Disgusting

Abscess incision and drainage does not disgust me; in fact, I find it out-and-out gratifying. Most clinical events which might make non-medical types blanch induce absolutely no squeamishness in myself, including hemorrhage, open fractures, limb amputation and digital rectal exams. Diagnosing lice makes my own head violently itchy but doesn't make me squirm. Contrary to the belief of every patient whom I have asked to remove their shoes, feet - no matter what their condition - will not offend me. Same goes for unshaven legs and unmanicured perineums: I truly take no notice.

As a mother, the list of biological events with potential to repulse me has long since dwindled to almost nothing. I have survived the following with grace: vomit splashed down the neckline of my shirt, infant stool jetting up the back of a onesie and beyond, nares perpetually flowing with green discharge, and potty-training errors on carpet.

Between the two professions, I've got almost all offensive agents mastered. Almost. There are a few holders-on whose power to disgust me I can't dislodge:

1. Soiled bandages. Whether it's gauze peeled from a surgical incision or a tiny band-aid ring that's fallen from my daughter's toe, there's something about absorbed drainage that I find revolting.
2. Eyes. Specifically: globe rupture.
3. Earwax. Cerumen being flushed into a little basin in my office is acceptable. Q-tips dropped into a wastebasket without being shrouded in Kleenex is not.
4. Collections of cheesy substance in body creases of those who don't wash with due diligence.
5. Vermin. I'll examine insect bites with interest, but bedbugs scuttling from the cuffs of a patient's shirtsleeves across my desk is too much.
6. Prolonged coughing or throat-clearing where the sputum is clearly substantial in amount but difficult to expel.

Tell me yours.