Truths of Old

And so doubt creeps in.
The question remains, though. Why?

I never did get the chance to call You "Dr C."
It's been a long five years.
And, grasping for words to describe my state of mind now, my condition comes up, rather pathetically

"desolate"

but stable.

It doesn't take some stupid online questionaire to dream up these self-descriptions. Just a few moments of quiet solitude.

Anti-phecy

You've heard of self-fulfilling prophecies, I'm sure.

Well I suspect that there are self-disproving prophecies. Such as any weather predictions made by the Met services.

Typically, the Weekend Snow Alert has brought with it clear blue skies and an unprecedented amount of painfully-bright sunshine.

Okay, sure it snowed yesterday. As soon as I stepped out of the house, it began to rain, which turned to sleet, hail then snow. (And it had been a sunny morning too)

I almost expected to bump into You - that would have had a grim humour to it all (do You remember that "promise"? through rain, snow, sleet and hail)

Today it's freezing, but oh, so sunny. I'm tempted to step outside to make it snow again.

In other news, my computer is working at 100% efficiency again. weird.

Hic

I'm probably a little bit pissed as I write this. I've only had about, oh 15 units to drink.

Another night in the pleasant company of 8 females and 1 other bloke getting pleasantly drunk. I chose to work feverishly on my PE presentation during that time instead of making small talk, since I don't seem to be able to make eyes, and small talk, at will anymore. The odd occasions when I popped out to grab a bite I spent watching everyone else getting pleasantly drunk. As a result, my host served me drinks 4 times more potent than anyone else's.

The night culminated in a club visit. Everyone else (all female by this time) started gyrating slinkily to the music.
I watched.

After a while, I left.

They won't understand; they probably think I haven't got it in me. And they're right. I can't dance alone - heck, I can sort of ceroc. With gusto.

But I can't. Not anymore. I feel empty, and drained, watching everyone else shed their masks.

This is not me. I am :

Missing. You.

Still.

And teetering at the brink of... what exactly? I don't know. Are You really here?
I'm. Tired of this. And yet I'd appreciate any help I can get. Except that - I can't ask for any. Not from anyone.

Not from You.

And so, Tomorrow, when the alcohol wears off (and that will come soon, since I'm drowsy+++) - I will forget. By choice.

Oh yes. And in other news, my computer has risen from the dead. I will never switch it off again. Ever.

Peter May (Christian Medical Foundation, 2004) has this to say :

"Elijah mocked the 450 prophets of Baal, tauting them to pray louder in case their God was lost in deep thought, was busy, travelling, or just asleep"...

"James reminds us that there is a moral factor in prayer. He said the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective, and cites the prophet Elijah as an example. He implies that he had no special powers, but was "a man just like us"

Jesus offered a similar warning in the Sermon on the Mount :
"When you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard becase of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him."

The Scriptures offer many examples of great prayers. They are not shopping lists for 'goodies'. They have to do with the relationship of God to his distinctive people. Consequently, they are concerned with asking for forgiveness, wisdom, courage, mercy, understanding, guidance, discernment and strength to do the right thing."

More Notes to Self

Status :

Flat - slightly cleaner. Check
UCL Application - Sorted. Check
PE/DVT Presentation - postponed due to ?fate. Check
ISA Application - completed. Check

To Do List
MRCS / BSS applications - this weekend
Finish PE / DVT Presentation - this weekend
Read Discworld novel - this weekend
Read ATLS manual - this weekend
? Repair computer - only if under £30 for XP2000+ processor

okay. do-able.
It snowed this morning. More importantly, it fulfilled the BBCs weather predictions of "snow this weekend"
The world must be ending.
Well, to be fair it only snowed for about 1 minute. So I guess that's all right then.
Typically the tonnes of salt spread everywhere appear to be going to waste in the absence of any real snow / frost.

