Typical of my propensity to grab hold of an idea and not let go until I beat that concept to a pulp, I stayed up all day and all night in a marathon viewing of Grey’s Anatomy. The entire first and second series, folks. A continuous stream of episodes. No let up. I went through two DVDs like a hot knife through butter. Smoothly, pausing only to feed the kiddies or to observe personal hygiene breaks. Not much else.
And I watched episode after episode until there were no more to be watched. I watched as the light outside changed, watched as the rest of the house went to sleep or woke up around me. I kept on watching even when I couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear the strange parallel universe that flew at me from the screen. I though, this must be how his days are like. A whole universe that should have been alien to me, but was familiar because once upon a time, I saw it through his eyes.
Ah enough with the sentimental slush. Even without it, the series is a truly absorbing watch. Tight plots, great cast, feisty characters, a hip soundtrack, sexy pairings—my gosh medicine was never this hot! Sure, doctors are admirable, but a cold stethoscope never did turn me on. Well actually, one particular doctor’s bedside manners did, ha-ha. But oh well, let’s keep that under wraps.
I did learn a lot of medical stuff, though I’m not sure what I’ll do with all that mishmash knowledge about brain surgery, tumor invasions, spinal taps, waking up from comas, bovine heart valve replacements, hermaphroditism, and so much else. Not exactly fodder for everyday social situations, no?
Maybe if another doctor comes into my life I’ll have a better chance at holding up my end of the conversation.