It’s half past four in the afternoon and I’ve just got out of bed. One of the problems with doing nights is that after a few shifts, you start to feel shattered when you wake up as well as shattered when you go to bed. The entire time you’re awake is against a background of sleeplessness that makes me feel constantly slightly queasy.
I can’t really complain though, the last couple of nights have been FAR more sedate than the first few. When you’re not running around like a blue-arsed fly, hospitals can actually be quite enjoyable places to work. The very nature of the job means that the staff are generally nice, friendly, caring people. When it’s not too busy, like last night, I actually have time to spend chatting to the patients, finding out a little bit about them and having a bit of banter, rather than having to treat them just as walking (or not-walking) illnesses. Work becomes enjoyable.
Last night, I treated this 83 year old lady who was admitted with a worsening of her emphysema. We were chatting a bit and she says:
83 year old lady: You’re very polite, you know
Me: Thank-you, I guess it was the way I was brought up
83 year old lady: And you’re very good-looking. Are you courting, doctor?
Me (thinking back to the previous week): Erm… I suppose I am, yes.
83 year old lady: That’s a shame. I’ll tell you one thing, if I was 60 years younger, I’d be chasing after you!
You’ve got to laugh haven’t you?