The Herds

If you've ever spent any time in a teaching hospital, you might know what I'm talking about when I refer to "The Herds". They are the swarms of doctors that come by to see me in the morning. Usually one resident or fellow wakes me up at about 6 or 7 AM to check in on me. He or she usually asks the requisite questions and takes a quick look at my wound (butt). It's a strange wakeup call.

After that first wakeup, I may or may not fall back asleep, but I can be sure to expect a flurry of similar visits. At one point the orthopedic posse will come by (can I still say "posse" in 2010?). This can be anywhere from 5-7 people standing around my bed looking at my butt and will often contain the resident or fellow who already checked on me earlier in the morning. I guess they can't resist a second look!


Dr. K is one of my favorite residents. She is young, probably late 20s/early 30s. You can tell she has her act together. She looks like she was the captain of the field hockey team as an undergrad. I appreciate the fact that she can make a joke or some light conversation here and there. It's nice to have someone to mitigate the social awkwardness Sometimes the herds just show up and start off by just staring at me.


Also in this group is Dr. F. He has special significance because he was the fellow working with the doctor who diagnosed me back in October. Then at my admittance day on Monday, he popped up again because he had rotated over to MGH to work under my surgeon. I thought this was a somewhat amazing coincidence. I'd spoken with him since before my biopsy in September and he was one of only 4 of us present at my diagnosis (D. said he thought Dr. F. got choked up when I cried upon hearing my diagnosis). Now he'd coincidentally "followed" me over to MGH just in time to be present at my surgery. I like him. He has a surprising Southern accent and an approachable, human manner.


Then there's the Plastic Surgery crew. The Plastic Surgeon did a lot of the heavy lifting in the surgery. He is not a plastic surgeon of the Dr. 90210 variety. He specializes in cases like mine: people who have had radiation. His entourage uses words like "beautiful" to refer to my wound. Don't get me wrong; I'd rather hear that than "Yikes!" or "Good God!" when someone is looking at my buttocks. Still, it always strikes me as a strange adjective for a wound that is healing. Someone needs to come up with an adjective that means "healing well".


The head surgeons have each come by once on their own. I don't think either of them have looked at the wound. It is more of a courtesy thing. More of a quick "How you doin'?" than a "How are you currently feeling?"


It's funny to be one of all these doctors' little guinea pigs, and I've abandoned all modesty, about my butt at least. They are so darn earnest and I have to love them for it. It makes it easier to moon them before breakfast each morning.