I'm a Doctor

or

Misconceptions

I'm a doctor, not a soldier.

Sometimes, people seem to have a hard time understanding this. They expect me to fight when we get in a mess, to attack others with the aggression I'm always taking out in irritation with other people. They think, "He's so grumpy and difficult, he must be a good fighter." But they're wrong. Not wrong about me being grumpy and difficult (though they're a little wrong about that too), but wrong about me being a good fighter. Because I'm not. I'm a doctor. A doctor heals, not hurts. Helps, not kills. Brings relief, not pain. I don't like to see anybody getting hurt, not even one of those wrinkle-headed Klingons - oh, I can top that, I wouldn't even want to see that green-blooded, inhuman, infuriating Vulcan of a Spock get hurt. Now you know how truly merciful I am. This is why I'm no fighter.

I'm a doctor, not a diplomat.

Here's another common misconception. People seem to automatically think that because I'm a member of the Enterprise crew, I must be a first-rate ambassador. Boy are they mistaken. Of all the primary crew members, I'm probably the least diplomatic of the bunch. Well, actually it's a tossup between me and that little Russian guy - he seems to have knack of saying the wrong things at the wrong time. But if we were taking a vote, I'd pick me. You see, diplomats have this thing called tact, which I don't have at all. Tact is actually just a short word for thinking-before-you-speak-and-when-you-do-speak-saying-the-nice-thing-instead-of-all-the-obvious-and-therefore-sarcastic-and-somewhat-unflattering-things-that-come-to-your-head. And that's just not something I'm good at. I prefer to be truthful.

I'm a doctor, not a technician.

This is the most frustrating of the bunch, I think. I mean, where does everybody come off thinking I'm supposed to know how to operate a hydraulic-extra-techno-parasynthetic-whatchamadingy, or a super-computerized-thruster-internal-hyperdrive-thinggummy? I'm a doctor. I could administer a dose of diazepam benzodiazepine, or diagnose and treat myocardial infarction, or in a pinch remove a patient's vermiform appendix, but take me out of sick bay and I'm lost. I don't know a navicomputer from a warp drive, and I couldn't tell you what a transistor or a dilithium crystal was if my life depended on it. This doesn't strike me as odd, after all, that's not my job - but again, people seem to think that because I work on a starship, I must know how to run the transporters and fire photon torpedoes. Sickening stereotyping, that's what it is.

I'm a doctor, not a schemer.

Just because I've worked with Jim for twenty years doesn't make me the insanely clever planner that he is. If this has happened once, it's happened a thousand times: we're in a horrible situation where we're all about to get killed by being blown up, shot, suffocated, or some equally unpleasant demise. I sit there staring stupidly at Scotty, while Jim's saying, "Come on, Bones, give me some ideas here!" and I'll say, "Good gracious, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a military advisor." and then he'll start moping. While he's moping, he'll think of some brilliant thing like reversing the polarization of the enemy ray so that it attacks their ship instead of ours, or using their own desire to force them to walk into some kind of trap. That's why he's the captain and I'm not.

I'm a doctor, not a logician.

Okay, I was wrong about the other things I said were the most frustrating - this is the most frustrating. No question there. Now I'm not naming any names - wouldn't want to get sued for libel by any renegade Vulcans - but there's this pointy-eared, cold, calculating, infuriating, argumentative, absolutely unbearable fellow whose name starts with S-P-O-C-K, and he is forever driving me out of my medical mind. He thinks that life is all about logic, and expects me and everybody else to think so too. Now, don't get me wrong, logic has its place (although after years of interaction with this anonymous being, I'm beginning to question that, not to mention cringing at the very mention of the word), but its place is not plastered all over everything and getting in the way of all human compassion and care for others. But this unnamed person can never be made to see that.

When it comes down to it, I-AM-A-DOCTOR. Doctor McCoy. Does everybody get that? A doctor. Nothing more, and nothing less. I know I'm not the most pleasant man on the Enterprise - that honor would probably have to go to my best friend, the round faced, good-natured Scottish man down in engineering. But I also know that that's okay. My friends - and that Vulcan - okay, Spock - seem to have learned how to live with me. And that's good enough for me. They know I'm the doctor. The doctor helps people. The doctor can get easily irritated. The doctor is often a little too sardonic about things, but he cares about them all. Underneath his rough exterior, he supposes he must admit that he even cares about Spock. And in a sentimental moment he might even say it to his face someday. Then again, he might not. I mean, I'm not a speaker.

I'm a doctor.