Neurology – First Day
I.II.I
FIRST DAY
My first rotation had come and gone. On my last day, it felt almost surreal leaving the ward. The surgical department had truly become my home.
I’d spent the better part of three months wandering those halls, making idle chit-chat with the staff, working my ass off. I’d built a life there, and now I had to leave it behind. It’d be weird not stepping into that ward every single day – bursting in before the break of dawn, screaming “Good morning beautiful people!” at the top of my lungs, despite everyone still being so groggy. It’d be weird not working in the same place I’d grown so used to, the same place where I’d learnt so much.
But that’s the nomadic life of a junior doctor, and as bittersweet as that was, I was pretty hyped about my upcoming rotation. Next up was neurology – a specialty I’d been fascinated with since my second year of med school. To this day, there’s still nothing that gets me going more than the human brain. Its intricacies and mysteries are a thing of wonder, to say the least.
A few days before I started, I asked the neurology firm’s current house officer, to show me around the neuro ward and get me up to speed.
The general vibe I got right from the start was that this would be a completely different environment from the one I’d grown used to on the surgical wards. For starters, there were fewer patients. Way fewer. Also, they were all in the same ward – except for some outliers we’d have to visit every now and then. Plus, some of the patients had been there for months on end – meaning the team actually had a proper relationship with them.
Like Mr Chill, for example – a 24-year-old, previously healthy guy who was now wheelchair-bound after being diagnosed with Guillain-Barré syndrome – a neurological disorder where the body’s immune system attacks the peripheral nervous system. As distraught as one might expect someone in his predicament to be, he was as relaxed as ever, with the progress he’d made over the previous few months pushing him onwards. Turns out, when he was first admitted, he could only move his eyes and had to be intubated.
And let’s not forget Mrs Fire – a seventy-year-old lady left bedridden after a massive ischaemic stroke. With the little hand power she had left, she always made sure to look her best – her shiny, bright red hair a testament to what people can survive when faced with the worst possible outcomes. On most days, I’d barely have enough energy to get out of bed, let alone groom my now-unruly beard. Seeing people like her really puts things in perspective!
I immediately fell in love with the neuro ward. The nurses seemed to know every single thing about the patients and their management. The doctors seemed genuinely elated to have me on board. Right there and then, I knew I’d fit in.
And on my first day, that’s exactly how I felt. The firm I’d be working with for the next three months seemed the complete opposite of the one I had back in emergency surgery.
I was met by Dr Pearl, the consultant neurologist, who’s renowned for being the calmest and most composed of them all – her pearl necklace and classy outfits perfectly matching her demeanour. In her presence, I felt like I needed to temper myself, mustering all my self-control to tone it down a bit. Then there was Gloria – an incredibly gorgeous, incredibly smart higher specialist trainee (HST) who’d be working with our firm for the following two weeks, given that Rosa – the firm’s actual HST – was COVID-positive and still in isolation.
I’d be the firm’s only house officer – meaning I wouldn’t have any more unnecessary drama and that I could take full control over my workload. To top it all off, Momma Bear – AKA my best friend – would be working in the same department. It felt like I’d pretty much hit the jackpot. And in a way, I kinda had.
After the usual pleasantries, we started off the ward round. By the time we finished, I already knew everything about our seven patients. Here, there was no chaos or panic. Here, I could hold onto a single file while Gloria and the trailing nurses carried the rest. Granted, I was still unaccustomed to their style of work, but it didn’t take long to get used to it. We’d go to the patient’s bedside, greet them, review the file, ask a few simple questions, examine them, and then discuss their case quietly outside the room. So, so different from what I was used to. This was how it was supposed to be done.
After the brief ward round, Dr Pearl and Gloria headed to the outpatient clinic to continue their day, leaving me to tend to the few tasks that had accumulated during the round. For all her strengths, Dr Pearl is known to be one of the most cautious medics in the hospital. She’s overly meticulous and sometimes goes a bit overboard with investigations. As such, I had my plate full booking all kinds of scans – from MRIs to CTs.
Luckily, her reputation precedes her. The second I’d call to vet a scan and mention I was her house officer, they’d almost immediately comply. Then a few cannulas here and there, one discharge letter, and that was it. By around 10AM, I was done. I could hardly believe it.
Back in surgery, I’d be running ragged, my tongue practically hanging out of my mouth until the very second I clocked off. Here? Here I was done after just a few hours. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat in the doctors’ office, admiring how well organised everything was – the décor set up by the residents, the orchid still in full bloom and thriving.
Lily, one of the HSTs who’d quickly become one of my favourite people on Earth, was going over the musicals she’d watched in London. Clive, another HST who was effortlessly dashing and brilliant, was talking about his latest read. Meanwhile, back with my old firm, we’d have no time to chat and get to know each other. By the end of those three months, I practically knew nothing about them. Pus there was also the whole hierarchy thing. We couldn’t just speak to Mr Moody. In surgical firms, there’s always this aura of reverence and self-importance. But here? Everyone was nice and chatty – like normal human beings.
As I was enjoying my well-deserved break, Momma Bear was drowning in scut work. Her firm was arguably the busiest and, given that they were the admitting team, they were inundated with new patients and all the work that comes with it. Whilst this slower pace was very welcome for me, I still found myself mindlessly bored. Lending her a helping hand felt like a win-win situation. That said, after a couple of hours, we were both sat back in the office, enjoying yet another cup of coffee.
We got on well with the rest of the junior doctors and seniors. In truth, I think Momma Bear and I might’ve intimidated them – our friendship and over-the-top inside jokes making everyone around us a little uncomfortable. But as it turned out, they were all quirky and fun to hang out with. I could genuinely see myself working there for eternity.