Air temperature is low. Fingers hurt. Must buy gloves.
Am having second thoughts about buying a processor for my PC. it could have been so simple. Buy an XP2000 processor at £30. Or so the useless computer repairman at the shop said, who didn't actually repair my comp but just charged me £40 to make his diagnosis of processor burnt out (duh I knew that before I brought it to him, the wanker)
Except that nobody sells 2000+ s anymore. And they'll probably cost 49 quid if they do.
And I can get them back home for £30... sigh. And to complicate matters, now I Know. That my comp is old, slow and geriatric. That AMD 64 Mobos exist out there that operate at a FSB twice of mine. That for £200 quid I could build another state of the art, ultra-fast system...

My Y chromosome is calling out to me dammit.
I think I'll postpone till I go back home. Still, a quid for a computer fair is fair enough, no? :)

Reading some other people's blogs I can't help but feel a touch of envy at their piety and Faith in God.
I'm hardly pious. I can't even spell the word.
I don't always say prayers before bedtime. I don't often say prayers any other time except in church. I don't always say grace anymore, since I tend to miss meals. I don't read my bible enough. The last time I read my bible outside of church was a very long time ago, when I was trying to make sense of Luke. (Funny. I chose Luke for my confirmation. But I'd forgotten how I read Luke intensely as a kid, and chose it mainly because he was a physician, and all-round good guy - hopefully someone I can claim to be someday. That and there's no patron saint for butche... err barbe... err surgeons)
I don't pray to God for help with relationships, or for hope for relationships. I do pray occasionally for courage to face my life. And for love and comfort to the people I knew once, and know still. I have an aversion to what I term asking for lollipops and bicycles - the direct prayers, for healing of individuals, for rewards, for material Things. I never really managed to reconcile the two in my last relationship with a girl, and with her very devout Catholic family. Funny that, my relationship with her evolved into a relationship with her family. Never a good thing.
I guess I recoil instinctively at asking God for presents. Not because I don't have faith in Him, but because the bible is peppered with references to how He works in mysterious ways of His own choosing. And not Ours.

Today was a good day. An old friend did me an honour by writing her day to me in an email instead of blogging it. And in return I've done the same. I won't write more than how I'm rather bemused that a bad, bad day can be followed by a wonderful day, in the same A&E. With the same staff.

Life. Weird.
Real Life - not so good. Presentation to work out mane, and application to complete, all at the same time. How unpleasant.
Note to self : also have to apply for MRCS, BSS, and ISA. Agh. too much to do.

Bugger

What a rotten time to be computerless. Applying for new jobs is a pain with no CV. And I'm suddenly saddled with the chore of organising a DVT teaching presentation.

Blast it. I need a new computer. that's another 100 quid down the drain. sigh.

Okay for the computer freaks out there : Athlon 2600 or intel P4? What processor / mobo combination should I get? 1 month to go before I go home. Maybe I should just wait till I'm home to buy a cheap combination.

In other news, I have fri, sat and sun off. Whee. Now if only I had something to do with all that spare time aside from apply for new jobs.

In still other news : Feeling - listless. Generally upset. Do blokes get PMS? Work ethic at work is severely compromised by nurses treating me like a newbie dolt. I had a Skull XR cancelled three times yesterday despite my consultant's blessings because the paeds A&E nurses took it into their heads to go on a "unnecessary radiation" crusade. What should have taken half an hour took 5 hours. The patient breached, and God Only knows what they filled in as the reason.

And I was just trying to do my job! :\ Perhaps next time I'll just keel over and be an unsafe doctor, to pander to the nurses superiority complexes.

the capital You is far from my mind at the moment. I... don't know what I want. I'd like a bit more snow. The ten seconds worth today was pathetic. I'd like a bit more money, the band 1A I'm barely scraping is pathetic. I'd like a working computer, I'd like to go home for a fortnight of pure, unadulterated rest. I'd like a beach somewhere warm. I'd like the time to sit down with all the people I've ever loved and thank them. Bridge the gaps I've made. Repair the holes in the bridges.

Okay, rant for the day is over. Back to work. :(

Now this is funny.


