deep breaths

"Here," said Dr Smug, putting a jar of home-made jam on my desk.  "You can have this."

"You brought me jam?"

"Not exactly, a patient gave it to me this morning but I can't take it home because of my son."

I picked up the jar, which had a pretty, handwritten label on it saying "strawberry and blueberry, 2013".

"Your son is 18 months old, he's not going to be able to reach the cupboard or fridge, take the jam home!" I tried to hand it back to Dr Smug (reluctantly because it looked really nice and I do like jam).  Dr Smug backed away a little bit.

"No, I mean I can't risk getting sick or something.  I have a wife and child."

I stared at him in disbelief, and took a couple of deep breaths.

"So, as I understand it, you are giving me this jar of jam because I don't have children and so it doesn't matter if I get sick 'or something'?  Well, perhaps you should give this instead to the Professor [his boss]?  After all, she doesn't have children either."

Dr Smug started to bluster something but I was in full flow.

"Or perhaps the Professor's health and well-being does matter to you because she is a doctor, even though she's not a parent?  But I can take home and eat a jar of jam because it wouldn't matter if anything happened to me, childless non-doctor that I am?  Well, if I were you I wouldn't be so complacent - you can't be as good a doctor as you think you are, if you think that your patient has given you something with the potential to harm you."

Dr Smug was, by this time, bright red and starting to perspire.

"Illanare, I'm sorry, I..."

"Yes, you should be sorry.  Now please go away and don't talk to me again for at least a week."

I am still taking deep breaths!