After six months grounded, I fly to India for a wedding, endless transfers, unexpected company and the terrifying prospect of dancing.
After six months grounded, I fly to India for a wedding, endless transfers, unexpected company and the terrifying prospect of dancing.
Ready to date again, I threw myself back into the love quest – one red flag, one perfect second date and one promising alternative at a time.
Trapped in Malta through Storm Harry and a miserable winter, I hit a low before spring brought colour, movement and a much-needed reset.
Buying my first home in Malta meant budgets, viewings, bureaucracy, a bizarre garnishee order and finally somewhere I could call my own too.
Becoming an HST meant far more than a new title – suddenly I was leading resus, guiding juniors and learning to carry real responsibility.
After a sleepless night shift, caffeine, awkward questions and one near-fumble, my HST interview ended with an unexpected result.
Four years of higher specialist training begin – night shifts, exams, burnout, growth and the chaos and privilege of emergency medicine.