Between people-watching from the wall-mounted mirror in one of my favourite cafes and taking a slow slp of my flat white, I decided today was one of those times to look back and not forward. It is far more pleasant to reflect when what lies ahead is work tomorrow (and having to remove your turquoise manicure for it).
The first month of employment has been rather pleasant. My senior colleagues have been extremely lenient and tolerant of my various antics, and the staff have all been wonderful to work with - a lovely surprise taking into account the horror stories of bitchy nurses and my track history with species of the same gender.
I wish I could remember all of my patients, but we usually only recall the mortalities, and the ones with angry relatives. Then there are the idiots who make for interesting stories, like the young man who needed orchioplasty because he had strangled both his testicles by forcing all of his external genitalia through a 1cm thick metal ring/sex toy that we could not break without snipping off bits of him. And of course there was the drug addict with COPD on long term oxygen admitted for a facial burn because his oxygen supply caught fire and blew up in his face when he was sneaking a smoke.
Time has been slipping away through my latex glove-cladded fingers like medical knowledge through the sieve that is my brain. It was only when I changed a suprapubic catheter again for the same patient did I notice an entire month had passed. Overall though, and I may or may not be writing behind rose-tinted eye shields, there has been more good than bad, and I definitely feel a lot more competent than I first started. Now, if only I could remember where I last left my pager... .
