T -1

4PM rolls around, and I’m on the verge of a caffeine-induced existential crisis. The afternoon patient rush is over, and I’ve been chilling for the past two hours. I’ve had lunch, an ungodly amount of coffee, read half a book, got caught up on all current events, and even wrote a bit. That’s my average day at this hospital.

Just as I’m shifting my ass into a more comfortable position so I can enjoy an episode of Predators (it literally just came out), I receive an email. An email saying I should report to the public hospital tomorrow. That’s it.

I call the sender immediately, with no success. My palms are sweaty, my heart is racing, my brain is sizzling. Do I tell my current employer I’m no longer their employee? Should I wait? What does this mean? What does this mean?! I get up and pace around the office. Then I sit down and reply to the email with a barrage of questions:

• • • Does this mean I start working there tomorrow?
    • At what time should I be there?
    • What should I bring with me?
    • Where am I supposed to go?
    • Who am I supposed to report to?

I pace some more. A few agonising minutes later, I receive an apologetic email with all the answers I was looking for. Yes, I’d officially be starting my job as an emergency physician the following day. I’d be expected to go to the department at 8AM and meet the Head, bringing along the “usual doctor stuff” – stethoscope, scrubs, sanity – if I still had any.

After all the hoops they had made me jump through, why wouldn’t they give me less than half a day’s notice? They just had to keep it going right up until the very start, didn’t they? With my tail between my legs, I cower towards the director of the hospital – half expecting her to shoot me in the head. “Finally! You’ve been waiting for so long! Go, don’t worry about the roster – we’ll figure it out!” she says.

That’s what I’d be leaving. A gorgeously decorated, perfectly calm and tranquil hospital with helpful, friendly staff, decent and humane working conditions, and a salary that could have me buy my own place without so much as going near a bank.

I gave that up without blinking. I gave that up for a run-down, uninspiring building full of noise and chaos, with irritated, frustrated, and stressed-out poor souls doubling as my colleagues. I’d be running around ragged without time for a cup of coffee, let alone to read half a book. Not to mention that my pay would be less than half of what I’d grown used to by then. But it would be worth it. Every chaotic, noisy, coffee-less, underpaid second.