Apathy

Life passes by, and suddenly it seems I'm teetering on the brink of senility forgetting which day of the week it is. Give me another minute and I'll be on the other side of the looking glass, the guy in the hospital bed wondering why he's in hospital as hypoxia eats away the last vestiges of his sense and sensibility.

I remember what it was like to be a houseman; I really do. And I remember all the times I spent with L and A and D (hmm. my three closest friends. Left anterior descending... laugh) wondering about what we would be when we grew up.

I remember falling in... like... (because first reaction's always denial when it's real innit) with ***** surgery, impressionable baby houseman that I was. But there were so many possibilities then, and we all of us fancied ourselves a little bit of a House ourselves, a little bit of a Carter... Even bits physician and cool ER physician. No committments, just trial and error, a series of torrid affairs and blah relationships with subdisciplines, a life squandered. Come full circle, here I am again for real now after shopping thrice around the block for something else I could fall in like with and coming up nearly empty.

There are a few things I like, and they center about fine work; not because I fancy myself an artist but because there's something wonderful about sitting down and losing a few hours of your life doing something that feels slightly beyond your grasp and capabilities... and getting there against your own expectations.

Cruel irony then that thanks to the boss's excellent teaching I found myself flying through a laparoscopic operation today when in contrast I spent the rest of the day labouring on my own through much smaller operations.

All very boring.

Take home message, time flies, buildings collapse, people die, bad shit happens, and we turn into old farts.

I'm becoming a stereotype, blogging about work all the time. Work is becoming my life. Everything I feared, once upon a lifetime ago when I was roaming the streets of London as a free man are here and now.

And strangely, it's so very hard to care.

******

The other half is following xx's blog, and keeping me posted about her wedding and how her posts are blatent advertorials, her comments about expecting only the best if she has to pay for stuff because everything's given to her free these days, the rags to riches fairytale and forgotten roots, etcetcetc.

I find myself saying, well she wanted all this and she got it; good for her... and finding it... somehow unsurprising. Hard to really care.

And, well, really. Good for her... on to more interesting news...

sigh

It's been a while.

Enough time to witness some bad things go down and wonder about healthcare and doctors in general in sunnyland. And to watch my boss recoil for fear of rocking the boat / repeating previously failed outcomes, and realise that perhaps one day i'll be like that too.

Listening to someone tell me today that I ought to complain to MOM about my seven day work week I felt like laughing.

And just tonight....

sitting down all ready for dinner, then the telephone call... we want to send for your case; we'll call you when we're sending ok?

hmm enough time for a shower then.

shower... riing.... hello? your patient is in OT now.

fume.
helter skelter pell mell back to work (twenty min, record time) dash in to OT, and .. voila, the gas men are only just wheeling the patient in to start the spinal.

sigh.