Tempus Does Fairly Fugit
It's apparently time to go shopping for walkers because the unthinkable has happened. I have apparently jumped a generation gap.
Amazingly, it's already been a year since Doctor Appreciation Day (never fear--they're as neglected on their day as MTs are during MT Week). I find it no less difficult to find some warm, fuzzy thoughts for the vast majority of my dictators but obviously, the difference this year is that I'm now working an account that is a teaching hospital and full of greenhorns. Suddenly, half my dictators are young men who could use a lesson in the benefits of a vigorous session with a hankie and girls who sound like they probably still have a Barbie or two in their locker. This whole thing came to a head recently, though, when I got one who sounds like she's no more than four years old--nearly impossible to understand, thanks to her infantile voice--so tiny, she's nearly impossible to boost into hearing range, and the fact that she can't seem to wrap herself around the English language, let alone medicalese, makes me wide-eyed with horror and frustration. This is not even a fourth-year medical student--this is an actual resident. What MUST her patients think when she appears on the case, without even a "real" doctor hovering over her? No matter how fond people might have been of Doogie Howser, I can't imagine they would easily accept someone who sounds as though she's just graduated to big girl underwear. It strikes me as frightening as much as amazing.
Holy cow. When did I get so old? Maybe part of it is that my own baby just turned 20 last week--but even so, she hasn't sounded tiny for a decade, and she isn't making life and death decisions for other people. What's next--will I stop bristling the next time a doctor refers to a 40-year-old as "middle-aged?" Will I actually pause before tossing those AARP invites into the circular file?
Thankfully, even the youngsters I get are (for the most part) excellent dictators. Perhaps they're now teaching dictation skills in medical school (dare we hope?), because these folks do seem to take care to enunciate, spell when they trip over a pronunciation, and rarely race through just to escape an unpleasant task. Perhaps it's the hospital itself, which is actually a major player and should be leading the way. Whatever the reason, I am thankful. As much as I stressed out about the move to a new account last year, it was a move for the better.
This sudden sense of ageism I'm flirting with cannot be a good sign, however. Even though my mom assured me years ago that everyone's self image gets stuck around age 20, I feel I should up my vitamin intake and head for the henna before someone mistakes me for a grandma. Cue the identity crisis.