Tempus Fugit

Time Flies…

   Oct 09

Oh a P-HO-HO we G-OH-OH

Speaking of -OH, I could do with a splash of semichard or something a little crisp and refreshing.

Six months almost to the day since I was last arsed to write.

And my writing ability, let alone powers of narration have been shot to all buggery.

So a quick round up of the last six months in a single…..neologism:


(I wonder how much that would score in Scrabble – assuming there was a board big enough and enough tiles… I might one day get around to expanding on the above.)

….which brings me to today.

PHO (Pronounced P-HO – as in just a little skanky)….Principal House Ossifer (the lysdexics I’m sure will sundertand) in ICU and Anaesthetics.

First 12 hour shift.

I’m still alive.

My patients are still alive.

So in a nutshell….probably could be counted as a success.

Pros of the job:

  • 12 hour shifts mean rostered paid overtime and only needing to work for days a week
  • I save half an hour of driving not having to come home in peak hour
  • I feel less tired even though I’ve done more work (this may change – it’s only day one)
  • I don’t have to iron or wear shirts/ties
  • Patients with tubes in their throats can’t bore you with mundane and seemingly irrelevant facts – “it was a monday…no it was a tuesday…..yes yes I remember it was a tuesday because Gladys bakes for the CWA cake raffle on tuesdays….” (I only care about the fictitious Gladys’ cooking if she’s laced it with strychnine in a bizarre misguided homocidal geriatric way and I have to deal with the aftermath of said axis of culinary evil)

Cons of the job:

  • 12 hour shifts completely fuck any chance of a social life on day of work
  • People expect me to know things, people come to me for advice
  • It’s harder to pass the buck – I can’t use the phrase “I’m only a resident check with the reg” any more
  • I not only have to carry the MET pager every shift but chances are if it goes off it means I’ll have to rush off to someone doing their darndest to die and actually do my darndest (isn’t that such an Enid Blyton gingerale and teacake kind of word) to stop them from said dying – unless said dying is what is best for the patient. I also can’t use the aforementioned phrase (I’m only a resident….) to abrogate responsibility for running MET calls
  • It amuses me that the people who I was phoning for advice last week are phoning me for advice this week. This does not seem right.

    I will either get really fat or really skinny – not sure which yet – no time to eat, but when there is time, there’s only junk food (unless I get of my buttoony on days off and cook….thank you Dr Joshi and your chicken soup recipe…and of course to Miss Ali for introducing me to Dr Joshi).

    I’ve graduated from sticking sharp things in a short distance in a limited number of places to “sticking sharp things in a bigger distance and poking longer things in many more places “. It still sucks to inflict pain though – especially when the patient gives you a look that says “you’re enjoying this you sad sadistic bastard” to which I return the look with a look that says “if I had a choice between sticking sharp things into you or relaxing with a cup of coffee and a game of Scrabulous….I’d choose the latter – so long as it’s a good cup of coffee (and plunger-at-the-very-least-as-a-bottom-of-the-barrel last option and we will not even permit anyone to suggest that anything with the word “granulated, international, caterer’s, or 43″ is even a poor subsitute for coffee)”.

    Enough rambling. Sleep is necessary if I hope to pull off another 12 hour day.

    Note to all and sundry (particularly the sundry): There is a very large amount of tongue in cheek in this post in case you were not aware so before anyone thinks this is newspaperworthy-scandalous-health-revelation material, think again.

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