spewing...

I get off the train at a one-platform station and walk 15 minutes to the hospital. Not a single car passes me. I can't sleep at night because the silence freaks me out. From my bathroom, I can hear cows going nuts. I have gone Country.

This happened to me once before, during my first degree. 2 years at an agricultural school ("Guelph - the sound one makes when vomiting!") left me in overalls, two-stepping like a champ.

The hospital is pretty quiet at night (and yes, I'm still at work, 13 hours on) and I have caught myself singing as I walk from floor to floor.

On long shifts, we get a meal ticket to take to the cafeteria. I have enjoyed such delicacies as meat n'potato, lamb stew & frozen veg and hot chips. I sit in the empty cafeteria and listen to the kitchen staff talk about the footy.

"Crikey! Did you see Geelong? Rooted!"
"I know, I was spewing...Where was the heart?"
"Awww, and the kicking! Useless pack of mongrels, the lot of them..."

Then I get paged and go see who needs some more warfarin. Nice work if you can get it...

PS: I've started watching Friday Night Lights and the comparisons between small town Texas & small town Oz are eerie. No cowboy hats, but lots of smokes, fights and people who talk reeeeeal slow. Plus baking for every occasion.

yeehaw.

I am officially a country girl. I moved into my flat last night; they put the interns into Pleasantville-style mini-houses across from the hospital. I made a home-cooked meal from scratch (bacon/chicken/mushroom/pumpkin risotto) and slept, without earplugs, for the first time since I moved to Australia. Bliss.

The patients are starting to know my face. I put a drip in a poor old lady and left a bruise the size of a pineapple on her forearm. Now, every time I walk by her room, she waves the black welt at me and says "Not so clever now, are we?"

My 14 hour shift included drips, catheters, drug charts and a code blue just as I was about to leave for home. When I finally arrived at Ward 9 (I got lost AND got locked into a safety corridor in the psych wing) I found the team chatting to a young girl who had just hung herself on her bedhead. The usual.

Today, I had all my real work finished by about 10am and am now free to wander the hospital looking for tea, cakes and free internet. As I said, I am now pro-country.

4 days down, 61 to go.

Keitha.

The head nurse of my new country ward is named Keitha.

I saw her nametag during orientation and began giggling uncontrollably, but alas, no one else got the joke. We're a long way from Kansas, Toto.

4 hours from the Melbourne, Warrnambool is situated on a lovely vantagepoint, stunning beaches...fabulous local culture...blah blah blah.

They don't have enough accomodation for all the doctors they've employed, so I'm living in a motel (old school;my milk was delivered in a porcelain jug). The hospital was described by our director of education as "a falling down piece of crap". My patient today accused me of pretending to be smart cos I talk funny. They served us tea and scones this morning, because civilized people have morning tea.

Mixed bag, really.

I'm off to scout out the pub (for dinner, I swear. Just dinner.) and then prepare for tomorrow's 14 hour shift. God bless rural Australia.