I had finally finished my surgical rotation. No more 5am starts. I felt invigorated. Starting class at nine gives me at least two extra hours of sleep, something I had been sorely lacking during the past six weeks.
Surgery was depressing. Not to mention tiring. On the last day of surgery, I just couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed. I loathed going to the hospital at such early hours in the morning.
I decided to stay home and do nothing.
I texted Adrienne and asked her to pass my attendance sheet to my consultant, Mr McDermott.
Oh, surgeons are addressed as “Mr” instead of “Dr”.
I got a reply from Adrienne.
“McDermott made me stay back after lectures and attend his clinic before he signed my sheet. He refused to sign yours. Sorry!”
Served me right to skip class.
I made my way out to St Vincent’s to meet McDermott. He seemed cheerful after performing a wide local excision of the right breast.
He put his arm around me.
“Now, where were you on Friday?”
I couldn’t decide whether to lie or not.
Somehow it just didn’t feel right to say, “I was depressed so I stayed in bed”
So a white lie it was.
“I wasn’t feeling too well”
He opened his mask and looked at me head on.
“Sounds like you were out drinking”
“Errr, no I wasn’t”
He didn’t seem convinced...
And no, I didn’t get my attendance sheet signed.
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