Bus-capades

It was a bad start to an already crappy morning. I had woken up late. And it was RAINING!

I decided to go “Irish” and skip my daily shower. Deodorant and Brylcream would suffice.

I wasn’t sure if my bus card was still valid. I didn’t want to risk it. So I made my way to the nearest shop to get a new card. As I was threading through the rain, I saw a yellow flash.

The bus had arrived. I made a u-turn and ran across to the bus stop. I made it just in time.

Thankfully, my bus card had one day left in it. Close one!

Each day, I take two buses in order to arrive in Dun Laghoire. The first bus stops in Stillorgan, which is the last station. I then have to hop on the 46a which goes directly to St Micheal’s.

I make it a habit to revise a bit on the bus.

“We have to be proactive!” Hermione’s voice echoed in my head while I was turning the pages of my beloved clinical handbook.

The bus had slowed down. I looked left and right and realized I wasn’t in familiar territory. And I was the only one left on the bus.

“Where are you heading?” She asked

“Stillorgan, I thought it was the last stop?”

“Well it is, and we’ve gone past it,”

I tried not to swear. I got off and made my way back to the Stillorgan stop. It wasn’t that far. But it was RAINING.

About 50 metres from the stop, the 46a had arrived. “Not again,” I muttered as I made another hopeful dash towards it

I arrived (out of breath) and hopped on.

“I’m sorry, the bus is full,” said the driver.

My mouth was half open. “Wh-whhat?”

Then I looked around. It was half empty.

The driver was chuckling now. He got me.

Well, at least I put a smile on someone’s face today. The look on my face must’ve been priceless. He smiled all the way to Dun Laghoire.

Hunger Pains

Please observe protected mealtimes from 12pm-1pm.

I didn’t really understand the meaning of the sign until today. As the german giant (my consultant) was doing rounds, the clock struck twelve. Immediately from left to right, carts carrying food suddenly appeared from the doors leading to the alleyway in the corridors to be flooded. The smell was mouth watering. I thought I smelt steak.

The german giant was still in Mrs GH’s room. And he took his time. A lady carrying a tray of food barged in.

“LUNCH TIME!” she cried.

The giant was taken aback. He ignored the lady and continued to examine the patient.

When he left the room, he was confronted with whom I presume to be the “manager”. She was small. But she still stood tall in facing the giant.

“We have a clear policy about mealtimes, doctor. Patients are NOT allowed to be disturbed during lunch hour. It has always been that way. They need to have their meals” she said without flinching.

“Well I understand and am all for that. BUT,”

I realized how intimidating the german giant can be.

“When I am in the middle of examining a patient, I would at least expect SOME degree of RESPECT. What your lady did back there was plain RUDE. She SHOULD have just let me finish with the patient,” he argued.

The heated argument continued for the next quarter of an hour. Neither gave in.

The moral of the story : DON’T mess with meal times. Patients need to eat.