Today I have mostly felt like crap. Sometimes I get very anxious and feel that I am bigger than I really am, getting in everyone’s way. I feel like people can smell me, that I smell bad. That I am a charlatan and should not really be in here and secretly everyone can tell but they just don’t say anything. This results in my staring a lot at my feet and twiddling desperately at the corners of my clothes. Today I cried three times for no reason other than I felt sad. I feel a bit strange admitting this on a blog that I know The Mother reads, but hey, it’s what happened today. Everyone gets anxious sometimes. I guess this blog is like therapy. Just very public.
So today I hid behind my sketch book. I was so scared that I would be offered to scrub in and that I felt so rotten I would last about five minutes. It’s a waste of a sterile gown in my opinion. Especially as last thing this afternoon I caught wind of the SHOs debating who was going to have the next turn to assist and trying to make sure they all got a fair go. I will get my time, these are their patients and I’m trying not to intrude. At least when I start work, outside of London, there won’t be three SHOs scrubbed per procedure.
By hiding behind my sketch book I managed two things. One was to make another couple of friends- one SHO by including her in a sketch and the other when she came up and admitted that she also loves to draw and just never really thought of mentioning it at work. I told her about the other SHO who also loves to draw and suggest they find a life-class together or even instigate the first Maxfax Sketch Club at The Hospital. So that was nice. The second thing I achieved was a several page long complete illustrated step-by-step guide to how to do a Neck Dissection and how to Raise a Radial Forearm Flap. The Anaesthetist said I should do a few more and publish a book. I’m not sure they’re that good but I guess they are novel.
The op wasn’t too long today, oncology case bilateral neck dissection with removal of the front part of the mandible and tip of tongue covered with radial forearm flap and a legendary microvascular anastomois: they did the anastomosis with the radial artery no problem, then the cephalic vein which they decided looked a bit piddley. They then dissected out the concomminant vein next to cephalic, which was even more piddley and thought, hey, two anastamosis better than one. So stretched this poor little weed of a vein over and on the third attempt managed to graft the thing. It was tiny even under 200x magnification. I was very impressed.
During the course of the op, which was been done by a Consultant I will from now on be referring to as Mr Bond (he so could be), I popped downstairs to the theatre where Mr C (now standing for Big Cheese) was doing his op. It was 4pm and neither of his SHOs had had lunch, been scrubbed since 10am. I realised something a bit in line with how I’ve been feeling over the past couple of days. Mr Cheese is at the top of his game and the subject of much hero worship by me. He is also constantly on the go, his phone is always going off, he looks physically tired all the time and I noticed a tendency to get snappy in a way I don’t think he realises. Conversation with him is also a bit strange, in that it almost lacks natural flow. It’s as if so much is whirring round in his head that a mere conversation is just a bit of a side-track from the Brain Whir. My presence was acknowledged but then I couldn’t even pin him down to answer a question for me (“will you be here when I need to get signed off for my attachment?”). I went back up to Mr Bond’s theatre. There was a box of Rocky Road Bites on the side and We Built This City on Rock and Roll booming out of the iPod. These people are at the top of their game. They are Consultants. One is an academic by trade making big changes in the bigger picture. The other just does his case load. One of them is definitely having more fun.
I just found a bit of peacock feather in my keyboard. How decadent.
But it was all finished by about 6.30pm. Very civilised. I slunk straight off, defiant in the face of REM being the last thing I heard. I almost laughed in an ironic sort of way. It tickled me at any rate. I am a strange sort of fatigued at the moment. I feel that I’m getting enough sleep but I think being mentally worn down doesn’t help. I ate a massive dinner when I got in; mashed potatoes with loads of cheese and mushroom fish stew from the freezer. I then lay down to watch an episode of Bottom to cheer myself up and promptly fell into the most fitful unpleasant two hours sleep I’ve had in ages. I was constantly half awake knowing that I shouldn’t be asleep a, because i had things to do and b, because I wouldn’t sleep later. It was very lucid sleeping. Until I started having the weird dreams. I dreamt The Reg had come round to my flat to give me a pep talk but that I was so tired I couldn’t open my eyes and I think he was quite disappointed in my inability to stay awake for a conversation. I need to buck up my ideas. It’s saying something when even your dreams say you shouldn’t be sleeping right now. And I fell asleep with a jumper on, in this green house. I now actually stink.
Today I forgot my pencil. Today is an homage to biro. And how if you know how to do it, you can make it look like pencil.
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