the miscalculation

i feel a bit like denzel washington at the end of "Man on Fire" - i shall not spoil the ending but i foolishly have swapped my on call shifts with oblivion this week.

having finished my set of nights on friday morning, i now realise that i also agreed to do this weekend too. hence i have that heartsink feeling one gets when england go out on penalties (man on fire is not about on call rotas or football for your information.)

so off i am to work in half an hour. i know for a fact that NO-ONE is awake at this time on sunday morning. i also feel disconcerted because a friend of mine had a spare ticket to the Red Hot Chili Peppers last night. i keep telling my self that i don't actually like them (release the same song over and over, never topped 1991's Blood Sugar Sex Magik, etc) but it would have been good to see my buddy with whom i spent three months touring the world a few years back.

i am going to have my breakfast and think about the milk situation at work.

[i am listening to Oh Inverted World, the first album by the Shins who i keep missing each time they play the UK because of surprise surprise work]

the memory of milk

this is the door to the fridge in the doctors mess.

each of the bottles has about 30mL of milk left in the bottom. there are about 15 full unopened bottles in the fridge itself.

people do not finish the bottles. some unspoken fear of drinking the milk at bottom of the bottles prevents them from doing so. they replace the bottles in the door and open a new one, which, in time, also joins the graveyard of nearly finished bottles. the milk remnants are perfectly drinkable and at the correct temperature (cold).

no one speaks of this. lips remain tightly shut, heads turn away. it is the way it has always been and it is the way it shall always be.

what has happened here? who is controlling this?

it puzzles and concerns me. we are NOT who we appear to be.

i glance around furtively in fear that i may at any moment be hoisted into a massive NHS wicker man.

[i am listening to Eleanor Put Your Boots On by Franz Ferdinand]

in other news

i have forgotten to mention that the venial sinner is actually working side by side with me on the wards at the moment. i had not expected his smug face to pass my field of vision in working hours so was surprised to see him rock up to FISH ward 1 looking scared and lost last wednesday.

i am hoping the travails of day to day work will be made easier by the presence of a co-worker who will never say no to cheeky coffee and post 5pm beers.

what japes there shall be! what tricks we will pull! bloods will remain undrawn! investigations will be unordered! results will not be filed! patients will have rasberries blown in their faces! professors shall be mooned as consultants are wedgied! and then together we shall skip merrily down the corridors to medical anarchy. viva la revolution.

when i get back from nights of course.

[i am listening to Hot Fuss by the Killers. dare i say not as good as when it first came out?]

fully operational battle station

i feel i've made a little headway to finding the answers (or at least some of them) to the questions i first posed when i started this 'blog. this has to some extent been consolidated by a long conversation i had with the bishop (himself about to enter into the medical world) on friday night, fuelled by beer in a pub that used to have a bare knuckle boxing ring upstairs.

it is obvious that some things will never change. at least i have a bit of an idea as to what those things are.

a lot of what lies ahead is worrying, some is exciting, some is going to be a fucking nightmare.

still at least i have had the sun in london to help me with my thinking.

a week of nights awaits but i'm actually looking forward to a big breakfast tomorrow.

my foot in green park earlier this evening

[i am listening (and watching) the world cup final live on the internet - thank you the BBC]

as a reminder

i was walking down the stairs to the "mess" (the room that we doctors spend a tenner a month funding so that it acts as a safe haven away from the barking commands of other healthcare professionals) when i noticed this new sign. i broke out in hysterical laughter which then descended into crying and wailing. to top things off my purchased sodexho sandwich disintegrated in my hands moments later "salmon and dill" all over the floor.


[i am listening to regina spektor - buy her new album! it's great! and she seems a bit nuts in a tori amos way]