You're like an angel. As everyone knows, angels
dwell in heaven. They were desribed as shining
ones wearing white and the idea that they have
wings is believed as well. Guardian angels are
the ones that many people think are dead loved
ones who try to protect the living friends or
family they have on Earth. They usually had
blonde hair and maybe brown with flawless
appearance and sweet dispositions. They were
cheerful, hopefull, selfless, loving, and kind.
Angels are the one mystical creature that a
majority of people truly believe in. Encounters
with angels are poping up all over the world
and reassuring people's beliefs in angels.
(please rate)


What Mystical Creature Are You? (Pictures)
brought to you by Quizilla

Yeah, right.

I gotta stop doing these ridiculous quiz-thingies...

Having read a slew of complaints in the Straits Times Forum about supposedly inadequate LASIK surgery, I can't help but feel aggrieved at several things.

First off, the ST apparently has an agenda or point to prove, somewhere. Responsible journalism?
Why publish all the complaints in a handful like that? Or did four individuals just happen to complain at the same time. Mind boggling but possible I suppose.

The other is addressed to the lamebrains who feel justified in whinging after LASIK doesn't give them perfect vision

LASIK is an operation.
Every operation carries risks and benefits.
Operations should not be entered into lightly - do your homework first.

from http://www.lasikmd.ca/questions.html#whatresultscan :

"What results can I expect from LASIK?

LASIK improves the uncorrected vision—one's visual capacity while not wearing corrective lenses—in most patients who have the procedure. Over 90% of patients with low to moderate myopia to achieve 20/40 vision, which most states and provinces consider good enough to drive without having to wear contacts or glasses, and many can expect to achieve 20/20 vision or better.

However, there are no guarantees that you will have perfect vision, and patients with high myopia (more than -8D) and high hyperopia (more than +4D) should have lower expectations. People who are most satisfied with the results of laser correction clearly understand the potential risks and complications and possess realistic expectations of what their vision will be like after surgery."

also :

"How safe is the LASIK procedure?

Most studies show that the LASIK procedure has minimal risk of complications. The overall complication rate is a fraction of one percent. Even if complications do occur, most of the complications are resolved within three months and do not result in long-term interference with vision. The complication rate cited in large studies is between 0.5% and 1.9%. LASIK is a surgical procedure done on a delicate part of the eye, and complications can occur."

It looks nice doesn't it. The complication rate is 0.5% to 1.9%

think about it. up to two out of every hundred patients suffer "complications".

That's a lot of patients.

"After LASIK, how will my vision be at night or in low light?
With Total Cornea LasikTM the vast majority of night vision disturbances are eliminated, since the area of cornea treated is larger than the dilated pupil size. Some patients may see mild glare, halos or starbursts around lights in dim or low-light conditions temporarily right after surgery. These symptoms do not usually interfere with driving at night, or night time activities. For the vast majority, these symptoms are temporary, usually lasing a few days to a week. With this newer technology it is extremely rare for these symptoms to be permanent."

"Will my eyes be dry after LASIK?
All patients should be aware that dry eye is a possible complication after LASIK, although it is very rare. The surgery makes everyone's eyes somewhat dryer afterwards, but only temporarily. Your doctors will carefully test you if you have suffered from dry eye before, or are severely bothered by contact lenses, for the potential of developing this complication after surgery. Everyone should use lots of tear drops after the surgery."

This person writes "...he also refused to accept my point that my bifocal spectacles had -275 deg difference between far sight and reading sight..." and "The outcome was that I still needed to wear spectacles to read as well as for far sight" (after Lasik)

Funny that :

"I wear bifocals now, and my doctor says that I'll still need to wear reading glasses even if I have LASIK done. Why is this?

Most people in their 40s or older will need reading glasses if their eyes are corrected for distance because the eye's lens loses flexibility as we age. This condition, called presbyopia, cannot currently be treated by surgical methods. Click here to learn more about Presbyopia.

Some patients in this age group select monovision, such as is done with contact lenses. This option allows patients to use one of their eyes for distance and the other to see up close. Although monovision proves to be satisfactory for some patients, many are not comfortable with this arrangement.

Patients need to discuss the options with their doctors. Most doctors suggest patients to test monovision with contact lenses for a few weeks prior to opting for monovision with LASIK. Be sure to ask if this trial option is available to you. Click here to learn more about Monovision."

