-I don’t particularly enjoy going to the doctor, and I’m terrified by the sight of my own blood, but I’ve always been fascinated by the lives of my friends who practice medicine.  (Side note: weird how it’s called “practicing” medicine – as if it’s akin to working on your jump shot.)  My doctor friends seem to genuinely enjoy when I pepper them with annoying medical questions – and they usually know all the answers.  Ever ask one of your lawyer friends a legal question?  They not-so-subtly sigh, roll their eyes, then plead ignorance because it’s outside the scope of their firm’s practice (again with the practicing).  That’s why, when it comes to the coolest job a twentysomething can have, there’s no second opinion needed: the doctors are in.

-As a borderline hypochondriac, I decide which of my friends to turn to for an impromptu diagnosis not by the field they specialize in, but by their personal experience.  For instance, if I think I feel a lump, I call Christina – even though she’s an anesthesiologist – because she beat cancer many years ago.  Just like when I strained my groin, I called my buddy Shermdog – even though he’s an orthopedic surgeon – because he gets a lot of pussy and thus is probably well-versed in the intricacies of the crotch region.

-Ever notice that the person who takes your blood at the doctor’s office seems to have become less and less trained?  It used to be the doctor who did it.  Then it was the nurse.  Now it’s a medical student.  Soon the UPS guy who comes to pick up the samples and take them to the lab is just gonna prick you on the way out.

-I’ve always wondered how doctors choose weird specialties.  Pediatrician?  Fine, you like kids.  Orthopedic surgeon?  Well, fixing broken bones is cool.  But I know a guy who’s a liver specialist.  How did he pick the liver?  You can’t even fucking see it from the outside!  I know alcohol can harm the liver, but it must take a shitload of drinking to decide to study it.