I feel like I am about to write my personal statement and applying to university again. Indeed if I had it to hand I would probably plagiarise my words. I can remember only the first sentence.
"As I watched my grandmother slowly succumb to cancer, I learnt that we must palliate what we cannot cure."
anna aged 17 (with the usual flair for the dramatic).
Medicine has been my passion for what seems like forever. I remember as an eleven year old girl I became enthralled by the world of forensic medicine and knew that being a forensic pathologist was my calling. To speak for those so terribly hurt and offer some solace to their families. I must have been a rather macabre child but I just remember being thrilled by the precision and clinical acumen of their work. (I did have rather a few books including an encyclopaedia of forensic medicine).
To work in medicine you have to be passionate. The pay is lousy for the hours worked, I have friends in the city with fewer qualifications earning 4 times more than me (I realise education counts for little in the end). As you climb the slippery ladder you are made to feel stupid by people who have been made to feel stupid before you. It can be the most lonely profession, everyone seems to be swimming yet you seem to be drowning.Yet the job, the work, the challenge is wonderful. It should have been my career. I love (not always the best word) listening to old ladies tell me about their sex lives, old chaps telling me about their wedding day, women confiding in me that their boyfriend caused their injuries, babies holding your finger for the first time whilst finally finishing their feed and comforting the family who have just lost their only child or mother. It is a magnificent job. It is not always serious job. I have such fond memories of giggles with nurses or trying to convince the radiographer to take the blasted x-ray at 4am in the morning.
My depression (yes it feels good to own it and know it does not own me)* has made it impossible for me to be responsible for those under my care. I have became the person I despise, the tardy and undependable doctor. I cannot be that doctor. Others are happy being that doctor. I know their type. They see it work as just a job and another step to money and private practice. So now I will get better and find a job that can be my career.
I cannot imagine my brain not being thrilled by science or medicine. I hope my mind will remain curious. I'm pretty nosy (as many of you know) so I imagine I will! I do just love knowing stuff! I will continue to read and absorb as many facts my little brain can cope with. My only hope is to be the 21st century equivalent of Miss Marple in my dotage. (If you start at a higher level of brain function then the dotage comes more slowly, no?)
Scapel, I will miss you.
But I think I need to care about me more.
I am not sure where this will take me. My qualifications mean nothing in the current economic climate. It will be a rocky road for me and Bean. I am so happy to have Bean to help me through this. I do love you so.
I hope you will join me on my new path. Your advice and insight is always welcome and will probably be necessary in the coming months.
Also on the off chance you fancy employing an eminently enthusiastic, intelligent, creative lady. I could be your girl.
*Also I know it sounds a little...pyschobabbly.