Today had a bit of a lie-in since I got back so late yesterday. For some reason my body thinks waking up at 6.30am then again at 7.30, 8, 8.30 and finally giving in at 9am is a lie-in. I feel it has failed to grasp the concept. Anyway, I had a bit of an admin morning, made a start on a case report, did my emails etc. I needed to print out a declaration form for my funding so wandered over to the library. Between the staff and myself we could not work out how I was supposed to log on and use a computer so that library lady said, forget this, I’ll just print it for you from my computer. What a sweetheart.
Got the bus to Sister Hospital around lunchtime and snuck into the MDT. I then followed everyone up to clinic, where Grumpy Nurse was waiting for us. Most of the nurses I have encountered have been really nice, normal, bantery types. This one is permanently pissed off. Mr C arrived 20 minutes or so later and dragged me in to watch his clinic. The clinic started around 2.30pm and ended around 7.30pm. I felt a bit strange this afternoon. I felt a bit like a fly on the wall if the fly were five foot seven and constantly twiddling with the buttons on its cardigan in a nervous fashion. Even so, there were a few very nice and interesting patients. One was the living embodiment of ‘heady perfume’- you could almost inhale solid particles of smell from her. It was lovely, but only once you got used to it. There was another patient, an Italian lady, who was so incredibly chatty despite her intra-oral surgery and radiotherapy. Sometimes it is awkward and difficult to make small talk but she didn’t give you a chance, she did all the work. She kept referring to her cancer as ‘the devil inside’. But she had such an indcredibly positive outlook on life, she was all about laughter. Laughing was her thing. It struck me today that people don’t cry when you tell them they have cancer, only when you tell them they don’t.
After clinic I tried to nab Mr C to ask about doing a project for him. Sadly, I have come to understand that me talking to him is pretty much the definition of ‘a waste of his time’. He has now decided that the project I was supposed to be doing is probably a bit much (I wanted to scream that it would have been no problem at all if he had given me details two weeks ago when I asked) but then the serene realisation came over me- I’m out of my depth. I wanted to ask about academia and career advice and the best time to do dentistry and everything but realised that this was like asking the Prime Minister the best way to break into Politics. I’m just shooting too high. And why do people always look at me funny when I say I want to go into academia? He doesn’t even know that I’m a completely average student who has managed to not pass medical finals. But I think that sentence there says something. Tonight I will be reflecting sleeplessly about how I may have just misjudged my lifea tad. My aspirations are all wrong. I’m shooting way too high. I feel like a complete charlatan by even expressing an interest in things. Like I could ever be so talented and bright to actually do any of this shit. I’m not looking for sympathy or pity or being melodramatic. Just realistic.
I’m sitting at my desk being stared at by eighteen pictures of myself. I feel very small.
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