We are often told not to judge people around us. That is a joke in my trauma department. We don’t discriminate against alcoholics, drug addicts, physical abusers, murderers, we just do our job. We see wrong, we deal with wrong. Of course there is snickering, and laughing but at the end of the day, there is business as usual. We do what we love to do. We save lives. But in no way are we noble. We judge everyone and everything around us. My best defense, doctors are also human.
I got bruised again. The first one I remember clearly. How I got it. Why I got it. My husband and I laughed about it. It amused us so much, that it became our inside joke. When asked, I candidly blamed my husband for the obvious ugly bruise on my arm. Then the second one appeared. I couldn’t remember how. Neither could he. People asked more questions. looked at me funny. Funnier at the man next to me. I noticed it. So did he.
It took me sometime to realize that people were giving my husband and I funny looks, because of their assumptions. It wasn’t hurtful, just amusing. The amusement soon turned into indignation when the questions and unasked for concern started pouring in. What was I to do then? Explain to these quick-to-judge people that I wasn’t being abused. Did they deserve an explanation? If I did, would it only make matters worse? So I didn’t. I let people think what they wanted to and went about my own business.
It did make me step back and think about my own assumptions and how off base I could be.