We're a funny bunch, us doctor-types.
Funny "strange", not funny "ha ha".
(Although some of us have been known to be in possession of a rather hilarious wit.)
What I'm trying to say is that we are not what one would call... normal people.
Oh, we can fool you, and put on our professional serious bedside-manner hats.
And pretend that we've shut down our emotions in order to stay objective.
But you need to know that underneath that white coat lurks a complete lunatic, who after years of desensitisation, and total sleep deprivation, is usually cruising along at work, at a speed known as, "this close to cracking".
And...well...somewhere along the line there's that one poor sod who's going to push that doctor over the edge.
Sorry for you buddy, but you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Like the guy who stumbled into the front room, trashed out of his mind and stabbed in the hand... and proceeded to vomit, and bleed, on my chair.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed at him, that's MY CHAIR!!!!! My chair, my place to rest my bum! My place to sit down and pretend to be civilised and write my notes. MY CHAIR!!!!
Not, "Oh dear, sir, I see that you are bleeding and having some trouble with your retrograde intestinal motility, how can I help you?"
Just, "NO". (What's wrong with me!?!)
That's known ANGER and IRRATIONALITY.
The IRRATIONAL ANGER was recently preceeded by SYMPATHY and DESPAIR, having just held a sobbing mother in my arms after telling her that we'd failed to resuscitate her son. He was stabbed in the back and brought in by the ambulance in cardiac arrest. She told me that she knew who had stabbed her son, and that this criminal had also killed her firstborn child one year ago. (Believe it, because it's true.)
And before the SYMPATHY and DESPAIR, there was MANIACAL ELATION when I checked the lumbar puncture result of my ?meningitis? patient and there were NO red blood cells in my perfect CSF sample, prompting a spontaneous victory dance in front of my colleagues in casualty.
Quite rapid cycling through some extreme emotions in the space of about two hours, wouldn't you agree?
I think it's safe to say that I was suffering from emotional incontinence...
That sphincter on my amygdala needs some major re-tightening, it's slightly worn out at the moment ... just dribble dribble dribble, emotions seeping out with no filter of restraint...
Someone needs to put a diaper on this mental diarrhoea.