Healing
II.III.VI
BELONGING
Despite my initial reluctance and the many trials and tribulations I had to deal with during those three months, I have to admit that geriatric medicine was, by far, my favourite rotation.
I don’t think there will ever be another time in my career where I’ll experience the same firm dynamic I had with Dr Pops, Rosaline, and Paula (Dr Sleazy doesn’t count). Our ward rounds were full of laughter, punctuated by coffee and cigarette breaks as we messed around and did our best to keep everyone’s spirits high.
From starting work later on Saturdays (cause of the mandatory breakfast we simply had to prepare in the Quarters’ kitchen), to getting home late (why would anyone want to leave when they’re having that much fun?), from rounding on Mrs Button (the cutest patient, who’d always sit by the nurses’ station busying herself with a crossword) to rounding on Mrs Light Diet (a grotesquely obese patient with every complication you’d expect from such a body habitus, despite a pristine lipid profile), from breaking up fights between patients (Mr Handsy living up to his reputation) to getting into arguments with nurses (on account of our firm being far too loud and happy), I will forever cherish every single moment of those three months.
Not to mention, it was an honour to be part of such an incredible team. My friendship with Paula and Rosalie continued to blossom, and Dr Pops became something of a second father to me. Much like Mr Chaos, he made no effort to hide his favouritism towards me – but this wasn’t the toxic kind. He loved Paula and me equally and treated us like his own children.
By the end, we’d grown so close we were more like a family than a firm, with Dr Sleazy being that creepy, pervy uncle no one ever wants around. We’d go out together all the time, sometimes more than once a week. Crazy. Man, do I miss those days. It was pure privilege.
It wasn’t just the firm, though. It was everything. Chilling in the garden outside the Doctors’ Quarters, soaking up the spring sun while listening to music, coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Those short walks from one ward to the next. Or getting hooked up to IV fluids alongside Paula after our graduation buscade.
Over those three months, that place had become my home. And for good reason. Having decided to do something big the following year, I needed all the money I could get. In fact, I worked one-hundred-hour weeks for most of that rotation. While it wasn’t as quiet or relaxed as my night shifts in Gozo used to be, it was still relatively manageable – allowing me to use what little free time I had to keep pushing towards my goals. All the while, I worked as a pitch-side doctor and kept studying for the MRCS Part B exam.
Three months of working hard and playing harder. And when those three months came to an end, it was purely devastating. Having to say goodbye to Dr Pops and Rosalie was simply tragic. Luckily, I’d be working together with Paula during our next rotation – so at least I did have something going on for me. Plus, we swore we’d stay in touch and keep up our family outings.
And just like that, my seventh rotation came to an end. I had only one left before finishing my Foundation Programme. How did that happen, huh? In some ways, it felt like I’d only been a doctor for a week. In others, it felt like I’d been doing this for years. Time really is a strange thing, huh?