And I learnt all that from doing a simple google search about LASIK.

Granted, the complaints do highlight that the doctors who dealt with the whinging patients probably have a lot of catching-up to do in the communications department. It seems they couch their techniques with absolute certainty and arbitrary figures (does anyone remember the dead siamese twins and their 50-50 chances?)

But I reckon the patients are to blame too for not doing their homework.

My eyesight is not perfect. It's not so bad I'm condemned to 24/7 spectacles (Although of late that's how often I wear them) ... but with a complication rate of 2%, unless I was absolutely, dead certain that I needed the op - I wouldn't.

Not till they got it down to 0.1%.

Upset because LASIK didn't give you the results you expected?
Well then perhaps your expectations were too high - you shouldn't have gone into an operation without checking up on the risks and complications first.

ah yes.
I nearly forgot. Last weekend was spent watching the Cirque du Soleil. Hordes of pretty, lithe (yet voluptious) young oriental females contorting themselves into unnatural postures and positions and hanging artistically from springy harnesses from the ceiling... what's not to enjoy? :)

Having just lunched on mushroom and quorne lasagne, i have only one question.

What is quorne?

Three minutes

thank you Blogger for eating my last post. I hope it was tasty.

Another dream. Another time, another reality.
This reality brings with it a slightly cleaner flat, and a slightly calmer me.

Walking the frigid streets of london, sheltering in Borders with the warmth of another Pratchett sci-fi masterpiece (some of his serious works are very good) my soul is salved, my fatigue washed away.

But I can't help looking up every now and then into the bland faces of the sea of humanity around me, wondering if perhaps, like that cinematography screenplay cliche we pass each other in time, once in a while; strangers in the night, overlapping blurs in time-lapse photography - never quite meeting in the reality of the moment. Perhaps we pass within moments of each other. Or perhaps You are not really here after all.

Fate deals the cards, fate gives us the almosts. We do the rest.
I have exhausted my means; I've done more than enough for a lifetime.
I am tired.

The rest is up to You. But of course, only if You want to - and I know, somewhere in this cynical self that You do not.
And so I read, and laugh with Pratchett. Alone, but adequate.

And it is good - enough.

Strange Intimates

Coming off a Twilight, I'm left with the difficult decision of what to do with my Day Off; a myriad possibilities. A walk down the Thames? (air temp -2 degrees) Vegging out at Borders with Terry Pratchett? Tidying up my flat?

Someone thinks I should Seek, and go Find. Me, I think :
Sleep.
Ja, ist gut.

*********
Sometimes one has to wonder about Priorities. You reminded me once that I had to get mine straight. And so I've given it some thought.

What drives us all; what is it that people Most Desire? A sense of purpose? True Love? Wealth? Power, success?

For me, I think it's Peace. That which I yearn for most of all in the world, above all else.
The rest are fragile, and quite probably unnecessary. The warmth of a good woman, the trappings of wealth, the heady heights of success, the bracing mantle of power - all can ultimately run stale, or be lost at a flash. If I should die tomorrow, then I pray I die with a heart at peace, with myself, and this world. And with my God.

Perhaps one day, I will find that Peace.
**********

In response to xena (People just need a listening ear. And on the internet, the world are your ears (and eyes). Even if they are just silent lurkers.) and DW's reply quite possibly sparked unintentionally by myself, I'd like to give voice to a vague thought that I find difficult to verbalise.
No.
The world is not my Ears and Eyes. These pages do not give me comfort. They give me a release, from myself. For myself.
But all of you, all of Them. Are strangers.
Most of you, anyhow. There can be no substitute for, forgive me xena, the intimacy of Real Life. Of giving vent to thoughts, and receiving in return the richness of humanity. Thoughts, words. Smiles, grimaces. Eyes. Memories.
When I hurt here, like DW, I hurt alone.
As heartless and cynical as this sounds, none of you matter to me. I relish your responses, but most of you are masks to me. Unknown, untried, untested. Forgotten, tomorrow.

There have been few that remained seared in memory, the day after tomorrow.
They are my Ears and Eyes, or have been in the past. Not the cold, hard vastness of the internet. Intimate strangers? I think not.

