Induction was done in a flurry of powerpoint presentations and a ton of paperwork. I signed paperwork, filled in forms and tried to understand the complexities of the rota, legalities of what we can work and what we can’t and of course pay. I don’t understand most of it I must admit.
The knots in the pit of my stomach are increasing. It’s crazy because this is not the first job I’ve ever had but it’s certainly building itself up to be in a class of it’s own.
Graduation Day was good. A finale of one stage of my life. But frankly right now I’m already missing the cosiness of Hogwarts with Drugs otherwise known as medical school.
Getting to this point has already cost me in grey hairs and even some hair loss, debt and years lost when I could have been hitchhiking around the world or even trying out as a Costa Barrista for a summer. I find myself enviously viewing the coffee makers and think how blissful it must be to not have to think of anything more stressful than whether they need chocolate with that froth. What will the pay back be? Will there be any? I’ve heard it described as both the best job in the world and the worst. I’m talking about medicine now – not making coffee.
I’m reading the headlines daily about NHS cuts, lack of recruitment into higher speciality training and the looming privatisation of the NHS at the hands of the Tories. Why did they public vote them back in? I don’t get it. It’s such an uncertain future but right now I’m thinking about what’s around the corner.
The first week in Aug on the calendar marks the change over period and the arrival of the foundation doctors. An army of Padawans entering hospitals and stepping onto wards for the first time. What will the seniors be like? I saw a post on Facebook that said some might want to be Obi-Wan Kenobi but can’t help channeling their Darth Vader.