Contribution by Terrance Kirby
Over the years I have found that I have less and less time to watch TV. I am sure doctors and therapists alike would argue that this is probably a good thing. From a medical perspective, I am lessening my risk of heart attack, stroke, and obesity by lessening my TV intake. One could argue that instead of watching TV, I have found the time to explore hidden talents, exercise, or even read a book. The reality of it is that instead of settling in for a nice, relaxing evening in front of the tube, I am engrossed in packing school lunches, doing laundry, and sweeping up endless piles of dog hair. When I get a few measly moments to “plug in,” I skim back through the DVR on my Direct TV Thornton and catch up on the latest episode(s) of “Grey’s Anatomy.” In some small back section of my mind, I think I have secretly dreamed of being a doctor. The thrill of being so smart as to diagnose a human and potentially fix a medical issue or problem has an almost god-like control that is so appealing to the Type-A personalities like me. So, to quench that desire, I morph into the characters of “Seattle Grace,” and escape to the roller-coaster of emotions that the show offers. I triumph with Meredith as she channels the knowledge of her mother, the great Dr. Ellis Grey, through her career’s journals in an attempt to solve a problem during a clinical trial. I digest the expectation of perfection that Christina Yang hold herself to with each passing surgery and patient-crisis. What I never anticipate though is the sadness that the show evokes when a surgery fails, a patient loses a battle, or a relationship ends. This show challenges me to face my own fears and shortcomings by thrusting me into the plot and into the lives of the characters week after week. It’s not a bad way to take a break from laundry.