Last night Chris' pager was going off like Rebecca Black's cell on a Friday night. I felt for the guy. He missed dinner with friends, spent the evening at the hospital and then fielded phone calls for a few hours after he got home. As he would answer one page, another would go off.
I realized, I could never be a doctor. (You've probably already come to that conclusion but last night I ruled out any chance of going to medical school in my future.) I would have grown really frustrated and probably thrown the pager across the room the umpteenth time it buzzed. Several passive aggressive comments would have been made when I called back the hospital staff and I'd feel silly and foolish the next morning. That's kind of how I roll under pressure.
Chris keeps his cool. He does what needs to be done. He never complains. He is calm and collected when talking to frustrated consultants, harried nurses, and worried patients. He's on call every other night this week. But, then, the pager will be silent for an entire seven days. Ahhhhh! Freedom.
You have no idea what the buzz of a pager can do to kill the party when a bunch of medical families get together.
Filed under: Pagers are lame.