true stories

I've never had much of an interest in writing fiction, because (among other reasons) it seems to me the best stories come from real life. Take, for example, the one about the morbidly obese man who went to the hospital for medical attention. Problem was, he was so big he hadn't reclined in ages because the weight of his own chest made breathing difficult. So the nurses and doctors helped him on to a gurney, which caused a massive resettling of his flesh for the first time in years, which in turn caused an old cheese sandwich to fall out from the folds.

Doctors have some of the best stories, whether tragic or funny or poignant or humiliating. A fourth-year med student told me last night that a woman brought her young daughter to the pediatric emergency unit, worried about a lump on the girl's chest. Could you, as the doctor, explain with a straight face that the girl will likely develop another lump, on the other side of her chest, and that these lumps are normal and commonly referred to as breasts? No need for surgery today.

But that's why stories are so good. They make you look at yourself and your perspective and your own history and biases. They keep me going.

I leave tomorrow to celebrate the birth of some peoples' lord with my unbelieving family, then I'm off to sail in clear blue Caribbean waters for 10 days. If all goes well, I'll return with stories to share (hopefully not medical in nature) and a tan to be smug about. Happy new year. See you on the flapjack.