{Image Source}Dating a medical student will eventually leave you somewhat desensitized to the description of bloods and guts. Back when I was an innocent business major, I liked to imagine we humans ran on cotton candy, peppermint, and gum drops. When Mori tells this to his medical friends they crack up - but I long for those simpler times when I didn't have to think about stomach pace makers, accidentally snipped blood vessels during surgery, gore etc.
Somewhere along the way my "outside voice" became desensitized to it as well. An "outside voice" to me is the one that you use in public or around co-workers. For example:
Inside Voice:Elle: "Hi, can I schedule a pap smear with my gynecologist? Oh and I can't find my IUD string - what should I do?"
Outside Voice:Elle: "Hi, I'd like to schedule an annual checkup with my doctor." (No further details)
When Mori took Anatomy was when my appropriate outside voice was morphed into something all together different. These days you can find me walking from work to my house saying rather loudly: "Did the patient have his vas deferens removed?" or "Do patients with hysterectomies look different from those who don't?" I can't help it. Some of this stuff fascinates me and like a little child I'm blurting out different intestinal tracts and genital names on Main Street in a crowd of tourists. His gynecology and surgery shadowing this past week has definitely made me appear foul-mouthed to passer-bys.
But then one morning something happened that made me realize I was not alone in this new-found inappropriate public display.
I walked into the elevator of my building and saw a couple, one in scrubs, standing inside. I pressed my floor button and as our ancient elevator slowly churned upwards I started catching up in their rather loud conversation.
The man in scrubs was going on in rather graphic detail about what the inside of his patient's intestines looked like during a colonoscopy. I stood there, sipping my morning coffee and listening quietly. Then the woman asked "What happened to him?" (I think it was a bad case of rectal cancer, I didn't catch the diagnosis part). Scrubs replied somberly: "Oh, he died." And at that moment they both realized that a stranger was standing with them listening to this crude conversation. Their looks of sheer terror and embarrassment surprised me!
I laughed nervously, "Oh no worries, my boyfriend is a medical student!" and stepped off the elevator, still sipping my coffee and starting to feel hungry for a bagel.
