My mother was thrilled when I told her I wanted to be nurse. I was 5 years old. To her, going to nursing school was the fastest way of finding a doctor and getting him to the alter. Yes, in 1959 being Mrs. M.D. was the American Dream. Many years later, I broke her heart when I married a furniture salesman.
After my divorce, I said I would never date a doctor. Why would I? After working all day in a hospital, I wanted to go out with someone who wasn’t in health care. But then I met an Aussie emergency room physician, Dr. Hot Stuff. He was dreamy. The blond hair, the blue eyes, his sharp wit, he was everything I was looking for in a man. And I always was a sucker for an Australian accent. My mother loved the guy. She started planning our wedding.
The nurses I worked with adored my suitor. When they called him for orders, they would ask him to repeat himself two or three times. He asked me if people couldn’t understand him because of his accent. I told him the nurses understood him; they just wanted to hear his sexy voice.
Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. I dumped him when I found out about his wife and six kids back in Australia. Yeah, he said they slipped his mind.