Monday, 2 August 2010

Future doctor without Science

Once, I had a rare opportunity to see the inner sanctum of a labour ward. Moments before putting on the crisp, white coat, I registered the first feeling of excitement tinged with some trepidation.

Pregnancy, for me, is the most amazing phenomenon. I maintain an equally, though less noble, child-like wonder at the clever invention that is the telephone. That I can pick it up and hear the voice of another person thousands of miles away is something I cannot get my head round. Therein lies the 'child-like wonder'. But I digress.

No one can accuse me of not having dabbled in my fair share of what career to pursue. From the highly improbable professional career as an angel (ahem...I was a four year old with dreams), to seriously considering being a teacher (because my grandmother's hedge of flowers that I 'taught' were the most docile pupils I knew) through to wondering if I could be a sought-after 'taster' of food, (because, really, why not?) I've been through it all. What I knew though, was that it wouldn't be science-related. My somewhat average scores in high school Integrated Science work effectively put paid to any grand dreams involving science. So, apart from the highly enjoyable lesson that was sexual reproduction in humans, in which you could feel the embarrassment of the teacher standing in front of a pack of sniggering pre-puberty children who were bent on asking awkward questions, I didn't exactly bond with the subject.

If I'd had any notion that labour was a dainty, lady-like affair, it was quickly dispelled with when I peeked into the first room, and got an eyeful of someone's nether regions. Needless to say, it wasn't long before I asked to be taken to the nursery. Now there I could happily spend hours and hours with the newborn babies.

When I approached one of the cots, the new mum gazed at me expectantly, and with a small jolt of surprise I realised she was waiting for me to say something. And so, rearranging my facial expression into one of concern, and hoping that I radiated authority as befits a doctor, I asked two very important questions: How are you? Is she feeding well? Never had I paused to think what those two questions could mean when posed to a new mother. But as her face wreathed in smiles, even I didn't need to be told that she was one happy mum.

I might yet be a future doctor - without science of course - but oh, if ever there's a career going for anyone to play with newborn babies in the nursery, could I be nominated?

So dream on, I say - for the greatest disservice you could do to yourself is to let your doubts and regrets take the place of your dreams.


etoile Oye said...

My feeling of wonder at the process of child-birth is rivaled, if not surpassed by my fear and anxiety. I'm sure I would have run out like you did. But think, Dava, this was when you were there as a spectator. Imagine what it will be like being the show...

Davida 'Dava' Linkinjinks said...

I know! I can't say my mind didn't swirl with visions of epidurals...