Spending the day with my Dad

My father has not accepted the fact that I don't want to be a doctor. I'm not sure I've completely accepted it either.

Today, we had a whole hour for lunch. That usually never happens. Even though we don't schedule patients between 12:00 and 1:00, Dad usually doesn't get done seeing patients until 12:30 or 12:40. Then we have to rush to get food and come back in time for him to see the next patient at 1:00 (sometimes we don't get back until 1:15...). Well, Dad got done with his morning patients at 12:30, but our next patient wasn't scheduled until 1:30. So Dad decided to discharge a couple patients at the hospital. He usually saves that kind of stuff for after work, then he doesn't get home until 9:00, and we don't eat dinner until 10:00 (Mom and I usually wait for him, so he doesn't have to eat alone).

Dad used to take us on his rounds all the time. My sister and I must have spent hours of our childhoods in waiting rooms, nurses stations and doctor's lounges. Going to the hospital today though, I was amazed at how much it has changed since Noona and I were little. For one thing, the ceilings are a lot lower than I remembered, and the chairs in the waiting rooms area a lot nicer. It felt familiar, but exciting also because there were so many new things and people bustling about.

As I stepped onto the fifth floor of the hospital, I began to think that this is a type of job I could actually get used to. Seeing people, helping them, staying up for twenty-four hours at a time (which, if you know me, is something I would do if I was bored and there was nothing else to do).

Dad and I went to see two of the patients he was going to discharge. There were two patients, and both of them were very happy to see my dad. The one lady had a big smile on her face and she just talked and talked. The other patient and his wife both had big hellos and smiles for my dad. I could tell all of them held my dad in high esteem. It made me happy to seem that Dad is such a well-liked guy.

Before he discharged them though, he had to write some notes in a big discharge book or something. I stood around and waited. I felt like I was in the way. The more I waited, the more I could feel the ceiling getting lower and the walls moving closer. The nurses didn't seem to smile as much either. I began to think of all the school I'd have to go through, and the hours of studying that I would probably waste away playing video games and knitting. Then a nurse noticed me hanging around behind my father.

Nurse: Oh, Dr. Loo, is this your daughter?

Dad: Yeah, that's one of them.

Nurse: Your dad's showing you the ropes, huh?

Laura: (with a half-smile) Yeah, I guess so.

Nurse: (smiling to another nurse) She doesn't seem too excited.

Laura: It's just that we're on our lunch break and he promised me food! (Both nurses laugh and get on with their business.)

After that, I waited around until Dad was done writing, then we went to the cafeteria to eat lunch. The food in hospital cafeterias are the same as any cafeteria. I had chicken alfredo and some breaded mushrooms. As Dad was paying for the food, he asks, "Is the physician's room open?" The cashier nodded yes, and we went through an unmarked swinging door to the physician's lounge.

This lounge was a small room with a single wooden, glass-topped table. Sitting around it were two men and two women. While I was there, they talked about their families, hospitals in India, insurance companies and fraud, and the war in Iraq. I guess it was stuff lots of doctors between the ages of 30 and 60 probably talk about when they're in the physician's lounge: grown-up talk with a medical twist. I didn't say a word, mostly because I didn't have anything to say. I was content just to listen (I really just didn't want open my mouth and make a fool of myself).

After that, we went back to the office. On the way, Dad told me about all of his doctor friends that he graduated with, and how some of their offspring are also becoming doctors. I smiled and sighed a lot.

The thing is, I know I could be a doctor, and I know how proud my dad would be if I was one. It seems like something I'd be good at, you know? I don't mind late nights, I'd probably do well in diagnosing problems, I like talking with people, and I know I'd enjoy being in a position of respect. The thing is, I don't think I'd like it very much. In high school I was pretty had pretty decent times for the 300m hurdles (I actually went to State for that event), but I didn't like running them. 300m hurdles were my least favorite event, but I ran them because no one else would do them and the team needed me.

I want to be in theater, but it's hard to make the first step. I mean, I live in the thumb of Michigan (or the black hole of theater), my fiance (oh that word :-) lives in Snowtown, and I have to work for my Dad's clinic for a year to save some money. For me, the easier road to take involves medical school, and a crapload of studying. If I did that, it'd be easy for me to get a job, because not only does my dad have connections to three major hospitals in the area, he and my mom have a bunch classmates in Florida and other places, and I could probably get a letter of recommendation to lots of different places.

Going for theater would mean going out on my own. I'd have to get enough experience to look good to a theater program (since I don't have an undergrad degree in theater) for them to accept me. If I got accepted, then after I finish with the program, I'd still have to find some jobs or some way to support myself. It's scary. At least with the safe way, I wouldn't have to worry too much about my finances.

I guess I'll just stay in destiny limbo for a little while longer. I've already been here a year, it's not bad.

It's not good, but it's not bad.