Emotional Female by Yumiko Kadota

Author:Yumiko Kadota [Kadota, Yumiko]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Personal Memoirs, Medical (Incl. Patients), Medical, mental health, General, Ethics
ISBN: 9781760145002
Google: 7KgJEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2021-03-02T21:31:17+00:00

Fergus was the first reliever we had covering for Mark. Fergus had gingery-brown curls, freckles, broad shoulders and no neck. Within moments of meeting him he launched into some heavy-duty name-dropping. He was writing a textbook chapter with a famous plastic surgeon in Melbourne, and proceeded to mansplain to me the entire contents of said chapter.

‘So, I’m presuming you’re Japanese,’ he said. ‘Konnichiwa. Chotto nihongo hanasemasu,’ he continued proudly before I could answer. ‘Hello. I can speak a little bit of Japanese.’

I hated when people talked at me in Japanese. It was as ridiculous as barking at a dog or cooing at a pigeon. I speak English. What made him assume that I could speak Japanese anyway?

‘My last girlfriend was Asian,’ he went on. ‘Actually, all of my girlfriends have been Asian.’

I drank my coffee as quickly as possible. ‘I might head back to the hospital. I have a few things I have to do. You take your time, Fergus.’

‘Oh, I’ll walk back with you,’ he said.

‘No, no, it’s fine. I can walk by myself. You enjoy your coffee,’ I said and hurried out.

Thankfully, Fergus was only around for a week. Our next reliever was Christian, who was tall and quiet. He had dark brown hair, blue eyes and big muscles. On his first day, we were paged to the Emergency Department to see a patient with a wound on his back. Christian didn’t need to say a thing when we arrived.

‘Hi, I’m Annalise. Let me know if you need anything,’ offered a young nurse, batting her lash extensions at him and following closely behind as he went to see the patient.

‘Could I have a dressing pack?’ he asked.

‘Oh yes, of course,’ Annalise replied, and rushed immediately to get him a trolley set up with a dressing pack, cleaning solution and a selection of dressings. ‘I didn’t know what you needed so I brought you everything – gauze, Opsite, Hypafix . . . We have more dressings if there’s something else you want?’

Later that day, we got another page about a similar patient. It was a simple abscess so I told Christian that I was fine to go on my own. I saw Annalise again, so I asked her for the same dressing set-up.

‘Go to the back of the Emergency Department – you’ll find the supplies there,’ she said, her expression unrecognisable from the bubbly nurse who had fussed over Christian just a few hours before. Of course, this was nothing new to me: I thought back to Carlos on the General Medicine ward in Melbourne, and his effect on the nurses there. Male doctors, it seemed, just needed to be confident. Handsome male doctors just needed to be handsome. Women doctors just needed, apparently, to wear pearls and a chignon, and spend weeks engaging in girly chats with the female nurses to gain their support.

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