The walking misfit

There is no doubt that when I walk into the waiting room, all eyes turn to stare at me. I look down at the file and read off the name. My stethoscope swings nervously from my hand and I look up to see who it will be.

A couple approaches me and I read the uncertainty in their eyes.

I smile, that smile that betrayed no apprehension.

"Hi. How's it going? This way please."

As they enter the room, I shut the door behind me and I know, that the many pairs of eyes that turned to stare when I first made my presence, are still following me.
"Hi I'm Moon and I'm a student doctor. The doctor will be here in just a few minutes and while we wait, I would like to take your history if that's ok with you."

And so it was for that whole long afternoon.

A good friend said to me the other day, "It's not a good time to be different." I couldn't agree more.

Let's face it. I am a walking misfit.
It used to be in university, us 'misfits' were plenty and in some way we could blend in. But being quite a rare breed at the Alfred, I walk alone. I could be with a crowd of colleagues, but when I walk, I walk alone.

But misfits recognise each other. They are those people in society that for whatever reason, they will always be judged for the same and no different. They, like me, are blinking neon signs that shout, "I am exactly who you think I am. Come on and stare at me."

But while a lap-band surgery can remove that enormous amount of weight off that morbidly obese patient, no amount of genius surgery can rectify my conspicousness. There are some patients, who when you meet them, exude that genuine warmth that simply humbles you. You question yourself, why me?

What did I do to deserve this?
They are your societal misfits. The morbidly obese patient who confesses to you that she's glad you were there because she knew you would understand, the reforming drug addict who remembers your name and calls out to you each time he sees you, and the gay nurse who confesses he loves your shoes and gossips with you about those bloody doctors.

He also tells you, you're one of them. One of those students that will become good doctors.

You know he's probably just being nice, but deep down inside, you are humbled. You found yet another person who believes in you.

I wake up at 4 am and leave home by 5 am. I cycle twenty minutes to the nearest station. The train reaches Toorak just in time and I then sprint to catch the tram. Its 6.20 am and I'm at the Alfred.

Dump my bag and nikes in my locker. I strap on my pager and tag and put on my pink pointed shoes.

Its ward rounds at 6.30 am.

I say goodbye to my last patient at 5.30 pm.

I reach home at 7 pm.

I couldn't feel more alive.

Every step I take, I alter your thinking. I prove you wrong.

I surprise you.
Every word I speak, I break your perceptions.
Every answer I give, I shatter your beliefs.
Every smile I give, I give it with heart.

You will remember me but I won't remember you.

And I do it everyday not because I have to, but because I like to.

Even when I have to wake up at 4 am to do so.

Victory doesn't go to the strongest or the fastest. It goes to who wants it the most.

How badly do you want it?