I noticed the curtains surrounding the adjacent beds were gently swinging back and forth. Someone was systematically looking into each “room” of the emergency department (where each “room” actually resembles a stall surrounded on three sides by a curtain that sports a horribly tacky print). I continued to watch the (excellent) medical student conduct a (skilled) interview with the patient.

Suddenly, it was our curtain that was gently swinging back and forth. Mildly annoyed, I looked up to identify the intruder. As curtains do not muffle sound (contrary to popular belief), anyone walking past could hear that an interview that was unfolding within our drafty “room”. (The sound of an interview, of course, does not prevent interruptions, but it should, darn it.)

He had already removed his head and was now standing on the other side of the curtain. When my eyes alighted on the back of his head and his checkered shirt, I immediately recognized him. And then I heard him ask a passing nurse in that quiet, nasally voice of his: “Where is Mr. So-and-So?”

Ah ha! That voice belonged to no one else.

“In that bed over there,” she clipped.

“Oh. He moved!” said That Special Attending. Feigning a cough, I smiled into my hand. That Special Attending was on service! Perhaps I could catch him and say hello—

—but, patient care first.

“So, while you were interviewing that patient in the emergency room,” I babbled to the medical student and intern, “I saw an attending that I totally had a crush on while I was a medicine intern.”

They laughed, permitting me to elaborate. After sharing the name of That Special Attending, I continued, “I had the good fortune of working with him twice when I was on medicine. That’s a total of four weeks! He’s really smart, incredibly witty, very easy to work with, a fantastic teacher, and really good with patients. I totally fawned over him, especially on post-call days—I’d gush about him to anyone who would listen. The nurses made fun of me all the time.” Throwing my voice into falsetto, I mimicked my sleep-deprived ramblings: “He’s so smart! He’s so cute! He’s so charming! He complimented me in front of the whole team!”

The intern and medical student laughed even more, though clearly more at me than with me.

“… and he’s married and has kids,” I concluded. Their laughter turned into utterances of commiseration.

The opportunity was lost: The hospital was large. He had disappeared. We were inundated with our duties on call. And stalking attendings just isn’t a good idea.

I directed the group of residency applicants into the hallway and launched into my usual greeting. As I followed them in (all wearing dark suits, of course), I looked up and who should I see walking towards us?

Unlike two days prior, I didn’t feign a cough this time. I smiled broadly at That Special Attending and waved hello as I continued to speak with the applicants. He waved back, a stethoscope swinging from his neck in front of his checkered shirt, and walked past us.

As I concluded my greeting, I turned around and saw him walking back towards us. He grinned at me, his face full of mirth.

“Are you an attending now?” he warmly asked in that nasally voice of his.

“No,” I answered, unable to suppress the smile that was now dancing on my face. “I’m still a resident, giving these applicants a tour.”

He smiled at them and remarked, “This is a good hospital for psychiatry.”

“It is the crown jewel!” I concurred.

“It is the crown jewel,” he said, chuckling at my buoyant enthusiasm.

“This is That Special Attending,” I said, responding to the confused looks on the faces of the applicants. “He is one of medicine attendings here.”

“Hi,” he said. They all politely waved at him.

“He’s wonderful,” I continued.

“Ah, thanks,” he said, a bit embarrassed, a smile playing on his lips as he looked at the ground.

(Sometimes my enthusiasm can be a bit too buoyant, I suppose.)

I directed my attention back on the applicants, tacitly asking the permission of That Special Attending to depart. He graciously took the cue.

“Good luck,” he said to the group, his fingers fidgeting with the bell of his stethoscope.

“It is very nice to see you,” I said, my face still aglow with a bright smile. It wasn’t merely a pleasantry; it was an honest remark.

“It is very nice to see you, too,” he said, flashing that toothy grin at me. He paused and waved good-bye before retreating down the hallway. I shepherded the group in the opposite direction.

Though his admirable character, intellect, and charm are endearing, I don’t think those aspects sufficiently explain my affection towards him.

I am fond of him because I enjoy who I become when I am around him.