20 October 2006
The photo blog idea may have to be abandoned, in the circumstances where something vaguely interesting occurs, photography is fairly unwelcome - phone cameras are seen as the devils own (damn confidentiality rules!).
I guess the best thing to do is to carry on, albeit without the visual commentary, in the hope that someone might bother to read.
I am now a proper baby doctor. I have my own team, my own patients and my own mad run through a large London teaching hospital. I am now a clinical medical students.
The first two weeks of this, I have seen and done so much, some of which might even be of passing interest to you - if only to warn you of the dangers of not having private medical insurance.
I have seen some very, very sick patients (and I've managed not to make them any sicker, generally by getting out of the way). I have been in resus, holding some bloke's head together while the anaesthetist struggles to pass a tube through the mouth into the airway. I have stuck needles into people's veins and arteries with the intention of drawing fresh warm blood for tests with dubious necessity. I have cut open abscesses and stuck my finger where it really shouldn't go. In short - I'm loving it.
I have also worked some of the most demanding hours I'd ever thought about, safe in the knowledge that compared to the doctors, whom I aspire to emulate, I have it easy. The days begin early in the morning, sometimes before the sun has properly risen, they consist of running around an airless concrete box for hours on end rarely with time to sit down, drink, have a bite to eat or snatch a crafty fag. They end often after the sun has set, invariably after my preclinical colleagues are safely at home or in the bar. I have rarely been as tired, as dehydrated and as underfed as I currently seem to constantly be.
It's a struggle, as some point out, it's a right of passage.
You never know, I might actually make it.