Brand of Faith

Watching everyone around me receive communion at Langham Church on Sunday after a fire-and-brimstone sermon by Paul Blackham about God wiping the unrepentent from the face of the earth in the Final Days, with Jerricho forshadowing events (and they did put to death by the sword men, women and children) as God's Will, I felt a little saddened that I could not partake of the communion with these Good People. But here was no communion - the division of the church, a fault of man - whose fault exactly? is now lost in the mists of time -- probably a bit of everyone's really - did nobody any favours. Here was fragmentation. The Anglican church continues to reel in the aftermath of its homosexual scandals, with other protestant denominations tactfully avoiding each others gazes and keeping stoically silent on the whole issue. And did the reinventing of the religion, by man, for man - with offending bits snipped out from history -- really and truly serve the will of God? Should the sins of humanity - presumably a wayward cardinal / pope somewhere along the line, and an equally wayward revolutionary castaway priest / king - really impact on the potential salvations of scores of people hundreds of years in the future?

Don't like your flavour of Christianity? Well, found another!

Listening to the Apostles Creed recited (or rather, read from paper) at All Soul's I recoiled as I inadvertently mouthed "We believe in one holy Catholic and apostolic church" whilst everyone else said "united". Surely All Soul's used to say Catholic as well? I remember it from my first years here. So even here the censorship continues, the apostles creed being watered down to a more politically correct form. More palatable for the consumers.
And the communion, conspicuously grand in its relative rarity was, in comparison to the daily communion of the Catholic Mass, truncated and tersely reworded. (But the music, oh the music. The Anglican church really does its music well...) Perhaps the Old Way took too much time? Perhaps "Do this in memory of me" is all that needs to be said, during communion. Perhaps it's just the thoughts that count. Perhaps we won't need a host anymore in the future to eat? After all, it's the thought that counts.
Perhaps we won't need a physical communion then. Perhaps we can just think it.
Perhaps we can just junk it.

I can't help but feel that there could have been a better solution, back then, other than breakaway.
And that perhaps even now there could be a reunification. Somehow. I can't for the life of me imagine how. But the Church Leaders, the nebulous figures at the fore whose job it is to dream up grandiose plans like this don't appear to be helping the cause much. And their individual flocks follow their individual shephards, each along different routes towards different destinations. Perhaps one day there could be a shared communion, and everyone could learn from everyone else. Perhaps one day there could be a Holy and Undivided Catholic Church again - Catholic in the sense of the word from before the protestant movement. Not a brand-name to denote uniqueness. Just a brand-name.

Or perhaps not.

So much to write, so little time

Ten minutes. Is the amount of time I have left before my PAID FOR internet hour expires.
So it's come to this. Me, in an internet cafe.
My computer, having spectacularly expired in a small gout of smoke (okay, no smoke) has left me marooned and internet-less, cast adrift in the information age, in a sea of seclusion.
Naturally, as dawn broke the next day (which would be today) re-minisce was spotted dragging his behemoth computer to the internet cafe cum repairshop next to his house for immediate ressurrection. Lazarus, come forth!
Anyway, re-minisce has a lot to write about but not enough time to write it. In fact he can't even remember what he wanted to write.

7 minutes thirty seconds.

A&E continues to be enjoyable. Re-minisce suspects he's doing something very wrong. 1 patient an hour. Is this really an A&E or what? Re-minisce abandons his usual practise of seeing minors patients in ten minutes, since that just leaves him with fifty minutes of twiddling his thumbs waiting for the next patient to arrive in A&E. Because, of course, the universal rule holds true that just taking that coffee mug out of the cupboard causes fifteen patients to materialise from the ether in the waiting room, all at once.

Sunday service, followed by Sunday mass raised many more troubled questions in re-minisce's mind. The anglican sermon was dark and forboding, and not in the least interesting. But oh, so true. Jerricho slaughtered at the hands of the Christians, because they would not repent. our God, not a benign God offering salvation from our deaths at our own hands -- but an active God, dealing death to those who fail to repent.
It's the age old question of the mug, half empty, half full. Does God slaughter the unrepentent, and spare the god-fearing? Or do we slaughter ourselves in our nihilism and hedonism, only to turn to God for salvation from ourselves.

