just a rubbish day

Today was one of those days where it felt like I was always chasing my tail. Everything I touched seemed to break and everything took an age to do. I blame this all on the fact that I never had my essential morning cuppa. Well, I'd like to but I guess some days will always be crappy. It got to 9pm and I was still behind. Blood results to chase, phlebotomy forms to print, a couple of patients to see.

But in amongst all the rubbish, I thought I'd make the effort to think about the better parts. Mr D's family profuse thanks for his care, talking to Mrs M about her husband's palliative care, laughing with Mr J over the silly ECG machine printing out strange patterns, getting an arterial blood gas on a very scared patient, stubborn Mr W laughing with me for once.

And usually it's these tiniest moments throughout the day which keep me going. Otherwise it wouldn't be worth it. Here's to a better start to tomorrow....

sunny days

I love the sun and today was sunny, even warm enough to just wear a t-shirt outside. Exciting stuff for this part of the world in September. And even better I am off and can be outside enjoying this weather. So I had a good run this morning before having lunch with one of the other girls who work in the hospital. We had a good gossip about, well, you guessed it the hospital. Getting out gripes is most definitely therapeutic. Then it was time for shopping! As usual I found plenty of things I don't need and failed miserably on the perfect-black-trouser hunt which is, by the way, is getting a bit desperate. As it stands I have 2 pairs. One passable baggy, the other jogging bottom-esque baggy. Comfy but not really workie clothes. Darn it. Ideally I'd be well up for scrubs. Equalling much less hassle each morning as I ponder the dimishing clean clothes pile and try to avert gaze from the ever growing laundry heap. One can wish. Till then it's pink tops and dodgy black trousers. Someone has to keep up the femine side on the ward I tell ya.

day 12 of 12

And it's the weekend! A weekend all to myself, no hospital butting in. It feels sort of strange. Like I'm at a loose end. I'm sat here thinking through to-do-lists, running through the patient's on the ward, going over conversations with relatives in my head. The tv's on in the background and I'm typing but I'm in another place. Still at the hospital and still with the patients. Is this what all consuming is? Cos I'm pretty much sucked right in. And now I need to get out. Leave work at work and be at home at home. Relax.

And a hug would be great!

to write or not so right?

I come home each evening with lots of little tit bits, little stories...sometimes bigger angsts and I think, I should write all these odds and ends down before a new day starts and a new lot of tit bits take over. But the trouble is I'm knackered. The whole damm time. Well, I guess at work I just keep going. But as I walk home I think of a cup of tea, the tv and bed. I know, how sad is that but I spend my whole day with people: asking me for things, chasing me about things, mad at me for things out of my control and sometimes I just need an hour of peace, of letting go, of drifting off.....

So the stories and tit bits I want to remember are forgotten as the day ends and my body collapses into bed. And before I know it, it's time to do this whole chibang again. The madness, the patients, the relatives, the friends, the nurses, the doctors. And somtimes, just sometimes, I manage to remeber to go to the toilet during the day. Sometimes, I also wonder about renal failure.

Nobody told me that when I applied to medical school...eh?