Answering machine message
When I began working at the hospital in Lakeshore, I lived in Mapleton, which was 63 miles away. Consequently, I would usually stay in Lakeshore while I worked for a few days, and then go home to enjoy some time off. One of my first routines upon arriving home was, not surprisingly, listening to my answering machine. One message was brief, but to the point, saying in a seductive female voice obviously tinged by alcohol, “You treated me in the emergency room, and now I want you to treat me!”
I racked my brain trying to think who it might have been, not because I would have done anything with her, but simply out of curiosity. Given the number of people that I see in the ER, it was difficult to associate her voice (the alcohol didn't help, either) with any patient that I had recently treated.
Some women are more immediate in their approach. A couple of years ago, while wearing a green scrub suit and standing at the nursing desk writing orders, a patient asked one of the staff members a question about me. In a loud voice she inquired, “Is the guy in the green pants a doctor?”
When told that I was, she exclaimed, “He's a cute little thing, isn't he?”
For some reason, people tend to perceive me as being small. This is baffling to me, since I am 5' 8½" (and don't forget that extra ½"!) tall, which is very close to the average height of a man.
Several months later, I went into an examination room and asked a patient how she felt. She paused briefly, smiled, and said, “The more I look at you, the better I feel!”
Another young lady, lying on a gurney in one of the hallways, blurted out, “There's that cute Dr. Pezzi again! I saw you a few months ago. Remember me?”
Such comments surprise me, because I never thought that my appearance warranted such encomia. I suppose there is something about a “doctor's coat” that makes a man more appealing.
On the other end of the age spectrum, a 67-year-old lady being seen for chest pain asked me, “What are you doing when you get off work?”
As I tend to have a thick skull sometimes, I asked her, “Why do you want to know?”
In an ardent and almost hormonally-induced ebullience she proclaimed, “So we can party together!”
At least she, and the others mentioned above, were nice enough in their approach; I cannot say the same for the following person.
Working the afternoon shift a few years ago, I asked the other doctor working with me if he would mind seeing a patient. This patient made a few prefatory remarks that led me to conclude that my encounter with her would not be on a very professional level. Although the administrators at my hospital might find this hard to believe, I do try to steer clear of trouble, but the other doc wouldn't help me. “No, you go see her, Kevin. She's cute! She likes you!”
The patient did not waste any time. “What's your phone number, Doc?”
Feigning stupidity, I asked, “Do you mean the number of the emergency department?”
“No, I want your home number!”
Trying to reply in a gee-why-would-anyone-want-that? tone of voice, I said, “Why?”
Leaning forward, smiling, and rolling her hips slightly, she explained, “Because I want to date you!”
Still acting stupid, I inquired, “Why would you want to date me?”
She was blunt, and without batting an eye she said, “Because I want to make love to you!”
Having met this person about five minutes ago, I knew she was not one to waste time. Without any encouragement on my part, and perhaps in an attempt to entice me, she then went on to describe in graphic detail other things she wanted to do to me. And then, in a tone of voice that suggested that her next comment would not conflict in any way with what she had just offered, she continued, “Oh, I think I may have AIDS. Can you check me for AIDS while I'm here?”
I wasn't surprised.
Julia was another devotee of the direct approach. I'd seen Julia in the ER recently, and she apparently liked me, because she came to give me the key to her apartment. I wasn't working on the day she returned, so she gave the key to the on-duty ER doctor, asking him to forward the key to me. This piqued his interest, so he began chatting with her. It did not take long for the doc to realize that this person was deranged, so he committed her to the psychiatric ward. Another great romance bites the dust.
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