And strangely, the Catholic mass preached tolerance.

Strange world. thirty seconds. This is re-minisce, signing off for now.

Valentine's 04

was spent moving furniture, and bags of personal items.
One of my friends had to move recently owing to her flat being overrun by carnivorous fungus after an unexpected re-terraforming of the terrain into amazonian swampland.
Clueless sod that I am, I haplessly agreed to help her move some of her stuff.

Stuff is an understatement.
2 other females were enlisted in this herculean task, which involved four trips by minivan and several fun-filled wheelbarrow-laden expeditions, all for a 7 minute walk down the street. One of them struck a strange chord of deja-vu in me for a while. She was cute, and engaging. While not exactly drop-dead, she had interesting eyes, and eyes are the window... aren't they?
After a while it struck me that she looked a little bit like, and really sounded and reacted like another of my old friends. But had nicer eyes, and wasn't quite as midget-sized. (You once referred to her as a stress bunny) Yeah, that's probably it.
The afternoon was spent mindlessly following DIY instructions. I like DIY. It's mindless. You just follow the instructions.

I'm beginning to wonder if I should become an orthopod instead of a plastic.

two cabinets, a shelf of drawers and a miscellaneous metalmesh whatchamacallitthingummagiggy later, we adjourned to a party.

So my Valentine's night was spent imbibing alcoholic drinks at a party with eight not-unattractive, rather inebriated oriental females babbling about their clothes sizes and waistlines.

And I felt... listless.
I'm told I became flushed. I certainly kidded around a little bit, in between keeping quiet and watching people. And thinking.

And wondering briefly whether, in another life, I would have returned Engaging Girl's interest. And been engaging back. And engaged.

Sometimes I wonder at how life isn't simple anymore. If I could just wear my mind on my sleeve, I wonder how people would react.

I've never cared much for Valentine's day. It's just another day to me. (National Florists-Aid Day, really) It's been like that for a while now.

But wherever You are, well, I hope it was good for you. And if You were here, I hope you were kept warm.

be well.
Grace and Peace.

You are a PHOENIX in your soul and your
wings make a statement. Huge and born of flame,
they burn with light and power and rebirth.
Ashes fall from your wingtips. You are an
amazingly strong person. You survive, even
flourish in adversity and hardship. A firm
believer in the phrase, 'Whatever doesn't kill
you only makes you stronger,' you rarely fear
failure. You know that any mistake you make
will teach you more about yourself and allow
you to 'rise from the ashes' as a still greater
being. Because of this, you rarely make the
same mistake twice, and are not among the most
forgiving people. You're extremely powerful and
wise, and are capable of fierce pride, passion,
and anger. Perhaps you're this way because you
were forced to survive a rough childhood. Or
maybe you just have a strong grasp on reality
and know that life is tough and the world is
cruel, and it takes strength and independence
to survive it. And independence is your
strongest point - you may care for others, and
even depend on them...but when it comes right
down to it, the only one you need is yourself.
Thus you trust your own intuition, and rely on
a mind almost as brilliant as the fire of your
wings to guide you.You are eternal and because
you have a strong sense of who and what you
are, no one can control your heart or mind, or
even really influence your thinking. A symbol
of rebirth and renewal, you tend to be a very
spiritual person with a serious mind - never
acting immature and harboring a superior
disgust of those who do. Likewise, humanity's
stupidity and tendency to want others to solve
their problems for them frustrates you
endlessly. Though you can be stubborn,
outspoken, and haughty, I admire you greatly.


*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
brought to you by Quizilla

...
what absolute rubbish. lol.
oh well. at least it matches the colour scheme.

********
one small question answered differently gives this :

What a big difference a colour can make.

how strange.


