Greens

From shallow people to dishpots. Yesterday was a day of shallow people and today I had finally got back to the normal zone. Richard Marks appeared. He often does appear .  Richard is one of the brain-boxes behind Remedy UK. By comparison to Professor"Shallow" Jarman, Marks is funny, warm and generous. Well, I suppose we can call him "fluffy" in a way. Yes, despite our minor tiffs, I quite like Richard. It helps that he has a brain that ticks a little faster than mine. It is also a plus that I consider him to be  a lush puppy. Richard copes well with these behavioural traits of mine. Brave man! Actually, "very brave man". Since I walked the path of blowing the whistle, few men have had the stamina to last all the way. Normally, all whistleblowers are handcuffed by the medical establishment, blind folded and whipped senseless and finally gagged. Richard though isn't into that kind of thing. He simply prefers to get straight down to the point without messing around.

Richard grafted away editing  Remedy UK's "Support Bolsin" Letter. In 24 hours, I think he produced a masterpiece. [gush, gush]

The problem with Richard is that he puts  ideas into my head and millions of little  closed boxes suddenly open. Today, it was the idea of doctors in greens/blues. I had shut my mind off to the devilishly sexy doctors in greens.  They were all usually surgeons or anaesthetists. I knew there was a reason why I couldn't concentrate at all in theatre as a medical student or a junior doctor. To support my view, I hear 20 or more emails regarding Steve Bolsin's looks arrived today. I mean, doesn't anyone read any research anymore?!

In 1996, there was a contact lens missing in action. That contact lens was mine. As vain as I am, I wore them to theater hoping to catch the eye of a devilishly handsome surgeon. Let's face it, that's the only advantage of surgery. Anatomy being the operative word. Of course, I had different ideas of anatomy in those days. The problem was this, on the day of the low cut top, shamelessly new tight wonderbra and loose long black hair, there was indeed attention until I landed in theater. The problem was - having caught one of the surgeons wink at me, I lost my balance, flicked my eyelash and caused a disaster. My contact lens went flying into the open stomach of a patient. It was never found. I was blind and had no idea who the surgeon was winking at me. Having been thrown out of theatre by the consultant, that was indeed the end of my anatomy lesson. Of course, my punishment on that day was to make it into the changing rooms, half blind and wearing all my clothes the wrong way around. I breathed a sigh of relief, at least my wonderbra was intact incase I was seen by the surgeon by accident. 

As I got older, my years as a psychiatrist took me far and far away from  the men in green. My chances of Mills and Boon bliss was robbed by a mishap with my contact lens. Still, there is currently a man walking the earth with my contact lens in his abdomen.

Anyhow, I shouldn't traumatise myself by thinking about such things - there is always Richard Marks in his greens to seriously apply my mind to. Richard knows that whistleblowers are traumatised creatures and they all require some kind of aesthetic visual treatment. All pictures of Richard dressed in his greens should be donated to a good cause - i.e moi [solely for medical purposes].