The Big Return
THE BIG RETURN
It’s the first time I’ve had to wake up at 6AM in months. It’s also the first time I’m wearing scrubs in over a year. I should probably be groggy and grumpy as hell right about now, but all I can feel is this Cheshire Cat smile forming on my face. It’s finally time!
I forgot how annoying these polyester scrubs are. They have this greenhouse effect where they somehow trap sweat and heat. Given that Maltese Octobers are comparable to summers in the Sahara, it’s a bit less than ideal to be stuck in traffic in them. But hey, I’ll get used to this again. Plus, I never complained about sweat and heat when I was climbing Acatenango in Guatemala or crossing the desert around San Pedro de Atacama. Actually, I did, but I’m trying to be less whiny about things recently. I’ve actually come to appreciate all my country has to offer now that I know I’m gonna be stuck here for a while. And so I put my car into first gear, press the accelerator for two seconds, and come to a halt for the five-hundredth time this morning. Gotta love traffic jams!
School has just started, so it takes me almost an hour to drive the five kilometres to the hospital. My parking permit still hasn’t been approved, so I’m gonna have to park with the rest of the peasants – those blessed enough not to call this hospital their workplace. I fork out €3.50. Not much, but dangerously close to my new hourly rate. I head to the ED. I should be feeling emotional knowing I’m back here – doing the things I love with the people I love – only I’d been here a few months earlier for my interview and again a couple of weeks before to plead my case. I should be feeling emotional, but I’m not.
I am, however, a bit nervous. I mean, sure, it’s not like I’ve been completely out of the loop since I left. I did get a few months of practice at the other hospital at least. But it’s not the same. I have to get used to this system again. And I still have a lot of gaps in my knowledge – some that have been there from the very start, others that formed while I cast medicine aside for the better part of a year.
Now I’m expected to shape up. I’m not expected to continue where I left off. Hell no. I’m no longer a junior doctor now. I’m expected to have improved, to know my stuff, and to be more independent. But I haven’t, I don’t, and I’m not.
It's Good to be Back
I walk into the office with my head hung low. That’s when this shrill, ultra-high-pitched noise threatens to perforate my eardrums: “MARIUUUUUUS! YOU’RE BACK!”
One of my old seniors rushes over for a hug. Then another joins in. Then another. I hold back my tears. Man, I’ve missed these people. Man, I’ve missed this place. And man, I’ve missed this job! “How was your gap year?”, “Are you gonna be joining us?”, “Does this mean you’re officially one of us?”, “Are you mad?”, and a thousand other questions were flung at me from every direction by peers and mentors alike. “It’s good to be back” was all I could muster without breaking into sobs.
The Chair of the department walks in. “Glad to have you on board – come on in!” she says as she grabs me by the shoulder and leads me to her office. She offers me a seat before sitting down opposite me. “So, I take it you’ve been away from medicine for a year now. Not to worry, we’ll do all we can to help you ease back in!”
I could feel my eyes tearing up again. In my two years working at that hospital, I’d become accustomed to bullying and toxic behaviour, not this. Not support. Not empathy. Not kindness. I mean, yeah, I was lucky enough to have great seniors on most rotations, but rarely those at the top. Most consultants wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about those of us at the bottom of the hospital food chain, let alone talk about “easing us back in”.
I told her all about my recent work experience – that even though I might not be at the top of my game just yet, I wasn’t quite the village idiot either. I told her that, as always, I knew my limits and was assertive enough to ask for help when needed. And I told her I was ready. Ready for all of it. “It’s good to be back.”