I don't mind. REALLY.
I'm the lowly nurse in there sweating in a totally untenable position to hold down the patient fighting against a procedure. I'm the one filling up linen bags with sheets wet with diarrhea and vomit and swilling patients down so they feel clean and nice, and all that after starting an IV in a finger because that's all they had and "my God, I didn't even feel that, you're a genius!"
I'm the one holding a child's hand while she screams with fear and pain and somehow managing to convince her that this next pain is necessary...an IV, moving a broken bone for an x-ray, grating bone against bone for a splint.
I'm the one endlessly reassuring patients and parents and sons and daughters, explaining again what that was the doctor just said. Explaining I'm sorry, he is going to die soon, is what the doctor said. It's me, at the bedside, holding wrinkled old hands and smooth bloody young ones while the pulse flickers and fades.
And I'm the one who thought ahead and got those blood cultures and a chest x-ray on the hypoxic febrile patient who was really here for hip pain after a fall, because gee, that fall was a result of that bad pneumonia.
I really don't mind when, after all that, everyone in the room says, "Thank you so much, doctor!"
I don't mind at all.