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As you probably know by now, the decor of medical offices fascinates me. Since this is the time of year following my annual check up, I've been sent to a couple of specialists just on the off chance. Today's pictures remind me of why I became a journalist.
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Back when I entered college, the standard career options for one of a female persuasion were 1) teaching, 2) nursing and 3) maybe social work (if you'd ever heard of it). To all of which I said, "no way!" As you guessed, the pictures remind me of the nursing choice; no stomach for all that icky stuff!
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Of course, they also remind me that I was never going to be a real blood and guts newspaper reporter, either. I wound up working the trade press where the pinnacle of my career was one of the few in-depth interview allowed by Ray Croc, the man who invented McDonald's. (Also Col. Sanders, the real article.)
7 comments:
Oh my! I hope all went well.
Great! If ya gotta go you might as well make art!
Well done!
This reminds me of the literature I used to see at a general practitioner's clinic back in Goa whenever I landed in trouble. Every patient would see each exhibit carefully while they awaited their turn.
Your time as a journalist must have been memorable for the human interest stories the job afforded.
Is there a link to the interview you mention?
jartart -- I hope all is weell -- this was a fairly routine part of the checkup.
ron -- scary art, at that. The stuff of nightmares, I'd say.
anil -- unfortunately that interview was back in the 60s; I'm sure that none of the magazine pages from history have been scanned!
It is peculiar what attracts, or interests us. I still fing 'guts' to be interesting, & wish I had followed my nursing career. If I am ill, I still like a graphic illustration, to understand my condition. The older I get, the more I wish I had become a vet.
Find, not fing!! Clot that I am!!
meggie -- too bad you didn't become a vet; from what I've read at your post, you would have made a kind, loving animal doctor.
BTW, no clod you -- you caught your booboo. Me, I leave a trail of uncorrected, unseen typos in my wake.
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