn't do that but that it was all for her own good.  She then said, in a not so nice tone of voice-"Oooo, I hope they pull your pecker off!"  BAM.  WHAM.  POW.  I was deflated. As the other medical staff just cackled and said "Welcome to the floor, boy!", I took a very valuable step in my development as a healthcare professional.  Never, never, EVER take yourself too seriously or have too high of regard for yourself.  There will always be a person there ready to knock you down a notch.  It became immediately clear to me why my father had wanted me to do this job.  If I could wipe butts, give enemas, change dirty beds and bathe paralyzed patients and still want to go into medicine, then there was no doubt that I could be a doctor.  He knew I could do the school work.  What he didn't know was did I have the drive and compassion to care for others, even when it was not the glamorous job of being a doctor.  I went on to work that summer and loved it so much I worked the following summer on the 11pm-7am shift.  I learned some great lessons those two summers but also experienced some crazy things as well-stories that I will remember forever.  For those that know me well, THIS is where a large part of my perverse sense of humor took root and blossomed.  In case you were interested....