The tragedy of the black scrubs
All the hospitals I���ve worked at have these big, unflattering OT scrubs that aren���t even comfortable (it���s true). In 2010, I started wearing non-standard scrub caps because I developed contact dermatitis toward the rubber band and the material. However, only when I was in the Master���s Degree program I felt comfortable enough, confident enough, to seriously consider wearing a non-standard scrub set. Also, the standard scrub made me itch, too.
It wasn���t easy.
I had to cajole and beg my Neuro OT sisters to allow me to buy a customized scrub. I had to promise them to go through proper works to eliminate risks of surgical infection. Then I had to convince my big boss (who was actually okay with the idea). Suffice it to say, my sweetness went on overdrive. And then I bought four sets of customized black scrubs from scrubs.com at almost two hundred ringgit per set, so that I���d be wearing a fresh gear every day. Yeah. At least the exchange rate didn���t suck as bad as it does now.
Even then, it wasn���t easy. When I wore my black scrubs in the general or pediatric OT, I had to defend myself to the respective OT sisters. One particular sister even almost forced me to change. When I was stationed at other hospitals, I continued to wear my black scrubs. Somehow it became my identity. Other than ���the doctor who laughs a lot��� and ���the surgeon with (thankfully) great playlists���, I became the ���doctor in black scrubs���, even among my superiors.
It���s been two years since I graduated, and I still retain the identities ��� especially the one with the black scrubs. When I found out that my medical officers intended to make a scrub, and the chosen color was black. I wasn���t happy. My identity was at stake. So I approached the most senior and influential medical officers, as well as my adopted kid brothers. I asked them, ���Please. Not black. Anything but black.��� Then I went, ���If you want to declare war with me, go ahead. Don���t blame me for whatever happens afterward.���
They laughed and teased me, and I thought ��� I hoped ��� they considered my request.
But they made their scrubs black, anyway.
I knew they went ahead with the color, but it was when I saw them on two of the medical officers I���m particular fond of earlier tonight that the reality struck me. Especially when one of them is my adopted kiddo. And when I texted my other adopted kiddo, he laughed and said, ���all in war with you.���
Maybe I���m overreacting for something so trivial. But here���s the deal: I could have told them, ���I am your superior. I am your surgeon. You are beneath my payscale, so you have to listen to me. No black means no.��� Or, I could have went, ���Pick black and you���ll disrespect me.���
But I didn���t. To me, respect is earned, and not forced upon. And I���ve always believed that I���ve done (mostly) right by these kids. I teach them to the best of my capacity. I���ve always been there whenever they needed me (sometimes even when they didn���t want me around), and I���ve always been supportive. Well, I do overlook some of them, but I am seldom mean. Come on, I���m not a saint. At any rate, I thought I had earned their respect and their affection.
Apparently not.
Worse, when I texted said juniors earlier tonight, none of them apologized. Sometimes saying sorry isn���t about admitting you���ve done wrong, but about comforting the bereaved. They don���t teach this in medical school. Maybe they should, because my juniors do not have a shred of empathy. I was secretly hoping they would choose another color, so that I would know that I did do right by them.
Maybe they���re right. Maybe I should see it as me making an impression, and they wanted black as a nod toward me. But what I am right now is heartbroken on a massive scale. None of them acknowledged my plea, and none of them even bothered to find out why I insisted on keeping the color for myself.
All the times I was there for everyone, they wouldn���t allow me this one grace. I just���I don���t know how to react right now.
I am disappointed. Above everything, I am heartbroken.
I am this much closer to giving up on everything, on everyone.
