I whisper your name (ayradyss) wrote,
I whisper your name
ayradyss

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"But you're the most organised one, so I called you..."

Pager went off this evening. Shubi wanted to know, since she got out late, if I knew what surgeries were taken for tomorrow. This morning, I looked at Andy and offered him his pick from the list of un-spoken-for patients, as one of his was slated for discharge. He picked one, handed my list back. Jokingly, I asked him if they were going to get me something for Secretaries' day. "We should." Dr. C commented on my notecards today. "Those are pretty slick."
I'm not naturally organised. Honest, I'm not. But I know if I don't overcompensate for my naturally disorganised state by being compulsive about things I'll die a horrible screaming death from not having things done. And then someone will get mad at me, and yell, and that will be the end of the world.
M started to pick my notes apart today, before she got called to the OR. Little things - she had to get nit-picky about whether the orders from this morning were the orders that had actually been carried out in the end, whether fever and sepsis were two different problems, whether I had done things exactly right. All the other residents just sign the bloody things. They're impressed with my thoroughness. I don't know enough to get by on skill and experience; I must rely on being compulsively thorough, or I'll miss something. But M found things to pick at, and I felt a knot in my throat as I reflexively tried to defend myself. And she has this extremely clear diction, and a soft voice, and a hint of some kind of accent that makes her sound like Dr. S, my third-grade teacher. And I just wanted to cry suddenly because it wasn't perfect.
I'm over that now. But it's there in me, this beast of compulsion and the tears I try so hard to control. Maybe that's why I try so hard to overcompensate, to be organised, to do things right. Because I'm afraid of failing. And I'm afraid now that I look like a ringer, like I'm trying too hard and it shows, that I'm bossy and pushy and overbearing. And I'm afraid everyone secretly hates me and won't tell me. I don't want to be the person everyone's nice to at school but never invites to parties.

It's late, O Best Beloved, 9:30 already, and I was going to go to bed early. I'm posting this entry and one more after it, then to sleep.
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