Twenty-two years ago, as a three-year-old, my daughter Kay used to dress up in a nurse's uniform. She'd order her grandfather to lie down on the sofa and pretend he had been in a monumental traffic accident. He had a broken leg and, worse than that, shards of glass sticking out of it too. She would grab her doctor's bag marked with a red cross, get out her plastic stethoscope, tweezers and syringe and get to work on him. He would be bandaged from head to foot and then sent home. She would then call for her next patient - her long-suffering grandfather once more - to re-enact another scenario. She never tired of it and surprisingly nor did her poor obliging grandfather.
Twenty-two years on, Kay is now into her second year as a junior doctor. She has just started her first 4-month placement in a large London teaching hospital......... in A&E. Twenty-two years later she's doing it for real. Living the dream.
5 comments:
A lovely story about your granddaughter (?). I am sorry to hear that you lost your husband, I lost mine this year. It's very hard.
What a lovely memory! I remember my grandfather obediently 'dying' a million deaths for my brother, who was being the cowboy (grandfather was all the baddies). Sadly, my brother hasn't become the sheriff with the white hat .... yet ;)
Good for her - you must be very proud! XX
It's good that this passion that lasted all her life has proved to be fruitful........ (maybe thanks to Grandpa!)
Lovely story.
Maggie x
I'm thrilled she's got there! I haven't visited your blog since a few months after Greg died, but you and Kay suddenly came to mind so I had to drop by!
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