Chicks dig scars.

Yesterday while my sister was working in Casualty, a small boy came in with a small cut on his chin.  His parents were slightly over-concerned.

The child was barely pushing four years old, and the two-centimeter cut on the underside of his chin didn't even require stitches, but his father said anxiously "We have private insurance.  Can we please make an appointment with a plastic surgeon?"

The nurse and the consultant and Dr Tabubil and the resident, (the parents really were a wee bit over-concerned about the injury) looked at each other, but Dr Tabubil got the first word in.

            "Pssssh."  She said, and flapped a hand in unconcern.  "Chicks dig scars!"

            "I'm a little worried" she told me later, "that I'm getting a reputation as That Intern who has absolutely no filter between her mouth and her brain.  This morning I had to introduce myself to a consultant in the ER and you know how I did it? 

            I said 'Hi!  I'm Dr Tabubil, the resident!  Actually, I'm a first year intern, but saying that I'm a first year intern makes it sound as if I don't know anything, which is only sort of true because I've learned a lot this year so far and apparently I'm really good at suturing, and I want you to have confidence in me so that you'll show me the interesting things, so it's better if I call myself a resident!'  And at that point I managed to stop talking.  A bit too late, don't you think?

            But the consultant didn’t seem to mind.  He took me off to see a really cool shoulder dislocation and let me do all the pulling.  I can't actually move my own arms tonight after doing it, so I think he might have been trying to make a point.  What do you think?"