Your wings are BROKEN and tattered. You are
an angelic spirit who has fallen from grace for
one reason or another - possibly, you made one
tragic mistake that cost you everything. Or
maybe you were blamed for a crime you didn't
commit. In any case, you are faithless and
joyless. You find no happiness, love, or
acceptance in your love or in yourself. Most
days are a burden and you wonder when the
hurting will end. Sweet, beautiful and
sorrowful, you paint a tragic and touching
picture. You are the one that few understand.
Those that do know you are likely to love you
deeply and wish that they could do something to
ease your pain. You are constantly living in
memories of better times and a better world.
You are hard on yourself and self-critical or
self-loathing. Feeling rejected and unloved,
you are sensitive, caring, deep, and despite
your tainted nature, your soul is
breathtakingly beautiful.


*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
brought to you by Quizilla

how strange.

It feels strange to be back.
Walking past the cookhouse with its interminable tides of Abba played at brain-melting volume. Or that gristly, gut-turning smell of chlorine intermingled with patient's food-in-progress. Hauntingly familiar, but from another age.

It feels strange to be back.
Dressed in scrubs, no longer in shirt, tie and white-coat. So unfamiliar.

******
Last night in the middle of clerking an elderly gentleman with fast AF running at a rate of 180 (and yet, still strangely not only cardiovascularly stable but completely asymptomatic) I heard the words "prepare to shock" voiced calmly from the next cubicle. I froze (making my patient's confident refrain stagger uncertainly to a halt) then flung myself through the dividing curtain, multiple venflons in hand to assist the staff grade, who's patient had suddenly gone into VF while he was talking to her. (He has that effect on women sometimes). DC shock brought her back into sinus. Quite possibly the first time I've seen someone live after shocking.
ER makes it look like everyone comes back from the brink. I've seen at least a hundred attempts to date. 1 in a hundred... paints a different picture.

*******
Looking at the pictures on the wall of the doctor's mess of happy chappies at the mess parties, it's with a shock that I recognise a large number of people in one of the photographs - including myself.

It feels strange to be back.

Sincerely, Yours.

Watching a friend, well, rebound from her sadness (there is no other word that conveys the meaning better) I felt a touch of envy. I wish I could live like that. What makes me different, I wondered. Is it because I'm male - and when we hurt we isolate ourselves; no females cluster around us to give aid, a shoulder to cry on... and possibly a brief romantic interlude to distract us from reality? (Spoiler to females : that guy giving you his shoulder to cry on - do you really think he's just doing it because he has nothing better to do and he's so nice? If you do, well... that's nice then.) When we hurt - we hurt alone? Or is it because of the choices I make, the paths I tread. The memories I want to hold sacred, and life I am tired of bespoiling. The fatigue I have, at all that is demeaning to Me.
I write about Her often, about You. But this friend thought, yesterday that the reason people read my blog(s) is because through them I write about Me. That these pages are personal. Are they? I don't know. Personal, to me, would be a telephone call. Or standing at a random bookshop leafing through generic shiny ?woman's magazines, waiting.
Personal, to me :
red call, 60 year old male at indian restaurant, long wait for dinner, agitation and sudden collapse.
GCS 3/15 on arrival. A, B, C clear, iv access stat, bloods, ABG, ECG ? normal, repeat ! normal, involve the medical reg and the anaesthetics reg. PERLA, Plantars bilatarally downgoing, Chest X ray, and then close monitoring and agonised moments ticking away waiting for the bloods to come back. Checking for an AAA as an afterthought because of a paranoid worry about the b/p creeping down slowly. A fluctuating GCS with a brief 2 min return to lucidity - GCS 14/15 -- then he sinks back to 3/15.
And feeling devastated as the family comes in (GCS 3/15), cries all over the patient and leaves. And feeling puzzled when the CT comes back... absolutely normal. By which time he's intubated, ventilated and waiting for an ITU bed.
I know he's had a stroke. I know it.

That's personal.
To me.
Now.

I miss those phonecalls, sometimes.
Sometimes, I miss You.
But in the here and now, this is personal. This is Me.

Why

Why is Sydney one of my favourit-est places?
I guess I'll blame it on the weather, man.
It has perfect weather. It's a city, and ultimately I am a child of the city, I love nooks and crannies. At the same time, it has a warmth and happiness that London lacks. It has beauty. It has streets teeming with talent, it has a bay; it has bays. It has shores. It has a mountain - it has something for everyone.

