Tuesday, February 08, 2005
How Was Your Day?
I feel the need to justify my lashing out to the cosmos last night, but I just couldn't.
I was truly livid, words just poured out like a torrential monsoon in December in Kelantan, and it’s well overdue. It wasn’t the first and I am sure it won’t be the last.
I feel like reaching out,
or at least to have a terra firma to stand on, to support if there’s not a single rope fed down for me to reach anymore. I feel like I am sinking deeper and deeper.
My emotions have been playing Musollini with 50% DNA that of Hitler’s, instead of democratic self lately.
or maybe just a firm, sturdy something that would be my sang-froid,
one that doesn’t use every minute detail from the sanctity of a friendship/relationship to electrocute the other party involved.
I was so mad I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so I swore to
myself,at myself, and;
at the pink rice – I intially put an egg in the rice to boil like
Cik T used to do and it had a pink barcode/expiry date stamped in red,
at my already coffee stained textbook - this time I stained it with
ejaculations from a pink grapefruit,
at the digestive biscuits- it was a cheap ASDA brand which doesn’t stay hard for very long possibly not made for dipping in a hot cup of tea and collects at the bottom of the mug like sewage,
and to say the least at anything and everything even the AOL connection
which was at it’s most spastic semester.
Whatever happened to ‘Hi, how was your day?' Civilized enough noh?
Plain but objective. Sincere or not, that is not for anybody to judge.
At least it doesn’t leech your good sap.
How would one know?
Since things snowballed into a great big round boulder like that in Indiana Jones, where it rolled and rolled and never really got to him, I tell you what a shit day it already was even before some people made it any shittier.
I, being quite junior in this job, by regulations stipulated by the
Royal College of Anaesthetists am not allowed to put any bodies below
10 years of age, on my own.
It’s illegal. I’ve done it before but that was after all grounds covered and the consultant was thoroughly happy for me to do so.
I turned up at 01:00 pm thinking I was just going to supervise a few newbies. Oh well, it’s not NHS if things work exactly as initially planned. I was surprised to be given a list of little people to put to sleep instead.
Surely there’s a mistake.
Rang the secretary and she rightly said, any problems ring Dr.B.
Oh what does she know. Saw them all kids in a room, and of course they all carry these blank faces as though the world is going to end in an hour’s time and needles are either going to kill them or amputate the whole arm. Wasn't sure if I should feel more petrified.
The smaller the patient the worse the calculations,
and the more maths involved the more I have to use my brain.
Went back to the OR and saw the assistant for the day. Always smiling, chatty, single,happy, a non- energy vampire, Kerry. I love being around her. We normally talk about books, travelling and great people. But most times about sex,
she that is.
I rang Dr.B to get him to come over and linger to make things legal,
albeit things will still carry on as if he’s not there. When he didn’t
answer his pager after 20 minutes, thinking 'it's not like I've not done it before', told another anaesthetist what I was up to, and I cracked on.
First, I had to have a second go at putting the cannula in
( the plastic tube with the needle inside) –I had one myself before, mamagrandpapa pain I tell you. So that wasn’t a good start.
This boy, half black half white bless him was such a lovely 8 year old,
but he was just soo tensed and wriggled soo much, I missed.
Sorry I busted your vein Jesse.
Second attempt I was more determined that I said,
I am going to put mum to sleep instead if you move and I miss again.
It was intended as a joke. Jesse grinned.
Mum was standing there watching her only son, put to sleep, helpless and distressed.
Seeing that look on her face, I wasn’t sure if that was a clever thing to say, but it helped to simmer the quickly inflating tension. Everyone broke into small short laughter, and the boy cooperated. I got it in. Hurrah!
I was getting up from a kneeling position when, like a see-saw, mum flopped to the floor and banged her head on the trolley.
Uiikkss??? What???????
Now boy cried, Kerry gasped, the assistant with tight tunic and too much make up flapped and I was stunned.
Boy cried wanted mum. Shouting.
Mummy wake up!!!!
There was enough madness and chaos in that room to make my hands tremble
and feellike they weren’t mine.
To cut it short, mum suffers from'
can’t-stand-blood-can’t-watch-blood-but-see-if this-time-it’s-different.
Instead of 1, had 2 patients to look after. Boy had his operation,mum recovered after tea and digestives and lots of
oh you poor thiiiinggg...it must be horrible.
Me? Dr.B was speechless after I reported it to him, I finished the list
despite the initial drama and I had to carry on like nothing happened, but
really…
my expanded self just wanted a, ‘How was your day’ or nothing at all if people are going to be nasty to me.
Anaesthetists are people, people have feelings, so I have feelings too.
Thoughts for the day: No parents should be allowed in the anaesthetics room,
and I wonder if I should drug these children way in advance, so that
they are so stoned they just let you have the whole arm to poke.
