It is easy to stay grounded when you hold the title of a junior house officer. After all, housemen are the lowest form of life in the hierarchy of the hospital.
We are subject to constant abuse, be it mental or even physical.
The times spent as a medical student, dreaming of the day where people address you as 'doctor' seems pathetic and immature once working life starts.
You begin the journey at the bottom of the barrel, with no room to breathe.
Tagging day 10
Being 'tagged' for the past week has rendered me lifeless. Cruel shift hours start at 7am and ends at 10pm.
I often arrive home torn between two primitive needs. Sleep versus hunger. The former often wins the battle.
White noise
I used to empathise with sick children. Now I see them as mere tasks on a very long list.
- Fbc bed 10
- Trace rp bed 13
- Referral letter bed 20
The list goes on...
The treatment room is where all the magic happens. Some children are aware of the pain that lies ahead. they kick and scream even before they arrive. Some are clueless. They smile and laugh away, oblivious to their surroundings. In the end they all end up crying anyway.
Crying is just white noise to me; as long as they stay still while I poke and prod into their tiny veins to obtain blood samples.
Innocent babies wailing at the top of their lungs do not phase me, as sympathy can only slow you down.
Tagging day 14
I thought the day would never arrive. The words 'off tag' never sounded sweeter. I had joined the ranks of other fellow houseman, finally afforded the space to breathe...
Let the fun begin....
The transition from senior medical student to junior houseman was an abrupt one. A steep learning curve indeed, especially for an overseas graduate such as myself.
One is expected to adapt to all the acronyms, to know by heart the management of tropical diseases unheard of in Ireland, and to be patient enough to withstand the bullying culture apparently ingrained into many senior medical officers.
Its going to be a long journey...
