As a medical student, my first clerkship was obstetrics at the Royal Victoria Hospital in Montreal. I recall eagerly donning a mask and gown as a woman in labour was wheeled into the delivery room. I timidly proceeded to take my place behind the obstetrician, resident and intern, craning to get a good view.
However, to my disappointment, I was directed to the head of the table. A nurse told me to look in the mirror to observe the birth. I felt relieved, assuming that the medical students must be so placed in order not to get in the way.
Then I was instructed to hold the patient's hand. I felt a little uncomfortable as I complied, but I supposed this was a lesson in bedside manners. The patient seemed reassured as she firmly squeezed my hand.
After the birth of the baby, I was asked if I wanted to cut the umbilical cord. I was delighted, thinking this the kind of handson experience that medical students got from their rotations in the hospitals.
After successfully completing the procedure, I was told to kiss the mother! I stood frozen in disbelief as everyone encouraged me to proceed. Extremely embarrassed, I brought my masked face several inches from the patient's cheek before I escaped outside feeling totally dumfounded.
In the corridor, a man in mask and gown was waiting nervously. "Can I go in now?" he asked me, and I suddenly realized that everyone, including the patient, had mistaken me for the baby's father.
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