Once upon a time it had a bear in a box; but those times are as Water. Under the bridge; lost in the past. And I tell myself now that that's got nothing to do with my love for Syndey; I'd still love to live there even if it was Paddington-less.

Staying briefly with my uncle there, I could see myself in his shoes; old, perhaps married to a nice frumpy caucasian love of my life, with two lovely dogs and two beautiful children - and happy; for the rest of my life.

Whilst mired in the cold hardness of London, all that feels like a pipe-dream, beyond my grasp. Even when I'm back amidst the sterility of Singapore, it feels like an elusive ?ambition that everyone has a timeframe pegged to - and most nobody actually succeeds at achieving. Because the harder you try, the less likely it is you'll actually get more than a facade of the real thing.

It's a bit like a blog.

And that is why Sydney. When it comes to the crunch, this cynic wants to be happy; even if it's only a vague dream of happiness, somewhere in the nebulous future.

Dawn to Dusk

Nurses have a name for their late shift here. They call it a Twilight. "I'm on a twilight" - sounds like something out of a sci-fi/romance movie to me. I kinda like it.

So today I'm starting my new job, and I have some misgivings. Sure, I've done it before, but... it's different. Everything's in a different place, and underneath it all, it's my training job. I've gotta be good at it this time, and I don't know any of the hospital protocols. Perhaps Colchester's rough and ready A&E medicine won't be enough out in the almost-big-city. (Next on the cards, London?)

And to make things worse, I'm working today after the induction. Not a twilight, fortunately, just a regular Daylight. Home at 2100. Which is a bit of a bummer - I didn't get a room there in the end - what DO I do when I finish at 0200 hours after the last train leaves? Sleep in the mess? Perhaps I need that car after all.

Real-life worries. Are what usually fills other people's heads. I'm too laid back to actually worry about these things. I don't actually mind sleeping in the mess... as long as I get to go home and shower the next morning.

This weekend's been spent thinking about other people's worries; listening to someone dispassionately narrate her conclusion of a relationship that nearly lasted a decade, I couldn't help but feel sad. It's sad to have to face something you saw coming for ages, it's not quite right to say bluntly, well it was obvious it was going that way for some time, to me anyhow. So you just listen in silence. And her sadness was intuitive, even if she was covering - perhaps that would have warrented a proper show of sympathy, a slightly longer hug. Perhaps I shoulda got dessert.

Listening to someone else relate her flat turning into a mini version of the Amazonian swamps repeatedly, her frustration with her landlord's tardiness at sorting out the problem, her frustration with the smell, and the stress of sorting out a new flat, and her career in-decisions (multiple applications for jobs she didn't really want, resulting in interviews skipped) whilst getting slightly tipsy on an empty stomach, two nights in a row, I felt... not quite apathy. Just sat there, letting it wash over me, and somewhere in me, a gnawing ? worry. Turning around on the street, staring out through glass windows. I see people now, not just scenary, and I have a suspician I know who I'm looking for, dammit.

*******
And when we meet, (which) I'm sure we will
All that was there will be there still
I'll let it pass and hold my tongue
And you will think that I've moved on

I will go down with this ship
I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
*******
Except I'm not sure we will.
And If we do, Your silence will have told me a million things more than mine tells You.

The ball is in Your court now.

Sugar and spice

On the train today while moving most of my life from Colchester back to London I was ? accidentally kicked awake from my drowsy reverie by a pretty brunette and a stunning blonde. How often can any of you lay claim to that? For that matter, how often can I lay claim to that.

*******
My favourite place in the world is probably Sydney. But coming a close second is the open air skating rink at Liverpool Street station. I don't know why, but everytime I'm nearby I'm compelled to go and watch it. Not merely for the skating, although that's lovely to watch; the setting alone, in the middle of the night, a flawlessly white sheet of ice, brightly floodlit surrounded by a virtual collosseum of skyscrapers, with an encircling bar all the way around it on the second floor. Somehow it fills me with calm, in the middle of the hustle and bustle of daily London living.