Just like those stalwart, “stiff upper lip” British and their “Keep Calm and Carry On” attitude, Dr. Crusher has quite the indomitable spirit. She lost her parents through some horrible event that was never really explained on the show. Then she lost her husband through another horrible event that was never really explained on the show…an event made even more questionable by the fact that her husband’s captain was Jean-Luc Picard, whom she later learned was in love with her even while her husband was alive (DRAMA!). She was then left to raise her son all by herself while trying to rise through the ranks of Starfleet…a son who would later choose to stay on a starship all by himself rather than be with her on Earth during that mysterious year in which she was “head of Starfleet Medical” (WTF was that all about?). And let’s not forget that her son was a mega-dork (sorry, Wesley), which really cramped her dating options.
And what about those dating options? A slug in a boy Trill, a slug in Riker, a slug in a girl Trill, a dude named “John Doe” who later turned into a giant glo-stick, and a candle ghost who would later move on to become Bajor’s First Minister and shag Colonel Kira.
(All the while, she’s stuck in some weird causality loop with that possibly murderous captain who’s been crushing on her since he met her, but she’s never allowed to do anything more than have breakfast with him (coffee and croissant) while he’s off making it with aliens and members of her science and medical division who look suspiciously like her. And what does she get? Nothing more than being stuck repeating the same lame “Jean-Luc, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…” line that she’s never freaking allowed to finish before something happens to blow the moment.)
She was the Chief Medical Officer of the flagship of the Federation, but her colleagues still referred to her as the “Dancing Doctor” (so disrespectful!). She was turned into an Irish setter by Q, trapped in a collapsing warp bubble by her own son, kidnapped, possessed by aliens, disfigured by a face full of venom spat at her by a devolving Klingon, pushed off the side of a ship into the ocean by an android struggling to understand humor, shot at numerous times, nearly court-martialed, nearly killed by a creepy alien who looked a little like a zombified Ted Danson, but was still never really paid attention to by the rest of the crew (probably because they were all afraid of incurring the wrath of that jealous captain who may or may not have had more to do with the death of her husband than anyone else suspected), and left by herself most nights to wander around her quarters in her jammies, drinking wine and pruning her plants (do with that statement whatever you will).
And yet…she carried on. So this is my tribute to the indomitable spirit of the NCC-1701-D’s only true CMO.
Keep Calm and Crusher On.