Marrying-a-doctor Syndrome

A few months ago, I got the opportunity to write a back-pager for the Medi-Clinic Magazine.

So since we’re all friends here, I thought I’d share.

This is the cover of the mag. Hmmm, I never knew what Ina Paarman actually looked like before this, and she’s been in my kitchen for years, so it’s nice to finally put a face to a name.

And here’s the column, I’ve pasted the unedited version below the pic, where it’s probs easier to read, unless you have super-sonic eyesight.

BEFORE YOU GO – By Paige Nick

What is it with mothers wanting their daughters to marry doctors? It’s a well-documented worldwide phenomenon. It’s every mother’s hope and dream that their lovely young lady dates a nice young doctor. And if she then goes on to marry him, a thousand points to everyone.

The first mother to want this more than a hand-stitched doily made out of golden thread clearly wasn’t married to a doctor herself. I dated an MD briefly (my mother was ecstatic), so I have a little experience in this department.

First of all they are the most dedicated human beings alive, and sickness doesn’t care if there’s dinner on the table at eight, which means they work crazy hours. You may as well marry a night watchman, or a nightclub owner, or even a DJ.

And the fact that doctors are always on call isn’t the only problem, there are also a series of other issues one needs to be aware of when dating a doctor. The first is that depending on what kind of doctor they are, they probably spend an awful lot of time looking at other women’s lady parts. They also know what you look like on the inside, and have a thorough understanding of what makes your heart beat. Which starts out as a perk, but give it a couple of years.

I bet you can never win an argument if you’re married to a doctor. I imagine the conversation would go something like this:
YOU: ‘I can’t believe you forgot to bring home milk, again. I reminded you four times!’
MD: ‘I saved a teenager with a gunshot wound to the buttock and gave birth to three babies before lunch time, so I’m sorry I forgot the milk!’

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Who can be angry with that? You lose every argument by default. Somehow saving lives beats forgetting to put the lid back on the toothpaste, every time.

You can also forget about snuggling up together on the couch on a Monday night to watch Gray’s Anatomy with your doctor-lover. It’s no fun watching a medical show with an actual qualified doctor. You can feel the eyeball rolling and disbelief radiating off of them at every plot turn.

There’s more. Go out with a doctor and you’ll soon discover that every person you meet will proceed to expose their irregular bump, rash, lesion or swelling on random parts of their bodies, and expect an immediate and free diagnosis. Try enjoying your crème brulée while looking at a perfect stranger’s inflated big toe. It’s not possible.

Look, it’s not all bad, the money’s good, there’s some prestige involved, and it’s super-handy to have someone around to calmly tell you that, yes, even though your finger is a little sore, you probably don’t have finger cancer, it’s more likely just from too much texting.

I have a better idea; shouldn’t our mothers rather want us to marry accountants or tax specialists instead? They work hard, but always well within office hours, and looking at lady parts isn’t part of their job description. And the best part is that when tax season rolls around, boom, you’re sorted.

Or what about a plumber or electrician? That would be handy too. I don’t know about you, but there’s always a light bulb out somewhere in my house, and if I turn on the microwave and the kettle at the same time the whole house trips.

Or better yet, what about a fireman? Surely all mothers should want their daughters to date firemen? It’s certainly what their daughters would want. For starters, they know what to do if there’s a fire, or in other major life threatening situations, like if there’s a kitten up a tree. And they’re great at posing for calendars, so there would never be a shortage of those in the house. And then there’s that uniform. Did I mention the uniform?

So mom’s what do you say we leave the doctors to focus on saving lives for now. And accountant fathers, lock up your accountant sons.

One response to “Marrying-a-doctor Syndrome”

  1. Tania says:

    I had one of those friends, note the past tense.
    She desprately wanted to marry a doctor and when she found the perfect, dedicated, trauma surgeon she hated her life. She still does.

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