Yesterday, I obtained official permission to continue working at the hospital. That came as a huge relief. But that also means that I have responsibility to be the perfectionist I'm. I love being that at the hospital. But the perplexing thing is why am I not so damn bothered about perfection when at home. Or with my family for that matter.
In the thoroughly enjoyable conversations that I had, which are the most introspective conversations that I have probably ever had, this confusing problem often comes up. Why am I so different as a person at my home (in my family) as compared to everywhere else?
I'm almost the exact opposite. I'm a happy, pleasing, well-mannered, forgiving, understanding, polite, empathizing, sympathizing, emotional, friendly person everywhere else. I'm the exact opposite at home. Dr. R. believes that one of my personalities is fake and the other is the true one. He has made me think deeply on this.
Coming to think of it, I don't know which one's the real me. Although I'd so like to believe that the personality that I have at the hospital is the true one, it is hard to justify such a belief. That is because I was always like the rude, unfriendly nature in my childhood. I changed in and around my internship; the internship was my definitive moulding period.
Such interesting things that I discover about myself while talking to Dr. R. That is why I like him.
But the most heartening thing which happened today was when I finally put the nail on the coffin for my doubts as to whether I had a physical thing for Dr. R -- I went to his room to give my little gift for him. He was nude except for a 'lungi'/'dhoti'. I spent talking with him for about 40 minutes. Apart from one time when I was surprise to fixate my vision on his navel, I was not even bothered about his physical appearance.
Yeah, I'm happy. Truly. To hell with my man-fathoming nature!
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