Stories of this Canadian girl's adventures exploring Europe...join me!

Sunday, November 13, 2011

doctor love

I have a friend who has fallen in love with her doctor...her plastic surgeon to be exact. Okay,‘fallen in love’ is maybe too strong to say, but she definitely has a big ‘ol, badass crush. She has been watching online videos of him, trying to figure out if she can tell whether he’s married or single. She has rehearsed what she’s going to say when she sees him again at her follow-up appointment. ‘How do you get onto a personal level with a medical practioner?’, she asks me. He is so sweet and warm and friendly. ‘Do you think that he is like that with every patient?’ Hmmm, could be, could be.

Unfortunately, she went to her first two consultations with her husband. So, now there is the added problem in that she thinks that the doc thinks she’s probably not interested in something more, if the doc happened to be interested in something more, because he would think that she thinks that he’s just being nice. Do you get what I’m saying? It’s a conundrum.

In her first follow-up appointment, after surgery, he was very rushed…friendly, but rushed. He inspected his two new creations with warmth and good humour, but in all her anxiety about what to say, she ended up not saying very much. He did tell her that he wants to see her again, a week before Christmas, and so, that’s hopeful. She will dress all up, with an LBD and maybe some cute, kitten heels and tell him that she just happens to be coming from a Christmas party at work. Then she’ll slip him a card inviting him out for a drink. It’ll be her last chance. I mean, hoping that something goes wrong with her post-op recovery just so that she can see him more…that’s just plum crazy, right?

I wonder how many cards he has stashed away in his desk. On the other hand, I think I have read many a story in People and US magazines about very, happy celebs who have lived happily ever after (in Hollywood years) with their plastic surgeons, right? How weird is it to get to second base with someone you like without them knowing that you’re all excited to be at second base. The life of a doctor…uh, plastic surgeon.

P.S. I should say that I am proud of my friend, not necessarily because she had surgery (to each his/her own) but because she had an operation that was for herself and not for attention. I don’t think that there is anyone, other than those close to her, who would be able to tell that she had anything done. I like that. It was a private thing, between her and her husband…and her plastic surgeon.
Share:

No comments

Post a Comment

Blogger Template Created by pipdig