Pure joke ok mums out there, it's a joke. Breath now.
I was truly livid, words just poured out like a torrential monsoon in December in Kelantan, and it’s well overdue. It wasn’t the first and I am sure it won’t be the last.
I feel like reaching out,
or at least to have a terra firma to stand on, to support if there’s not a single rope fed down for me to reach anymore. I feel like I am sinking deeper and deeper.
My emotions have been playing Musollini with 50% DNA that of Hitler’s, instead of democratic self lately.
or maybe just a firm, sturdy something that would be my sang-froid,
one that doesn’t use every minute detail from the sanctity of a friendship/relationship to electrocute the other party involved.
I was so mad I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so I swore to
myself,at myself, and;
at the pink rice – I intially put an egg in the rice to boil like
Cik T used to do and it had a pink barcode/expiry date stamped in red,
at my already coffee stained textbook - this time I stained it with
ejaculations from a pink grapefruit,
at the digestive biscuits- it was a cheap ASDA brand which doesn’t stay hard for very long possibly not made for dipping in a hot cup of tea and collects at the bottom of the mug like sewage,
and to say the least at anything and everything even the AOL connection
which was at it’s most spastic semester.
Whatever happened to ‘Hi, how was your day?' Civilized enough noh?
Plain but objective. Sincere or not, that is not for anybody to judge.
At least it doesn’t leech your good sap.
How would one know?
Since things snowballed into a great big round boulder like that in Indiana Jones, where it rolled and rolled and never really got to him, I tell you what a shit day it already was even before some people made it any shittier.
I, being quite junior in this job, by regulations stipulated by the
Royal College of Anaesthetists am not allowed to put any bodies below
10 years of age, on my own.
It’s illegal. I’ve done it before but that was after all grounds covered and the consultant was thoroughly happy for me to do so.
I turned up at 01:00 pm thinking I was just going to supervise a few newbies. Oh well, it’s not NHS if things work exactly as initially planned. I was surprised to be given a list of little people to put to sleep instead.
Surely there’s a mistake.
Rang the secretary and she rightly said, any problems ring Dr.B.
Oh what does she know. Saw them all kids in a room, and of course they all carry these blank faces as though the world is going to end in an hour’s time and needles are either going to kill them or amputate the whole arm. Wasn't sure if I should feel more petrified.
The smaller the patient the worse the calculations,
and the more maths involved the more I have to use my brain.
Went back to the OR and saw the assistant for the day. Always smiling, chatty, single,happy, a non- energy vampire, Kerry. I love being around her. We normally talk about books, travelling and great people. But most times about sex,
she that is.
I rang Dr.B to get him to come over and linger to make things legal,
albeit things will still carry on as if he’s not there. When he didn’t
answer his pager after 20 minutes, thinking 'it's not like I've not done it before', told another anaesthetist what I was up to, and I cracked on.
First, I had to have a second go at putting the cannula in
( the plastic tube with the needle inside) –I had one myself before, mamagrandpapa pain I tell you. So that wasn’t a good start.
This boy, half black half white bless him was such a lovely 8 year old,
but he was just soo tensed and wriggled soo much, I missed.
Sorry I busted your vein Jesse.
Second attempt I was more determined that I said,
I am going to put mum to sleep instead if you move and I miss again.
It was intended as a joke. Jesse grinned.
Mum was standing there watching her only son, put to sleep, helpless and distressed.
Seeing that look on her face, I wasn’t sure if that was a clever thing to say, but it helped to simmer the quickly inflating tension. Everyone broke into small short laughter, and the boy cooperated. I got it in. Hurrah!
I was getting up from a kneeling position when, like a see-saw, mum flopped to the floor and banged her head on the trolley.
Uiikkss??? What???????
Now boy cried, Kerry gasped, the assistant with tight tunic and too much make up flapped and I was stunned.
Boy cried wanted mum. Shouting.
Mummy wake up!!!!
There was enough madness and chaos in that room to make my hands tremble
and feellike they weren’t mine.
To cut it short, mum suffers from'
can’t-stand-blood-can’t-watch-blood-but-see-if this-time-it’s-different.
Instead of 1, had 2 patients to look after. Boy had his operation,mum recovered after tea and digestives and lots of
oh you poor thiiiinggg...it must be horrible.
Me? Dr.B was speechless after I reported it to him, I finished the list
despite the initial drama and I had to carry on like nothing happened, but
really…
my expanded self just wanted a, ‘How was your day’ or nothing at all if people are going to be nasty to me.
Anaesthetists are people, people have feelings, so I have feelings too.
Thoughts for the day: No parents should be allowed in the anaesthetics room,
and I wonder if I should drug these children way in advance, so that
they are so stoned they just let you have the whole arm to poke.
Pure joke ok mums out there, it's a joke. Breath now.
