The Boy and I like to watch Grey’s Anatomy. He comes from a medical family and me, well, then there’s me. So we both know that Grey’s is nothing like real hospitals, but we feel no shame. It is a great series, no judging. (Trisha writes a good piece about similarities and differences here.)
A while ago when I was feeling a little (okay a lot) insecure, The Boy had this brainwave: “You know who you’re like, really? You’re like Meredith Grey. She sucked at doing medicine until she found what she was good at.” Well. That was nice of him, but of course I always considered her to be GOOD.
Grey’s does a good job of making doctors that are relatable. It’s a fun game, walking through rounds and seeing Kepners and Yangs and Karevs on rounds with me. A little stereotypical, but oh well.
But in the process of catching up on Grey’s Anatomy after the ship, I have realised: I’m not like Meredith. I’m like Heather Brooks – the intern you probably don’t know! Seriously. So many similarities: She’s awkward and nobody knows what to do with her. She doesn’t really fit in anywhere. She quite quirky. She’s kind of nice at least, I guess. She’s short! She’s a little mousy. Although frankly, she gives mousy a good name.
As for differences? I’m not a surgeon. And I definitely don’t have her good coordination.
Life is not a series, but it is nice having something to identify with – it is a kind of comfort. I’m just not sure how I feel about relating SO WELL to someone who quite clearly is… well… not really much of anything. The joke, I guess? I want to be like Meredith so damn much because she’s dark and gloomy (like me)… but she’s also bloody brilliant. Or Yang. Yang is a BAD ASS. Efficient and cool. But I relate to Brooks and the series spends so little time on her that I don’t even know exactly what I’m relating to.
Don’t tell me this is silly, because I already know it. Oh well.