D-Day
II.I.V
D-DAY
As relaxed as my time in Gozo was, I still had my plate full at work and back home. But somehow, I was managing to juggle everything without so much as a hitch.
I would sign up for two or three on-call shifts every week. Whilst I’d officially be working one-hundred-hour weeks, there’d be so little work to go around on most days that I’d have plenty of time to do other stuff whilst also being paid – like studying for my upcoming exam, or teaching med students. I’d also have enough time to go to the operating room whenever I felt like it, with some seniors allowing me to perform simple local procedures, and Mr Vladimir allowing me to close an abdominal wall after a colectomy at one point. I was simply on fire!
And just like that, it was finally September and I was nearing the end of my rotation. For the time being, I couldn’t think about leaving Gozo though – I couldn’t afford to break down just yet. I had something more important coming up.
And that was the MRCS Part A exam. Given that COVID restrictions were still in place, we’d be doing the exam online from the comfort of our home. With our wi-fi being spotty at best, I could already imagine a hundred and one ways I could screw up my exam – that was my main concern. Not so much failing it – given all the hours I’d put in whilst stuck in quarantine.
All set up in front of my laptop, I turned on the camera (which they’d be using to make sure we don’t cheat) and went over the endless list of instructions – like the fact that we’d be disqualified if we stood up and left the camera’s view at any point. Then I hit start. The first question was easy enough. So was the second. The third? To be honest, I don’t quite remember what the third one was. Mostly cause my phone alarm had gone off from the other side of the room and I practically lunged at it, pointing the damned thing at the camera whilst I explained what had just happened like a blithering idiot.
I was genuinely paralysed, my heart thumping so loudly in my chest that I could barely even concentrate on the next question. “That’s it – I’m out!” I said to myself, all resigned. Just like that, all those countless hours of studying, and all the money I’d paid to sit the exam, were flushed down the drain. I had half a mind to just close my laptop and go to the beach instead of wasting the next three hours checking boxes, only for them to tell me I’d be disqualified later on.
But screw it. I did my best to compose myself and go on with the exam. The next few questions were a blur and I could hardly focus, but then I started to get back in the zone and finished it. I felt pretty good about my performance, but not knowing whether it’d be all for nought, I can’t say I wasn’t disheartened.
I sent the committee an email going over everything that had just transpired, and they replied that there’d probably be an investigation and that I’d hear from them at some point. And so, the rest was completely out of my control and in their hands. Not to mention, pass or fail, I still learnt a hell of a lot whilst studying for it. It definitely made me a better doctor.
And just like that, my three months on that tiny little island were up. Lemme just say, Gozo wasn’t perfect. It was under-resourced, chaotic in its own way, and occasionally drove me up the wall. Here, life moved at a pace that refused to match my own, and eventually, I gave up trying to fight it.
Between the sea swims, the empty afternoons, and the quiet nights, something inside me softened – and in all that slowness and simplicity, it gave me exactly what I needed: time. Time to think, to write, to heal, and to remember that I’m more than just a doctor running from one crisis to the next. I learnt that rest isn’t laziness, that stillness isn’t stagnation, and that sometimes all I’d need is to slow down long enough for me to breathe again.
Leaving that place felt a bit like leaving behind an entire life I’d built over there. There’s just something about Gozo and its go-slow atmosphere that’s simply irreplaceable!